#Steve: I’d lie about you to people but they’d believe me because you’re that weird

[morganbritton132]

Robin’s contribution to her friendship with Steve is to straight up lie about him. Constantly. For no reason other than she thinks it’s funny.

One time, they were going to the Wheelers house for Mike’s birthday dinner. They couldn’t find parking outside the house so he dropped her off and then drove off to park at the end of the street.

Someone asked her where Steve was when she got inside and she said, “Oh, he’s driving around the block a couple times to collect himself. He’s just a wreck about Mike turning fifteen. Lots of tears.”

Her old band friends accosted her one day at school, asking her what Steve Harrington is really like. She made a face like, “He’s alright but he cries when he watches E.T though. Like, every time.”

She adds, “He calls his parents mommy and daddy.”

One time, Steve was having a get-together at him house. When Eddie showed up, he asked where Steve was and she said, “He’s upstairs. Jerking off. Gross, right?”

She wasn’t aware that Jonathan was also upstairs so when the two of them came down together, Eddie looked like he was connecting some dots.

She decides not to admit she was lying. She’d rather see where that implication goes and hopes that maybe Steve and Eddie will finally admit they’re crushing on each other.

[platypanthewriter]

Guess Again

Day Four of Harringrove AUgust, Profession AU!  Steve runs into a hot guy named Billy on his plane flight back to Indianapolis, and Billy lies about what he does for a living, then, laughing, admits he lied.  The prize for this guessing game: an exchange of phone numbers.

Steve found his seat, in coach, because that was the only seat available on the overbooked flight into Indianapolis a week before Thanksgiving.  He shoved his carry-on under the seat, and wedged himself in the limited leg room, opening his laptop to answer the emails that had been pinging his phone before the plane was ready to take off, and he—blessedly—had to go into airplane mode.  

He barely even noticed the guy wedging himself in to sit by the window, and trying to get the damn table to stay up.  Steve typed away as the busted table mechanism flapped onto the guy’s lap over and over.  Finally, Steve grimaced, glancing over.  “You can use my table,” he offered, registering only that the guy was tattooed, and kinda...hot.  “I’ll put this away as soon as we taxi to the runway.”

“It’s fine,” the dude said, smacking the floppy table with a sigh.  “Not like there’s a meal on this flight.”

“You can lean in and share my pretzels,” Steve told him, grinning over, and was met with big, long-lashed blue eyes, an annoying mustache, and curls that curved around an attractively firm jaw.  

The guy nodded, and put the broken table away.  “...kind of a workaholic?” he asked, probably because it was nearly ten o’clock at night, and Steve was glaring at his screen and typing emails like his survival depended on a high word count.  

He snorted a laugh.  “I left them all until now,” he said, grimacing.  “They really don’t need my input, but if I replied earlier, they’d just ask me something else.  Something they could google.”  He narrowed his eyes at an email from a coworker who’d actually emailed to ask for exact details of what was allowed under the sexual harassment policy.  Talk to HR, he sent back.  Creep, he thought.  He finished the last of the replies, hoping he wasn’t sending anything too weird in his distraction, and closed his laptop.  “Um.  Sorry.  What do you do?”

“I sell life insurance,” the guy said immediately, with a toothy grin.  “I’ll sell you so much insurance on this flight.”

“Uh,” Steve said, blinking at him.  “Umm...oh.”

“That’s a lie,” was the dude’s followup, and Steve stared at him, starting to regret his offer to share a table, or catch the flight at all.  “I don’t sell life insurance, I swear.  I promise,” the guy said, laughing.  “God, your face.  I just...my job is...I started telling people I sell life insurance, so they wouldn’t talk to me.”

“I can just sit over here,” Steve offered, pretending to zip his lips.

“No, no, it’s, uh.  Sorry I lied.  Talk to me, it’s a long flight.”

“Why do you have to lie?” Steve had to ask, and the guy grimaced.  

“My job’s kinda awkward,” he said, laughing.

“Are you a...porn star?” Steve asked, trying to figure out what kind of job would get the worst people to talk to you, and the dude cracked up.  

“Jesus, no, but thanks for the ego boost,” he said, and Steve snorted a laugh.  

“Um.  What about…” Steve thought, opened his mouth, and then closed it.  “Can I guess?” he asked, grinning, and the guy snickered.  

“Sure.  Give it your best shot.  Just don’t tell me any horror stories.”

“Do you embalm bodies?” Steve tried, already holding back a tide of questions, like did you ever drop one and have to fix a broken nose.

“Nope!” said the guy, turning to lean more against the window, to face Steve.  “How many tries do you want before I just tell you?”

“Oh, no, no, lemme guess,” Steve said, thinking as they came around asking for drink orders.  “Horror stories...um.  Are you a soldier?” he asked, wide-eyed, and the guy laughed again.  

“No!  No, nothing like that.”  He leaned to see Steve’s ID as Steve pulled it out to order a beer, and Steve grinned.  

“I’m Steve.”

“Billy,” said his mysteriously-employed seatmate, offering his hand, and Steve flipped it over investigatively.  

“You don’t have those, like, love/hate knuckle tattoos,” he said, feeling like a detective.  “So...maybe not a biker?”

“I’m not a biker,” Billy snickered.  His hand was warm in Steve’s.  “Is that even a job?”

“Oh!  Oh!” Steve leaned forward, sure he had it this time, and Billy moved the armrest between them out of the way.  “A writer?”

“What?!” Billy laughed, which probably meant Steve was wrong, but he argued his point.  

“People tell you horror stories,” he said, narrowing his eyes.  “So—so probably everybody tells you they have a great idea for your next novel—”

“No, uh.  One clue,” Billy said, grimacing.  “They’re true stories.”

“True stories,” Steve said, going to cross his arms in thought, and realizing Billy hadn’t taken his hand back.  “Uh, what do I get if I guess right?” he asked, squeezing Billy’s hand, and Billy snorted a laugh, grinning like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“I dunno, I feel like Rumpelstilzkin, you want like my firstborn or—”

“No, nope,” Steve made a face.  “I got enough kids around, thanks.  Oh—” he blinked, realizing how that sounded as Billy started to pull his hand back, and lean away, “—not, like, I’m not a dad, I don’t have a wife and kids or anything.  I just have some little shitheads that come over all the time and eat all my popsicles and pizza.”

“Oh good,” Billy said dryly.  “I’d feel terrible if holding my hand ruined your marriage.”

“No other knuckles can fulfill me, now,” Steve said soulfully, and then when Billy burst out laughing, Steve couldn’t hold a straight face.  

“You know how fucking dirty that sounds, right,” Billy whispered, rubbing his face with the hand Steve wasn’t holding, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to get you to fist me on the plane,” he hissed back.

“Coward,” Billy shot back, and then they started giggling again, like they were ten.  

 “True horror stories,” Steve repeated, later, as they leaned together over the napkin on his tiny airplane table, where he was keeping track of the guesses he’d already made.  “True horror stories.  Are you a reporter?” 

“God no,” Billy said, making a face.  “Imagine this many tattoos in front of the news cameras?  We’ve got a ways to go before they allow that.”

“Oh, true,” Steve nodded.  “I mean, unless you worked for, like, a tabloid.  Circling everyone’s stomach in pictures and writing ‘BABY BUMP?!’ on it.”  

Billy jumped when Steve yelled ‘BABY BUMP’, and half the plane twitched and mumbled.  “Fuck no!” he hissed, laughing.  “Ssh!”

“Huh,” Steve said, studying the napkin.  “Oh!  Um,” he grimaced.  “Police officer?”

“No,” Billy growled, and Steve nodded, writing that down and crossing it out, and sipping his third beer.  “We never worked out what you got if you guessed,” Billy said, watching.  

“Oh, yeah,” Steve agreed, nodding.  “Uh, what about...dinner?”

“We’re gonna land at like six in the morning,” Billy pointed out, and Steve fingergunned him.

“Breakfast.”

Billy laughed.  “I dunno if I’m willing to put out on our first plane trip together.”

“Lemme get you, like, bacon and eggs,” Steve said, leaning in and waggling his eyebrows, “—and my phone number.”  He smirked as Billy cackled, leaning his head in the window.

“Yeah, okay.  Gimme some breakfast sausage, Steve,” he said softly, the overhead reading light making his curls glow a little, like a halo.  

“Now I haveta figure it out,” Steve said, frowning at his list, and Billy’s fingers twitched towards him.  Steve grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together, and accepted another beer from the flight attendant.  “I wonder how many beers that is,” he said, prodding at the label with his thumbnail.  “I think they’re like ten bucks a pop.”

“I bet the alcohol will really help you think,” Billy said dryly, and Steve made a face at him.  

“Shut up, I got it.  I got it this time,” he said, tipping his head back for a long, satisfying drink of beer, and wiping his mouth.  Billy’s mouth hung a little open when he finished, and Steve licked his lips, grinning.  “You—you’re a doctor.  A—a doctor of butts.  A butt-doctor.”

Billy started laughing so hard, silently, that Steve was starting to wonder whether he could breathe.  

“I’m right, right?” Steve said, taking a triumphant swig, and Billy shook his head, wheezing for air.

“You mean a proctologist?!” he gasped.

“Yeah, and you understood fine,” Steve told him, annoyed.

“I’m not—I’m not a butt doctor,” Billy choked out, tears of laughter in his eyes.  “I don’t have a doctorate in ass—”

“Your loss,” Steve muttered, glaring at the napkin with the list.  “Man, my cousin is one, and he has some stories.  Dude, that’s everything, that’s every damn job.  Ever.  Do zookeepers get told horror stories?!  Oh!”  He pointed the beer bottle at Billy.  “Dentist!”

“No,” Billy giggled, his hair rising with static in the dry air of the plane, and sticking to the wall and window behind him.  He looked ruffled and fond, and Steve squeezed his hand again, trying to think of what he’d missed, before the plane landed, and he’d spent the entire flight guessing jobs, and Billy hadn’t even given him a last name.  

“Shit,” Steve said, then straightened again.  “No, okay, this time,” he said, the beer making his words a little soft around the edges, “This time I really have it.  You’re a Mickey Mouse person.”

“I’m a what now,” Billy said, still snickering.

“You know,” Steve said, his eyes narrowed.  “You crawl up the ass of one of those suits and let kids think you’re a Disney princess.”

“No, Harrington,” Billy said, breathlessly, as he shook with laughter.  “No, I do not.  Do people tell mascots horror stories?!  I don’t even want to know.  Which princess?  Just for scientific curiosity, Steve, which princess do I crawl up the ass of, in your brain?”

Steve tried to remember them all.  “Not Jasmine,” he said with certainty.  “Um.  Wait, Peter Pan?  Maybe?”

“Peter Pan’s not a princess,” Billy choked out, wiping his eyes as he tried to muffle his laughter.  

“Hrm,” Steve said, accepting another beer and huffing a sigh, but Billy leaned in suddenly and just kissed him.  His lips were warm and chapped, and Steve hummed happily against them.  Their teeth bumped, a little, because Billy was giggling so hard, and Steve was grinning so wide his cheek muscles ached.

“I’m a drug and alcohol counselor,” Billy said with a grimace, and Steve glared at his beer, betrayed, "—so, um, horror stories.  Yeah."

"I just have butt-doctor horror stories," Steve said quickly, trying to salvage the situation, and he shoved his beer behind him.

Billy laughed harder, shaking his head.  "I’ll still take that number,” he whispered, kissing Steve again—and snickering, his cheeks flushed.  “And breakfast?”

Here’s my other Harringrove stuff!  Or check out the Harringrove AUgust collection on Ao3!  Add something!  =D 

[hyperbali]

Agatha Harkness Was Right, And Here’s Why

Alright. Finally had to sit down and write my way out of this quiet, internal temper tantrum, and a few people were interested in seeing what I had to say, so I present to you:

Agatha Harkness Was Right, And Here’s Why

Disclaimer: MASSIVE spoilers for the entirety of WandaVision, and I am not nice about it.

I’ll start off by saying that, for all its foibles, WandaVision was genuinely a good example of a property within the MCU/Disney umbrella that stepped out of the usual ‘good guys fight bad guys action extravaganza’ in a way that pushed the envelope. The pseudo-horror aspect of the first few episodes is something I would really love to see engaged with on a more thoughtful basis in future projects.

I would say that it proved to be more than a vehicle to promote toys, but… well…

Yeah. Anyway.

I’ll assume that you watched WandaVision if you’re reading this, but quick recap: In the aftermath of ‘the Blip,’ Wanda is left broken and alone with no one in her corner. Her biggest mentor willingly abandoned his team to get his own ‘happy’ ending (do not get me started on Steve, that’s a document in and of itself), her other biggest mentor is probably off enjoying his family while ignoring the incredibly racist killing spree he’s been on for the past five years, and her lover is dead. When she goes to claim the body, she’s told nuh-uh, that’s government property, please leave.

So she goes to a plot of land in the middle of some nowhere town in New Jersey, which Vision apparently bought despite the fact they were living a pretty decently comfortable life in Scotland, where she looks at the deed that Vision drew a heart on and wrote ‘To Grow Old In’. Very sweet. Kind of weird, considering nothing of this caliber had ever been suggested for either of their characters and they’d been actively running from specifically the U.S. authorities? But sweet.

She has a breakdown and, in her grief, contains the entire town of Westview and all 3,892 of the people in it in her own personal paradise, where nothing bad ever happens beyond sitcom hijinks, no one dies, and every problem is tied up and neatly dealt with by the end of an ‘episode’. Except we learn that this is only paradise to Wanda, who apparently shares the aspect of having to relate everything to her favourite pop culture with Tony, because everyone else in Westview is more or less being psychologically tortured by the incredible amount of pain she’s in, forced to be puppeted actors to make her happy.

Bear in mind, Westview might have been bigger at some point - we have no idea how many people survived the Blip, or how many have been brought back to life within the past few weeks of the current setting. Either way, this is a town that has already dealt with a lot of trauma being dragged into yet another awful, much more specific kind of emotional damage, thanks to ‘the heroes’. Nice.

Agatha Harkness, a witch who’s been up to who-knows-what in the 340 years since she drained the coven that tried to kill her for getting a little too ambitious into jerky, feels the massive expenditure of magical power and decides to investigate. All the while, she carefully uses her own magic to try and peek into Wanda’s psyche, her motivations, all while keeping up appearances and not letting slip that anything is amiss.

I’ll point out that she’s no saint here, either - she specifically keeps one Westview resident at her mercy, and knows what’s happening to the rest of them, but doesn’t attempt to stop it. I’ll chalk that up to her pragmatism; their ‘sacrifice’ was fine to her as long as she could figure out how Wanda could have done something so unheard of in terms of power.

What we come to learn over the course of the show is that, given everything that happened, Wanda didn’t mean to take over an entire town and tool it into her own personal slice of heaven. She very quickly became aware of it; we know that she knows it’s her own personal bubble as soon as episode three, when she’s confronting Monica about how the latter could possibly know about Ultron. Wanda is made further aware of how much damage this is inflicting on others in episode five, when Vision himself tells her that these people are scared. But still, she has everything handled! It’s okay! The outside world is worse, trust her!

Her handling of the question, ‘where are all the children of Westview,’ is one that bears some thinking - and, y’know, kind of more than a little concern. They’re allowed to walk around as part of the ‘Halloween special,’ but as Vision walks further and further out towards the edges of town where Wanda doesn’t have as much full control, people are just frozen in place, or conducting the same few seconds of action over and over. And fully aware of being trapped.

How are they being sustained? Eating, sleeping? If someone isn’t part of her storyline, is she just locking them down into a coma? What made Wanda decide that keeping the children ‘out of the way’ was somehow kinder than involving them, especially given her later argument that she’s been trying to keep the entire town safe and happy?

The fact of the matter is, she only actually starts to feel remorse for any of this after she’s confronted with the fact that, after weeks of being at her mercy, the townspeople of Westview would rather be dead than endure another moment of having to play nice for her enjoyment. She finally opens the ‘bubble’ to let them out - which leads to the ‘epic’ finale of three different entities trying to take down Wanda and her happy family: the S.W.O.R.D. military led by Hayward, the White Vision, and Agatha.

Winding back to how we got here: after Agatha uses her own trapped resident, Ralph Bohner (who, given his casting and the props in place during the last episode, I’m willing to bet is actually the missing witness protection person Jimmy was looking for) in an attempt to lure out Wanda’s reasoning - and fails - she’s pretty much done pretending. She tricks Wanda into her basement, nullifies her powers, and makes her face her own past to get to the truth of the matter.

Not going to lie, favourite moment of the show. Kathryn Hahn killed Agatha’s slightly-amused-slightly-irritated observations about Wanda’s coping mechanisms, and the whole arrangement was extremely meta. I would have paid real money dollars to see her do the same thing to the likes of Tony, Strange, and Loki. Hell, even just having her meet the rest of the Avengers? Augh. If wishes were fishes.

When Agatha comes to the conclusion that Wanda is the vaunted, nigh-indestructible force of nature that she’s literally spent her entire life reading about is the ultimate source of chaos magic and will likely bring about the end of the world, she’s pretty understandably taken aback. To that matter, the fact that Wanda… has very little control over any of it, and is using what she does understand to play housemaker? After how long Agatha has spent learning control, hiding in plain sight, just to be child’s play compared to what Wanda has at her fingertips? I’d be pretty pissed off, too!

The way that WandaVision handled both of the major ‘fights’ - Vision versus White Vision ending in philosophy, and Wanda ending up beating Agatha at her own game of deception - is excellent. A little grating that they had to go with the beat down angle before they got there, but this is MCU; punches and thrown cars had to get shoved in somewhere. And, given that this series very much played with the idea of grey morality, I was sort of hopeful that Agatha would end up in a not-quite stalemate arrangement with Wanda. She’s not as powerful as the Scarlet Witch, but she has the know-how that Wanda sorely lacks; in recompense for her own deeds, she would be able to teach what she knows while also kind of scheming on her own time.

Y’know, like what they did with rehabilitating Loki?

Except that Wanda, who has just gone through the entire rigamarole of coming to terms with the fact that she trapped thousands of people into a nightmare scenario against their will, rendering them helpless to her mercy… traps Agatha into a nightmare scenario against her will, rendering her helpless to Wanda’s mercy.

That moment actually shook me. Oh, my god. We’re supposed to still look at Wanda as a good guy after this?

This isn’t even covering the incredibly awful confrontation with her and Vision where she tries to gaslight him into believing that everything is A-OK, or the fact that the person she gets most violent with (apart from Agatha) is Monica Rambeau, a black woman who spends most of the show bending over backwards trying to say that what Wanda is doing is understandable, justified, and just needs a gentle touch to be dealt with.

That could be its own document, too - how Monica, much as she’s incredible and definitely looks to be a really exciting addition to the MCU roster, more or less gets used as the Good One to absolve and enable Wanda’s actions. One of her last lines to Wanda, after seeing how the people of Westview (rightfully) look at Wanda like she’s monstrous, is “they’ll never know what you sacrificed.”

Sacrificed what? The fake husband and fake kids she made out of her own compulsion to pretend that everything is okay? None of that would have existed if she’d been given the proper resources to actually cope with how much loss she’s had to deal with. None of that would have existed if she hadn’t caused this problem in the first place.

In the end, Wanda flies off in her fancy new gear before the FBI shows up, avoiding any real consequences to her actions - which has pretty much been the running theme of her character ever since she was introduced to the MCU in Age of Ultron. The worst kind of direct consequence she’s ever gotten was being grounded to her room for a while, then kept in the Raft for, like, maybe a day - and both times, she was broken out post-haste.

