#and after all that?? the OL's book and come and gone but the phone notifications glitched last week and didn't alert anyone

[blunderpuff]

an old lady came in today, followed by a frantic and hovering younger woman

Old Lady (to my coworker): “Can you see about a book I had placed on reserve?”

Younger Woman (to OL): “Ma’am, are you sure you’re alright?”

OL (to coworker): “I think it was in last week, but I didn’t get a phone call...”

YW (to OL): “I have my insurance card in my truck, are you sure you’re okay?”

OL (to coworker): “Oh, do you have a paper towel? I’ve gotten mud on your counter... I just got hit by a car.”

Me and my coworker, who had been trying to parse this relationship: “?!?!?!?!?!!?”

The Younger Woman had side-swiped the Older Lady in the parking lot and knocked her down, and the Older Lady’s priority was literally the book she put on hold. O_O

[nyxdelanuit]

Please Let Me Take You Ch 9

Bakugou x F!Reader, Kirishima x F!Reader TWs: Cheating, angst, unhealthy/abusive relationship, manipulation, smut, some big ol misunderstandings and misplaced anger this round. MASTERLIST

The morning comes upon you in waves. First, in the cracking dryness of your throat, reminding you of the days Katsuki would come home covered in soot and ash and destruction. Back when he would allow you to offer a shoulder to lean on. Before he moved you into this sterile, stainless, seamless bubble. Now the only mess that exists here is you. Especially now, when the sticky feeling settles on your skin, the sheets peeling away from you with each slight movement. You used to bask in the scent of caramel on your sheets, but now you can only place the bitter scent of burnt sugar. The ache settles into your muscles, worsening with each conscious thought that floods into your head, the more concrete everything starts to feel. Calling it a situation feels so dramatic, but no other words will grace your heavy mind. 

You finally gather the courage to open your eyes and face the day once you notice how cold the bed is, a sure sign that Katsuki has been gone for a fair bit of time. Enough time that you feel comfortable slipping out of bed and getting right into the shower. It’s starting to become all too familiar to you, the way you scrub away the feeling of the sweat and his touch along with it. The way the discomfort doesn’t leave until you’re finally wrapped up in a towel and breathing in the steamy air, skin warm to the touch. 

You thought you were finally starting to relax until your plans for the day popped back into your head. From one uncomfortable situation to another, and yet you weren’t dreading it as much as you did being at home. At least outside you felt like you could breathe. 

You waited, looked at a few places you could choose from. You didn’t want to text Eiji too early. Inviting more conversation than necessary just felt… precarious. You already had enough on your plate with Katsuki, you didn’t want to brush this under the rug too… 

It was a shame you couldn’t choose the cozy diner Eiji had brought you to, but you wanted to be on equal footing. Somewhere new for you both, somewhere in the city and easy to leave from if you needed to, but also somewhere quiet enough to actually talk. You took your time getting ready, letting the routine leech the stress from your shoulders. It was only when you were heading out the door that you sent the address for the place. You couldn’t text back if you were driving, and he absolutely would not want you to. It was a win-win in your book, an easy excuse for not checking his messages. A coward’s reaction, you were well aware. If only his words didn’t sway you so much, but you could feel yourself wavering even the night before. No, you needed to get your words out first, look him in the eye, and ask for answers. Hopefully, he’ll give them to you. 

The drive was spent humming along to quiet music, trying to keep your mind occupied enough to not linger. It made no sense in trying to think of answers only he- and your fiance, you suppose- could give you. And despite your efforts, you could still feel the clamminess of your hands as you left your car, taking some deep breaths to try and shake the pit weighing down your stomach. Your late text gave you a little bit of a headstart, so you were able to order a drink and find a quiet corner, ignoring the notification waiting on your phone’s screen. 

The first nip of guilt came when you saw him wander in the front door. You had seen him after overnight shifts, but he never looked this tired. You wondered which one of you had slept worse- if he had slept at all. Looking back on your last conversation, you couldn’t blame him. You probably wouldn’t have fared better if Katsuki hadn’t made his appearance. Small mercies, if you could call that a mercy. 

And still, he met your gaze with a smile and a little wave, his dark hair still covering the pale scar, but you could still see the edge peeking out. You watched, taking him in as he ordered. For how big he was, he was so quiet. He radiated a kind of peace that scared you, especially considering why you were here today. But you set those thoughts aside, making room for the man coming to your table with his drink and the most hopeful look. You hoped you wouldn’t kill that look.

 

“Hey…” he sounded so breathless. You had seen him just after training, and he wasn’t near as out of breath as this, surely it couldn’t be from just you. But then again, he was especially soft with you. 

“Hey, yourself.” You gave him a tired smile. You were reluctant to start this conversation now that you were here. It’s Eiji… you just wanted to enjoy your drinks and food and talk and drive around and…

And yet here you were, potentially forsaken what little peace you’ve been able to find lately. For answers. You wondered if it would be worth it. While your debate raged on in your head, Kirishima took the plunge for you.

“So, uh… I’m not great at these… Not really good at waiting when it seems like something’s wrong.” He chuckles, but it lacks his usual energy. “Maybe it’s a hero thing. You know, rushing in…” You didn’t, not really, but you could see that being the common thread between your friend, Katsuki, and the sweet man across from you.

“Yeah… I just… I visited Ochako yesterday.” He cuts off the sip he was taking, seeing how you hesitate.

“Oh, yeah! You, uh… you did mention that. Is everything alright?” You wave him off.

“They’re… they’re fine, they’re good. Just… well, um. Izuku said something.” You saw the way his grip changed on his cup. Not tightening, just… holding it more securely, closer to his body. “About you…” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. It seems like a habit he’s had for a while, as it lets you see the full scar and you doubt he’d actively show that off. 

“Fuck… Midobro, I-I was gonna tell you everything, really. I just, well there was never a good time. Like a really good time.” 

“You just couldn’t find the time to tell me that my fiance is the one that fucked up your hero career? Who scared you… Eiji…” You could feel the frustration building behind your eyes and resist the urge to rub it away. “What stopped you? It’s not like Katsuki and I are fighting because of you, we’re just… couples just fight.” The guilt on Eijirou’s face turns a bit bitter and tinged with worry.

“You aren’t just fighting, you have to know that. And I didn’t want you to think you couldn’t talk to me.” You groaned when you realized what he meant.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t be… I thought you were unbiased. Fuck, you have the most valid reason to not like him! And I’ve just been… spilling my guts to you. No wonder you had such specific advice, you’ve been where I am.” He tries to stop your spiral, moving a hand to cover yours.

“You’re right, and I know how dangerous it can be-” You pull your hand from his

“No, that’s not what I meant! I-I just mean that you used to be the closest to Katsuki, so of course you would know how he got when someone pushes his buttons-”

“Don’t you dare start putting all of this on yourself. You aren’t doing anything wrong, and even if you were pushing his buttons, I’m proof that he doesn’t know how to handle that well! There’s no excuse for how he treated me, and even less for how he’s treating you.” His voice grew sharp as he spoke, something bitter and rooted deep peeking its way out. 

“No, Eiji, it’s not like that. It’s completely different from then…”

“That’s what I used to think too. He’d never hurt me, not really. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Until it was too much, and I can’t just wait around and watch you do the same.”

“So what, you’re just going to guilt me? Into what? Leeching off my friends until I somehow find a way out of this mess that I put myself in?” You were trying so hard to keep your voice level, but you could feel the volume building, the waver in your voice, and you could see the hurt in Eiji’s face.

‘What? No, of course not! I just want you to know that there are people you can lean on, people who can help you! I can help you!” The swirling of feelings in your chest, the odd betrayal, and the guilt warring inside you, you didn’t know how much longer you could take it. 

“I never asked for your help.” You stood so swiftly, intent on leaving before he could sway you or you were sure you’d explode. 

“Wait, please! I’m not trying to argue with you, and you don’t have to ask for my help… I want to help you, I want to help so bad…” It was difficult to not turn back to him, but you bit back your words. The hurt was too raw right now. You just wanted one safe place, and you thought your new friend could have been that for you. 

Unfortunately for you, it didn’t look like Eiji was going to just let you go, abandoning his drink to follow after you. “Please, just let me finish… I want to tell you everything.”

“No, Eiji, I don’t want to hear it right now. I can’t do this. Not with Kat being weird and then this? I shouldn’t even be here…” You know Kat would flip if he knew where you were, and that uneasiness melded with your grief and hurt. You were thankful you hadn’t gotten the chance to figure out what you wanted to eat, you didn’t think you could stomach it right now. 

“I’m sorry, you have to know that! And I was just… I guess I was trying to protect you.” You had finally reached your car, spinning back to look at Eiji. 

“Funny, that’s what Katsuki says too.” That seemed to startle him enough to let you get in the car and pull out. Looking in the rearview only showed his large frame, looking so small as he watched you go. After all, he had no right to try and hold onto you. You weren’t his.

You were Katsuki Bakugou’s.

The longer you sat with your conversation, the more it ate away at you. You knew somewhere, deep down, you weren’t really that upset at Eijirou. But you were upset. You were so upset it felt like it was clawing away at you from the inside out. And yet your pride wouldn’t let you reach back out. At least not that day… or the day after that, or the week after that. 

And Ejirou, sweet Eijirou, he was trying. Riding that line between checking in and bombarding you with texts. Sometimes you wondered what would happen if he called. If he showed up at your front door. Would you answer? Would you let him in? You could melt into him if he did show up. You feel it in your bones how easy it would be if only he was in front of you. But instead, your company was the unfeeling, uncaring blank slate of a house you thought one day you would muster up the nerve to call home. Blank walls, empty counters, unfeeling portraits of concrete. If only you could make yourself blank too. Let Katsuki shape you into his perfect, pristine vision. You’d be happy then, right? 

But no, you were messy. You were messy and emotional and real and it hurt. It hurt knowing you wouldn’t live up to the lofty ideals he had.

And almost as bad as that hurt, it hurt knowing you let someone in and they kept something so important from you. They kept it secret and hidden away and still, they stole a part of you too. A part that just wants to walk out the door and find him. 

You couldn’t. Not now, not yet. When- if you left, you wanted it to be on your terms. On your own two feet. Your friends, they can wait for you outside, but you felt it in your soul, you had to be the one to do it. Otherwise, you’d just be trading Katsuki for another. Another person to look to whenever you had a single hair out of place, another person to cling to, to lead you. That wasn’t what you wanted to be.

It felt so easy to think that. To lose yourself in daydreams of your absolution, self-preserving and self-sufficient. 

And yet…

And yet… when Katsuki came home, on the days highlighted on your shared calendar, marking the peak of your cycle, you still bent for him. You took it in solemn silence, and he never seemed to mind. Even bringing you a gift each time his presence graced his own home. A pastry here, a new designer something laid over the back of the couch. You took it all with a smile you were so convinced wasn’t at all convincing. 

It became routine. A few days a week, leading up to a week where he was home every night. It seemed like he had finally gotten serious about his desires to get a kid into you. And then he’d leave, no more conversation than necessary. Important business somehow cropping up after he spent the better part of a week between your legs. 

A handful of months passed like that. You pulled away from everyone in that time. What could you really say to Ochako or Mina when they asked? It was easier to say nothing. And Eijirou’s text still sat in your inbox, read but not replied. They were becoming less over time, but no less consistent. 

The cycle finally broke late one night. You were just lying in bed, Katsuki had just left the night before. It would probably be another week or so before he would show up again. All you could do with your sleepless night was lay still, hoping that somehow you could stop from getting pregnant by sheer force of will. 

You had expected this to be all you would do tonight, but the screen on your phone lit up with a chime, drawing away your attention. It wasn’t a text, not this time. The melody kept going as you scrambled to get your phone, seeing Eijirou’s contact filling the screen. Your body moved before your mind, answering the call and catching you off guard.

“H-hi, hey…” You hated the way your voice cracked and wavered, but somehow Eijirou sounded even worse than you did. 

“Oh, shit, hi, hey…” he cleared his throat. “I… fuck, this is gonna sound like an excuse, but I didn’t mean to call you…” And just like that, the hurt that you had thought faded ached again. It was nowhere near where it had been, but still… “I just. I missed you a lot tonight. Everyone was out and I thought, maybe… but I understand why you didn’t show. I just wanted to try to apologize, face to face. And I was looking at our messages and… well, I’m not really sure what happened…” he chuckles, but it’s so forced. Yet your heart lifts. He wasn’t trying to leave you behind, just give you space. Something you thought long dried up and dead inside you unfurled, not yet blooming but showing signs of life. 

This was it. This was your choice, your chance. 

“Hey, Eiji?” Your voice hadn’t sounded so calm and even in so long

“Yeah?”

“You wanna go for a ride?”

[btswishes]

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 1 )

Part1 / Next 

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N: This is my first Marvel fic and I am taking it as a challenge. It is opposite of what my account was made, but here I go. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Word count:  3,281

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU 

Y/N- Your name Y/L/N:  Your Last Name

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

  Through sleepless nights and dark circles, books and pens, through months of work you reached your goal. The moment you received the acceptance letter from Stark University you almost flew out the window without a fear in your mind. This was it!

  Time had passed since that moment, but it is still engraved in your mind- a memory keeping you strong during the hard midterms and piles of work, even the small glimmers of regret. Trying your best wasn’t an option, you could do only that and no less. It was no easy task, lost social life as much as you tried to keep it. You were really lucky you had good friends that understood and supported you. University wasn’t easy for anyone making this one even tougher. People of all ages, backgrounds and cultures were piled up with you in this building. The best of the best as the slogan said, the ones that proved themselves and emerged victorious.

  When you were young ,you used to spend a lot of time with your uncle at his places outside the country. He would introduce you to his work colleagues and things you had never seen before. There was a time where you would spend months on end with him. Not many memories were left from those moments in your head. At one point you spend a few years with him, your mother thought it would be good experience for you and it turned out to be nothing but the truth-at least you hoped so. You learned a lot from him and his friends, it felt like each spend day would offer you more knowledge in areas you never knew of. Computer work, ways of thinking and so much more that had become second nature to you.

  The sky was tinted in a wash of oranges, reds and yellows bleeding one into the other, swirling around the sun emitting them. The day was ending, but you found yourself filling up an application in the library, covered by the silence and smell of exam worry.

  Sponsored and founded by the one and only Tony Stark, this establishment offered an internship. Being part of the Avengers, Tony didn’t let just anyone from the students attending in, even if they were the best labeled by the school. It had been a year and a half since you started pushing yourself harder to be able to apply and there was nothing that could stop you. Pressing your finger over the enter button was very nerve wrecking yet simple. Even if it didn’t work out this year, you planned to do it again and again ,till he had no other choice but give you a chance.

  Usually F.R.I.D.A.Y. went over everything and left only the applications worth going over by Tony himself or Pepper. The next 5 weeks for you were very stressful, but there was nothing more you could do but wait and focus on your own work. The first person you wanted to tell about this was your uncle. He went to work in some distant place where they had no internet so you switched to mail. Not as much paper under his name passed through your hands, as he had stopped answering you. You missed him, but the muddy childhood memories kind of compensated for that.

“Did you send it in?” the phone muffled a bit the sweet voice coming from the speaker 

“Yeah, a few days ago actually.” You answered with a gentle sigh

“And no answer yet?” the girl’s pitch rose at the end of the sentence, amazed at that what she just heard

“I know, I know. Think about it though Nea. Who knows how many applications get submitted. Someone has to brush through them after all.” defending the situation was a form of coping for you, made you feel hopeful.

“So you are trying to tell me Tony Stark’s interface or whatever it’s called, can’t sort them out in a couple of hours? Come on Y/N! You and I both know you are trying to make yourself feel better.” The small pause made you anxious over what Nea said “Listen.” A breathy start of the sentence “ I don’t mean to brag, but I think I am one of the people who know exactly how much you deserve this. You were never the studious type, plus that you were gone for years on end with that mysterious uncle of yours. I never expected you to suddenly go for Stark University. Your dream changed you, from this quiet kid to crazy ol’ you right now on the call with me.I ain’t letting you bust yourself up over this just because it didn’t happen the first time around-”

                Ding ding

  Nea’s deep speech was cut off before she could unleash herself completely, by the slight ring of your phone’s notification.

“Who tf has the audacity to text while the great me is giving this legendary –“

                Ding!

  The second time the sound sung out made her choke up with anger, you could almost see the fumes coming out of the phone.

“WHO IS IT!” a loud hiss pierced your ear

“Maybe if you gave me a minute I could answer your question.” Pulling the call down, your finger ran over the screen to the email, making your notification lamp blink like a car. Almost instantly it opened before your eyes and you gasped. The action made you swallow suddenly and cough out a bit ,giving poor Nea an idea about the level of shock you were in.

“What?What? You can’t just almost die and not tell me what is going on.” She proceeded with a not so tasteful interrogation.

“I-…they accepted my application…” at the end a small smile flowed over your lips contorting the sound coming out

“Stop!?” she choked up as well “You gotta be fucking with me!? No fucking way this is real!”

“I am honest. It says here that they liked my skill set, my grades and the way of thinking I presented in my essay. I got the spot Nea! I fucking did it!” you threw the phone on the bed letting it bounce as you started dancing.

“Of course you did! I told you! You will be working with THE AVENGERSSSS!” at some point it sounded like your best friend was more excited than you “When do you start?”

“Well…” taking a second to calm down and re-establish contact with your phone, you looked up the schedule that came attached with the email “…ok…so it says here that I will be starting on Monday so~ in 2 days? “

“So soon! Any requirements for the job miss Avenger’s sidekick?” and the teasing begins

“A list, surprisingly.” Rolling onto your back, you held the screen away and above your face, scrolling past “ I guess my first job will be with Dr. Banner in the lab. Apparently I will be given some sort of assignments throughout the 5 months work span. I will be monitored by Dr. Bruce Banner and the grading, I guess if you can call It that ,will be done by Tony Stark himself.”

“Basically Hulk will be your babysitter.” once this girl starts teasing she never stops even in amazing situations such as this one, good thing you loved her “That sounds so cool though! You will be able to meet Captain America and Black Widow~! I am so jelly of you I swear! When you leave work make sure to wait for someone from the group to walk by, omgggg I am fangirling so much right now.What if you go to dinners with them!?AAAAA!”

“Fun thing about that.” Your eyes landed on the last paragraph of the email “It says here that I am supposed to move into the compound and stay there till further notice. The whole idea is that if I do things well I will get a permanent job. Weird…” you hummed

“Weird !? How? That is so cool! Who knows you might even become an Avenger! You will be living with them anyways.” at this point Nea was either not breathing or hyperventilating so fast you couldn’t hear it

“Don’t be ridiculous.” your attention landed once more on the thought process you had a moment ago “I don’t get one thing. They say here that my PE grades combined with my IT and overall studies make me a great candidate, but I don’t remember sports being a requirement at all, or even providing them in the first place. Does it mean that if my grades were low in that department I wouldn’t have gotten the spot?”