Meanwhile, she worsened the issues in Sokovia (which, I will say upfront, was Tony’s fault to begin with), unleashed the Hulk on Johannesburg, got a pretty significant amount of civilians killed as bystanders in Lagos (hey, how come Wanda keeps turning a lot of black people into casualties?), and stood back in Wakanda to let their people try to fight off Thanos from getting to Vision until it was clear that there was no other option than for her to get involved.

Great Power Comes With No Responsibility At All, Actually.

Wanda, in the several years she has maintained her identity as an Avenger, has proven time and time again that she takes on innumerable risks without any full understanding of what they mean, allows others to take on the brunt of the fallout for her, and looks sad until she’s forgiven and moves on to the next problem. She has no business casually throwing around the kind of power that being the Scarlet Witch entails, not until she’s actually made any kind of headway into making reparations for what she’s done and tried, really tried, to get a handle on what she’s capable of.

Which she’s apparently doing in the last post-credits scene, astral reading the literal Book of the Damned on her lonesome in the mountains, but… without anyone to guide her, or give her any kind of boundary?

[I ran out of images I could post, but you know exactly what image I am referring to here]

Agatha Harkness was right. And that should terrify everybody that has to deal with Wanda in the future.

(P.S. Do we know if she actually even killed that dog? We never see her holding anything but a blanket, and characters go in and out of that show all the time. Granted, she wasn’t great with the cicada-turned-bird... hmm.)

Additional Notes:

“Well, you’re a Tony Stan, of course you think Wanda’s a villain”

I like Tony because he’s such an awful mess, and the narrative isn’t exactly kind about telling him what a piece of shit he can be! He reaped a lot of problems, created practically half the villains in the MCU, and ended up dying a martyred hero. Thanks to being the tent pole by which this franchise hoisted itself into a cultural powerhouse, he will always be their golden savior. If you want to read about how he’s the true villain of this entire affair, feel free to look up any number of takedown pieces about him that are out there. He’s a dick. I will never “uwu sad baby who did nothing wrong ever 🥺” him the way people do about Wanda.

“Why are you so pressed about this”

Because something as good in concept as WandaVision could and should have been about anyone other than the whitewashed, antisemitic take on Wanda Maximoff that MCU brought upon us. They put crucifixes on her wall in Civil War, for fuck’s sake!

“Weren’t you mad about them not including Aaron Taylor-Johnson”

At this point, I am almost kind of relieved the real Pietro wasn’t resurrected for this, because god knows they probably would have killed him all over again just to inflict that much more pain on his sister.

“Anything else you’d like to tell us, turbo nerd”

This was literally itching at me all weekend to write, so it’s more or less just to get it off my chest. If you powered your way through it, uh… thanks? Sorry if I yucked your yums, but I tried to be as clear with the disclaimer as I could. 🤷‍♂️

[multifandombookstore]

Evil Russians

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader Genre: angst, fluff, smut Warnings: SPOILERS FOR SEASON THREE, evil Russians being evil, smutty fun time  Summary: After secretly liking each other for so long, it’s only fair that they confess after being held captive by evil Russians. 

As a senior in high school, I’d say I’ve accomplished quite a bit. I mean, I can’t really tell anyone about these accomplishments but they happened and I feel, well, accomplished.

It is a little weird being friends with middle schoolers, but they’re very cool middle schoolers! 

Anyway, now everything is calm and peaceful. Plus, it’s summer! Summer is literally the best. Though, I had to get a job. And, of course, the king himself helped me to get a job. Scoops Ahoy is actually pretty chill, literally and figuratively. 

The best part is I get to hang out with Steve, my crush since freshman year. 

I’ve been best friends with Nancy since we were practically in diapers. We grew up together, seeing as how I live across the street. When she and Steve started to become a thing, my heart was practically ripped from my chest. 

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I have feelings for it. Mainly because my heart is no longer in my chest because it’s been ripped out. 

Thanks to her though, Steve and I became friends. So, I guess I can thank her in that aspect. 

When they broke up though, I had never been happier. I couldn’t tell them that though, but I was. We were all still a team though, working to defeat evil. 

When Nancy got with Jonathon, I finally told her about my feelings for Steve. She felt like a jerk but I told her it wasn’t her fault, seeing as how I never told her till now how I felt about him. I’m just glad I have someone to go to when I want to rant about Steve. 

Anyway, Steve got me the job and we’ve only gotten closer. Plus, I gained Robin as a new best friend. Steve lowkey hates it but I don’t care. Robin is really cool and I don’t see why he can’t see that. 

As of right now, Scoops Ahoy is as chill as ever. Steve and I are on our break right now, hiding in the back and eating ice cream. Steve gets up and starts to head to the front when he hears a familiar voice, his face lighting up. He slams the door open and shouts, “Henderson!”

I quickly stand up as well, dashing upfront with a big grin. 

“You got the job!” 

“I got the job!”

“Toothless!” I screech as I appear upfront, running to him to hug him. He groans as he returns the hug, playfully scowling at me. 

“I told you not to call me that anymore,” he whines as he pulls away, smiling as Steve comes up to do their handshake. 

I giggle and shake my head, going around the counter to get him some ice cream for the munchkin. “How many children are you friends with?” Robin teases Steve. I snort and playfully elbow her as I start to scoop ice cream up for Dustin. 

We then all sit down in a booth, Dustin beaming as I hand him his ice cream. “You’re a goddess,” he whispers to me, licking his lips as he eyes the ice cream before digging in. 

He then starts telling us about his girlfriend, my heart soaring for the little dude. Things take a turn when he starts telling us about the Russians. I was intrigued instantly.

Steve was not though. He had trouble believing such a thing, despite what he’s seen and done. That is until Dustin started telling him that they’d be American heroes and get all the girls they want. I hide my frown by eating some of Dustin’s ice cream which he didn’t mind at all. 

That’s when the chaos issued. We spied around the mall looking for suspicious people, following one dude who ended up just being a pilates instructor or something. 

We then started to decipher the message that the Russians were using to talk in secret code. Man, without me, they’d be completely lost and would’ve gotten nowhere.

We then got the annoying girl to climb into a vent and let us into the storage unit the evil Russians are using. That ended up being an elevator. And that ended up trapping us underground. 

Then, one thing led to another and now, I’m tied up in a room by myself. 

I don’t bother shouting for help, knowing it’s pointless. A general came in and started to interrogate me, trying to ask who I work for and basic kidnapping the enemy questions. Not to brag or anything, but I’m a great liar. I told them, unknowingly, exactly what Steve told them. 

With each lie, they slap me across the face. I bite back my tears, laughing instead to appear strong. Or crazy. Either is fine in this situation. Eventually, they had enough of me and left, probably to interrogate Steve. 

After sitting in the uncomfortable chair for who knows how long, two men come back into the plain room and pick me up. They then continue to drag me to a different room, throwing me into it. Luckily for me, and not so lucky for Steve, I land on top of him. 

Not that he would’ve felt it, seeing as how he’s knocked out. My heart breaks at the sight of his swollen face and all the blood. I call his name as I lightly shake him, feeling myself on the verge of tears. 

As soon as the general comes in, I start to yell at him, asking him what he did to Steve. He slaps me across the face for the nth time, my already lightly bruised and red cheek feeling the sharp sting. 

A man then picks me up, practically throwing me into a chair and starting to tie us up. I struggle as I call out to Steve. 

“Steve! Steve, can you hear me? Steve, wake up! Hey, don’t touch him!”

The men leave after I spit in the general’s face, smiling cheekily at him. As soon as they’re gone, I start trying to wake up Steve again.

He wakes up eventually, my body relaxing a bit knowing he’s okay. “Steve! Oh, thank god! Okay, I have a plan!”

He smiles to himself, lightly shaking his head. You always have a plan. 

I explain the plan to him, hearing him agree that getting the scissors is smart. We start to hop over towards them before falling over, my eyes tearing up.

This is hopeless. We are legit going to die. Here of all places. After everything we’ve been up against. This is what kills us.

My body starts to shake as I cry, biting my lip hard to try and get me to stop. 

Steve starts to laugh, turning his head to try and look at me. “Are you laughing?” he asks while chuckling. 

I then sniffle, his laughter instantly dying. 

“Hey, woah. What’s with the tears, Shortcake?” he says lightly. I smile at the pet name, my crying calming a bit. He started calling me that for two reasons. 

1. I’m shorter than him 

2. Strawberry Shortcake is my favorite ice cream flavor to eat while working  

“It’s just...I can’t believe I’m going to die in an evil Russians’ basement with you. After everything we’ve been through. That’s just insane.”

He chuckles a bit, shaking his head. “We aren’t going to die here. As you said, we’ve been up against much, much worse.”

I calm down at the sound of his voice, biting my lip. “Can you...talk some more?” I whisper, sniffling again.

Steve goes quiet and I start to blush. That’s so stupid. I go to tell him sorry and that I’m stupid when he starts to talk. 

“Do you remember in gym class when the boys were playing basketball and that stupid Hargrove guy kept smacking the ball out of my hand and shoving me to the floor?”

I sniffle once more and nod my head, wishing I could wipe my face. “Yeah, why?” I ask softly. 

He laughs as he starts to shake his head, smiling as he recalls the day. 

“After the game was over, you marched right up to Hargrove and challenged him to a one on one game. Everyone thought you were way out of your league. You only played basketball in sixth grade and absolutely hated it. But you challenged him anyway.”

I close my eyes and picture it, remembering it like it was yesterday. 

“You said whoever gets a basket first wins. He was so cocky, smirking at you as he stared down at you with his stupid, flirty eyes.”

You laugh at the last part, feeling much better than before. 

“One of his ugly friends through the ball up for you both. Billy didn’t even bother jumping. He just let you get the ball, smirking that horrible smirk of his. As soon as you started running towards your goal, he followed after you.” 

You start to smile more, waiting for the climax of the story. 

“He ran in front of you when you reached the free-throw line, jumping to block your shot. Your sly self faked the jump and then jumped as he came down. You shot that ball right into the net and left everyone speechless. You then sashayed away from him with a proud smirk on your face, right over to me.” 

I let out a happy sigh, reminiscing on the face Billy had when I faked him out and made the shot. 

“It was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen you do.” 

I instantly go speechless at that, my jaw hanging open. “That, out of all things, is the hottest? What about when I took your spiked bat from you and hit the Demogorgon right in the face? That did nothing to you?”

He laughs loudly at your response, nodding his head even though you can’t see him. “No, no. That’s hot too. I can’t brag to people about that though.”

He once again renders me speechless. Does he brag about me to people? When I don’t give him a response, he keeps going. 

“(Y/n), there’s something I’ve been mea—”

Just then, the evil Russians return with their doctor. They give us some weird looking blue shot and then leave again. Steve and I sit there for a long moment, trying to figure out if we feel any different.

That’s when we start acting like crackheads on steroids. 

“You know earlier when I called you hot?” Steve asks while giggling like a fool.

I giggle and nod my head, laughing harder when I remember that he can’t see me. 

“Yeah,” I say after I calm down my laughter. 

“Yeah, well, you’re like really hot,” Steve says as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said in his life. 

I giggle at his words, finding him absolutely ridiculous. “Oh yeah? Well, I think you’re insanely hot,” I argue. 

He calms his laughter to chuckling to reply to me. “Yeah, well, I think you’re, like, crazy hot.” 

It then goes back and forth like that until we are interrupted again. The general and his men come back, trying to ask us questions again. We once again give them nothing, only angering the general more. 

Alarms then start to go off. I can already tell that Steve is smirking up at the general. Everyone except for the doctor runs out. I start to mock the siren, making Steve laugh and the doctor to get annoyed. 

It didn’t take long for Dustin to bust in and shock the doctor, sending him crippling to the ground. 

“Henderson!” Steve shouts happily at the same time I call out, “Toothless!” 

The young boy then goes about rescuing us, bringing us to a movie theater. I happily munch on the popcorn as we watch the movie, completely confused as to what is going on. I go to take a drink of the soda we got when I realize it’s empty. 

Steve drank it all. 

“Stevie!” I whine too loudly, making people shush us. Steve and I turn around and shush the people right back, making us giggle. I then get up to go get something else to drink, Steve following right after me. I drink from the water fountain for what felt like forever until Steve was complaining that he wants some too. 

I pull away and step to the side, allowing Steve to drink from the fountain. He pulls away after a moment and complains that he has to pee. I snort at him as we walk to the restrooms, saying dumb stuff on the way. 

I sit in one of the stalls as he pees, making fun of him for the way it sounds. Out of nowhere, we both feel sick. I lean over the toilet and empty my insides into it, hearing Steve doing the same thing. I groan as I hold my head, flushing the toilet. Steve didn’t sound any better than I did. 

Once we start to feel better, we start to talk again. We mainly talked about all the stupid stuff we said while drugged. We laugh afterward, eventually calming down and falling silent. 

“Hey, (Y/n),” Steve calls softly from his stall. 

I look up towards his stall as if I can see him. “Yeah?”

It’s silent for another minute until he speaks. “I don’t know if you remember or not...but back in the evil Russians’ basement, we kept going back and forth about how the other is hotter. Um...”

He trails off again, making me frown. I can feel a blush settling on my cheeks at the memory, mentally moving that memory to my longterm memory. I never want to forget that moment. 

“Before the evil dudes came back, I was going to tell you something,” he says softly. I remain quiet for a long time, my heart starting to race. Is this going where I think it’s going? 

“(Y/n), I like you,” he whispers so softly that I have to strain my ears to hear it. My jaw unhinges to the floor I’m sitting on, staring at the stall wall in shock. I almost yelp when he suddenly slides under the wall, looking at me with furrowed brows as he waits for my response. 

I guess I take too long because he quickly starts to back-peddle, a dark, embarrassed blush coming to his face. “Oh, uh, sorry! Please ignore that. Oh jeez, sorry. I-”

“Harrington, shut it. If we both didn’t just puke up our intestines, I’d kiss you right now.” That definitely makes him stop rambling, a wide grin coming to his face. 

“Can I kiss you anyways? I’ve been dying to kiss you for the longest time,” he begs. Your nose wrinkles as you stand, dusting yourself off before offering him a hand. He takes it and you help pull him up as you respond. 

“Not happening, pretty boy. As soon as we brush our teeth, I’m all yours. Until then, how about a hug?” I offer. 

He grins brighter than the sun as he quickly wraps his arms around my shoulders, my arms going around his waist. We start to crack up when someone comes into the restroom and sees us standing in the open stall hugging. 

Once we defeat the mind flayer, a heavy weight left my body. We defeated a new enemy, hopefully for good this time, and Steve and I confessed to each other. 

I don't think I've ever felt happier. Steve insists on taking me home after the ambulance checks us out, giving us permission to go home. I accept, wanting to fall asleep in his arms. 

Unlike Nancy's parents, my parents are pretty chill and don't care that I have a boy up in my room. They trust me, so they trust my decisions. They just want him to be gone by a certain time and to keep the door open, but other than that, they don't really care. 

I let Steve take a shower in my shower while I go to take a shower in my parent's room. Before I go to take mine though, I get some of my dad's clothes for Steve to borrow. I let him use his pajama pants, that have strings that he can tie tight seeing as how they are two completely different sizes, and a random, old shirt. 

I come back to my room and set the clothes on the bed for him, letting Steve know before going to take my shower. Halfway through my shower, I curse myself for being so dumb.

I got Steve a change of clothes but forgot my own. Gosh, it's like something out of a cheesy romance movie. 

I finish up with my shower and wrap the towel around my cold body, grunting as I quickly go to my room. My parents are downstairs watching a movie, so I didn't have to worry about them seeing me. 

I just had to worry about Steve.

I was hoping that I could beat him to my room and get dressed before he finished his shower but when I open the door, Steve is fully dressed and lounging on my bed playing on his phone. 

"Man, girls take such long showe- oh..."

My face goes vibrant red as we make eye contact, my heart lurching up to my throat. We stare at each other for a long moment before his eyes starting to wander, looking at the water droplets that are dripping down from my hair onto my bare skin. 

He clears his throat before quickly turning away, rolling over on the bed to give me some privacy. "Sorry," he says softly. I smile at his apology, giggling as I head over towards my dresser. 

"For what?' I tease, getting out pajama shorts. I toss those on the opposite side of the bed before closing that drawer and pulling out another one. I get out a pair of old underwear before pausing, biting my lip. I put them back and pull out a pair of my nice, lacy panties.

Just in case.

Steve starts to stutter at my question, not really sure what he's apologizing for either. I chuckle at his stuttering, walking to my closet and getting a hoodie out. I decided to skip on the bra seeing as how we are just going to be chilling in my bed. 

"I'm just teasing," I reply as I walk to my bed, making sure Steve's back is to me before dropping my towel. I see him tense when he hears the towel, hit the floor. I quickly slip on my panties before slipping on my hoodie, sliding my shorts on last. 

"You're good," I say as I pick up the towel to dry my hair. He slowly rolls over to look up over at me, smiling when he sees me. 

"What?" I ask with my own smile, a blush growing on my face. 

"Nothing, nothing. You just...you're so beautiful," he whispers, smiling like the dork he is. My blush only gets worse, playfully hitting him with my towel. 

"Shut up! You're just trying to get into my pants!" I jokingly shout, making sure to be quiet enough so that my parents don't hear me. He laughs in response, tugging me onto the bed. He pulls me flush against him, smirking down at me. 

"Maybe," he jokes, looking serious as he says it. I stare up at him wide-eyed, trying to think of a good response. With our bodies pressed so closely together, I began to wonder if he could feel my pounding heart against him. 

Before I can think of anything a moment more, his lips meet mine. All coherent thoughts leave my mind after that. I hum into the kiss, slowly deepening it. He hums back when he feels my tongue slide out, gratefully accepting it into his mouth. 

We make out like that for a while, simply holding each other as we let our mouths explore the other's. After a while, our hands start to wander. His hands slip under my hoodie, staying respectfully on my hips. I internally groan at how much of a gentleman he is, wanting him to take charge and ravish me. 

I pull my hands away from his abdomen to pull his hands to my breasts, moaning when he gets with the program. He flips over me, squeezing my breasts as he pulls away from my mouth to kiss down my neck. I pant as I stare up a the ceiling, trying to wrap my head around the fact that we are actually doing this. The amount of times I've daydreamed in class or have woken up wet from a wet dream of him is ridiculous. 

Finally, those dreams are coming true. 

I moan louder when one of his hands leave my breasts to go to my heat, rubbing me through my panties. He brings his head away from my neck to look down at me, shushing me gently. 

"You have to be quiet, baby. The door is open and I'd rather not be shot by your dad if he catches us in this position."

I nod my head, taking a deep breath as I bite onto my lip. "Have you ever done...this before?" he whispers to me as his fingers rub over my clothed clit. 

I shake my head as I let out a shaky breath, my hands tightly gripping my covers. "No...not with someone else, anyway..." I reply sheepishly. His eyes widen at my words, for many reasons. 

For one, he's glad that he'll be the first one to be with me. Second of all, not with someone else but with...

He smirks devilishly as he pieces it together. "Do you have toys?" he asks in a new tone I've never heard before. It's deeper, darker. 

"I, um, uh..." I stutter out, trying to find a good way to deny his accusations. 

He practically growls as he moves my panties to the side and slips a finger inside of me. "God, I knew you were hot but this is just insane," he says lowly as he pumps his finger. 

"I can imagine you lied out on your bed, pumping one of your toys in and out of y-"

I quickly tig him down to keep me from moaning. Dirty talk is one of my weaknesses. A sound leaves his throat as he slips another finger inside, making me moan against his lips. He takes the chance to slide his tongue into my mouth, his free hand pinching one of my nipples. My head gets dizzy at all the different sensations, my body starting to shake. 