“I guess people of science aren’t that flexible. Who cares anyways! You got in, no ifs and buts. I am telling you, at this point you could be an Avenger.” poor girl began thinking of names and suit designs for you “ Hurry up and pack those bags before I drop by with take away, so we can gossip over Steve Rogers’s abs.”

“Um…don’t get me wrong he is super hot, I just see the Cap more like an older brother figure than anything.” It was true, you looked up to him since the first time you studied about the Civil War. Fearless, gave his life in a way for his people, astonishing man over all.

“Hey! Let me drool over him! You were always more of a Winter Soldier fan anyways.” Nea pouted audibly . Her words made some lone memory pop up in your head, but it was as murky as the rest. “I don’t know why I am interested in him. Somehow his look is very nostalgic and rugged. Anyways. ”you shook your head out of the mental image of the soldier “I will go pack up, tell my parents and fix up all my documents. Probably find some stuff from former Stark employees online. I want to have a bit of an idea of what he expects and what I am getting myself into.”

“Fine fine, you could have just said you like troubled guys. You were the one who was happy Loki got a second chance after all. I will be over in like 3 hours.” She informed you

“Hey! He deserved to redeem himself, he was used!” a firm Loki supporter as always “Ok then, see ya.”

   Hanging up the call you placed your phone to charge and rolled off your bed. The email gave vague information about what you needed, but clothing wise you would still be able to come home and get stuff if you had to. What was on top of your priorities were papers, documents, all your research materials and tech. Those things had to be organized no matter what ,since they got you this far in the first place.

  Nae came over as planned and you two had a nice sleepover talking about you know who. The night came and left, letting the morning find you in your bed at 11am. Your forearm rested on top of your forehead in a relaxed manner, letting enough space for an exhale to linger in the air in front of you. Your mind was going over everything that was about to happen to you. It was one of your dreams, you worked for it nonstop day in day out, so why were you so worried about meeting the rest of the Avengers? Maybe it was just anxiety or fear of the unknown, yeah made sense.

  All you did during the day was make lists for every piece of tech you were binging with yourself. Things seemed to be in order, but worry kept nibbling on your bones. The moment of truth finally rolled up and so did your suitcase in front of your house. Nea came to send you off as she promised.

“Sweetie, make sure to call us every day. Eat well, don’t overwork yourself and-“ your mom went off with caution about anything and everything that came to mind

“Mom, you know I am going 3 blocks down from here right? Plus I can come home at any time I want to. I am not moving to Mars or getting arrested.” You smirked the panic away from her, giving them a big hug.

“Call me or text me when you get there.” Nea pulled you in, whispering in your ear as quietly as possible “And don’t forget to sneak me a booty pick of good ol’Cap. You know what they say-”

“That is America’s ass.” Your voice came out in a mocking tone

“That i-…let me at least finish it by myself! Geez!” she pushed you towards the door “Ok ok, go now before you spoil me something else” her arms crossed in front of her chest

  The walk wasn’t that long, you were too invested in your own thoughts to notice when the time and distance had passed. The glistening windows of the compound building shined into your eyes. Your lungs filled up with a breath that they kept in for a moment, before releasing it back in the outside world. Pulling out the documents you stepped in. The fresh smelling air hit you making you close one eye for a second.

People were walking around you fast and concentrated. Some looked in a hurry, others were on break with a cup of coffee and a strain-leaving expression.

 Your feet, as slightly shaky as they were, took you right up to the front desk were a lady with a dark rich red colored uniform looked at you. She flashed a professional smile, her eyes asking for your purpose.

“Um, hello. My name is Y/N -Y/L/N.” she saw the logo on your papers and gasped

“You must be the new intern Mr. Stark told us about.” She signed something and reached out “Can you give me your hand for a second.” Your fingers didn’t go past the surface of the desk when she pocked your skin. Pulling in your extremity, your palm wrapped around the spot that began to sting a bit “Don’t worry about it. This is your identification pass. Fancy, no?” she smiled winking. Her body stood up as she pointed at the elevator far in the back of the foyer.

  Instructions were given with each step of the way, calming your nerves a bit. The moment you found yourself inside the elevator she pulled your hand to the sensor on the wall next to the buttons.

Recognized: Code 2514. Welcome Miss Y/N  

 Your head shot up when F.R.I.D.Y.’s voice echoed in the small space. The women smiled giving you a small nod and stepped out of the vicinity. Once her body was outside ,the doors slid closed. Over them glowed a protective blue light layering over the material like a soft veil.

 It felt like you weren’t moving an inch. Your body flinched when the sun stung at your eyes from the window. Your gaze landed over the view of the city, as you went higher and higher, ascending into the clouds  The blues and yellows were covering the inside of the elevator, such vibrant and lovely colors warming your body. For a moment your heart felt heavy- lost memory tugged onto it again. An often occurrence lately, yet you kept brushing off as deja vu. 

Floor 134. Welcome to the Avenger’s compound Miss Y/N

“134!?” the numbers cracked out with your voice. The interface made you turn towards the opposite opening doors revealing a room as big as a hall, if not almost a stadium. The ceiling was high being the lid to this round area. Your heart beat increased pumping blood to your body, dilating your pupils at least twice their original size. It look amazing, almost like you had just entered heaven. The walls were white, the furniture was perfectly placed and cream colored. Stepping outside you jumped at the sound of the elevator doors closing behind you. 

“Wow” escaped your lips, your hand pulling the suitcase closer. So this was the common room or the shared space. The windows were so big they were practically a wall of their own. The bright rays were making themselves at home giving the white paint a new color with each passing minute. The ceilings were probably the equivalent of 3 floors in height. There was this weird feeling of home inside, a bit of isolation maybe mixed in. 

“Miss Y/N?” your head swung to the side when you recognized that shy but bright smile. Throwing the papers on top of your suitcase, you extended your arm at the man.

“Ah.” Good thing your mind automatically responds politely to people without you giving it much thought “Dr. Banner. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” you shook his hand gently a couple of times and let go ,finding the papers and showing them to him “My name is Y/N-Y/L/N.” gentle bow and a smile followed the words skillfully chosen

“Welcome Welcome. Tony is out right now so I might be the only one actively walking around the compound. Well…”he scratched the back of his neck, lightly hunching over with a sheepish smile “I am one of the people you will be working under anyways, so I guess it is good that I came to get you. I would love to show you the lab, but I am sure you would like to set up your things first.” You nodded and he showed you to your room. The corridor had 3 tall doors scattered on the walls, all looking modern and elegant.

“This is the side where usually we have our female members. Natasha and Wanda will be your nextdoor neighbors. Hope it won’t be any trouble.” Bruce looked at you ,when an aggressive shake took over your neck

“No, no. Not at all sir. I am very grateful to have such amazing heroes next to me. As a matter of fact won’t they be troubled with me here?” and here came the normal anxiety that you had for everything

“I am sure they will like you. Don’t worry about it.” Bruce stepped next to the door and waved you over “You don’t have a key or a door handle as a matter of fact. Tony’s idea, don’t ask. If you got up here on your own I assume he made the girls downstairs give you an identification implant. That is basically your entrance for everything here. Kind of an Avengers thing.” You nodded and him wiggling his fingers like a spell. Placing your hand on the door like he told you activated F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Recognized: Y/N. Access and ownership granted.

  The metal frame slid open and you found yourself standing before a big room. It was nicely furnished. The desk was big enough for you to work on it and have everything around. Bookshelves empty and ready to be used on your left and a large bed on your right flush against the wall. The window was once more its own wall right in front of you standing behind the desk. The bathroom door was opening a space before the shelf the same color as the paint in the common room.

“I will let you set up. If you need anything F.R.I.D.A.Y. is always here. The room is interactive, you can ask exactly what works under the interface’s control. The door is one.Take your time.”he was on his way out “Would you like some coffee or tea?”

“I would like some tea, thank you very much.” Bruce flashed you a smile “F.R.I.D.A.Y. the door please.”

Door closed 

  Done as said and requested, clicking behind you. 

Would you like an extensive list of my functions as an assistant?

“Please do.”

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 28

The boys are back... (High School Musical, probably)

THE ROAD SO FAR

Docked and Loaded

Alexander "Alex" Collins

MacTavish Residence, Glasgow Scotland

Alex loved the idea of sleeping beside his significant other. It felt great to be loved, especially after all those months when he couldn't stop thinking of her. 

Yet today was different, he woke up alone. He turned to the bathroom door to check whether Samantha took a shower, but it was too quiet. So he decided to put on his grey tank top and sweatpants to go look for her.

He pulled the door open to see Samantha carrying a tray containing two meals, one was a fluffy pancake with maple syrup and the other one was a meaty sandwich.

"Hey, you. Good Morning." She greeted, her voice was always angelic in Alex's ears.

"There you are…" he sighed as he stepped back, letting her in.

"I was only gone for a few minutes. You don't have to worry that much." She grinned, guiding Alex back to the bed, teasingly pushing him as he plopped on the soft mattress bouncing as he slowly backwards crawled until his back hit the headboard.

"I'm just not used to waking up without you in my arms." he grinned as Samantha placed the tray on his lap, grabbing a slice of the sandwich and pointed it at his mouth.

"I thought the pancake was mine." Alex said, looking puzzled.

"No, that's mine. What you're supposed to be eating is this very healthy, dietician prescribed meal." She emphasized. Alex frowned. 

"I want the pancake." he complained playfully. 

"Too much sugar is bad for you." she teased as Alex finally surrendered and opened his mouth wide. He wasn't a huge fan of the wheat bread. 

"Say, aside from Alex. Did you use any other names while undercover?" Samantha slowly plopped herself beside him, locking her hands against his and leaned on his strong biceps.

"Oh hmmm.." he hummed, softly chewing and finishing his sandwich.

"I had a few… like James, Chad, Mike or Michael…" he said.

"Okay. Which was the most sophisticated?" Samantha asked. Alex looked at her in the eyes and saw that she was really interested in his answer.

"Nathaniel." he chuckled and Samantha looked confused.

"What's funny?" 

"I don't strike as a 'Nathaniel'. I just used it once." Alex defended despite not being attacked.

"Now that you say it… yeah." she laughed as soon as she realized the content of his words.

"What's the funniest? And why?" her eyes sparkled, or has it always been that way then he looked at her eyes. Alex never knew, but he liked it.

"Ummm.. I once went by 'Ray'. It's funny because… it just is. It's too short and I often mistake someone thinking that they're calling me. It has a lot of rhymes you know…" he answered, her eyes never left her stare.

"Ray's a nice name." Samantha mused, this actually made Alex a little curious.

"You're making me jealous over my previous name." He sneered playfully.

"Oh don't be. Alex is a very perfect name. It sounds... handsome." she said, making Alex smile in excitement. This was it. He was truly madly and deeply in love with this woman.

Alex leaned for a kiss to which Samantha eagerly accepted, but as soon as their hands started to roam around, a knock on the door was heard.

"Oi, Alex! Price wants us for a briefing." Soap's muffled voice roared from behind the door.

"I'm coming!" Alex shouted as she gave Samantha one quick kiss before leaving the bed.

Alex felt underdressed for the briefing as Roach and Soap were wearing collared shirts. So he hid behind them and listened eagerly to Captain Price.

"Alright boys, Laswell left us a gift. There's a port near the English Channel, where a lot of cargo ships are suspected to be operating under Shadow Company's name, and it might lead us to Shepherd. 

The plan is simple. Sneak in, gather everything we can using our cameras and sneak out. This place will be swarming with hostiles and all we have are pistols with few ammo. Soap, you take care of our ride and comms. Alex and Roach, you're with me." They all nodded in agreement.

"There are about approximately three ships and the Shadow Company shipment is mixed along with civilian cargo. We have to be there before 3 am tomorrow as it's scheduled to be unloaded that day." Price sprawled printout of the cargo's travel ticket along with other solid intel.

It was official. They're back in the grid, a wave of excitement and fear overwhelmed the former CIA. Excited because they're one step closer to ending this thing and scared because he knew Samantha's going to worry about him.

Port of Dover, London UK

1734HOURS

They were too early for the transfer but as they say, "The early bird gets the worm." The team positioned themselves on a rooftop of a nearby building, Price scanning the area with binoculars.

"Three huge cargo ships and one party packed cruise ship." he muttered. The rest of the team sat patiently waiting for the perfect opening.

"Hm. This is odd." Price added, noticing the convoy of expensive cars slowly parking themselves near the ship.

"It is. There's a party here tonight… and it says here SC Security Services was hired as the events' security team." Gary added, scrolling through his phone.

"SC. Shadow Company. Sneaky Bastards are using the party to cover their real agenda!" Soap pieced the puzzle together.

"And we're here to stop em on their bloody tracks." Price nodded and resumed scanning.

"How are we going to get in?" Alex asked as trucks of Shadow Company troops flooded the area. It looked like they had good reason to swarm the place. It was a sneaky yet effective tactic.

"I got one ticket." Gary raised a QR code from his phone. Price looked at the black and white blotches of squares in question.

"What's that supposed to do?" Price asked.

"It's a digital pass. The DJ performing tonight is a good ol' friend of mine." he said. 

"It's going to be a semi-formal party with a masquerade theme."  He continued, scrolling through the e-invite.

"Then you're going in there. See what's up. These cargo ships may just be decoys. We take one ship each. Always stay on comms. Once Roach successfully gets in, he'll find a shortcut from the inside." Price planned and everyone had no objections. 

"Wait. Maxine told me that she brought something useful." he scoured the contents of the duffle bag.

"Is it food?" Soap asked innocently as everyone looked at him.

"Bingo. Three Shadow Company Uniforms from Russia." Gary grinned and everyone looked delighted.

"Guess we're taking the easy way in." Price muttered as they put their plan to action.

Roach stopped at a local thrift shop for his attire. He wore an awkwardly tight tuxedo with rubber duck printed tie and a magenta masquerade mask. It wasn't too shabby and it did the job, as the rest of the group were already inside the premises.

"Stay on comms, Roach. Keep us posted." Price muttered as the team split to each of their ships. Walking casually like regular guards, except they didn't have guns.

"Aye aye, Captain." Roach muttered as slow booming could be heard from the distance. He was approaching the party.

Alex's ship was the farthest from the cruise ship but that didn't mean it was the least guarded. For a party, the place was overcrowded with security. Alex confidently nodded at every 'ally' he passed along the way, overhearing conversations of a supply drop around 3 am tomorrow, confirming Laswell's speculations.

"Hey!" Someone called from behind and Alex turned cautiously.

"You left your rifle at the office?" he asked and Alex nodded. The man pointed to the cargo ship and it gave Alex the free ticket to investigate it. He was lucky enough for an easy pass.

The cargo ship was indeed large, he didn't know where to start, but as soon as he claimed his issued rifle, he immediately looked for the ship's logs.

"I'm in. Got myself a gun." Alex reported.

"Good. I'm also in. Trying not to get tempted by the buffet." Gary replied.

"They're looking suspiciously at my haircut." Soap muttered, frustrated.

"My ship's empty, but I could feel footsteps. I'm being followed." Price warned. 

"Mine's full of stuff. It's impossible to look through these without a shipment log." Alex sighed, opening another door that contained useless stuff.

At the last door of the hallway, Alex heard a bizarre noise, he carefully crouched and checked on the room. A Shadow Company guard was snoring loudly, a computer monitor showing a live feed of the rooms in front of him.

"Ahem! Sir, you are needed on the cruise ship!" Alex roared, surprising the sleeping guard as he quickly got up to his bearings and exited the room. 

"Alright guys. I got eyes on the whole thing." He told comms while scanning the thick book of the ship's cargo.

"Good one." Gary said.

"Finally, these muppets stopped talking about my hair. I'm Oscar Mike." Soap muttered while Price's end remained quiet.

"Just what is Shepherd up to…" Alex mused, fingers scrolling through the ship log. He doesn't have all night but he's doing his best to look for it under pressure.

Next Chapter : Docked and Loaded - Part 2

Notification Squad my Beloved

@enderio @samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

[captainjimothycarter]

How about a Steggy drabble for the "stormy day" prompt in that October prompt list you posted? (Only if you feel like it of course!) :D

This is so not what you wanted. *insert Modern Day Steggy* I don’t know where I was going with this.

--

The fact that his apartment complex or fuck the whole neighborhood had been plunged into darkness during a heavy, stormy night didn’t surprise Steve. He sat in the sudden darkness on his couch, phone in hand as he listened to the lightning and thunder clash outside, like two Gods in battle. He listened to the heavy wind and rain threaten to burst down his apartment and flood everything away. Lightning streaked once more and when he thought the coat stand in the far corner of the room, Steve sighed and figured he’d better get a flashlight or two.

It was supposed to do this all week, with very little breaks in between. They were expecting over seven inches of rain, if not more, not that those measurements meant anything to him. With the power out, his job of working as a comic book artist and finally putting some fresh ideas to paper was useless.

It was cold in the apartment now without power and the blonde was fully aware as he pulled out his trunk of emergency flashlights, camper burners, candles, etc. that he remembered someone had moved in just next door. He doubted they had prepared for this either. 

The past few storms had taught him that his neighbors had all prepared for this, after going through every other home and giving out flashlights and candles to be sure they had something to see by. No idea how long this outage will last.

Hopefully not long, because Mr. Jensen upstairs needed his oxygen, but his wife assured him that they had a generator. That was just her text coming in again to confirm they were okay.

How do you even go to your next-door-neighbor? Hi, I’m Steve? The power is out and I’m not trying to be creepy or have some Hallmark moment, I just didn’t know if you had flashlights or a charger for your phone. 

“Mother-fuck-get off!”

Steve’s heart lurched into his throat at the shouting, the worst ideas coming to mind. He didn’t even think. He jerked the door open and pointed the bright beam of light at the figure on the floor, eyes wide.

“What the hell?!”

She was...his neighbor. The brunette with the chocolate brown eyes, pretty red lips, and a flare for the dramatics with a spark of stubborn energy that never seemed to die. He’s seen her around the lobby, the cafe down the street. Never had the courage to talk to her.

“I-I-I-I…” Steve swallowed the stutter and dropped the box, reaching a hand down to pull her to her feet. “You...shouted, I overreacted.”

“Damn right you overreacted, breaking into my home. What gives you that right?” She growled, her accent doing nothing to help Steve and his muddled brain.

“None, ma’am, but...I thought you were in trouble and reacted. I…” The light fell to her feet, where a pale blue and yellow baby blanket was wrapped around her leg.

“Unless you’re here to save me from my son’s baby blanket, then I think I could handle it.” The anger melted from her face as she read Steve’s expression. “I can’t be too mad, can I? You heard me screaming, luckily I didn’t wake the baby up. I’m sorry. I’m frustrated with these cheap lights and this storm. Michael can’t sleep without his nightlight, I was going to fix him a bottle.”

As if right on cue, there were heavy screams of an infant who’d woken up in a confused and dark setting didn’t like to be. 

“Excuse me, Steve, was it? I better go get him.”

“Yeah, it was...I…”

By the time Peggy came back, an infant in one arm curled up against her chest. His hand was no larger than Steve’s pinkie. And oh, oh he must just be less than a week old.