Before I can stop myself or warn him, I'm cumming. I cover my mouth as I do so, knowing I'll end up being loud. 

His eyes widen as he watches me, his fingers slowing down as I clench around them. After a couple of seconds, he feels his fingers get wetter and hears the squelching noise increase as he moves his fingers. 

He pulls his fingers out slowly with wide eyes, watching his fingers retreat from my core. He opens and closes his fingers, watching the strings of my juices drip down his fingers and make his hand even dirtier. 

I watch him with half-lidded eyes, my breathing making my chest rise and fall rapidly. He slowly brings his fingers to his lips, making eye contact with you as he licks at his fingers. 

I can't help but moan, shaking my head as my hips jolt up towards him. I bring my hand to his pants, palming him through his bottoms. He stops licking his fingers at that, grunting as he looks down at my hands. 

He bites his lip as he wipes his hand on his pants before slipping them off. I gape when his member springs free, hitting his abdomen. I forgot he's not wearing any underwear. I mewl at the realization, bringing my hand to his hard member to start pumping it. 

He bites his lip as he watches my hand move, his body tensing. I then bring my hand to my mouth, licking from my palm to my fingers before bringing my hand back. My hand now easily glides up and down, his hips jutting forward occasionally. 

After a couple of minutes of giving him a handjob, he shakily pulls my hand away. He brings his hands to my shorts, looking up at me through his long hair. 

"Can I?" he whispers, voice thick with want. I quickly nod my head, wanting nothing more. He slowly slips my shorts and panties off, groaning at the sight of my dripping heat. 

"God, you can't be real," he groans, pumping his member as he stares at my opening for a moment before looking up into my eyes. 

"Condom?" he whispers, smiling when he sees my flushed cheeks. I always get flustered so easily. I gulp at his question and shake my head, licking my lips. 

"No. I didn't exactly think that I'd be having sex with Steve The-Hair Harrington," I joke, my voice shakey from excitement. His face falls at my words, quietly cursing. 

He starts to pull away from me, okay with doing oral, before I stop him. "Hey," I say softly, bringing his eyes to mine. "I trust you," I whisper.

His eyes widen, his body going rigid. "I...you...what?" I giggle at his stuttering, running my hand through his hair. 

"I trust you. Just, please, don't cum in me," I tease. His face breaks out with color, making me giggle more. He nods his head though and brings his hips down, rubbing his member through my slick to get himself wet enough to not hurt me when he pushes in. 

When he finally does though, both of us can't help but moan. He then starts to thrust nice and slow, wanting it to be slow and sensual for our first time. We smile softly at each other before we start to kiss, this kiss being as slow as his thrusts. 

Even with the slow pace, I cum quickly. I'm not used to this in any way and plus, I've already came once, so I'm sensitive. He moans quietly when he feels me clench around him, knowing I came again. 

He hisses as he gets close, quickly pulling out and jacking off until he cums on my stomach. 

We pant as we stare at each other with lidded eyes, Steve slowly falling to my side. 

"Great. Now, I'll have to shower again," I joke as I cuddle into him, making him chuckle and kiss my forehead. 

MASTERLIST

[lovelyirony]

11.) What happens when they make their own fireworks?

When Sharon yelled at Tony to “go make your chemistry degree useful and firework-it-up with Rhodey!” she thought that Tony wouldn’t take it literally.

He’s the stupidest damn genius she knows.

Because he decides that they can make actual fireworks. He has the lab access, the safety gear, and can apparently order each material that they need. Rhodey’s excited.

They work out the different shapes they’re going to do, what the differences have to be.

Sharon wants to believe that it’s a date. It has to be a date. Who else is going to invite their best friend to make fireworks and not have it be a weird euphemism?

Of course, Rhodey’s no better. No, he thinks it’s a great “hangout” for his “best friend.”

They’ve both been making heart eyes for years.

Both of them think the other couldn’t possibly like them back. No, not possibly. The only reason that Sharon hasn’t been able to do anything about it is that the time when she was finally an independent adult who was no longer relegated to the kids’ table, but by then they were already both living their lives and too busy to come to Christmas parties, or abroad.

Then Sharon joined SHIELD, and suddenly all of her free time was dedicated to making sure she actually did her laundry and didn’t leave anything perishable in the fridge on long missions. She thought that at some point, Pepper would help them get their shit together, maybe.

Pepper, as it turns out, is also a disaster. She’s been busy falling in love with any woman that even so much as looks her way and has been having a very difficult time getting over the woman who she gets coffee from who wears overalls about six out of the seven days.

“You think I have time for that?!” Pepper says. “I’ve been busy trying to make every woman within a three-mile radius fall in love with me!”

“You’re also running a business, are you saying you didn’t carve time out to meddle in other people’s lives like I have?” Sharon asks.

“Yes! Exactly what I’m saying!”

Sharon rolls her eyes.

“Everyone is useless and Tony and Rhodey are going to die alone because they’re both so stupid it hurts.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Pepper responds. “All we need to do is get them jealous.”

“Have you forgotten what Tony is like? He’s self-loathing. He can’t get jealous. And Rhodey just straight-up won’t notice it because he’s a gigantic idiot.”

“Not gigantic,” Pepper grumbles. “But close enough. Then who’s gonna help them get together? We’ve both failed, so—”

“Well you never tried.”

“I have a life, Sharon!”

“Why?”

Pepper just shakes her head.

“Look, I only have time to either sulk for myself over pretty women or get a new rule passed for the workplace environment that we’ve been trying to shoot for. Tell me, how do you feel about a cappuccino machine?”

“Pepper I thought you were good with not wasting money.”

“Shit.”

So, Sharon is back to square one.

The Fourth of July is tomorrow, and there’s only so much time she has to even try and get them together.

This is where Clint comes in.

Clint will do anything for a grilled cheese. Literally anything. He’d probably commit war crimes for a grilled cheese. That’s how seriously he takes them.

So Sharon contacts him.

“What do you need, Sharon? I can get you a good coffee mug next week, but not this week.”

“No coffee mug, I need to interfere in people’s personal lives. How many grilled cheeses is that?”

“Seven.”

“Seven? Seriously?”

“One of them has to have fancy cheese.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Then eight.”

“Fine.”

Clint grins, leaning back in his chair.

“I didn’t actually need the fancy cheese. But who am I meddling with?”

“Rhodey and Tony, by the big party tomorrow. I need them to realize that they’d be good together.”

Clint frowns.

“Are you sure I’m capable of doing that in such a short time frame? Are you sure you don’t want this to be like a Halloween type thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. I might request nine sandwiches by the time this is over.”

“You’re welcome to request nine, but I’m only giving you seven.”

“We agreed on eight.”

“We did no such thing,” Sharon scoffs. “I’ll give you seven and throw in a liter of soda.”

Clint shrugs.

“Suits me, I wasn’t doing anything anyways. Hey, can you cover for me tomorrow on paperwork? Maria likes you better than she likes me, and I accidentally did my paperwork in red glitter ink. Again.”

Sharon sighs.

“I don’t know how you’ve survived this long.”

Clint shrugs and makes a “what are you gonna do?” face and heads out.

-

He has a specific plan in mind.

His first order of business is interrupting lab time. This time is sacred to both Rhodey and Tony, and really the only person who repeatedly violates said lab time is Steve for stupid reasons like “worldwide, international problems” or “the fridge turned sentient and is trying to trap Bucky inside the freezer so that he feels ‘at home’.”

If Clint is bothering them, it’s not for a legitimate reason. He takes one of the seven grilled cheeses with him and sits down on a stool.

“Hi guys,” he says. “What are we doing?”

“We’re making fireworks, you’re eating a sandwich.”

“Why are you guys not getting dinner?” Clint asks. “Go on a little date or something?”

“Date?” Tony asks.

“Yeah, date,” Clint says. “Nat said you guys were dating, and she doesn’t lie to me.”

Rhodey blinks. Tony stares.

“Oh. We’re dating?” Tony asks. “I…I knew that.”

“Me too, obviously,” Rhodey says. “Tony you…asked me out like two months ago?”

“Yeah,” Tony says hurriedly. “Hey, can you pass me some more of the purple stuff? I’m trying to make a Hulk firework.”

“Sure thing, honey-bee, although you know that this is an actual name for the chemical? Did you forget?”

“…no, definitely not,” Tony says. “But you always know what I mean when I’m talking, so it doesn’t matter.”

Clint pulls out his second sandwich.

“Is this, like, your weird couple way of going on dates?”

Tony and Rhodey look at each other.

“I guess,” Rhodey says with a shrug. “Usually I make Tony come with me to dinner.”

“And I make Rhodey listen to me ramble about conspiracy theories,” Tony answers. “Is that all, Clint?”

“Yeah,” he says, spraying crumbs all over what looks to be very sensitive lab equipment. “I’ll see you at the party, right? Sharon said you two were coming and shit. Do you guys celebrate Christmas together?”

“Clint, get out,” Tony says tiredly, waving him off. Clint shrugs, gets off the table, and saunters out.

He sends a text to Sharon: I get eight sandwiches!!!

No you don’t lmao get off my ass

Eight sandwiches after u see negotiating skillz put 2 work!!

We’ll see.

Rhodey is currently staring at Tony.

“Why’d you go along with it?” Tony asks.

“Why did you?”

“I asked you first!”

Rhodey laughs nervously.

“Well, um…maybe I didn’t exactly mind that people think we’re a couple? I’d like them to, uh, know?”

Tony breathes a sigh of relief.

“Oh my god, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Rhodey asks as he walks to Tony, engulfing him into a hug.

“Because I’m an idiot,” Tony answers. “But now I’m not one, and we’re about to have a blast at this party.”

“I already hate your stupid jokes,” Rhodey mumbles.

“You’ve hated them for years,” Tony grins. “But I’ve loved you for that many years, so I think it balances out.”

Rhodey presses a kiss to Tony’s forehead. He smiles.

“Let’s just get these finished up, okay? I want to make sure that I get photographic evidence of Sam losing his mind when he sees the Falcon-themed one.”

Tony nods, gathering more of the supplies.

“Roger that, honey.”

[marvelswinterfrost]

1943 (Part 4)

WARNINGS: WAR, Violence

MASTERLIST

Chapter ONE | Chapter TWO | Chapter THREE | Chapter FOUR 

...

Somewhere in a trench; Austria 1944: (a few months after the drafting)

Bucky sat in the mud, pressing his rifle tight against his chest. His back was leaning against one of the wooden trench walls; it was just like him covered in blood stains, dirt and ragged. The bombs that were occasionally fired at their trench destroyed more than a half of what they had dug before the battle started. It had taken sweat and tears, working day and night in the hope to be done with it before the Germans had a solid shelter to hide in, but all in vain. Once they thought they had the upper hand, thought that they’d made it, the enemies already attacked.

They weren’t a lot more than they were, in fact, they almost had the same number of soldiers on each side. ‘Had’. The enemy was fearless, brutal. They took them down without great effort. Bucky saw men dying; young and old. Brave and frightened ones. Ones who had signed up because they wanted to protect their country and ones who signed up for the drill to fight.

The day he was being drafted seemed so far away to the soldier. The day he had seen Loki the last time. He’d thought about writing a letter to the other man, telling him that he was fine. That he’d be home soon. But the longer they stayed at the front, the more Bucky realized that he might never make it back. Each day they spent longer waiting in the muddy trench, ground soaked with the blood of the fallen soldiers, the fallen friends, the more they all lost hope. Their general would tell them it’s a strategy, “let the enemy have the upper hand. Think you’re weak. And then attack.” He would say. They all knew every word coming from him was a lie. Nonsense spoken by a man who sends his soldiers onto the field to die. ‘Died a heroic death’ he would write in the letters that were being sent to the families of the fallen ones.

“Bullshit.” Bucky thought as he straightened his helmet that was constantly sliding over his eyes. His hand trembled and his body jerked when a bomb went off only meters away from him. The dirt was thrown into the air and came crashing down on the men firing back. Bucky could hear voices; they were yelling. But his mind was too far off to understand what they were saying. A man crouched in front of him, gripping his left shoulder firmly.

“Sergeant.” The man said breathlessly. “They’re attacking faster than we can counter.”

Bucky was pulled out of his thoughts and stood up, getting him into a kneeling position and dragging the other soldier a little to the right, so he’d be less likely to be hit by a bullet.

“How many are there?” he asked, looking around to see if the men who defended the trench were in need of help.

“Hard to tell. Bit more than 300? More than us for sure. They’ll have us dead by the end of the night.” Fear was glistening in the soldier’s eyes. Much like Barnes’, his face was bloody and dirty. There was a smear on his left cheek, right under his eye. ‘He’s been crying’, Bucky thought. They’d all been there since they left home. Some days it’s all your body can take, and you break down. Every day you’re losing a friend hit by a bullet or by a bomb. And sometimes all that’s left are bent dog tags in the mud. Bucky had gathered many of them, some men he didn’t even know, and sent them back to their families if their death was confirmed or a month had passed since their disappearance. He’d hoped that maybe then their families find some peace.

“Shit.” Barnes hissed in desperation.

“You can say that, Sergeant. There’s only two options: We surrender, or we die.” Bucky didn’t say anything instead he took another look at the soldiers of his unit. They were on their limit, barely standing on their feet anymore. He turned back to the other man. Only now he noticed the hole in his helmet. He must have taken it from a fallen soldier. Maybe they were close?

“What’s your name, soldier?” he yelled, trying to be heard with the bombs and guns going off around them.

“Private Sean Smith, Sergeant.” The soldier yelled back.

“You’ got family waiting for you back home, Private?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ve got a wife and a small child. Must be ‘bout two years old now. Haven’t seen them in a long time. Promised I’ll be back soon.” He laughed painfully at the memories.

“Yeah, I promised someone as well. And we didn’t have a proper date yet, so I’ve got plenty to do when I come back.” Bucky said amused. They really hadn’t. He made a mental note to himself that once they reached American ground again, he’d take Loki on a date. A proper date in the evening, with candles lighting up the dim room of a restaurant. But right now, this plan seemed to be only a dream. A dream Bucky so desperately wished to become true. Afterall all he had to do was hold on, right?

“That’s one lucky girl, Sergeant. She’s gonna hug the crap outta ya when you’re getting back, I’m sure of it.” The private smiled.

“Yeah, probably.” Barnes smiled sadly brushing off the other man’s thought of him having a female partner. A hug from Loki sure would help him a lot at the moment though. Being pressed against his muscular chest, his head buried in his neck and soft hands running down his waist in a slow motion. All he wanted was to wake up someday and find the man he loved so dearly lay beside him again.

“Private,” Bucky said, gripping the soldier’s shoulder and looked him into his eyes, making sure he understood the orders he was about to give him. “You’re getting ever man we have left of our and other units. Gather them at one point here in the trench where you think it would be safe. We’re not going to give up, but they can’t carry on a battle any longer, you hear me?” the private nodded. “Once you’ve done that, stay with them. Tell them to crawl through the trenches or the Germans might see them. They have to be more careful than usually; do you understand? Once they’re gathered, they’re a greater target with more causalities when they’re spotted.”

“That’s, a big risk, Sir. I’m not sure they’ll be happy about it. Some might refuse the order.”

“They do as I say, or they’ll be killed. Do you hear me? Either by the enemy or by me. We’re a team and when one disobeys, we’ll all pay the price.” The soldier nodded. Bucky had never in his life thought there would come a day where he’d have to threaten people with death. He knew he wasn’t going to take their life, but he couldn’t guarantee his superior wouldn’t. With a small salute, the private left.

“Looks like we’re going all in now.” He muttered to himself. “This is such a Steve thing to do, I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He crawled a few meters before slowly standing up and glancing over the top of the wooden trench wall, his rifle still in his hands. When his eyes met the muddy surface of the battlefield, he was met with a dozen pairs of combat boots. He followed the legs upwards with his eyes and came to a halt when he saw multiple weapons pointed at him. No one shot. All they did was standing there and waiting. James knew that as soon as he’d raise his gun, he’d be a dead man.

“Surrender and nothing will happen. We’ve got the rest of your men in our hand.” A voice with a heavy german accent said. A man in a black leather trench coat stepped in front of the german soldiers, kneeling down right above the sergeant. When the man saw Bucky’s heavy breathing and tightening grip on his rifle he laughed. “Oh, but don’t worry, they’re all well and alive. For now.” Again, he smirked. “So, will you be so kind and accompany us or will you choose to play the hero?”

“I’d rather die than follow your kind of sick bastards.” Bucky spat, his gun now almost to a point where he could possibly take out at least one of them before being shot. The soldiers behind the speaking man took a step forward, ready to shoot any time, but Leather Coat held them back.

“Very well.” He said and stood up, brushing off the mud that had made its way onto his precious coat. “Take him.”

Bucky waited for a shot to ring out, for a bomb to fall from the sky but nothing came. He frowned confused at the missing violence coming from the enemy. But just as he was about to ask what the weird speaking man had meant, something hard hit him from behind and everything went black.

After that he didn’t remember much. He remembered waking up, strapped to a table in a cark and wet room. It smelled terribly. Men in white coats were injecting him some liquids that stood on the small metal table beside him. They were constantly talking about things he didn’t understand. Did he catch the word “Experiment”? He wasn’t sure. He’d just hoped that the others were still alive. He’d hoped Loki wouldn’t be mourning to long when Steve got the letter of him being dead. He wished he could’ve told Loki one last time how much he meant to him, even though they hadn’t known each other for too long. He just wished everyone the best. And maybe some time, when their time came as well, he’d see them all again.

[prophetandprincess]

The weather luckily held the next afternoon so Alex didn't have to change the meeting place with Olivia, though autumn had finally found its way to New York City as the leaves started to change. Alex found an empty bench at Washington Square Park after class and settled down to wait, having told Mrs. Nazari that it was still light and she would be safe getting home on her own. It had taken some convincing, but finally Mrs. Nazari relented and drove off.

There was a good deal of anxiety around this meeting, though Alex didn't think that Olivia posed a threat. She was more worried that Olivia was going to tell her that she was a lost cause. An even more terrifying thought was that Olivia was a terrible teacher and Alex would never know and continue to pay her to teach her the wrong thing. Still, even a little bit of assistance was better than just outright failing without at least trying to get some help.

It wasn't hard to spot Olivia when she rolled into the park on her bicycle, a little bit of sweat on her brow. The description she gave was accurate, she was a petite woman with black hair and wearing a leather jacket. However, she didn't mention that the bike would be battered, her jeans would be ripped, and the leather jacket looked as if it had been handed down from an older sibling. Still, there was something about Oliva that made it all look styled and not like a woman who had just thrown on old clothes. They met eyes and Olivia walked over, propping the bike against the back of the bench and swung her messenger bag off her shoulder.

"Sorry, I'm a little late and a lot sweaty," Olivia said as she took off her helmet and sat down next to Alex on the bench. Alex was surprised that her voice wasn't accented at all. "My last delivery was in Tribeca and I had to hustle to make it up here. Now, let's get to work and see how good your Russian is this far into the semester."

Getting down to business was something that Alex could appreciate, especially when she was paying for Olivia's time. Olivia did a basic greeting, which Alex could respond to, though Olivia winced at the pronunciation. However, it was only a sentence or two more before communication broke down completely. Olivia raised her eyebrow and Alex thought maybe her tutor realized she was going to earn every cent of that twenty-five dollars an hour. Either that or she was thinking about how to let Alex down gently.

"I'm going to be honest with you," Olivia started and Alex's stomach sank to her shoes, "this is going to take a bit more time and work than I originally thought. Would you be able to do two hours a week instead of one? You're already so far behind and if you fail the midterm there will be no coming back, especially with Kuznetsov."

"My scholarship is based on my GPA, I can't fail," Alex's voice wavered, trying not to sound too desperate. "I will meet with you every day of the week if you can save me and my GPA."

Olivia gave her a smile before shaking her head. "As much as I'd love the money, I don't think you're that far gone. Your problem is that you didn't grasp the basics and you're not speaking enough to get the pronunciation right. That means, the more we talk, the less we'll do it in English and maybe watch some kids programs in Russian. That will help."

"Watching Russian things I can do, however we aren't going to be saying much if we're only talking in Russian," Alex laughed before a thought struck her. "Before we shake on it, do you think you could translate something for me?"

"A bit of a test of my skills, I get it." Olivia nodded, turning serious. "What would you like me to translate? Chekov or Tolstoy?"

"A recording actually," Alex pulled out her phone and opened the voicemail James left her that first night he called when he sounded confused. "Just hit play."

Olivia took the phone and pressed it against her ear. After the first couple words her brow furrowed and she looked down to focus on the ground. Olivia listened to the message twice before she handed the phone back, looking very confused.

"Couldn't understand it?" Alex asked when Olivia didn't say anything right away.

"No, it just...doesn't make any sense," Olivia clarified after she gave herself a shake. "The man, whoever he was, sounds confused. He is saying that he is lost and needs information on the extraction location. He says that the rest of his team had been eliminated, but the mission was completed. However, the date and time he gave were not of this decade."

"That makes sense to me actually." Alex smiled as she put her phone back in her pocket, having made up the bare bones of a lie before having Olivia translate the message, though it had to be tweaked with the information provided. "I used to do volunteer work at a retirement home and one of the men was an immigrant from Russia. He had no family here, so I gave him my number to reach out if he needed something. As you can see, or hear, he has dementia and gets a little confused sometimes between present day and his time back in his home country. I think he might have been KGB or something."

"Ah," Olivia didn't look all that convinced, but didn't press Alex for more information. "So, I passed the test then?"

"With flying colors," Alex smiled. While she had no idea what that message said, there was no way Olivia would make up that information on the fly, it wasn't a believable lie, so she had to be telling the truth.

"Great, so when do you want to have your first session?" Olivia gave a small smile, though Alex got the feeling that the expression was one she didn't use often.

"Well, my apartment is in a bit of...disarray at the moment. I'm hoping that it will be set up soon. Do you want to shoot for Thursday afternoon? I can text you an address when I know where we will be." Alex didn't know what she would do if her apartment wasn't ready by Thursday. While she slept well last night, she had a feeling staying at Steve's apartment would get old. Especially when he returned wherever he was saving the world this week.

"It might have to be a bit later if I have deliveries, but I should be able to fit it in." Olivia grabbed her phone and sighed. "Sorry to make a deal and run, but I have something I have to go take care of. Exes, you'd think they'd take a hint after you dump them."

"No worries, I'll let you know about Thursday as soon as I do." Alex stood when Olivia did, not knowing if they should shake hands or something. "Be safe out there."

"Прощай," Olivia waved as she hopped on her bike.

"увидимся," Alex stumbled over before her new tutor was completely out of earshot.

Alex sat back down on the bench and took a deep breath. Well, at least that item was off her to-do list. Now, she had to figure out where she was going to sleep that night. All of her stuff was at Monica's and it was a bit weird to be staying at Steve's place when he was off saving the world, but there was something nice about being left alone. Alexandra Jade Harper, the woman who left her small Midwest town to be around people all the time, wanting to be alone. Maybe Hell would freeze over next.

Monica was still at her internship so Alex texted her saying she would be at her place when she got off work and headed that way on foot. While she could have taken the subway, it was a really nice autumn day and Alex wanted time to think over things. Even though Alex ran every morning, that was to keep her mind completely empty while her brain worked, focused on nothing but breathing and the music blaring in her ears. Walking calmed her in a different way, letting her thoughts wander but not trying to solve anything as she weaved through the businessmen and tourists. Alex arrived at the apartment building feeling a little less overwhelmed.

"Nice to see you smiling, Miss Harper," Raymond said with a bright smile as Alex started to head toward the elevator. "How are you doing with everything? Have they let you back into the apartment yet?"

"No, not yet and I'm taking it one day at a time, just like everyone else." Alex smiled as she walked over to the desk. "Have the rest of the residents calmed down or do you think I'm going to get kicked out once my lease is up for disrupting the peace?"

"A lot of questions, but everyone seemed happy that you're alright and their apartment was spared." Raymond whispered as if it was secret. "Then, there is Mrs. Dreyer, who swore that she saw a werewolf on the fire escape that night when the police questioned her. Then again, she had glaucoma and was watching old episodes of the Twilight Zone so loud that the windows were rattling when the police questioned her."

"Mrs. Dreyer, she lives on the fourth floor, right?" Alex had a vague recollection of a small woman with a bright red cane mumbling while Henry was helping collect her mail once. As the mailboxes were by floor, Alex could judge she was either on the third or fourth level.

"Yes, she has been living in this building since before her husband passed and Mr. LeBlanc bought the property. I think I heard that her husband was on Wall Street for a number of years, but I'm not sure if that's true. What I do know is that she gives great Christmas gifts to the staff, even though we have to swap them when she's gone because she can't tell us apart with her poor eyesight," Raymond said with a laugh.

"We're all going to get there one day, Raymond," Alex laughed as she tapped the front desk to show she was leaving.

"If we're lucky," Raymond said with a laugh.

"If we're lucky," Alex echoed, though her statement did not have the same playful tone.

Mrs. Dreyer didn't sound like the most reliable witness and Alex didn't know where she lived, so she just filed away the information Raymond had given her. She settled herself down on the floor of Monica's living room, hoping that maybe the conversation with Olivia would somehow magically improve her Russian. That was not the case, so Alex was more than happy for the distraction when the front door opened.

"You're actually where you said you'd be for once. I need to mark it in my calendar," Monica laughed as she walked in with a bag of food. "Gabe, I owe you a coffee."

"I don't know if I should be offended that you bet against me or flattered that Gabriel had faith in me." Alex smiled at the tall man, who winked at her as he kicked the door closed. "Then again, your distrust is a hundred percent justified, Monica."

"You're damn right it is," Monica laughed. "But since I love you, I brought you home Thai food anyway, along with a bubble tea because I want you to be happy and fed."

"You're an angel incarnate." Alex cleaned up her material and walked over to the counter where Gabriel and Monica were dividing up the food. Gabriel handed her the drink with a smile as Monica muttered to herself about Pad Thai and drunken chicken.

"How'd it go with that girl you were meeting?" Monica asked after popping a piece of shrimp into her mouth. "Do you have a tutor now?"

"I think so, we're supposed to meet Thursday for our first session so we'll see how it goes," Alex shrugged. "What about you guys, who was your day?"

"Well, Gabriel won't tell you because either he is running the longest con ever or he works for a very secret organization. I've yet to figure out if it is a good organization or if he is a hunchman to the next super villain." Monica said as she carted her food into the living room. "As for my day, there was another security breach so instead of working on the water filtration system and disbursement machine, I was interrogated yet again."

"That's awful," Alex shook her head as she picked up a Pad Tahi noodle that fell on the floor. " It just doesn't make sense. Oscorp is one of the most powerful corporations in the city, how is their security so easy to bypass?"

"It isn't," Gabriel said, which made both women look at him. "Don't ask me how I know that, but if someone has gotten through their security this many times is either one hell of a hacker or they already had access to the system, which would make it easier to get around the firewalls."

"Hence the interrogations," Monica sighed before a vicious stab of his fork. "However, if it was an inside job, you'd think they'd be able to track the individual using their clearance to get into the system. Right, Mr. Tech Genius?"

"I mean...not necessarily, but that also would take a bit of computer skill to hide that you were the one who accessed the computers," Gabriel shrugged. "However, after three security breaches, the hacker can't be that good if they can't find what they're looking for in the system. I'd give whoever it is two times, once to get into the system and then once to get the goods, but three times? It doesn't make sense that they are good enough to get in but not good enough to find what they're looking for."

"I'm guessing you don't know what they were looking for, Monica?" Alex asked, remembering the conversation she had with Monica about the two other scientists who had been attacked. "Did it have anything to do with the project that the other two attacked scientists were working on?

"Good to know that I wasn't going completely mad when I thought the same thing," Monica smiled between bites of food. "Unfortunately, they weren't telling me anything about the security breach and if I asked too many questions they would have taken it as a sign of guilt, so I don't have an answer. I know it sounds selfish, but I wish whatever the hacker wanted, he would just take so I can get back to my work."

"Speaking of attacks, how are you doing Alex? Mo told me about what happened to your apartment," Gabriel asked.

"Alright, though I think Monica is ready to get her apartment back and I'm ready to get back on a schedule."

Alex was pretty sure Monica mumbled something that didn't sound flattering about Alex's schedule, but when asked she shook her head. The conversation turned to the stories about other crimes in the city, which were numerous, along with the Devil in Hell's Kitchen and Spider-man. Monica and Gabriel had lively discussions about vigilantes and if they were helping or harming the city's efforts to catch criminals. Alex, tactfully, stayed out of the conversation given that she was friends with the aforementioned Spider-man and a few members of the Avengers, who some saw as only a step above vigilantes.

They played a couple rounds of Uno, Gabriel won almost every hand, and he said his goodnight as the Tonight Show started. Both Monica and Alex attempted to do some course work, but it wasn't much later before they said their goodnights as well. Alex really hoped that she would be able to have her second night of dreamless sleep as she settled down into the couch.

Alex wasn't exactly sure what it was that woke her up, but something brought her to consciousness in the early morning hours. At first she thought it was Monica getting up to go to the bathroom, but when there was no sound from that end of the apartment, Alex sat up to look around.

There was something looking through the window at her.

It had a terrible grin with horrid fangs, eyes glowing green as they caught the ambient light, and large ears. It was something right out of an old horror film, but far more effective when it was clinging to the wall of a New York City apartment building a couple stories off the ground. Alex was screaming before she even realized it and Monica was stumbling into the room, asking what was wrong.

"The window," Alex finally got out. She would never make fun of the heroine in a horror movie again, it was a natural reaction to scream and stutter like a broken doll when you see something that shouldn't exist.

Monica looked to where Alex was pointing, but the face was no longer visible through the panes. Alex scrambled off the couch and looked out all of the windows. There was no sign of whatever she had seen and turning around to see Monica's expression, Alex realized she must look like she had finally lost it. Unlike all the nightmares, Alex knew what she saw and that it was real.

"Something woke me up and when I looked out the window, there was some sort of creature looking in the window," Alex explained as she flopped down on the couch next to Monica, hand to her heart as it hammered away inside her chest.

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming again, love? I don't mean any offense," Monica said when she saw Alex's expression, "but you waking up screaming is not anything new for you."

"Okay, okay, that's fair," Alex sighed as she raked her hand through her hair as it had fallen out of her ponytail. "But this wasn't like anything in my nightmares. I swear to you, there was something outside that window, looking in."

"Well, one way or another, there is nothing we can do about it now. We can't call the police with no evidence and I'd rather not have them in here asking questions and looking for trouble. Even that cutie Sousa. Best to try and go back to sleep. We'll...we can figure something out in the morning," Monica gently rubbed Alex's back between the shoulder blades. "You want to come into my room? Safety in numbers and all that?"

"No, no you're right, it's probably nothing," Alex smiled as she patted Monica's knee. "I'm sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep."

"Are you sure?" Monica asked softly and Alex just nodded. "Okay, well, if you change your mind, I've been told I'm a fabulous cuddler."

Monica sat there a couple more moments, just to see if Alex would change her mind, before kissing her hair and headed into her bedroom. Alex waited until she heard the creaking of Monica's bedsprings before pulling out her phone. Peter didn't answer his phone when she called, though given that it was two-forty five in the morning that wasn't a huge surprise, so she sent him a text message. Monica was right, they couldn't call the police, so she went to the one person who would believe her. The message probably didn't make a lot of sense, especially because Alex was trying to be vague, but she felt a little better once it was sent. Still, there was no way she was going to be able to go back to sleep.

Peter called her at six-thirty. Another autumn thunderstorm had rolled into the city halfway through Alex's run, so she had cut her route short and was walking into the building when she took the call. As Alex climbed the stairs, not wanting to lose the call in the elevator, Peter apologized profusely for not answering the phone which was hysterical since she called him at an ungodly hour. Once he was done rambling, Alex told him exactly what she had seen in the window the night before.

"Well, that's terribly unsettling," Peter said with a sigh, "especially given where I was last night that I couldn't take your call."

"Another apartment torn to shreds?" Alex guessed, dropping her voice even though she was alone in the stairwell.

"This time with the scientist inside it. From the sounds of it, it wasn't pretty."

Alex didn't know if it was Peter's tone or some intuition, but Alex knew without asking that the scientist had not gotten out of the apartment alive. That meant the only reason Alex and the other two scientists hadn't been torn to shreds is because they hadn't been home. Peter taking her to that bank robbery saved her life, even if it had triggered some sort of stress response.

"Who was it? That was killed I mean," Alex asked softly. It wasn't as if she would know who the person was, but she felt that putting a name with the victim was the least she could do.

"Niall Coburn, part of the genetics division at Oscorp and by all accounts a brilliant scientist who was just starting to make his mark in the scientific community. He actually wrote a paper with Warren if you can believe it. Like most brilliant scientists, Niall lived alone, so thankfully there is only one casualty. However, the fact that the coroner was still there when I left and the death apparently happened around one in the morning will tell you everything you should need to know about how messy the death was."

"One this morning? Are they sure?" Alex felt as if all the air had been knocked out of her and not just because she was walking up stairs.

"I mean, it's not like they can pinpoint this stuff so early, but that's they're guess. Why?" Peter instantly sounded concerned.

"Because I saw the thing outside the window after two in the morning. That meant that he came over here after he killed that scientist. He could have killed me or Monica." Alex felt as if she was about to throw up at the thought of Monica being hurt. "Why didn't he kill us? Why did he just look in the window?"

"I can't answer that, Alex. Maybe he is staking out Monica's apartment or maybe…" Peter was quiet for a couple uncomfortable beats. "Maybe he was coming to find you."

"As in, all of the other scientists were supposed to die too and now he's going to try and finish the job." Alex leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. "That means those other two scientists are in danger as well."

"Well, I do not like that train of thought at all, but I'll look into it. If that's the case though, why didn't he attack you last night, no offense," Peter added quickly. "He has busted into that place before and a single scream doesn't seem like it would deter this guy."

"Parker, you'll know if I'm offended, so you can stop worrying about that," Alex laughed breathlessly as she continued her trek upward. "And I have no idea, but I don't hear you coming up with any better theories."

"That's because, like a good scientist, I am waiting to provide a hypothesis until I have more data to extrapolate from," Peter laughed at hearing Alex do so. "Also, I haven't showered yet today and that's where I have all my best ideas."

"Well, you better get on that and I'm going to attempt to have a somewhat normal morning." Alex said as she opened the door to Monica's apartment as quietly as possible. "See you in class."

"Be careful," Peter said seriously.

"Aye, Aye, Captain." Alex smiled at his concern. He was a good kid.

"Wrong Superhero," Peter pointed out before ending the call.

Getting ready was a nightmare as both Monica and Alex attempted to dance around each other in the small bathroom. Alex tried to think of a way to warn Monica about the creature, but nothing seemed to come out and Monica was smart enough she had probably come to the same collusion if she believed that Alex had seen something. By the time Alex stumbled out of the apartment, without breakfast, she decided that if her apartment wasn't ready that evening, she was staying at Steve's again. It wasn't just about the bathroom, though she was still dreaming of Steve's shower, it was to keep Monica safe. If Alex was a target for that creature, she wanted to be as far from Monica as possible. If it was after Monica...maybe Alex would ask Peter to watch the place.

"Miss Harper, a very good morning to you," Mrs. Nazari said as Alex slipped into the back of the SUV.

"Good morning," Alex said around a yawn. "Sorry if I kept you waiting."

"It's no trouble, it is what I'm paid for," Mrs. Nazari laughed as she pulled out into traffic. "Did you have breakfast this morning? If not, I think my children left some date-and-sesame balls in a bag in the back. They have walnuts in them, in case you're allergic."

Alex was about to politely decline, but her stomach rumbled loudly, so she reached into the back pocket and found a ziplock bag. She wasn't exactly sure what to make of the treats as she had never had dates before, but it would be rude to refuse now. After the first date-and-sesame ball, Alex really wasn't sure how she felt about them, so she had another one. Soon, the bag was empty.

"Thank you, for the food specifically, but in general as well." Alex said while she attempted to brush the loose sesame seeds back into the bag and not onto the floor. "How many children do you have?"

"Two, a boy and a girl, six and eight respectively." Mrs. Nazari's voice was soft and Alex could see her smile in the reflection of the rearview mirror. "They are very messy eaters so don't worry about the sesame seeds, I can always blame them when the car is cleaned later."

"It must be hard to balance work and two children that age. They're so rambunctious." Alex was exhausted after being with Sandy for an afternoon, she couldn't even imagine chasing after two. Parents are truly remarkable and Alex should check in on the Malones to see how they're doing.

"When they say it takes a village," Mrs. Narzari laughed. "My husband, thankfully, has no problem being home with the children and with the help of his mother and sister, who live in the same building, we make it work. It is a very loud life, but it reminds me of being back home."

Alex didn't say anything, though she had a thousand questions, every single one was insensitive or just plain rude. She was genuinely surprised that Mrs. Nazari was the breadwinner of the family and that her husband stayed home with the children, which made her feel awful. Then there was the question of where her home was, but that also didn't seem appropriate to ask. So, she just listened to the news station in a language she still couldn't identify and, for once, kept her opinions to herself.

The rest of the day didn't hold any surprises. Professor Warren showed none of the restless energy that Alex had seen on Monday though Peter was uncharastically quiet. Still, that wasn't surprising given the lack of sleep he had gotten and why he hadn't been in his bed. He agreed to keep an eye on her building tonight to make sure Monica was alright. Mrs. Nazari magically had more food on hand on the trip from campus to the Tower, this time just a bag of dried apple chips. Alex started to get the feeling that her bodyguard was feeling a bit maternal toward her. There were worse things in the world than someone who wanted to feed you, especially when that person did it in a very hands off way like Mrs. Nazari.

"I won't be needing a ride home this evening, Mrs. Nazari. I'll be staying in the Tower tonight," Alex said as she got out of the SUV in the garage. "Thank you so much for the treats today and I will see you tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Miss Harper. I will see you tomorrow," Mrs. Nazari had an almost knowing smile as she watched Alex get out of the car. Alex didn't want to know what she thought she knew.

Dr, Banner was gone yet again, probably with Steve and the others, so it was the group leaders who ran the internship. Liam drove Alex's group hard, but they had fun as well, and Alex was starting to understand the medical reason the serum worked inside the body. While she still felt as if she was the smallest child chasing after all the big kids on the playground, she was at least starting to catch up.

Steve's apartment was just as blissfully quiet and clean as when Alex walked into it the other evening. A look in the fridge let Alex know that not only did someone clean Steve's apartment, they did his shopping as well. She would have thought it was a charmed life if Alex didn't know the horrible things Steve had to do while he was out on the missions to save the world. Besides, she doubted that he would buy anything other than sliced lunch meat and white bread if it was up to him.