Peggy looked up from cradling the sniffling baby and frowned at Steve holding a bottle and a steaming cup of ginger tea as if it was a peace offering. He’d placed several lights around them, some battery-powered and stuck to the walls to give the living room some space. He’d even fixed the couch so she could lay back with the baby.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she whispered as she sat on the couch and adjusted Michael in her arms to get him to take the bottle. There came that sigh of relief when he latched on instantly. “I’m Peggy by the way, I...diddidn’ introduce myself before. Your neighbor, Mrs. Jensen upstairs talks about you all the time. She helped me move in last week.”

“I wish I was here, I could’ve helped. I was in D.C.,” Steve sighed, sitting on the edge of the couch and adjusting a blanket so it covered Peggy’s cold feet. It was odd, being in a stranger’s home that was clearly halfway unpacked with boxes, moving blankets, half put together furniture, but it felt more like home than his four walls did. 

“Doing a presentation on your comic, right? She told me all about your comics and how you’ve donated so much money to various organizations when you could’ve lived comfortably by now and how you even purchased her husband’s generator.” The pride in Peggy’s voice made Steve’s throat tighten. He found himself looking down at his hands where she nudged him with her foot. “I think it’s awfully nice of you. You do more for these people in this lil, ole apartment than you do for yourself. Is that why you came here - to my apartment?”

“Y-yeah, yeah. I just knew you had moved in and didn’t think you were prepared for this storm. I didn’t know you had a son, Mrs. Jensen didn’t mention it.” He wanted to ask the obvious, where’s the father. Partner? There was no ring on her finger, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t taken. He didn’t want to overstep but so far, it didn’t seem like he was. 

“No, I doubt she knew. I had already had Michael’s stuff moved in before I even moved here. I doubt many know since I haven’t been out much. When I have, it’s without him, my friend and his wife come to babysit while I run errands. He’s so small and I’m terrified of something happening when I don’t know the streets so well, I…”

The human fear of being a first-time parent was there. Steve didn’t know that fear well but he’s grown up around it with his ma being a nurse. His hand slowly moved to close around Peggy’s calf, giving a tender squeeze. 

“You’re human,” he tells her in the softest tone he can manage. It still manages to rumble from his chest like a dragon about to blow flames. “You’re a first-time mother, it seems and a single-parent if I have to guess. This terror you’re feeling is new. Michael looks like how I did - premie?” At her nod, he smiled. “You’re doing great, Peggy. I don’t have kids, but I...can help. My ma is a nurse. I’m sure she can offer some advice.”

--

That’s how at nearing midnight, Steve found himself putting together a rocking-chair thanks to a video on YouTube. Following the rocking-chair was a changing table, dresser, and even Peggy’s bed. She’d been sleeping on the couch with the bassinet beside her. He made a call to his mother to ask about Michael’s medication and introduced over video Sarah and Peggy and unsurprisingly the pair hit it off.

And in private, Sarah warned Steve he better not mess around, not that he was the type. Peggy needed someone to depend on in this scary time but she was glad it was her son. 

“Okay,” Steve sighed, taking the plastic that had been around the mattress and tossing it down the recycling chute with a grin. “I think that’s done. Is there anything else?”

Peggy still laid on the couch, bottle and tea empty, cradling her son close. She nodded and sat up, nodding at Steve to sit. When he sat further away from her, she came closer and slowly eased Michael into his arms.

Steve froze because for his vast size and despite his mother’s knowledge, he’s never held a child before. Oh, he was so small and warm. And full of life. Wrapped up in a tight bundle of duckie-themed blankets. 

“Shh. There we go, just support his head. See, you’re a natural.” She laid her head on his shoulder, the smell of her lavender shampoo flooding Steve’s nose. “I wanted you to...hold him. He hasn’t been held by many others. Oh, he likes you.”

The smile on the infant’s face did warm Steve’s heart, enough to slowly rub his fingertip over the infant’s nose.

“No, I think that just means he passed gas.” Steve’s nose wrinkled up at the smell but he, like Peggy found himself on caring as she snuggled into him. “If you don’t mind me asking - what does bring you all the way here and with an infant?”

“Work,” she yawned, picking up a heavy blanket to wrap around both of them. The storm was still going on outside and given the notifications on their phones, it was expected to go on for a while. “I start teaching at Brooklyn University in a week. They paid me to move here and to settle, even with my son. The hardest part was leaving him in NICU until he was strong enough to fly. But my...friends, Mr. Jarvis and his wife were able to care for him in there while I was gone. I felt like a terrible mother.”

“You are no such thing. You had no choice, Pegs. Come here.” It took some adjusting before Michael was situated in her arms and she was in his. He didn’t understand this - how did they get so close like this? He was just here to offer a flashlight and maybe rescue her from a baby blanket, now he was holding a tired mother in his arms.

“Pegs, from all that you’ve told me...from moving, losing your family, to...having to close estates and do paperwork back overseas, all after giving birth and leaving your son behind to be in the care of your friends, it shows how strong you are. You came back. You’re here now. He still loves you. No one judges you for that.”

Well, he could think of a few of those snobby nurses but hopefully, he thought she didn’t have to deal with them. 

“You’re here now,” he continued. “You’re making a life for the two of you.”

How was it that this was happening? That Steve found himself nodding off with a single mother and infant in his lap while a storm raged on around them? When the sun would later stream through the window, he’d find Peggy in the kitchen, unpacking the last of the pots and pans. His flashlights were piled back into his box, and the baby, sleeping in his bassinet again.

The blanket fell from Steve as he got to his feet and slowly crossed over to the kitchen, not wanting to wake the baby, just watching Peggy. 

She smiled as she turned around to hand him a cup of coffee, sipping on her own. “You looked so peaceful asleep, I didn’t want to wake you. The storm finally stopped.”

With no storm between them, it almost felt awkward with last night’s memory. The cuddling, the closeness, the sense of home, it felt foolish. Had he just imagined it all? 

“It did,” Steve mused, looking out the window. “I can help you unpack later, I have to go into the office and submit some new drafts. Would you...like to come with me? I think Michael could use a little bit of sun. His stroller is together, I worked on it last night while you changed him and the...the car seat. I have a Jeep we can use.”

The flush on the blonde’s cheeks told Peggy everything she wanted to know, the stumbling words were just added details. He wanted more time with her, with her son, and so did she. “To your place of work? Isn’t that a bit scandalous, Mr. Rogers? What would they say?” To Steve’s ears turning red, Peggy laughed. “I’d love to. We could make a day of errands. Do you mind - of course? It’s your vehicle after all.”

“If I minded, I wouldn’t ask.” Setting the mug aside, Steve reached around her to pick up a box of dishes before they started to fall to the floor. “Good. We’ll make a day of it, grab some breakfast.”

And maybe with luck, Steve could learn more about his new neighbor. Of course, when he’s not rescuing her from tangling baby blankets.

[lincolnonline]

a material world - self para

who?: lincoln clarington-smythe where?: wmhs / lima mall when?: monday, november 23rd about?: link completes his annual closet re-stock, just in time for gaga vs. madonna week. after all, he is a material girl.

Link had this day planned out for months. He had been counting down the days in his Lisa Frank calendar, waiting for the chance to march into the mall with his dads credit card in hand.

He had even gone as far as to ensure his outfit for the day was as lowkey as possible in order to gain more satisfaction from the new wardrobe, choosing an all-black ensemble and pairing it with a simple ( by Link’s standards ) belt with a few statement chains and some black boots.

The joy he felt that morning when his dad has offered to give Link his credit card and drop by the mall after class was unparalleled by anything save for the joy he felt when he was able to locate Swift the snake, going to down on a rat in the back of the school cafeteria. While Link knew his dads didn’t exactly get him, he had never felt judged by them either. They were aware that their son was a mix of their worst qualities and was a modern day homosexual Sharpay Evans and they had themselves to blame, there was no point in fighting or denying it.

Placing his books back into his locker following his last class of the day ( World Religions, total snooze-fest! ), Link couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as the final bell of the day rung.

Quickly taking out his bag and closing the locker door behind him, Link felt a buzz from his back pocket. Fishing out his phone, he was greeted with a notification for a DM from some random sophomore at Dalton, reading; ‘u free tonite?? heard u were a good fuck lol’. With a displeased eye-roll, Link dug into his pocket once more, this time pulling out his headphones and pressing play on his ‘sex yeah!’ playlist. He was worth more than some one-off hook up with a guy who probably only heard about him through the Dalton Gay Grapevine.

Some boys kiss me, Some boys hug me, I think they're ok.

Making his way down the school hall, back-pack slung over his shoulder and the drum-machine  beats of his favorite Madonna song playing, Link walked passed the choir room, not even giving a look in the general direction of the Glee club. He had his mind focused on bigger things today, and sectionals took a big ole’ backseat. He had already given his amazing song-list suggestions, he had fulfilled his team-work quota for the week as far as Link was concerned.

If they don't give me proper credit I just walk away.

As he pushed open the front doors of the school, Link was greeted with the sight of his fire-red Audi, parked in its usual spot in the staff carpark that he had been able to finesse his way into getting via some nicely worded emails from his lawyer dads. Going to public school wasn’t a dream come true by any means, but he was enjoying the perks that being rich, sexy and talented gave him among a sea of people who were…not so rich, sexy or talented.

Clicking the button on his car keys, Link slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out his favorite pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment before putting the car into reverse and making his way to the.

They can beg and they can plead But they can't see the light.