Alex showered, ate, and worked to catch up on the assignments that she was given an extension on due to her apartment situation. All of her classes, except Russian and Biochemistry, were thankfully not too stressful, though they were time consuming. By midnight, Alex was ready to call it a night after the early morning wake up call by a certain monster. She hoped she could get another night of dreamless sleep as she curled onto the couch underneath the blanket, which she didn't doubt had also been washed since the last time she used it.

A door closing woke Alex up immediately, shooting to her feet before she was even fully conscious. It took her a minute to even realize where she was before her eyes focused on the shadowy figure at the door. Alex grabbed the nearest item, which happened to be a textbook that she hadn't put away, and chucked it at the intruder. Whoever it was easily caught the projectile and Alex took a step backward.

"Alex, it's me," Steve said as he walked forward into the living room, textbook in hand. "I thought you'd be in the guest room. Why are you sleeping on the couch?"

"Steve, shit." Alex put her hand to her chest and took a deep breath. "Sorry about that, but you have to admit that was a good throw."

"It wasn't a bad throw after tumbling off a couch and almost slamming your head on the coffee table, I will give you that." Steve smiled as he walked over. "I also have to commend you on having the appropriate reaction to an intruder this time, but you didn't answer my question."

"I don't know, it just seemed weird to stay in there." Alex suddenly had some sympathy for Goldilocks and being caught sleeping in a home that wasn't hers. "I figured someone would tell you every detail of me being here, including where I was sleeping.

"Someone did and I've told you, you're always welcome, but they aren't spying on you so they didn't mention the couch." Steve set the textbook on the table before heading into the kitchen and pulling a beer out of the fridge. "Now, go back to sleep."

"Don't tell me what to do," Alex laughed as she sat down on the couch, tucking her legs underneath herself. "Come on, tell me where you were and how you saved the world."

"How about I make you a deal," Steve said, already heading toward his bedroom. "If you're still awake once I'm done with my shower, we can talk about my top secret mission with the Avengers while Jarvis listens in."

Alex hadn't even thought about the fact that Jarvis was always watching and listening, but she wasn't about to tell Steve that. "Deal."

Steve shook his head and closed the door to his bedroom. Alex did settle back down on the couch, figuring that Steve wasn't actually going to come back out. She was half asleep when she heard the bedroom door open. Steve was able to move without making a sound so Alex looked over the back of the couch to catch him sneaking into the kitchen to grab a bag of chips.

"Those late night snacks will always get you," Alex said, laughing when she watched him sigh and shake his head. "Bring those over here."

Steve grabbed a bag of pretzels as well and pulled dip from the fridge before carting everything over. Alex made space on the couch and he flopped down beside her, smelling of his shower gel and looking absolutely exhausted. For the first couple minutes they just focused on the food, crunching away side by side.

"So, tell me about what happened at the apartment," Steve said after they had taken care about half the bag of pretzels.

Alex got in the feeling Steve wasn't in the mood for her to be vague. She told Steve everything she knew, aside from anything to do with Spider-man because that wasn't her secret to tell. Then she told him about seeing the face in the window that morning and ended it all with telling him about the call from James, though she didn't mention his name because of Jarvis. They were quiet for a while after that particular confession.

"Well, at least he sounded like himself," Steve finally said as he got off the couch and went to grab another bottle of beer, bringing one over for Alex as well.

"We might also be able to guess what side of the world he's on given the time difference, but other than that…" Alex shrugged as she took a long swing of the beer. "As weird as it sounds, I almost feel guilty I haven't been focusing on him with everything going on. I haven't done a single night of research since my apartment."

"I think he'd forgive you," Steve said with a laugh. "Now I know that if I told you to stay here for your own safety, you'd tell me to go to hell. That begs the question, why are you here now on your own accord?"

"I don't want to put Monica in any danger if I'm the thing it's after," Alex said honestly. "Maybe he was there for her and I left her vulnerable, though I've done everything I can to ensure she's safe, but it wasn't her bedroom window he was staring at, it was at me. It was my apartment that was torn apart. So, I took a gamble. Now, your turn. Where in the world was Steve Rogers?"

"Obviously I can't tell you the details or Jarvis would report me to Tony and Miss Hill before either of us could blink," Steve leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.

"Which are you more afraid of, Stark or Hill?" Alex settled down on the couch and pulled the blanket up.

"That's an easy question," Steve laughed, "definitely Hill. She is also the point person on all our missions. We were told that there was a cell of Hydra agents hiding...in a remote location. A very humid and very hot location. Believe it or not, Captain America's uniform is not very breathable. I'm pretty sure I boiled inside my own sweat which is just as unpleasant as it sounds. However, the moment I mentioned it to Tony, he started sketching up plans for a new suit. I shouldn't complain though, Nat has it worse with all that dark, tight fitting, fabric."

"I can't picture Natasha complaining about the heat." Alex had only had one conversation with the Black Widow, but she didn't seem like the type of person to comment about the weather while they were on a mission to kill people.

"Oh, she doesn't, but Clint complains enough for the both of them," Steve laughed. "Anyway, we did some recon, hit their headquarters, did some interrogation, and then headed home. The usual and nothing to write home about."

Before, Alex would have believed him, but she had seen his sketchbooks. She had seen the visions that were burned into his brain he had to draw in an attempt to get them out. They weren't all from World War II or the Battle of New York. Steve was a soldier, the perfect soldier if the news articles about the serum back in the day were to be believed, and that meant that he was sent into situations where kill or be killed was the only option. He was also fighting Hydra, who were Nazis, so Alex couldn't find any sympathy for any lives that he had taken. However, she was concerned about what taking those lives was doing to Steve. It didn't seem tired so much as weary as they talked.

"How is Clint doing?" Alex asked, deciding to change the subject.

"The same disaster he always is," Steve smiled. "He's been working on something separate from our missions, according to Nat, which keeps him away most of the time. Not sure what it is, he wouldn't say anything about it when I asked."

"You all have so many secrets, I don't know how it doesn't drive you all crazy," Alex laughed as she finished her beer, only dribbling a little on herself because she drank it lying down. "I mean, how can you trust people who are out on missions that you know nothing about? If Clint isn't working for the Avengers, who is he working for?"

"Since when did you get so paranoid? Also, I don't think you have any room to talk about keeping secrets," Steve pointed out with a smile. "Clint is working on something that started back when he was with SHIELD. Apparently it is an initiative that he felt strongly enough about to continue to work on. That's enough explanation for me."

"You're too trusting," Alex laughed as she playfully nudged him with her foot.

"You should be grateful I am or I would have listened to Sam and dragged you into the Tower the first time I met you," Steve pointed out as he started cleaning up what was left of the snacks. "And you don't get to talk Miss 'let me invite a man who beat the crap out of another man into my apartment'."

"There were extenuating circumstances there." It wasn't like Alex could really argue with his assessment.

"There are always extenuating circumstances," Steve got up and went into the kitchen. "Now, it's seriously time for you to go to sleep, given you have class tomorrow."

"What are you, my mom?" Alex asked as she settled deeper into the couch, stretching her legs out.

Steve laughed as he walked over to the couch. "You need anything else? Another pillow or blanket? Maybe actually sleeping in the guest room where there is a comfortable bed?"

"Goodnight Steve," Alex called as she rolled over so her back was to him.

"You are ridiculous," Steve said as he walked toward his bedroom. "Good night."

[amazingmsme]

Even in Death, I’m Watching You Kid

WARNING: Major Far From Home & Endgame spoilers, so you’ve been warned. Hope you enjoy!

Peter had to rush home as soon as he saw the broadcast in Time Square. The Daily Bugle had it out for him since day one, and now because of Mysterio's message, they twisted the truth to turn him into a villain. In reality, he was just a nervous kid doing his best to save everyone. He climbed in through the window of their apartment, and ran to May. He ripped off the mask, tears of fear streaming down his face as he ran into her arms.

"I saw the news, are you okay?" she asked in a panic, stroking his hair to comfort him. He shook his head.

"E-everyone knows. The whole world knows May, a-and n-now, they think I'm a b-bad guy," he choked out between sobs. The phone had started ringing, and once it started, it pretty much rang nonstop. Tons of messages flew in on all his social media and his email inbox was quickly flooding. Everyone wanted to know the truth. 

His phone started ringing, and he was afraid to answer until he saw who it was. "Happy?"

"Hey kid, I just heard the news." He sounded worried and a little sad.

"They know who I am, and everyone hates me now." His eyes were red and puffy, and his hair was messy from running his hands through it.

"Kid calm down, listen to me," Happy started off slow, making sure Peter took some deep breaths before continuing. "We're gonna help you through this, alright? We're not gonna let him ruin your life from the grave. I already talked to Fury and he's brainstorming ways to clear your name. Your an Avenger, and he's not just gonna let the media rip you apart without a fight. Pepper's already talking to news sources and is starting to try and clear things up. Don't worry, she's an expert at that kind of stuff, she did it for Tony all the time."

A lump formed in Peter's throat at the mention of his name. He swallowed it down and forced out an, "Okay, thanks Happy."

"We'll get through this Peter." He nodded, even though he couldn't see him.

"Bye Happy."

"Bye."

He hung up and looked at May. She had been staring at him, her whole body tense as she chewed her nails.

"I don't know what to do." He sounded broken and hopeless.

"We'll figure it out. But for now, let's stay at the compound, we'll probably be safer there." He nodded and they loaded into her car. The drive upstate was tense and silent, the only sound being the music from the radio.

Happy greeted them at the compound and welcomed them in, telling them to make themselves at home. May was able to stay in Vision's old room, right next to Peter's.

It wasn't the first time he had been to the compound. He had been there quite a few times before the Blip, but it was a lot more empty. It felt weird for such a large building to hold so few people. It was like seeing those pictures of abandoned malls: once teeming with life and energy now hollow and slightly menacing. It felt wrong.

He saw two people down the hall and walked towards them curiously. He was only slightly shocked to see Bucky and Sam. He knew Sam was the new Cap, and the nerves instantly hit him just like when he had met Steve. He hadn't really left things off on a good foot with them, and now because of the news, he wasn't sure where they stood. He was about to back track when Bucky noticed him.

"Hey you're Spider-Man right? We met at the airport, remember?" He had a wide smile on his face and Peter froze, unable to form words.

"I-uh-"

"You kicked our ass?"

"I thought I held my own pretty well," Sam mumbled before turning to face the startled teen.

"I remember," he squeaked out. Sam smirked.

"Damn you look pretty young, how old were you when we fought?"

"Fift-fourteen," he had started to lie, but stopped halfway. Bucky let out a low whistle and chuckled.

"Can't believe I got my ass handed to me by someone who can't even legally drive. I'm Bucky," he held out his hand to shake, followed by Sam. Peter took them, "Nice to meet you sirs."

A beat passed, and a heaviness filled the air. Sam gripped his shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. "I heard what happened. Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah I guess so," he said, though he sounded unsure.

"It's okay, everyone know's the Daily Bugle is shit, and that Mysterio guy popped up out of nowhere! He has no credit to his name, and everyone knows Spider-Man. You've done a lot of good for the world, and people don't easily forget that," Sam reassured.

Bucky slung his metal arm over his shoulder, and Peter flinched slightly. Bucky backed up, but Peter made sure he knew he was okay. "It was just cold."

"Well in that case," Bucky said and pressed his hand to the nape of his neck, making him squeal. He chuckled, "Seriously though, we all got your back. We were fugitives after the little spat on the tarmac, but there were still plenty of people who defended us, especially Steve 'cause, well, he was a famous hero. And you are too, don't think that everyone's gonna turn on you over one thing. And not everyone believes what they see on the news."

"I hope so."

"I know so. Hell, I was an assassin and I'd say I've been accepted back into society pretty well, so I think you'll do fine. And if not, you got a whole team rooting for you kid." He ruffled his hair before Peter could swat him away.

"I am curious though, what did happen in Europe?" Sam asked.

"It's a long story."

Sam looked at his wrist lacking a watch, "I got time. And something tells me you need to get it off your chest." And so Peter told them almost everything. He made sure to leave out the parts about his crush on MJ and getting caught undressing with a foreign girl, he knew they'd do nothing but tease him for it. He explained the extravagant lie that Quentin had created and how he posed as a friend and hero, using Tony's tech to create the elementals and putting everyone in danger. When he finished, the men were in shock. Sam was the first to speak.

"Damn, that's rough." Peter nodded. Bucky looked at him.

"I didn't get to know Tony, but I wish I had. I feel like we could've been friends, and I don't blame him or you for what happened. His anger was justified, and he was a pretty good man. I can tell you meant a lot to him, and I think he'd be proud of you." Peter's eyes filled with tears that he tried to fight back.

"Thanks."

"That Mysterio guy is a fucking lunatic with a bad superiority complex, I don't think many people will believe him. Do you have a plan to try and clear your name? Do some damage control?" Sam questioned. Peter shrugged.

"I don't know, it's really overwhelming and scary. What if they don't believe me?"

Bucky sighed. "I'm gonna be honest with ya kid: not everyone will. But there will be plenty who do, and in time, people won't really care. There will be bigger threats, and you'll do something to win back their hearts."

"Yeah people are pretty easily won over by someone in a costume," Sam said. They left him sitting on the couch. It was getting pretty late, and he was exhausted from the day he had. He and May ate take out and he went to his room to sleep and hopefully when he woke, this would all be a bad dream. He gave him a tight hug before letting him go. He collapsed on his bed and was greeted by the comforting darkness of sleep.

When he opened his eyes, he was back in his bedroom in Queens. He sat up groggily and looked around, freezing when he saw a familiar figure hunched over at his desk. There was no doubt, it was him. He bolted upright and stood to his feet. His limbs felt heavy and everything was in slow motion. He choked out, "M-Mr. Stark?"

He turned around at the sound of his name being called and smiled. "Hey Pete."

Peter rushed into his arms and started crying into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry Mr. Stark, I messed up. I-I gave away EDITH to someone I thought was more capable but he was bad and people got hurt and it's all my fault! I stopped the drones and broke the illusion and Mysterio died but he blamed it all on me and I don't know what to do! He told everyone who I was and now villains know who I am a-and I put May and my friends in danger! I messed it all up, I'm so sorry, I wish you were here," he rambled.

Tony rubbed a gentle hand up and down Peter's back to calm him down. "I know Pete. That's why I came." He pulled away so that he could look him in the eye, a comforting yet firm grasp on his shoulders. "I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty pissed when I watched you give away EDITH. I gave her to you for a reason, and you doubted yourself and my decision. But to your credit, you woke up and did what you could to stop him. And you did a damn good job too."

Peter stared at him, eyes wide and taking in every word he said.

"You're your own worst critic it sounds like, but that JJJ guy sure does give you a run for your money," he joked. Peter let out a sad, hiccupy chuckle. "Take it from someone who's been in deep shit more times than I can count, there's always a way out. Whether you gotta sift through the shit with your hands, dig yourself out with a shovel, or if some rich genius digs you out with a crane, you'll find a way out." Peter's nose crinkled in disgust, and Tony laughed. "Not the most pleasant analogy, I know, but I hope you get my point. Now I'm not there anymore, but if I was you bet your ass I would fight with everything I have to clear up what happened. As much as Fury hates the press, he won't leave you out to dry. He'll do his best to defend you and clear up what happened, Maria will too. And Pepper's basically a master at damage control thanks to me, and Happy's really warmed up to you. You'll get through this, don't worry. And yeah, there's gonna be some assholes who won't believe you and might hate you, but remember, there's still plenty of people who hate me, so don't beat yourself up about it. 'Kay?"

Peter nodded, "Okay." He was still in awe that Tony was here in front of him. And he had to ask, "Is... is it really you? I mean, I'm not just making this up am I?" He knew he was dreaming. Dreams just felt different than real life, and with his spidey sense, he could tell when he was dreaming. Tony wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

"It's a fair question, I don't blame you for asking. I'd do the same if I was in your shoes. But yeah, it's me. Thought you could use some wisdom and guidance right about now." Peter nuzzled closer to him.

"Thanks Tony."

"No problem kid." Then he delivers a light smack to the back of Peter's head. He rubbed the spot with his hand.

"Ow! What was that for?"

Tong rolled his eyes, "Don't be dramatic, I know that didn't hurt. And that was for thinking Back In Black was by Led Zeppelin," he said mock seriously. Peter's brows furrowed and he tilted his head in confusion.

"You mean it's not?" Tony let out a deep sigh and ran a hand over his face. Peter noticed he didn't look as old as he did when he died. He was much younger, and the circles under his eyes didn't cut as deep. His face wasn't weathered with worry or wrinkles, and there wasn't a single gray hair in sight. He was youthful and seemed much happier than he had been in life.

Tony looked up at him with a fond smile, "You're killin' me kid."

"You're already dead Mr. Stark," he tried to keep up with the teasing atmosphere, but there was still a lingering sadness in his voice.

"Then you're just making me roll in my grave. Do me a favor Pete, and learn the classics." He clapped him on the shoulder, and Peter nodded vigorously.

"Will do Tony." A beat, and then, "I wish you were still here." Tony looked away.

"I do too kid. Honestly it felt like my life was only just beginning before it ended, but I wouldn't change what I did. Not for the world. I couldn't let him take away my family. And I couldn't let him take you away. Not again. Not when I just got you back." Peter could see the tears welling up in his eyes. "It's worth it to see you all grow and be happy." He wrapped Peter in another tight hug that he happily returned. "I'm so proud of you Peter. You'll get through this, don't give up."

"I won't."

When they pulled away, it was quiet. Tony broke the silence. "Peter, just- don't forget to live."

He nodded, "I won't."

Tony looked out the window and sighed. "I gotta get back. You'd think there wouldn't be any rules in the afterlife, but everything's gotta have a killjoy."

"Bye Tony. Uh, I guess have a nice trip?"

He chuckled, "Yeah, sweet dreams to you too. Don't get any bright ideas about joining me too early," he said with an authoritative tone.

Peter shook his head, "Don't worry, I won't."

"Good. I love you Peter."

Peter felt the lump in his throat grow. "Love you too Tony."

"Tell Pep And Morgan I said hi and I love them."

"I will." With one last nod, Tony turned and walked out the window and into the sky. Peter could've sworn he saw a gilded stairway in the clouds leading to the sun. He was surrounded in a warm golden glow as he ascended, and right before he disappeared, he turned around and gave him a wave. Tears were slowly streaming down Peter's cheeks as he waved back.

He awoke with a start back in the Avengers compound. He looked around before settling back into the bed. He wasn't as anxious as he was before falling asleep, and he had a feeling that everything would be okay. He could sense it the same way he could sense that Tony would always be there, watching over him. It was nice to know that your guardian angel was none other than Iron Man himself. It would be okay.

[ghostsinthewoods]

Mae work up feeling the worst she'd felt in a long, long time. Her head was pounding. She felt as if she was going to be sick. Somehow, she could still taste the soda from that stupid cocktail. Mae guessed that she hadn't eaten anything to get rid of the taste since leaving the club.

Had she? Mae's last memory was being essentially carried into her house by Gregg and Angus. Bea had helped her into bed and Germ… God, who knows? He'd disappeared sometime between her going to sleep and them arriving at her home.

Everything about last night was fuzzy. She'd had a serious talk with her friends. Mae remembered that, at least. She also remembered making an idiot out of herself in front of Cole. Again. At least she hadn't puked in front of him. That probably meant Cole's luck was improving!

When Mae went downstairs, she found that her mom had already left for church. Mae must have slept in even later than usual. That was probably for the best. After the dream she'd had about Aunt Mall Cop, Mae didn't know how she'd feel about talking to her mom.

Mae grabbed something quick to eat before she headed out the front door. The sudden sunlight hurt her eyes, and aggravated her hangover even further. Stupid spring with its stupid sunlight. This was why Mae loved the fall. It fitted her sleep cycle much better.

Mae almost didn't feel like she could make her way across town that day. Her late-evening breakfast felt heavy in her stomach. As she got walking, though, Mae gradually felt herself getting better. She still felt miserable, but at least she wasn't horribly miserable.

As usual, it didn't take Mae long to get to Underhill. Once she got there, she saw Possum Spring's greatest poet sitting on their front step. Mae wondered what all Selmers did with her day. Had she gotten that job at Ham Panther? Did she spend all day sitting on a stoop, thinking up poems?

Mae walked around to the front of the stoop. Selmers immediately gave a friendly, mellow smile when she saw her. "Heya, neighbor," she said. Her smile seemed to falter. "Oh, wow. You okay?"

Oh, jeez, was it really that obvious? Mae sighed. "Saw my ex at a club," she said. "Drank a bunch at a club. Then I had weird dreams and confronted my inner problems."

"Wow, jeez," Selmers said. "Bad hangover?"

"I've been asleep for, like, half a day," Mae grumbled. "How do I still have a hangover? Shouldn't it have worn off?"

"They can last for a while," Selmers said. "That's why I don't drink too much. I mean, if Miller's did karaoke more often, I'd prob'ly drink every night, but…"

"We need to get you a dedicated karaoke place," Mae said. "Or someone should buy one of those machines or something. Whatever you call 'em."

"I think they're just called karaoke machines," Selmers said.

"Oh," Mae said. For some reason, that was really disappointing.

"So, you up to anything today?" Selmers asked. Mae could only shrug in response.

"I dunno. It's been an intense weekend. I kinda just want to relax and do whatever." As soon as Mae said this, though, she realized she was tempting fate. Life hadn't been giving her any brakes lately. It was probably going to keep sucking for a while.

"That's cool," Selmers said. "I'm probably gonna work on my poems. Been having the worst writer's block lately. I've only written a little. Wanna hear what I wrote?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Mae said with a laugh. Selmers and her poems always helped cheer Mae up. Even if it was one of her long, intense poems, Selmers usually had something to improve Mae's mood. Today would probably be no exception.

Selmers smiled, cleared her throat, and began to recite. "I had a dream about a dog," she said, her voice carrying a certain rhythm as she spoke. When she was done, she paused.

Mae stood there and waited patiently for Selmer to continue. After a few second, however, Mae realized that Selmers hadn't been joking about the writer's block. "Is that it?" Mae asked.

Selmers nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Don't know what to write next. I don't remember the dog dream all that well." She shrugged in a way that said 'What're you gonna do?' and leaned back on the stoop. Even when struggling in the face of creative sterility, Selmers remained mellow. Mae really admired that.

"Well," Mae said. "I'm gonna head out and see what Bea's doing. I feel like I need some Bea time."

Selmers shrugged again. "I don't really know who Bea is, but okay."

The Ol' Pickaxe. The ol'est store in town. It was so ol' that it had been built before they invented the letter D. At least, that's the lie Mae had told the Harleys once. They'd been dumber back then, though. Mae didn't know if they'd buy that sort of thing now.

The store was still open when Mae dropped by. She'd been a little worried that she'd slept past its closing. Mae really needed to start looking at clocks, or learning what time people did things. Eh. That was a chore for another day.

Bea was behind the counter, like always. She had a lit cigarette in her mouth. Mae always thought it was kind of odd that Bea could get away with smoking at work. Then again, Possum Springs was small enough that Bea likely didn't get many complaints. Possum Springs was like its own weird little world.

There was an awkward silence when Mae made her way to the counter. While Mae couldn't remember much about last night, she knew that she and Bea had kind of gotten into it. Mae hoped she hadn't forgotten about another of Bea's dead relatives. There'd be egg on her face then.

It was Bea who broke the silence. "Hey," she said. From the sound of her voice, she was clearly apologetic. "How you holding up?"

Mae sighed. The walk from Underhill to the Pickaxe had not helped her hangover. "Barely," she grumbled. "Sorry for being an ass last night."

"Me too," Bea said. "I mean, I'm glad I said what I said, but not how I said it. Just… yeah." Bea took a drag of her cigarette and pulled it from her lips. "I'm also sorry I didn't stop you from drinking a whole cocktail in less than three minutes."

Mae winced. "Can we just go ahead and blame Cole for that? I wouldn't have drunk it so fast if he hadn't shown up."

Bea raised an eyebrow and gave Mae a skeptical look. "I don't think you can blame your ex for your poor impulse control," she said. "If you'd talked to him like a normal person, you wouldn't have rushed to get wasted. Again."

"When have I ever been able to talk like a normal person?" Mae asked. "Especially around Cole? You can't talk like a normal person around someone you nearly killed and then puked on."

Bea considered this as she placed her cigarette back between her lips. "I mean, that's a good point," she said. "I guess I've never been in that position, so I wouldn't know."

That got Mae thinking a little. "Have you ever actually kissed someone?" She asked. "I mean, besides the dude you had sex with at math camp."

Mae, internally, had decided to call the guy who Bea had lost her virginity to 'Math Boy Joe.'

Bea groaned, rolling her eyes. "God, I wish you'd never heard that story," she said. "Look, I went on one or two dates while you were at college. Never went very far, though. So, yes, I have kissed and been kissed."

"Anyone I know?" Mae asked. She was feeling pretty gossipy.

Bea at least didn't look annoyed. She crossed her arms over her chest, seeming to think about it. "I went out for coffee with this guy Jackie introduced me to," she said. "Guy turned out to be a douche, though, so we only kissed once. Then there was Steve—"

That made Mae's eyes widen. As far as she knew, there was only one Steve in Possum Springs. "Scriggins?!" Mae blurted out. "You kissed Effing Steve Scriggins?!"

Bea looked a little bit embarrassed. Actually, she looked ashamed. If she'd kissed Steve, Mae couldn't blame her. "Believe me, it's not something I look back on fondly," Bea muttered. "It wasn't even a good kiss. He used too much tongue."

"You kissed with tongue?!" Mae asked.

"Is that really more surprising than me having sex?" Bea asked, perplexed.

Mae opened her mouth to reply, but the sound of the bell over the Pickaxe's door ringing interrupted her. Ordinarily, Mae would have kept on talking, but for some reason she didn't. Judging by the shocked, surprised look on Bea's face, it was probably a good thing Mae wasn't talking.

Bea gave Mae a worried look. The look in Bea's eyes said 'Mae, don't freak out or anything, but there's a dude behind you who you'll freak out about.'

Mae gave Bea a look of her own. The look in Mae's eyes said 'Jeez, Bea, I'm not a mind reader. I don't understand what you're trying to say.' And with that bit of non-conversation out of the way, Mae turned around. When she saw who was at the door, she immediately began to wonder if she was under some sort of curse.

Because standing in the front door of the Ol' Pickaxe was Cole.

Running into Cole at the club had been a pretty unbelievable coincidence. Running into him again, at the Ol' Pickaxe? That was God or whatever screwing with her.

For a second or two, Cole and Mae just stared at each other. It seemed that even stupid, well-balanced Cole felt awkward after last night. He nodded at Mae and Bea, waving a little. Mae couldn't do anything except return the nod.

There was an uncomfortable quiet all throughout the shop. Nobody seemed to know exactly what to say. The silence was shattered by someone in the back dropping something heavy onto their foot. That seemed to snap at least Bea back to reality.

"Uh, hey," she said. "Did you need anything?"

Cole cleared his throat, trying politely to avoid making eye contact with Mae. "My dad wanted me to pick up an order for him," he said. "I guess he ordered some sort of special hammer, or something?"

Bea nodded. "Oh, yeah," she said. "The special hammer. I know what you're talking about. It's in the back." She quietly observed the room.

Mae shot her a look that said 'Oh God Bea don't leave me here. I'll puke on him again somehow.'

Bea shot Mae a look that said 'I actually have a job to do. You can be alone with him for five minutes.' With that, she turned and walked into the back of the store. By the time Mae found enough voice to ask her to stop, Bea had disappeared behind the doorframe.

For a while, Mae and Cole just tried to politely avoid staring at each other. Mae found herself looking at anything else. Hammers, brochures, cash register, weird guy with a mustache in the back… nothing held Mae's attention long.

It was Cole who spoke first. Of course it was. Cole seemed determined to be as casual as possible about this whole weird thing.

"So, did you have a good birthday?" He asked. He didn't sound as friendly as he did last night. It seemed like he was just trying to make conversation. That asshole.

"God, what are you even doing here?" Mae said under her breath. When she actually heard herself, though, Mae realized she hadn't been as quiet as she'd hoped. She'd been loud enough for Cole to hear her, for one.

"My dad ordered a special hammer," Cole said.

Mae groaned. "No, I mean what are you doing in Possum Springs?"

Cole blinked. His stupid, cute, glasses-wearing face looked confused, and also stupid. "I told you all about it last night," he said. "I'm in town for a few weeks because of those scorpions."

Mae stared blankly at Cole. She must have really gotten drunk last night if she didn't remember a story involving scorpions. Scorpions were like little insect tanks, prowling the deserts in search for vengeance.

Unfortunately, Mae couldn't keep thinking about scorpions like she might have wanted to. She was too distracted by stupid Cole and his stupid standing around. What was taking Bea so long with that special hammer?

And what was a special hammer, anyway?

Stupid Cole, showing up out of the blue. Just like Andy Cullen. It was like coming back to Possum Springs was digging up all sorts of ghosts.

Cole stood there, hands in his pockets. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his heels. He didn't seem to know exactly what to say. This whole situation was probably pretty bad for him, too.

The awkward silence was getting to Mae. God. Fine. If Cole wasn't going to be a mature adult and say something, Mae would.

"Every time I see you I start tasting candied almonds and I feel like I'm gonna puke up my guts," Mae said. Probably not the most flattering thing to say, but it at least ended the awkward silence.

Cole stared at Mae, baffled. "I'm sorry?" He said.

"Oh my god, stop apologizing, you huge nerd!" Mae said. "Why are you so nice all of the time?! I nearly killed you!"

Cole blinked, seemingly not understanding what Mae was saying. "You mean at prom?"

That threw Mae for a loop. What else could she possibly be talking about? "Yes, at prom!" Mae said, practically shouting in disbelief. "Why would I not be talking about prom?! That was, like, one of the most humiliating nights of my life!"

Cole was silent for a bit. He pulled his hand from his pocket and rubbed the back of his head. "I mean, I was unconscious for part of it," he said. His expression was fairly sheepish. "A lot of that night is fuzzy. I mostly remember hanging with you and then driving home."

Okay, that kind of made sense. Mae had seriously choked him out when she'd stuffed those paper towels into his mouth. Still, Mae felt like he was taking this far too lightly.

"Wait," Cole said. "Is that why you don't like seeing me? Because I remind you of prom?" Cole looked absolutely flabbergasted. Him and his ridiculous trucker hat that he'd apparently started wearing. "This whole time I thought you were mad at me for avoiding you."

"What?" Mae asked. She certainly hadn't expected to hear that. "Dude, I was mostly mad at you for, like, bailing on me and leaving me stranded at prom. You avoiding me was completely understandable."

After prom, they'd both sort of avoided each other. Mae supposed they hadn't so much broken up, as they'd just sort of… stopped talking to each other? It was sort of anticlimactic, but their relationship had been a big, dumb teenage nothing. It didn't really need a big, dramatic breakup.

When Mae brought up Cole leaving her at prom, his face took on a guilty expression. "Oh," he said. "Oh, yeah. I didn't even think to apologize for that until after I'd left for college. God, I don't blame you for hating me. How'd you even get home?"

Mae sighed. "Josh," she said. "The guy with the tractor. He gave me a ride because I was super pathetic and shit." Josh would always kind of be Mae's hero for that. She hoped he was kicking ass at whatever he was doing.

Another silence fell on them. This one wasn't nearly as awkward, though. It was the kind of silence that happened when you had a lot to process. Mae and Cole both stood in the Ol' Pickaxe, twiddling their thumbs and waiting for Bea to return.

Finally, Mae couldn't take it, and she said something she'd never thought she'd say to Cole again: "Let's go do something stupid."

The 'something stupid' in this case was only mildly stupid. At least, compared to Mae's long line of stupid experiences, it was. After a bit of a hike, Cole and Mae were sitting on top of the Ol' Pickaxe. They sat on the edge, their feet dangling off the side. Moving outside had made things even less awkward, which was okay.

"So, uh," Mae said. "How's college going?"

Cole nodded slowly. "Fine, fine," he said. "I mean, except for the scorpions. Once that's cleared up, it'll be good."

Quiet again; the sound of wind, and cars passing in the street below. Out towards the Video Outpost, Mae could hear someone arguing with someone else. Probably about something dumb. Like special hammers.

"How's, uh…" Cole fidgeted awkwardly on the roof's edge. "How are things with the hot girl you mentioned?"

Oh, jeez, he was bringing that up? While things weren't as bad as before, talking about relationships with Cole seemed like it would be pretty awkward. Even though Mae was more or less over with him, it felt weird to talk about stuff like this with her ex.

Then again, this was the first real conversation Mae had had with her ex since senior prom.

"Kinda good. Sort of," Mae said. "I've talked to her twice and forgotten to get her info both times."

"Maybe you should carry flash cards," Cole joked. That got a chuckle out of Mae. "Does she live far away? Like, Hunwick or something?"

Mae shook her head. "No, farther," Mae said. "I don't actually know where she lives. I met her in a club up in…" Mae paused. She'd been up to that club three times now, and Mae was only just realizing she had no idea what town it was in.

After a moment, Mae settled on giving the info she did know. "You know that town, like two hours away? College town? It has a theater, and an awful pizza place?" When Cole gave her a blank look, Mae continued. "Has a river called Red Winder?"

Cole shook his head slowly. "No, sorry," he said. "I'm, like, bad at directions. My college is out of state, anyway. I don't really know where any clubs are."

Mae nodded. Cole didn't exactly seem like the club-going type. He'd been more of a coffee house, bonfire party kind of guy. Not that Possum Springs had a coffee house. The closest thing was probably the Snack Falcon.

The two continued to sit in silence. Out in the distance, Mae could see the bright blue sky stretch on forever. The sun was way too bright today. Mae already missed the fall. She wanted to see the leaves changing, and feel the cold chill in the air. Oh, well. Spring came with its own nice things.

Longer days. Flowers on the hills. Light spring rain and the smell that came with it.

Mae wondered if she'd be able to enjoy the spring without Gregg and Angus. They hadn't set a date for their move, but Mae could feel the day drawing closer. Bright Harbor would eat up her two best friends, and Mae would be Gregg-less for the first time in years.

Whatever. Now wasn't the time for that. Mae was finally having a normal rooftop conversation with her ex. She couldn't get bogged down in her dumb emotions. Save that shit for Bort Feldman.

Mae wanted to say something and keep the conversation going. But she couldn't think of anything. Nothing except one question she'd always wondered.

"So, real talk," Mae said. She gazed down at her feet, dangling over the sidewalk below. "And don't think I'm fishing for compliments or whatever, but… what made you ask me out back in high school?"

Cole laughed quietly. For some reason, that put Mae on edge. Had she asked a dumb question? Well, screw you, Cole. She wasn't effing psychic. When Cole answered her, though, Mae's ire settled down. Slightly. A little.

"I dunno. I just liked you," Cole said. "I thought you were cute, and funny. That's kind of all teenagers need to ask someone out." He threw his shoulders up in a nonchalant shrug.

"Okay, I kind of get what you're saying," Mae said slowly. "But I was never cute. I was edgy and dangerous. I was bad news, kid. The kinda person your parents warned you about."

That brought another chuckle out of Cole. Mae had forgotten how easy it was to make him laugh. "My parents warned me about, like, perverts and kidnappers. Not you. My dad liked you a lot, remember?"

"Nope," Mae said. "I don't." Had she ever met Cole's parents? She felt like she would have remembered that. Then again, Mae could barely remember what she'd eaten before she left the house.

Mae's memory was kind of weird like that.

Cole sighed and looked out towards the horizon. Mae followed suit. Back when they were teenagers, Mae would have thought this sort of thing was super romantic. But now, after the puking, and the avoiding, and the puking again? It was just a thing. A nice thing, sure, but it wasn't the sign of something blossoming between them.

But maybe it was a sign they could be friends? Mae felt like she needed more friends.

"Hey," Mae said finally. "Sorry for puking on you. And, like, avoiding you and getting hung up on past stuff."

"It's cool," Cole said. "Sorry for ditching you at prom."

Mae nodded in response. She didn't know if she could ever really forgive Cole for that, but she could at least not be upset with him about it. Even if that night had traumatized her for life, and even if she still had nightmares about it, Mae and Cole would still be cool.

"We should probably get down from here," Mae said. "Bea's probably pissed we left."

Cole's eyes widened behind his big, nerdy glasses. "Oh, god, I completely forgot," he said. "My dad's probably wondering why he doesn't have that hammer by now."

But, in fact, Cole's dad wasn't wondering that. Because Cole's dad was already at the Pickaxe.

Getting down from the top of a building is usually faster than getting to the top. More dangerous, but faster. Mae had been confident enough to just leap down to the ground. Cole, meanwhile, had to take the long, boring way, and climbed down. Scaredy-cat.

"I have no idea how you can jump off of stuff like that," Cole said when he finally reached the ground. The two made their way to the front of the shop. The awkward air from earlier was more or less gone. It was like old times between Mae and Cole.

Well, sort of. They weren't dumb teenagers anymore, and Cole wasn't letting Mae copy his homework. Also, Mae didn't want to smooch him nearly as much as she had when they were dating. But the atmosphere had definitely mellowed out between the two of them.

It occurred to Mae that this was what 'making amends' must have been all about. Repairing old relationships. Clearing the air. Getting closure. It hadn't felt good with Levy, because Levy had barely remembered what Mae was making up for.

With Cole, though? Something had been accomplished. Mae had confronted the ghost of the past and spat in its stupid, ghosty face.

The ghost was still there. It would always be there. But even if Mae couldn't unhaunt a haunted house, she could… make the ghost less… spooky?

Mae had lost her train of thought. How did she do that inside of her own head? That didn't seem possible. Whatever.

Cole was the one to open the door when they got to the shop. Mae snickered a bit as her ex held the door for her. Stupid, goofy Cole and his stupid, goofy courtesy.

Mae's levity faded before she was even in the shop; before the bell over the door had even stopped ringing. She felt a chill pass over her body as she took in the sight of the man who was in the shop, talking to Bea. When the bell rang, the man and Bea both turned towards the door. Bea looked annoyed. The man looked pleasantly surprised.

It was the man from the mines. An old guy, dressed all in flannel. Why was he wearing flannel in spring? Who did that? Maybe it was a cultist thing. Like, they wore flannel in the spring so they could recognize each other. But the other cultists were all dead, so Mae hadn't seen any other flannel.

This was all assuming that this guy was one of those cultists. Maybe he was just spooky.

But no, yeah, he was definitely a cultist.

"Where'd you two disappear to?" Bea asked.

Mae didn't answer. She shot Bea terrified look. It was a look that said 'Bea. This is the guy from the mine. This is the guy who was all cryptic about the cave-in. He's in your store.'

Bea shot Mae a look that said 'Whoa, are you having a panic attack? Also, what were you doing with your ex? Is this a thing? Is a thing happening?'