Link marched up to the check-out, throwing down racks upon racks of clothes onto the counter, giving the woman working the register a smirk before flashing his credit card and handing it over. He was prepared to up the sales numbers for every store the Lima Mall had to offer, and he was doing it happily. Capitalism be damned.

'Cause the boy with the cold hard cash Is always Mister Right.

 As the woman scanned away and bagged up all the clothes, Link let his attention shift elsewhere, noting a group of teenage girls walking out of the change rooms at the back of the store, standing around and taking pictures. He recognized a few of the faces, they were from Crawford. Perfect.

“Hi, excuse me,” Link said with a faux warmth to the employee now attempting to fit a pair of shoes into a branded plastic shopping bag. “I was wondering if I could, ugh, how do I put this? Rent your change rooms for the next hour or so?”

The woman looked at Lincoln incredulously for a moment before Link cocked an eyebrow and looked back down at his credit card, making it clear he was more than happy to pay for her services.

“Hey ladies!” He called to the girls at the back, and they looked up, curious, before their eyes widening at the growing stack of bags in front of him. “Impromptu fashion show? What do you say?”

'Cause we are living in a material world And I am a material girl. You know that we are living in a material world And I am a material girl.

Dramatically whipping open the changing room curtain, revealing his first outfit, Link let himself fall into a few poses as a member of the group snapped a couple of photos per-his request.

“What next? Sexy teenage vampire or Bratz-Goes-Hollywood?” one of the girls enquired, holding up two hangers. He shrugged off the blazer and tossed it over to a girl in the group before pushing his sunglasses up onto his head and taking a hanger and turning back to the change rooms. “Ladies, the fangs are out tonight.”

Boys may come and boys may go And that's all right you see.

They went on like that for the allotted 45 minutes, taking pictures and blaring music from their phones in order to ‘feel the fantasy’ as Link put it. Looking at his phone gallery to check how a picture that had just been taken turned out, Link’s phone buzzed in his hand and he was greeted with a message from the boy who had DM’ed him earlier, reading; ‘u left me on read?? fuckin ugly ass bitch anyways u look like trash’.

Noticing Link’s sour expression, one of the girls looked up from her phone. “Who pissed in your Gucci? You okay?”

Shaking it off, Link gave a nod and tapped out of the message, picking up the last hanger. “I’m fine. The real question is will you be okay when I blow your fucking minds with this look?”

Experience has made me rich And now they're after me .

Link blew a kiss ( to the best his ability with how full his arms currently were ) towards the group of girls as they headed in opposite directions. “Snapchat me anytime babe!” He called out as they turned the corner and disappeared from view.

He headed down the escalator, feeling the eyes on him as he passed other customers. And how could he not? He looked and felt like a human disco ball, it was fucking fabulous.

As he headed out the doors and towards his awaiting car, Link froze and his smirk dropped, eyes wide. “Fuck, how am I gonna fit this shit in my car...”

'Cause everybody's living in a material world And I am a material girl!

[chyrstis]

I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you) 8/10

Only two more to go, and let me just say that it’s mildly amusing to me to be posting a winter fic when springtime’s in full bloom.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x John Seed Rating: E (but only for Ch. 10, the rest are a solid T) Word Count: 4K  

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10

—

Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]

———–

Fall ended, and with the beginning of winter the first hint of snow rolled in. One to two inches of it blew in to start, blanketing everything in a fine layer of white as the temperatures dropped.

Nothing that would bury his place outright, but that still didn’t stop Sharky from giving half of it a good ol’ scorch with his flamethrower. He had a yearly thing going, adjusting it each time just to get the right stream of flame flowing, so he wouldn’t burn much under the snow. But thankfully, this wasn’t one where he was on the verge of getting caught for it.

Not yet at least, as he took the jet of fire and gave it another sweep across where the snow was coating the road. He’d get at least two to three more passes before hitting the pavement, and needed to be sure to stop it at any sign of the fire spreading.

Now was not the time to get cozy up at the jail either, no matter how well they decked the halls over there.

Hurk let him know early on that he was set to do their usual thing this time of year. He’d pull up a chair with him as they had their annual holiday bonfire, before heading out to Aunt Addie’s. Those were the best times, and the ones where he really had all he could’ve ever wanted.

Sometimes there were odd years. The ones where Hurk was gone after all, being one hell of a kick ass super spy, and Sharky found it harder to get in on the holiday fun with his aunt. Felt a little too much like an outsider, and thought his time was better spent down at the Eagle drinking himself stupid before trying and failing to write a dirty phrase into the snow.

This year was set up to be one of the good ones, though. He had Hurk, they had their usual plans set up, and tonight they’d even decided to get in a little pre-holiday drink-a-thon. He’d supply the venue and grab half of the alcohol, while Hurk would cover the rest. Snag them more booze, maybe even a few movies, and he’d try to see how fast he could beat him at his own self-declared shot-taking record.

But first, he needed the beer. Smokes too, since he’d gone through most of his current pack, and snapped up what he could down at the general store.

They only had one six pack of the beers he and Hurk liked, though, and when he went fishing for cash he wasn’t able to cover for another, so he cut his losses. He paid for the beer plus one pack of cigs, and knew Hurk would have his back on the rest.

Not breaking his usual habit, he took one of the beers and popped the cap as soon as he was out the door. Hit by the cold, he shivered but shrugged it off as he tilted the beer back. It wasn’t far to his car, so he could double-time it there before anyone could say two words about it.

“Strange.”

He paused, and nearly coughed the drink up. John was standing not even three feet away, dressed in a long dark coat. A blue scarf was wrapped around his neck, and between harsh coughs Sharky might’ve been able to pick out the light smile he wore. Almost friendly.

The air escaped John in a puff as he chuckled. “You would think something warm would be better for this weather.”

“It…uh, that’s what the whiskey at home’s for,” Sharky rasped, “or fireball. Usually a winner.”

“Ah.”

John raised a gloved hand to hold his coat closed, clearly cold, but he didn’t drop his eyes or move on. Just held the look he was set on aiming at him, and Sharky knew his mouth was in danger of running off on him.

Once he could get it going again, that is. Funny how John had a way of doing that to him.

“You, er, need anything from here? You never-“ I never see you down here. “Didn’t think there was a thing you’d ever run out of.”

“Yes, I… There were a few things I did find I needed.” The smile faded. “Matches.”

“Oh. Yeah, you might need some of those.” He took another drink of the beer, hoping it would cover the way his mouth was twisting. And didn’t like one bit the way his lighter suddenly burned a hole in his pocket. “For heat?”

“Heat, mostly.” John shrugged, and tried another smile. “Haven’t decided to take a page out of your book just yet. But it’s tempting.”

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Pressed against the back of his teeth as he felt his grip on the beer tighten. “So, uh…”

“It’s good to see you.”

“Good luck with that.”

He’d blurted it out just as John spoke, not expecting anything along those lines.

Something flashed in John’s eyes. It was hard to tell out here in the dark at first, but those blue eyes of his managed to catch the light. What little there was brought them out, and he didn’t know what to do with the hurt he’d let him see.

“Fuck, I uh-this isn’t, look I-“

“You’re busy.” Smoothing out the front of his coat, John looked down as he did so, studying his leather gloves closely. “Clearly I’ve interrupted something, and you need to get back to it.”

Chug-a-lugging a beer out in public wasn’t something. Lighting another cigarette only to stub it out before finishing it in the ashtray of his car wasn’t something. Missing him wasn’t-

Sharky swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Think you’re right about that.”

This was his cue to leave. He had been out here long enough, stared over at him long enough, and he didn’t trust at all his ability to hide any of it at this point.

Still, he let himself look at John again, just for a moment longer, because what was one more second? He’d dug the hole deep enough to start. He’d keep on going until he had a whole damn trench.

“See you around, man,” he threw out over his shoulder as he turned to leave. “Oh, and happy holidays and all that shit.”

The snow crunched under his feet as he trudged over to his car, ready to throw the door open and hop in fast. But this time around John didn’t call out to him. He put the last of the beer down from behind the driver’s seat, waiting for it, listening, only for his phone to give him a notification instead.

Slipping it out, he opened up the message waiting for him.

Happy holidays. Take care.

“Holy shit, Sharky. Thought they were out of this. Though, looks like they would’ve been if you’d put any more of a dent into it.”

Hurk snagged one of the beers on the table – one of three remaining, which wasn’t all that bad – and got to work on it quicker than he had. Then took the other next to it right after.

Stifling a laugh, Sharky flicked a loose bottlecap at him from the couch. “You trying to say something? After I head on down there and nearly freeze my ass off hunting for that shit?”

“Whoa, no. ‘Cause that’s just hella rude turning my nose up at any free alcohol being offered, but this ain’t enough for two. Hell, it’s barely enough for one.”

And with their shindig consisting of one beer, the remains of another six-pack in his fridge, plus the line of spirits they’d taken a crack at already, it was looking a little on the sad side. Hurk hadn’t even been able to snag a keg, not this time around. All after showing up to Sharky’s house, emptying his pockets for spare change for a potential second booze run, and didn’t even have a movie or three to share.

“And not a single call back,” Hurk sighed, “I’m hurting, cuz. Thought we’d be able to cozy up to some fine-ass ladies tonight, but no takers.”

“Eh, it happens.”

Disappointing as it was, he was hard-pressed to care. At least until Hurk threw a handful of bottle caps back at him, and he dove to the other end of the couch to dodge them.

“Well, you’re in a funk still. Don’t think I’m not noticing that, or done worrying about it either!”

“Look, it’s late. We’re short on shit. Any lady walking in through that door would walk back out again after seeing how lame of a situation we’ve got going here. And that’s not even covering the porn mag left on the table.”