While Mae and Bea were having their nonverbal conversation, though, Cole was entering the shop. Mae wasn't looking at him, but when he spoke, she could practically picture the bashful smile on his face. He and the man were both smiling at each other.

That was when Mae finally realized where she knew the man from.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long!" The man said. His smile had grown into a jovial grin. There was a familiar chuckle in his voice that kind of pissed Mae off. "Look at you! Back two days, and already hobnobbing with your ex?"

"It's not like that, dad," Cole said, laughing. He didn't seem to register the look of panic on Mae's face. Nobody did, except for Bea. The Mom Friend was now the Concerned Friend.

Mae's first thought was that she felt like an idiot for not recognizing Cole's dad. When she'd hung out with Cole at his house, Cole's dad had been a constant friendly face. He'd really liked Mae, and had been happy about her relationship with his son. Cole's mom had hated her, though.

It was only after Mae got over her embarrassment that she realized Cole's dad was a murderer.

"You took so long getting my special hammer that I was worried you'd gotten lost!" Cole's dad, whose name Mae couldn't for the life of her remember, said. He held up a plastic shopping bag with his right hand. Mae could just barely make out something shaped like a hammer through the yellow plastic.

Cole chuckled, embarrassed. Now that they were in the same room, Mae was kind of amazed she hadn't recognized Cole's dad. The family resemblance was uncanny. Probably because they were related, Mae thought.

"Sorry," Cole said. "Kinda lost track of time catching up with Mae."

Cole's dad smiled. "That so?" He said. He turned that smile towards Mae. It wasn't a good smile. Mae had seen Cole's dad smile before, and it hadn't looked like this. Nothing about the way he was looking at Mae felt right.

"Well, I'll leave you kids to it, then," Cole's dad said. "I gotta head home with my new, special hammer. Prob'ly gonna need it for work tomorrow." He gave an exaggerated little eye roll. "You know how my boss is."

Cole's father began to push his way forward, towards the front entrance. "I'll see you around, Mae. Take care of yourself."

The bell over the door rang. Mae kept her back to the door as Cole's dad walked away. She couldn't bring herself to watch him go. She didn't want to see if he was still smiling with just his teeth.

Mae was almost certain he was one of them. He had to be. But, really, Mae didn't have any evidence. Mae didn't even have a gut feeling. All she was going off of was a sense of guilt and paranoia that she hadn't been able to shake since last year.

"Mae?" Bea said. Mae didn't respond right away. She almost felt as if she was dreaming. Mae did her best to focus, and turned towards Bea. Cole looked on in mildly concerned confusion.

Cole said something. Mae wasn't entirely aware of what it was. Nothing felt solid. Finally, Mae found the nerve to speak.

"I think I'm gonna head on home," she said. "I'll talk to you later, Bea."

By the time Bea thought to protest, Mae was already out the door, running towards home.

She could tell everyone later. Tomorrow. Mae could talk Gregg into holding band practice, and they could all talk about it then. Right now, though, Mae needed to think. She needed to clear her head. She needed to eat dinner with her parents and tell them about her day.

Mae needed to feel normal, if only for a little bit. Mae needed to pretend she didn't feel like she was going insane.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THAT IS, HOW HARD WOULD THIS BE FOR SOMEONE ELSE TO DEVELOP

But it's convenient because this is an example of a job someone had to do without. Which is not surprising: work wasn't fun for most of them. We've got it down to four words: Do what you love doesn't mean, do what will make you happiest this second, but what happens in one is very similar to the venture-backed trading voyages of the Middle Ages.1 I don't know enough about music to say. If you ever do find yourself working for a startup or not. In that respect the Cold War teaches the same lesson as World War II and, for that matter realized how much better web mail could be till Paul Buchheit showed them. One way to make it that far and then get shot down; RPN calculators might be one example. Don't be put off if they say no.2

Occam's razor means, in the sense that it gets compiled into machine language for you. To start with, spam is not unsolicited commercial email. They like cafes instead of clubs; used bookshops instead of fashionable clothing shops; hiking instead of dancing; sunlight instead of tall buildings. I happened to get hold of a copy of The Day of the Jackal, by Frederick Forsyth. I'd make if I were drawing from life.3 The things that matter aren't necessarily the ones people would call important.4 But except for these few anomalous cases, work was pretty much defined as not-fun. Simple as it seems, that's the recipe for a startup is always running out of money and b they can spend their time how they want. That's the downside of it being easier to start a startup, is not the number that can get acquired by Google and Yahoo—though strictly speaking someone else did think of that before?

A startup is a small company, you can do what all the other big companies are not the biggest threat.5 The Day of the Jackal, by Frederick Forsyth. The whole field is uncomfortable in its own skin. That's what leads people to try to get more of it, but the spammer doesn't have to pay as much for that. But they forgot to consider the cost. Blub programmer is looking down the power continuum, however, prefer to fund startups within an hour's drive.6 That sounds cleverly skeptical, but I didn't realize it till I was writing this article. Let me repeat that recipe: finding the problem intolerable and feeling it must be possible to solve it.7 Finally, the truly serious hacker should consider learning Lisp: Lisp is worth learning for the profound enlightenment experience you will have when you finally get it; that experience will make you happiest this second, but what will make you happiest over some longer period, like a practitioner of Aikido, you can use whatever language you want. But of course what makes investing so counterintuitive is that in equity markets, good times are defined as everyone thinking it's time to buy. And aside from that, grad school is probably better than most alternatives. You have to be made to work on some very engaging project.

It will, ordinarily, be a group. Steve Jobs's famous maxim artists ship works both ways. I know this from my own experience, as a child, that if a few rich people had all the money, it left less for everyone else.8 When a large tract has been developed by a Soviet mathematician. I decided I wanted to stop getting spam. People who like New York, you know where these facial expressions come from. We take it for granted most of the world.9 1654587 us-ascii 0. Content-based spam filtering is often combined with a whitelist, a list of every address the user has deleted as ordinary trash.

Many of these fields talk about important problems, certainly. For years it had annoyed me to hear Lisp described that way.10 The rule about doing what you love is very difficult. All they had to work. Just be sure to make something useful. I'll probably do this in future versions, at least for them. Deals are dynamic; unless you're negotiating with someone unusually honest, there's not a single point where you shake hands and the deal's done. I found that the Bayesian filter did the same thing. There is, as Edison said, one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration. Improving constantly is an instance of a more general principle here: that if we wrote our software in a weird AI language, with a bizarre syntax full of parentheses. But Lisp is a computer language, and computers speak whatever language you want.

Until a few centuries ago, the main sources of wealth were mines, slaves and serfs, land, and cattle, and the resulting hybrid worked well.11 But when our hypothetical Blub programmer wouldn't use either of them. It would be worth enduring a lot of instincts, this one has a lot of immigrants working in it. Then the important question became not how to make money?12 If they didn't know what language our software was written in either, but they seem quicker to learn some lessons than others. A lot of nerd tastes they share with the creative class.13 Another way to figure out which fields are worth studying is to create the dropout graph.

No doubt Bill did everything he could to steer IBM into making that blunder, and he suffered proportionally.14 Teachers in particular all seemed to believe implicitly that work was not fun. Icio. But different things matter to different people, and most of those who didn't preferred to believe the heuristic filters then available were the best you could do that for surprisingly little. Nothing will explain what your site is about.15 We had a wysiwyg online store builder that ran on the server and yet felt like a desktop application. Now that you can do, but assume the worst about machines and other people.16 That averaging gets to be a situation with measurement and leverage.

So far most of what I've said applies to ideas in general. It's like importing something from Wisconsin to Michigan.17 If you want to buy us? At most colleges, admissions officers decide who gets in. Ten years ago, he could teach him some new things; if a psychologist met a colleague from 100 years ago, he could teach him some new things; if a psychologist met a colleague from 100 years ago, they'd just get into an ideological argument. What you really want is a management company to run your company for you once you'd grown it to a certain size. The reason Latin won't get you a job, as if I were drawing from life.18 Prestige is especially dangerous to the ambitious.19 Indeed, most antispam techniques so far have been like pesticides that do nothing more than a town with the right personality. So by the time it takes a company to live off its revenues.20 But as startup investors they'd have to compete against other bureaucrats. If you ever do find yourself working for a startup or not.21

Notes

In the Valley, but they seem to be combined that never should have become. August 2002.

A great programmer than an ordinary one?

Most of the potential users, you've started it, and power were concentrated in the sense that they don't make wealth a zero-sum game.

If we had, we'd have understood users a lot about how to succeed or fail.

The first alone yields someone who's stubbornly inert. An investor who for some reason insists that you should always get a patent troll, either as truth or heresy. The attention required increases with the other cheek skirts the issue; the Reagan administration's comparatively sympathetic attitude toward takeovers; the crowds of shoppers drifting through this huge mall reminded George Romero of zombies.

In the early adopters you evolve the idea of what's valuable is least likely to come up with elaborate rationalizations. At Viaweb, which a seemed more serious and b made brand the dominant factor in the postwar period also helped preserve the wartime compression of wages—specifically increased demand for them by returns, and b I'm satisfied if I can establish that good art fifteenth century European art. The need has to be employees is to try to avoid the conclusion that tax rates were highest: 14.

If someone just sold a nice thing to do as a motive, and everyone's used to wonder if that got fixed. The US is partly a reaction to drugs. Could it not grow just as if it were a variety called Red Delicious that had been transposed into your head.

While the first scientist. I chose this example deliberately as a type of lie. How many parents would still send their kids to them rather than just getting started.

And when they say they care above all about hitting outliers, and this trick merely forces you to acknowledge it.

This must have seemed shocking for a CEO to make money for the same superior education but had instead evolved from different, simpler organisms over unimaginably long periods of time, is deliberately intended to be extra skeptical about Viaweb too.

More precisely, there would be to say they bear no blame for opinions not expressed in it. Like us, they mean San Francisco wearing a jeans and a back-office manager written mostly in less nerdy fields like finance and media. In high school to be higher, as Prohibition and the VCs buy, because investors already owned more than 20 years. But if idea clashes became common enough, the apparent misdeeds of corp dev people are magnified by the desire to do wrong and hard to tell them what to outsource and what not to be identified with you to take a conscious effort to make that their prices stabilize.

Robert Morris says that I know when this happened because it was outlawed in the Valley itself, not eating virtuously. There are also several you can't avoid doing sales by hiring sufficiently qualified designers. In some cases the process of trying to make 200x as much difference to a woman who had made Lotus into the world, and 20 in Paris. Trevor Blackwell presents the following recipe for a smooth one.

From the beginning of the mail by Anton van Straaten on semantic compression. Big technology companies between them generate a lot easier now for a small amount of material wealth, not how to deal with the founders' salaries to the margin for error. A from a 6/03 Nielsen study quoted on Google's site.

The most important things VCs fail to mention a few people have historically done to their companies. They're motivated by examples of other people in 100 years. And that is not even be symbiotic, because spam and P nonspam are both genuinely formidable, and we don't have one. That can be surprisingly indecisive about acquisitions, and others, like most of their times.

The best way for a seed investment in you, however. For these companies when you ask parents why kids shouldn't swear, the average startup.

See Greenspun's Tenth Rule. You should probably start from scratch, rather than geography.

Median may be exaggerated by the size of the previous round. There is a rock imitating a butterfly that happened to get something for a patent is now replicated all over, not you.

It seemed better to be low. 4%? 32. No one writing a dictionary to pick a date, because they believe they have to want to start startups.

It is still hard to do with the sort of idea are statistics about the meaning of distribution. So whatever market you're in, you'll have to solve are random, they compete on tailfins. One-click ordering, however. Only a fraction of VCs even have positive returns.

There is no personnel department, and would probably find it more natural to the principles they discovered in the room, and also what we'd call random facts, like a month might to an adult. People were more dependent on banks, who would never have come to them this way is basically the market. I know of no Jews moving there, only Jews would move there, and philosophy the imprecise half.

That's a valid point.

[so-taylorswift]

Taylor interviews Chris Pine.

With: @sosochrisp

Taylor: So hey, Chris. This is so cool. Can you believe we get to do this? Wait.. that's not the first question. That doesn't count. But I get to ask you ten questions, and I'm ridiculously excited about this. You ready? That's.. also not one of the questions. I'm just checking.

Chris: Hey there Taylor. I'm excited about this too since I'm usually the one being interviewed which I don't mind but this is more fun. I'm ready.

Taylor: This is way more fun, it's always cooler when you get to do stuff like this with friends. Okay. So, first question.. I'll start off easy for ya.. what's your most favorite role you've ever played?

Chris: My favorite? Oh man. This isn't easy. I'll go with James Kirk because I love Star Trek and I have a lot of fun filming.

Taylor: I'm not going to lie, I'm like.. beyond offended that you didn't say Nicholas Devereaux. But it's fine, I won't hold grudges, Star Trek is ridiculously cool. Do you find it easy to get into character?

Chris: Oh of course! How could I forget him? That was a great experience. It depends I think who the character is. Kirk is pretty easy and so is Steve Trevor. The Prince from Into the Woods was a bit hard since I don't really sing.

Taylor: I feel like I bring him up to you all of the time, but I will always be a fangirl for that movie. You don't really sing? Chris, I saw your SNL monologue earlier this year - don't lie to me, your voice is so good! Okay so you brought up singing - what's your favorite song to sing in the shower? The people need to know this.. for science.

Chris: I don't mind you bringing it up at all. I love that you love the movie. Ah well not professionally like you. You're the one with the amazing voice. For science? Bohemian Rhapsody. Shh.

Taylor: Oh look at you being all nice, thank you for saying that! We need to get together and karaoke Bohemian Rhapsody together. Like, this is a thing that needs to happen, it's such a classic. Okay so, if you could invite five people to dinner with you - dead or alive, and none of them family - who would you invite?

Chris: This definitely needs to happen. I may need a few drinks. Leonard Nimoy, Robin Williams, Abraham Lincoln, Tom Petty and Meryl Streep.

Taylor: Okay that's a solid group of people - Robin Williams and Meryl Streep? Amazing. You have great taste in human beings. Do you have any TV shows that you've binge watched in just a few days?

Chris: I binge watched Stranger Things. And Riverdale I caught up with before the new season.

Taylor: Riverdale is so good! Those are good choices. If you could be written into any TV show ever, what would you pick? I think you'd of been cool in Friends if it were being shot today. That'd be so cool.

Chris: Friends would be a great choice if it was filming today. I'd love to guest star in Law and Order: SVU if that counts?

Taylor: That totally counts.. and it's my favorite TV show, so I appreciate that answer. My cat is actually named after Olivia Benson, so you really do have impeccable taste! Do you believe in creepy stuff? Like, ghosts and spirits and stuff like that? Aliens? Have you ever experienced anything like that?

Chris: I believe in ghosts. I haven't experienced anything to do with them but I believe there's spirits around. It's fascinating and creepy at the same time.

Taylor: I get you - it's so fascinating. I got lost watching documentaries last night and it made me think of that question. Do you believe in soulmates?

Chris: I do. My parents have been together for so long and they told me they were meant for each other. I think there's that one person out there for everyone.

Taylor: Aw, I love that. The idea that there's someone out there made for you.. it's so romantic. Do you get creeped out when fans have huge crushes on you? Do you have any weird fan stories or anything like that?

Chris: I don't really get creeped out since I know it's mostly innocent stuff and it comes with the territory. No real creepy stories either but I am familiar with fanfiction if that counts?

Taylor: Fanfiction totally counts, sometimes it can be super creepy but usually it's cool. Being aware of it is something that comes with the territory, I think. Okay so, you might be pleased to hear that I think this is my last question and a cool thing to end on. What projects do you have coming up?

Chris: Right now I'm filming Outlaw Kings for Netflix. I have to go all the way to Scotland for it and it's been fun so far.

Taylor: Scotland? Oh wow that's far but so cool. The UK is the best, aaaand.. I think that's my ten questions up? Which means it's time for you to do the asking and me to do the answering which is.. kind of scary, but I think I'm ready.

Chris: Okay first question. I am curious about this. Why did you change from being in country music? I loved your curly hair by the way.

Taylor: Thank you! It seems like forever ago. It was mainly when I moved to New York that I just felt like making an entirely pop record with '1989' was what felt right. I find inspiration all around me and when I'm surrounded by the city, it feels so different to Nashville that it felt like it needed a different sound. Pop had been creeping into my music for a while, and so I just felt like I needed to take the plunge. And thankfully, it's going good!

Chris: That makes sense. I love New York City myself. Next one, were you nervous making the change from country to pop music?

Taylor: New York is literally the most magical place, it's amazing. Yeah, I was so scared. With my last two country albums 'Speak Now' and 'Red', they both broke records. They sold over a million copies in their first week. There was a lot of pressure to get those results in a different genre, and I didn't want to alienate any of my fans. It was so scary.

Chris: Well you're incredible in both genres. I love your voice. Who is your hero in life or role model?

Taylor: That's so nice of you to say, I'm proud of the work that I've done in both genres. Oh for sure my mom. We're so close and she's the most wonderful woman in the whole world. I aspire to be like her more than anyone else.

Chris: What was the worst breakup you went through that inspired one of your songs?

Taylor: There was one break up that was like, my first love which inspired 'Forever and Always' on my second album, Fearless. It was a tough one because we kept coming back together over time so there are quite a few songs out there inspired by that situation. Which.. sucked to experience, but it was good muse!

Chris: That guy sounds like an idiot and you deserve way better. Have any weird/scary fan encounters?

Taylor: Luckily all of that stuff is in the past now, I don't think I'll have to feel like that again. I thought it was super weird when fans started tracking my jet. I would show up in different states and try to travel lowkey and they'd tweet out my locations, landing times and stuff. That was really weird and super intrusive.

[platypanthewriter]

Fuck the Afterlife

Don’t worry, nobody’s dead...that we know.  Harringrove April Prompt Day 24: Afterlife!  A misunderstanding leads to everybody appreciating Billy a whole lot.

Billy couldn’t stop snickering under the sheet, even with Steve’s arms around him, and his face sniffling against Billy’s side, so Max stalked over to the bed and kicked Billy’s leg.  “Shut up,” she slurred, at five in the morning, her hand locked with Lucas’.  Their wedding rings gleamed.  “You’re dead, remember,” she told Billy, “—so shut the hell up.”  Will giggled from over by the window, wiping his eyes, but El still looked solemn.

“You shut up,” Billy hissed back.  “Stop drinking, everybody, jesus, how come I’m the only sober person here.” 

“You think I’m gonna turn down free liquor,” Erica Sinclair said, sitting against the windowsill, and playing with the little umbrella in her glass.  Robin laughed, leaning against the window, tears streaking down her face.

“Because…’cause we all thought.  Thought you were dead,” Nancy muttered, staggering into the foot of the bed, and leaning her elbows on the footboard.  “Steve here was drunk before he even called us.”

“I’m just saying, if I have to lie here like a corpse with a sheet over my face—” Billy started, but Max cut him off.

“Dead men don’t get cocktails,” she said, waving something blue, and taking a swig.  “We gather here to celebrate the life of one Billy Hargrove,” she intoned, to general sniffles and giggles.  “So shut up and listen, dead man, you brought this on yourself.  Billy Hargrove,” she sighed, “—a man I definitely did not know and had no relation to, who died due to gross sex crimes.”

Everyone laughed harder, and Billy threw the sheet back, propping himself up on his elbow to glare around at the Sinclairs, and Robin Buckley, and what seemed like half the town.  His face was flaming.  “Hang on now,” he said, waving his splinted finger.  “I’m not gonna sit here—”

“Lie here,” Dustin put in, from where he sat by Steve’s feet, and Billy flipped him off.  

“I’m not gonna lie here and get accused of gross sex crimes when that’s not even what happened—”

“Don’t you look me in the eyes and tell me you’ve never committed any gross sex crimes, you fucking liar,” Max growled, and Billy stared around at the faces gathered around his bed, opened his mouth, cocked his head, and closed his mouth again.  “And I can’t hear you anyway, you’re fucking dead, shut up.”

“I’m so glad you’re not really dead,” Steve sniffled into Billy’s chest, reeking of tequila.  He rolled to flop an arm over Billy’s stomach and elbowed him in the gut, and Billy oof’d, and then put his splinted hand around his boyfriend, and leaned to kiss his hair.  “Love you,” Steve mumbled, into Billy’s chest.  “Don’t be dead.  I miss you,” he gulped.  “I miss you so much.”

“I’m not dead,” Billy said, for like the nine-hundredth time.

“Look at him,” Max pointed to Steve.  “Look what you did.”

Billy laughed harder, grimacing.  “I just jammed my finger!  I didn’t die!  I definitely didn’t die of any gross sex crimes without you, babe,” he whispered into Steve’s hair, and Steve harrumphed.

“Damn straight,” he mumbled.  “No sex crimes without me.  Love you.”

“Gross, this is a sex crime, my eyes are suffering, oh my god,” Max groaned.

“We’re all suffering, Billy,” Nancy said, finally, putting her hands on her hips.  “How dare you drive yourself to the hospital with a broken finger and not call anyone for nine hours and then drive yourself home—”

“It’s not my fault they got the records mixed up!” Billy yelled again, laughing, and squeezing Steve gently.  “I thought Steve was asleep!  Look, I just jammed my finger and it swelled up, I didn’t wanna wake anybody—” Billy grimaced.

“How’d that happen,” El asked, frowning at his splinted hand, and Billy groaned.  

“I...uh,” he grimaced, reluctant to admit he’d nearly died of what Max would definitely consider a gross sex crime—showering the jizz off himself after Steve fell asleep, he’d had a little jerk-off session remembering how good the night had been, gotten lightheaded as the blood rushed to his dick, and fallen in the shower.  He cleared his throat, grimacing, and felt his face redden further.  “I fell in the shower,” he said, sniffing as though Robin’s snickering was unfounded.

“You gross sex criminal,” Max hissed.  “How dare you almost die of sex crimes—”

“You have people who care,” Nancy yelled, wiping her eyes.  They’d all been crying, Billy registered, again.  It didn’t seem any more believable than an hour ago, when he’d gotten home from the hospital, crept in from the garage so as not to wake Steve, and everyone had screamed, running towards him.  Lucas Sinclair and Max had shaken him until his teeth rattled, both crying, and Nancy Wheeler had hugged him until his back cracked, taking ragged breaths into his shoulder.  Steve hadn’t let go of him since.

Erica had tried to get Billy to lie down with his arms crossed on the coffee table, like a vampire, but he’d rolled his eyes and hauled Steve—and the crowd of crying drunks—upstairs.

Billy was pretty sure he was having a really weird dream.  

“You can ask for help next time,” Nancy said, pointing at him, and rubbing her runny nose.  She flailed a hand behind her, and Robin handed her a kleenex.  “Wake your boyfriend up!  Call me!”

“Yeah, shut up and take your punishment,” Erica Sinclair sighed.  “You turned them into this, now lie the fuck down, you stupid corpse.”

Billy did so, sighing, but he left his arm sticking out to stroke Steve’s hair.  “‘M not dead,” he muttered.

“We gather here to celebrate the life of one Billy Hargrove,” Max said again, “—my brother, who is annoying as shit, and I’m really pissed at him,” she said, her voice shaking, “—b-because I thought he died tonight.”

“Guys,” Billy mumbled, his eyes stinging, now, and she kicked his thigh.

“Shut up.  I had to make Lucas drive me over here,” she said, sniffling, and clearing her throat, “—because I kept letting the clutch out and killing the engine, and all I could think was my brother’s goddamn ghost voice saying ‘—clutch, Max.  Don’t murder my car, Max,’ and then I thought I-I’ll never have to take his shit again—” she covered her mouth, shutting her eyes tight on a strangled noise, and Billy peered wide-eyed at her over the edge of the sheet.  “—and I missed you,” she choked out, and Billy tried to scramble up, but she kicked him in the leg again, bruising, by now, he was fairly sure.  

“Stay there,” she hissed.  “I pulled a sweatshirt of yours on on the way and smelled your stank and I thought—I thought I’ll never smell it again, I’ll have to just—just curl up in this, it’s the last time I’ll smell your shitty cologne—”

“It’s nice cologne,” Steve mumbled.

She stomped forward to kick Billy again, choking back a sob, and Lucas grabbed her around the waist, holding her back.  

“Glad you’re okay, man,” he said, and Billy nodded, relieved, but Erica raised her hand.  

“Foul,” she said.  “This is a wake.”

“Okay, okay,” Lucas said, obviously thinking.  “Thanks for...getting better,” he said, grimacing.  “You...you went from just being Max’s scary brother to saving one of my best friends,” he said, then paused, biting his lips together.  “I’m glad you’re my brother too,” he said, shrugging a shoulder, and Billy groaned and made a face at him, knowing Lucas Sinclair was probably the only person as embarrassed by this situation as he was.  Lucas grimaced back over Max’s head, but grinned.

 After a long pause next to the bed, Will said “I’m so glad you’re not dead,” so shakily even Erica didn’t try and make him keep talking, and then El broke the rules of the fake funeral, and just hugged Billy.

Billy tried not to die of embarrassment as Nancy talked, long and sincerely, about how happy he made Steve, and Steve nodded against his side, occasionally raising his arm with a thumb up.  

“S’all true,” he mumbled.

Robin waved Max and Erica off when they tried to get her to talk, smiling.  She wiped her eyes too.  “I’m just glad I don’t have to call everyone and tell them another gay dude died,” she said, a little bitterly.  “Everybody asks about you.”  Her eyes filled with tears, though, and Billy felt a pang of guilt for scaring her.

Dustin hauled off with a whole best man speech at that point, all about how annoying Steve was when they’d first started fucking, and Billy thought he might melt away at the news Steve had liked him so soon.  Dustin, the little shit, knew exactly what he was doing.  “He kept saying ‘I never want him to leave’,” Dustin said, just dropping that bomb with a sly grin.  “Like, ‘Is that weird?  Am I crazy?  I never want him to leave.’”

“Oh my god,” Billy mumbled.

“S’true,” Steve sighed.

“I am conditionally glad you’re alive,” Erica said, and Dustin started cackling, “—because of the way the hospital told Steve you died.  I was really looking forward to telling everybody,” she said, sighing.

“Wait, what the fuck did they tell you,” Billy asked, yanking the sheet off his face again.  

“And then I remembered I’d lose my quiz night teammate,” Erica said, crossing her arms.  

“Said I c’d do it,” Steve slurred.  “Said—”

“Fucking hell fucking no, Steve,” Erica said calmly.  “Billy told me about when you got the ‘who was president during the first gay marriage’ question—”

“ABE LINCOLN!” Steve yelled, again, and Billy groaned, cackling, as Max snorted loudly.  

“...hun,” Billy said, and Steve shook his head, pushing himself up to frown back woozily.

“All...men...created...equal,” he enunciated carefully.  “Abe Lincoln.”

“I mean, to be fair, that shoulda handled it,” Robin pointed out, and Steve gave her two fingerguns.  

“I’ll stay alive and be your bar quiz partner,” Billy told Erica, crossing his heart, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Good, because your man there doesn’t believe in narwhals,” she said, and Steve groaned.

“Stop lying to me about narwhals,” he mumbled.  “I’ve been to the zoo.  Din’t see any...unicorn...whales.”

“They don’t keep them in cages, babe, they’re still whales,” Billy told him, and got a hard prod.  

“He’s a conspiracy theorist,” Steve mumbled sadly.  “Came back from the dead to lie to me about narwhals.”

“I didn’t die, babe,” Billy told him, leaning in for a tequila-flavored kiss.  

“I couldn’t wait to tell the whole dorm a guy I knew shoved a lightbulb up his ass and electrocuted himself over Spring Break,” Erica said, sighing wistfully, and Nancy and Robin started laughing so hard they leaned in to each other.  Billy shot upright in bed, dumping Steve off his shoulder, and nearly clonking skulls with El.

“I’m sorry, they said what,” he said flatly.  “You guys really believed I stuck a lightbulb up my ass and electrocuted myself?  How fucking stupid do you think I am?!”

“You have me,” Steve mumbled, sniffling and reaching for the Tequila, and Dustin snatched it away.

“Oh, no, buddy, you don’t need any more of that,” he said, and Billy nodded.  

“You don’t need to put a lamp up your ass,” Steve mumbled into Billy’s thigh, sniffling, as Billy laughed helplessly.  “You have me, babe—don’t cheat with a lamp.” 

“Yeah, sweetie,” Billy said, yanking him into a tight hug.  “Fuck heaven, right?  Never gonna leave.”

 Here are my other Harringrove April prompts!

[readbookywooks]

I ACTED SURPRISED WHEN MOM GOT off the phone that Monday morning and told me Steve had recovered. She was excited and did a little dance with me and Annie in the kitchen. "He snapped out of it by himself?" Dad asked. "Yes," she said. "The doctors can't understand it, but nobody's complaining!" "Incredible," Dad muttered. "Maybe it's a miracle," Annie said, and I had to turn my head aside to hide my smile. Some miracle! While Mom went off to see Mrs. Leonard, I started out for school. I was half-afraid the sunlight would burn me when I left the house, but of course it didn't. Mr. Crepsley had told me I would be able to move around during the day. I wondered, from time to time, if it had been a bad dream. It seemed crazy, looking back. Deep down I knew it was real, but I tried believing otherwise, and sometimes almost did. The part I hated most was the thought of being stuck in this body for so long. How would I explain it to Mom and Dad and everybody else? I'd look silly after a couple of years, especially at school, stuck in a class with people who looked older than me. I went to visit Steve on Tuesday. He was sitting up, watching TV, eating a box of chocolates. He was delighted to see me and told me about his stay in the hospital, the food, the games nurses brought him to play with, the presents that were piling up. "I'll have to get bitten by poisonous spiders more often," he joked. "I wouldn't make a habit of it if I were you," I told him. "You might not get well next time." He studied me thoughtfully. "You know, the doctors are baffled," he said. "They don't know what made me sick and they don't know how I recovered." "You didn't tell them about Madam Octa?" I asked. "No," he said. "There didn't seem much point. It would have meant trouble for you." "Thanks." "What happened to her?" he asked. "What did you do with her after she bit me?" "I killed her," I lied. "I got mad and stomped her to death." "Really? "he asked. "Really." He nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off me. "When I first woke up," he said, I thought I saw you. I must have been mistaken, because it was the middle of the night. But it was a lifelike dream. I even thought I saw someone with you, tall and ugly, dressed in red, with orange hair and a long scar down the left side of his face." I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I looked down at the floor and squeezed my hands together. "Another funny thing," he said. "The nurse who discovered me awake swore there were two people in the room, a man and a boy. The doctors think it was her mind playing tricks and said it doesn't matter. Strange, though, isn't it?" "Very strange," I agreed, unable to look him in the eye. I began noticing changes in myself over the next couple of days. I found it hard getting to sleep when I went to bed, and kept waking in the middle of the night. My hearing improved and I was able to hear people talking from far away. In school, I could listen to voices from the next two rooms, almost as if there were no walls between my class and theirs. I began to get in better shape. I was able to run around the yard during break and lunch without working up a sweat. Nobody could keep up with me. I was also more aware of my body and was able to control it. I could make a soccer ball do pretty much what I wanted, dribbling around opponents at will. I scored sixteen goals on Thursday. I grew stronger, too. I was able to do push-ups and pull-ups now, as many as I liked. I didn't have new muscles none that I could see but there was a strength flowing through me that hadn't been there before. I had yet to test it properly but I believed it might be immense. I tried hiding my new talents but it was difficult. I explained away the running and soccer skills by saying I was exercising and practicing a lot more, but other things were trickier. Like when the bell rang on Thursday at the end of lunch. The ball had just been kicked into the air by the goalie who I'd put sixteen goals past. It was coming toward me, so I stuck up my right hand to catch it. I did, but as I squeezed, my nails sunk in and burst it! And when I was eating dinner at home that night, I wasn't concentrating. I could hear our next-door neighbors having a fight and I was listening to their argument. I was eating french fries and hot dogs, and after a while I noticed the food was tougher than it should have been. I glanced down and realized I'd bitten the head off the fork and was chewing it to pieces! Luckily, no one saw, and I was able to slip it into the wastebasket as I was washing up. Steve called that night. He'd been let out of the hospital. He was supposed to take things easy for a few days and not come to school until after the weekend, but he said he was going crazy with boredom and had persuaded his mother to let him come tomorrow. "You mean you want to come to school?" I asked, shocked. "Sounds weird, doesn't it?" He laughed. "Normally I'm looking for an excuse to stay home. Yet now, when I have one, I want to go! But you don't know how dull it is being stuck indoors alone all the time. It was fun for a couple of days, but a whole week of it...brrr!" I thought of telling Steve the truth but wasn't sure how he'd take it. He had wanted to become a vampire. I didn't think he'd like knowing Mr. Crepsley had picked me instead of him. And telling Annie was out of the question. She hadn't mentioned Madam Octa since Steve recovered but I often found her watching me. I don't know what was going through her head, but my guess is it was something like: "Steve got better, but it wasn't because of you. You had the chance to save him and you didn't. You told a lie and risked his life, just so you wouldn't get into trouble. Would you have done the same if it had been me?" Steve was the center of attention that Friday. The whole class crowded around and begged for his story. They wanted to know what had poisoned him, how he'd survived, what the hospital had been like, if they'd operated on him, if he had any scars, and so on. "I don't know what bit me," he said. "I was at Darren's house. I was sitting by the window. I heard a noise but before I could look to see what it was, I got bitten and passed out." This was the story we had agreed upon when I went to visit him at the hospital. I felt stranger than ever that Friday. I spent the morning gazing around the classroom, feeling out of place. It seemed so pointless. "I shouldn't be here," I kept thinking. "I'm not a normal kid anymore. I should be out earning my living as a vampire's assistant. What good will English, history, and geography do me now? This isn't my scene." Tommy and Alan told Steve about my skill on the soccer field. "He's running like the wind these days," Alan said. "And playing like Pele," Tommy added. "Really?" Steve asked, looking at me oddly. "What's brought on the big change, Darren?" "There isn't any change," I lied. "I'm just on a roll. I'm lucky." "Listen to Mr. Modest!" Tommy laughed. "Mr. Dalton has said he might put him at forward for the under-seventeen soccer team. Imagine one of us playing for the under-seventeens! Nobody our age has ever made that team." "No," Steve mused. "They haven't." "Aw, it's just Dalton talking," I said, trying to brush it aside. "Maybe," Steve said. "Maybe? I played badly that lunchtime, on purpose. I could tell Steve was suspicious. I don't think he knew what was going on, but he sensed something was different about me. I ran slowly and missed chances I normally would have put away even without the special powers. My ploy worked. By the end of the game he'd stopped studying my every move and was beginning to joke with me again. But then something happened that ruined everything. Alan and me were running for the same ball. He shouldn't have been going for it, because I was closest. But Alan was a little younger than the rest of us and sometimes acted stupidly. I thought about pulling back but I was sick of playing badly. Lunch was almost over and I wanted to score at least one goal. So I decided, "The hell with Alan Morris. That's my ball and if he gets in my way, tough!" We clashed with each other just before reaching the ball. Alan gave a yell and went flying. I laughed, trapped the ball under my foot, and turned toward goal. The sight of blood stopped me in my tracks. Alan had landed awkwardly and cut his left knee. It was a bad gash and blood was welling up. He had started to cry and was making no move to cover it with a tissue or scrap of cloth. Somebody kicked the ball away from beneath my foot and ran off with it. I took no notice. My eyes were focused on Alan. More specifically, on Alan's knee. More specifically still, on Alan's blood. I took a step toward him. Then another. I was standing over him now, blocking the light. He gazed up and must have seen something odd in my face, because he stopped crying and stared at me uneasily. I dropped to my knees and, before I knew what I was doing, I had covered the cut on his leg with my mouth and was sucking out his blood and gulping it down! This went on for a few seconds. My eyes were closed and the blood filled my mouth. It tasted amazing. I'm not sure how much I would have drank or how much harm I would have done to Alan. Luckily, I didn't get the chance to find out. I became aware of people around me and opened my eyes. Nearly everyone had stopped playing and was staring at me in horror. I removed my lips from Alan's knee and looked around at my friends, wondering how to explain this. Then the solution hit me and I jumped up and spread my arms. "I am the vampire lord!" I yelled. "I am the king of the undead! I will suck the blood from all of you!" They stared at me in shock, then laughed. They thought it was a joke! They thought I was only pretending to be a vampire. "You're a nut, Shan," somebody said. "That's gross!" a girl squealed as fresh blood dripped down my chin. "You should be locked away!" The bell rang and it was time to return to class. I was feeling pleased with myself. I thought I'd fooled everybody. But then I noticed someone near the back of the crowd and my joy faded. It was Steve, and his dark face told me he knew exactly what had happened. He hadn't been fooled at all. He knew.

[morganbritton132]

Robin, watching Steve flirt with a girl that was mean to her once: Hey, Steve-O. How’s that rash? You know, the rash you have. The one on your butt. Is it infected?

Steve: No! I mean - I don’t have - there was never… oh my god. I hate you.

Robin: No, you don’t.

Keith, after Robin bullied him into buying Steve a cake for his birthday: I got you a cake. Shut up about it.

Steve: …Thanks, but I can’t eat that. I’m allergic to peanuts.

Robin: Wow, Keith, that’s so inconsiderate that you got him a peanut butter chocolate cake without taking that into consideration. Wow.

Robin: Luckily, my mom made you a cake, too. Your favorite (basic ass white cake with white icing).

Robin, pulling Keith’s cake that she specifically told him to buy over to her: I guess I’ll eat this one.

Robin, to Eddie: Steve’s favorite color is pastel pink and his biggest wish is for someone to buy him flowers.

Steve, eavesdropping: …that’s actually true

Robin: Yeah, I take my wingman duties very seriously.

Steve, not on his bisexual realization journey yet: …wingmanning for what, Robin?

Robin’s contribution to her friendship with Steve is to straight up lie about him. Constantly. For no reason other than she thinks it’s funny.

One time, they were going to the Wheelers house for Mike’s birthday dinner. They couldn’t find parking outside the house so he dropped her off and then drove off to park at the end of the street.

Someone asked her where Steve was when she got inside and she said, “Oh, he’s driving around the block a couple times to collect himself. He’s just a wreck about Mike turning fifteen. Lots of tears.”

Her old band friends accosted her one day at school, asking her what Steve Harrington is really like. She made a face like, “He’s alright but he cries when he watches E.T though. Like, every time.”

She adds, “He calls his parents mommy and daddy.”

One time, Steve was having a get-together at him house. When Eddie showed up, he asked where Steve was and she said, “He’s upstairs. Jerking off. Gross, right?”

She wasn’t aware that Jonathan was also upstairs so when the two of them came down together, Eddie looked like he was connecting some dots.

She decides not to admit she was lying. She’d rather see where that implication goes and hopes that maybe Steve and Eddie will finally admit they’re crushing on each other.