“Hey, I marked a spot. Thought you’d appreciate it since you’re blue, and needed a little something to make you smile.” Hurk walked over to it and held the magazine up, thumbing through a few pages before turning it around to show it to him. “Come on, you love this chick.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sat back down, and folded an arm under his head. Gave what Hurk was holding a passing glance, before leaning back. “It’s nothing. Just some of that seasonal shit.”

“Well, I think I know how to get this party going again. We exit stage left, head on down to see Miss Mary May, and work our way up from there, eh?”

Sharky grunted in response, and Hurk groaned in exasperation.

“Duderino, you’re killing me here. I’ve gotta find a way to get you back to bouncing off the walls, or we’re both done. Like, the party’s dead, but we’ve gotta keep on going. Work our way back on up, so we can rise from this. Majestic and-”

The magazine was tossed down, and Sharky heard a gasp.

“Oh, shit. That’s pretty fucking sharp there, cuz.”

“Hmm? What is?”

“These sunglasses. Where’d the hell you manage to get them?”

Sharky shot up in his seat.

In the middle of shooting off a set of finger guns, Hurk had slipped the pair he’d found on, pausing only to push them further up the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, this is pretty damn cool. Don’t know about all the blue, though, you think these little guys come in red, white, and blue instead?”

Sharky scrambled up and off of the couch, and wrangled them away from Hurk. “Careful with that shit, okay? You’ll fucking break them if you bend them the wrong way.”

“Whoa, whoa there, man! Easy, easy!” Hurk held up his hands, and gave Sharky a wary look as he examined the pair. “It’s a set of sunglasses, bud. No big deal, not that I was gonna actually break ‘em.”

“They’re five-hundred bucks, man.”

Hurk changed his tune immediately, “Well, fuck a duck. And you’re holding onto them? Who the hell do you know willing to spend bookoo bucks on a set of glasses?”

It didn’t take long for him to narrow that down either, and Sharky’s grimace in response only sent the unspoken point home.

“Wait. Are those John’s?”

Sharky adjusted his hold on the sunglasses, almost cradling them in his hands. “He dropped them. We were working one day, he had to run off to do something with his bro, and I…grabbed them. Wasn’t thinking much at the time, like I know he could’ve come back to grab them later, but I thought they’d get smashed out there. Figured I’d have a chance to give ‘em back, except later never really came, and I, uh. Held onto them.”

“Well, it’s his fault for doing you dirty like that. Cutting you out of the whole deal after trapping you in it to begin with? Stealing and keeping his shit seems like fair game to me.”

Glancing down at them, Sharky sighed. “Nah, not really. Not like you think it would.”

Hurk got quiet, saying nothing as he went and gently placed the sunglasses back down on the dining room table. The low whistle Sharky got after that though, had him trying to force himself not to bolt.

“Fuck me running, dude. You weren’t kidding before, were you?”

“Kidding ‘bout what?” Sharky replied, feeling sheepish. “The whole him not being a douche thing, or the part where I kind of liked him?”

“Man, both. Definitely both.”

“Oh. Well, it-it’s fucking bad.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sharky swiped his cap off to run a hand through his hair. “It’s a whole lot of bullshit, ‘cause I was busting my ass out there. Wanted to get it all over and done with so we could go back to acting like nothing had happened. Then I didn’t mind it as much. Kinda thought we were friends or heading towards it, and…I might’ve blown that too.”

Dropping his arm, he sniffed, and tried to look anywhere but Hurk’s way.

“’Cause you don’t wanna kiss your friends or try to. Muddies things a whole hell of a lot, and it’s…it didn’t work out. And I don’t know why, but I still wanna see him. Know how he’s doing even if he doesn’t give two shits about me, and when I had that chance today grabbing that,” he said pointing over towards the beer, “I blew it again.”

“Well, what about you? Takes two loving and willing adults to do the ol’ sideways shuff-” Hurk paused, scrunching up his face as he considered it. “Wait, that’s a bad way of saying it, ‘cause we’re not talking fucking, we’re talking feelings. Which usually leads to fucking, but the point still stands, though. You gotta have a say in some of this here. Especially if you like this guy – and fucking John, man, but I ain’t judging. Much.”

Hurk’s hands went up again as Sharky gave as much of a glare as he could muster. But even that fizzled out completely as his eyes dropped straight to his feet.

“You gotta have something to say something, right?”

It was bitter on his tongue, and he tried to choke it back. Found himself thinking of the smile John gave him earlier. How he’d looked at him, warm enough to root him to the very spot.

“Something solid. Something to go off of instead of just guessing, and I’ve done enough of that, man. Burned that bridge and boat – though some of that shit came pre-burned, if we really wanna get into it. Like I think there’s still bits and pieces at the bottom of the river that we’d be able to dig up. Big enough chunks to drag up and float on Titantic-style, and…yeah. That’s just how this kinda thing goes.”

When Hurk walked over and gave him a hug, he didn’t pull back. Sniffed a little more as he tried to get it together, because like hell was he going to start blubbering over this. He’d managed to avoid it so far, but this would be the stick needed to break that damn camel’s back.

“Hey, it’s okay," Hurk said, hugging him tighter. "Sorry for giving you shit over something you can’t really control, and shit for any of this at all. I want you to be happy, and if he makes you happy? You lock that down, and dial it in tight. But if he’s being weird about it? He’s the one missing out. Him, not you. You’re the coolest guy around. Like the one you go to whenever you need to get down and party hard, and if that ain’t the kind of party we’re having? You’ll still find a way to knock all our fucking socks off with some crazy shit. ‘Cause that’s you, cuz.”

“Just me?”

“Yeah, just you, being the best, badass baby cousin a guy could ever ask for.”

After a few pats on the back, Sharky let out a sigh. Felt some of the weight start to lift after letting that out into the open, and felt a little better too. Not completely, not even by a long shot, but he’d work his way there.

“You know what’ll help? Not all of it, but at least for now?” Hurk asked.

“A round of shots?”

“Round of the best alcohol we can handle, and tonight I’ve got us covered. We’ll do that for a while, then finish off the night watching ol’ Vinny being a total badass.”

Thinking it over, Sharky felt a smile start to creep in. “Maybe throw in some other shit too. Like, maybe one round of the holiday fireplace or something? The crackling’s nice.”

“Anything you like, bud. Anything you like.”

Nights at the Spread Eagle during winter weren’t much different than during the rest of the year. Sure, there was a draft, but the place was just as busy as any other. The drinks flowed, the regulars had their winter gear on, and everyone was set on having a good a time as possible.

Hurk made good on his promise shortly after they got there, toasting him before the two got cracking on their first round of shots. He didn’t want to get blasted, but the warmth that set in was welcome, and with every story that Hurk dove into he found it that much easier to let loose and laugh.

Heading up for the next round, Sharky kept his beer close as he hit the counter up front, passed their order on to the always lovely Mary May, and set in for a short wait. Resting both arms on the counter he took a look around, and noticed there was no line at the jukebox. With quarters rustling around in his pocket, he had change to spare.

“Waiting on something?”

Shifting, Sharky tried to make space for the person next to him. “Shit, sorry, let me just-“

Then felt the rest of the response die in his mouth as he glanced up at Jacob. Dude was still as tall and imposing as he remembered, but wasn’t eyeing him with the intent to kill. Or anything other than what he guessed was friendly for him.

“Yo, how’s it…how’s it going?”

“It’s going.” Jacob took the spot next to him by the bar, settling in, and Sharky tapped his fingers on the counter a little faster. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“No shit.”

“You two aren’t talking much anymore?”

Nothing came through in his tone. Not anger or irritation, and while Sharky was still waiting for him to throw him a beating, Jake wasn’t gunning for it.

“I, uh, don’t think that’s the way I’d put it. ‘Cause if you know two things about it, and I know you guys are all close and shit, it’s…not great,” Sharky said, going straight for his beer.

“Yeah. You used to be all he ever talked about.”

That made him spit his next drink out. Getting one hell of a dirty look from Mary May, he grabbed as many napkins as he could to sop it up, wiping the counter down, and felt his face burn the entire time.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Jacob simply kept on tending to his own beer. Drained it completely as he stood there next to him, and sighed when done.

“Heard about you enough to wonder if he’d ever shut up about you. Charlemagne this, Boshaw that. Had a new story every week, if not every night we’d stop by. Like with that skunk. Got real unlucky with that.”

Groaning, Sharky set his face in his hands, “Yeah, it was…it was pretty bad.”

“Can’t dodge those easy.”

“I didn’t. Thought that was the whole point of that one.” Sharky sat up, and eyed him. “So, I get it. You’ve heard some shit.”

Jacob set the empty bottle down, and motioned for another. “Plenty. More than I know you want to hear, until he stopped. Stopped saying much of anything about you at all, and didn’t look none too pleased about it either.”

“Well, you wanna know more? Talk to him about it.”

“I did.” Mary May slid him a beer, and he redirected it towards Sharky, “Which is why I told him to talk to you.”

“Why would you…why’d you do that?” Sharky asked, any irritation at this bleeding away.

“John’s not easy to deal with. Then if he goes and fucks something up along the way? He’s ten times worse. If he makes a mistake, not many are going to push back, or correct him on it.”

“So, is that what this is? You think he made a mistake?”

“He did.” The piercing look Jacob aimed at him made him sit up a little straighter. “He liked having you around. Why throw that away?”

That punched him up and down all at once, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Not again.

“Look. I get it, you’re being a bro. Trying to look out for him and shit, and I respect that. It means a lot, but you want me to talk to him? Like sit down, link arms, and work any of this out?”

Sharky pulled out his phone and didn’t even wait for Jacob to prompt him. Just called John, and hit speakerphone so that they could hear it as it dialed.

“Dude won’t answer. Hasn’t yet, and won’t now.”

Jacob crossed his arms, set to wait with him, and Sharky listened for those telltale words of John’s. The same few words the voicemail hit him with when he’d first tried this weeks back.

“Hello?”

Sharky stared down at his phone, at the seconds of the connected call as they ticked by on the screen, and felt his mouth go dry.

“Charle- …-nyone there?”

Slapping it against his ear, he turned off the speakerphone and talked fast, “Hey, uh, you…you’re not supposed to pick up.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you’re…” He stopped his leg when he felt it start bouncing into overdrive, “It’s, uh, sorry. Sorry about earlier. Wanted to get that out first, ‘cause I didn’t know I was gonna see you and really had to run off. Might’ve also thought this would’ve gone straight to voicemail, so I could, you know. Actually work my way through this. Make it sound good, not...”

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” John cleared his throat, and his next few words were warmer, “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you at all, so even this is welcome.”

“Oh, er, well. Cool.” Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

“And…you don’t need to apologize for that. I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve, and putting you on the spot like that was far from fair. It's hard to hear you over the line right now, but if you want to talk more, I’d be glad to. About that, or anything else.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His heart was hammering in place, and his eyes skimmed the entire bar. Jumping from item to item, needing a topic or an excuse to keep things going, he floundered in place until he stopped on the white snowflakes decorating one of the other guests’ sweaters. It was an ugly sweater to be loud and proud of, and the glittery shovel emblazoned on the front stuck out next to a large lumpy snowman.

That set a few gears into motion, and his mouth was moving before he could stop it. “Shovel.”

“Shovel?”

Shifting on his chair, Sharky swore under his breath. Put it in a sentence. Words, verbs, and some of those phrases like that Wheel of Fortune shit. That’s how you do this.

“You er, need any shoveling done? Like you’re dealing with a ton of snow coming down, or about to? ‘Cause I’ve got some ways of fixing that. Got more than a few, might even give you a method or two provided you want a uh, demo. Or a guarantee any of it’ll work, and I can cover it. Give you a sneak preview or something.”

John went silent, the sounds of the bar rising enough to cover him, and Sharky didn’t bother stopping his leg this time. Just felt it vibrate enough to make his voice uneven.

“Hey, John? You still with me there, amigo?”

“I’m still here,” he said, and Sharky couldn’t hold back his relief.

“So, what do you say? You dig any of that?”

“Yes.” It was faint, but he might’ve heard a laugh, “I think you’re right. I could use someone here after all.”

[c-harli-e]

Reliance - Part Two of 'Addicted'《Charlastor AU》

"You never specified which you wanted."

There was a lull of silence before the door crept open.

"Come in."

~

Her ears flicked softly as she peered over at the phone that was in his hands. Bea's eyes moved to Vox's screen, a small smile on her face when she saw how excited he looked. Since the two of them had started to be around each other more often, she’d slowly been able to pick up on his different emotions. He had a variety of smiles; this one was a massive grin that spread across the entire screen; it made her stomach do a little flip.

A soft beep came from somewhere on him and his smile slipped just the slightest bit as he handed the phone over to her, “Here, keep watching this, I need my charging cable. I’ll be right back.”

Bea tucked her legs up under her as he got up to head to his bedroom. She continued to watch the video that he had been showing her; some compilation of funny moments from some streamers he liked. Franklin was in a few clips; it made her smile widen.

As another Franklin clip came up, a text appeared at the top of the screen. The smile that was previously there fell and she glanced up, making sure Vox wasn’t on his way back as she dragged down the notifications bar and then tapped on the message.

Within moments, she felt sick. Her ears were pressed flat against her head and her cheeks were a darker pink; red even through the blush she wore. Her fingers shook as she reopened the video and she set the phone down on the table, pulling her own phone out. As Vox came back, she had to do her best to make sure that her voice was steady, though everything else on her expression showed how distraught she was.

“My mama texted me, I have to go.” She stood in a rush, watching his screen flicker from the smile to confusion, “Sorry.”

Bea barely waited for him to reply, hearing a soft ‘see ya’ come from the TV demon before she was out of his apartment. He lived on the top floor of the studios he worked in; there were two penthouses there. She stepped out into the hallway, making sure the door was closed behind her as she made her way down to where the elevator was. 

Her heart raced into her ears as she came face to face with Valentino. A grin spread across his face as he nodded toward her, moving out of the way so that she could slip onto the elevator. She barely acknowledged him, having to turn slightly so that she wouldn’t brush against him.

“Is Vox still in?” His voice sent rivers of fear down her spine and she nodded sharply, hitting the ground floor button, “Excellent. See you later, Beatrice.”

Bea looked up at him and their eyes locked for the few seconds that it took the elevator doors to close. Her face paled as his grin stretched wider, disappearing and being replaced with the warm wooden doors that were the elevator. 

~

For days, it seemed like the world was at a standstill. She spent most of her time in her room, though she did go out and have meals with her family to seem as if she was functioning correctly. It wasn’t a good show; Alastor knew his middle child like the back of his own hand. 

“Something is bothering you, my dear. Do you want to talk about it?” He’d asked her at one point, only to be met with empty eyes and a sharp shake of the head before she’d gone back up to her room. She hadn’t been eating as much as she normally did, either, spending the days she usually hunted with Franklin tucked up in her bed.

After a week of her younger sister acting so off, Margret decided that it was her or nothing. Alastor had attempted to talk to her, so had Charlie and Frankie. Her younger brother had just tried to coax her out with the promises of being able to have bigger demons when they went out; not even that was enough to pry her sister away from where she was.

As she stood in front of Bea’s bedroom door, her lips pursed. There hadn’t been a moment where her sister had been so shut down; usually, Beatrice was an open book. She wore her heart on her sleeve, no matter how much she hated it. Margret didn’t bother to knock, she twisted the doorknob and pushed it inward.

The room was a mess. That was the first thing that set Maggie on edge. While Bea was generally somewhat messy, she usually kept her things in good order. Makeup palettes were tossed on the ground, the powdered eyeshadow and blush scraped from the wells and staining the carpet. This was the second thing that concerned her - Bea was obsessive over having her makeup in perfect order and if one palette was scraped, she’d be a terror until she fixed it. 

“Bea?”

A growl came from the bed, eyes peering out from under the blanket, “Get out of my room.”

“C’mon, Beanie.” Margret stepped further into the room, around the piles of clothing and the ruined palettes, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you can help with. With your stupid redeeming shit. You can’t fix this.” Bea’s voice was haggard and Margret couldn’t believe that her normally composed sister was this torn up over something.

Margret sat down on the bed, scooting upward so that she was right next to Bea, “You could still talk to me about it. Maybe I can’t fix it, but you could work through the kinks with me.”

“There is no kinks to it,” Bea snorted, pushing the blanket away from her head. For a moment, she looked conflicted, but after that moment, her arm flew out and wrapped around Margret’s thighs, pressing her face against her sister’s leg, “Have you ever had your heart broken?”

Margret’s fingers threaded into her sister’s oily hair and she began to toy with it, rubbing the pads of her fingers against Bea’s scalp, “I don’t think so. What does it feel like?”

Bea was quiet, leaning her head upward just slightly against the feeling, “At first, it doesn’t feel real. It feels like it’s all a joke and then you’ll hear a big ol’ ‘surprise’! And when that doesn’t come, it’s like -” She hiccuped, tears starting to build in her eyes, “A bucket of cold water is tossed over you and there’s no towel or no sun. Like your heart is ripped out and chewed up before being put back into your chest.”

“You seem like you know what that feels like.”

Bea snorted, reaching to her face and rubbing away some tears, “Yeah. I never thought I would.”

Maggie sighed, leaning over so that she was able to look her younger sister in the face, “What happened?”

~

Her ears pressed to the back of her head as she pushed open the door, making sure that no one was around. Her fingers shook as she made her way to the other side of the room, pulling a book from the shelf and watching the shelf itself peel away from the wall to show another room behind the office. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be back here; throughout her entire life, she’d always been told to stay away from Alastor’s office. Especially the back office - this room was for his eyes only.

She knew it was where he kept some of his smaller pleasures, like embroidery, but it was also where he kept the more dangerous books that weren’t safe for the library itself. The bookshelf along the back wall had the assortment and she picked a few off, making sure that they were the right ones by flicking open to the table of contents. Taking another few moments to rearrange the books that were left to make it seem like none were actually taken, she fled the room.

Margret had tied her hair back, reciting through the different sigils that she was going to have to use in order to tie the entire deal together. The books were more than helpful; voodoo had always been something that she was no good at. Alastor had kept the magic away from all three of his children as best as he could - Franklin had been naturally inept at it and able to perform small acts of magic since childhood. Bea showed no interest in it, and now that Margret knew how it worked, she thought that it made a lot of things easier. 

Now she was a dealmaker.

She had taken the time to write a few of the more important sigils on the palm of her hand so that she would be able to remember them better; the few times that she had sliced open her own hand to have them appear had left the few out since she’d forgotten them. But now - now she had perfected the deal and knew exactly what she wanted and if the other party denied her now, two weeks of heavy research would be for nothing.

She walked. She didn’t want her family to know where she was going and if she had Raz or Daz take her in the car, the little goat demons would tell her mama where she was. Margret kept her hair tied back behind her ears; braided on the sides so that it was all kept tightly away from her face. Her stomach churned as she walked, mind rapidly going through the sigils that she needed.

Margret couldn’t believe she was doing this. Some part of her was disgusted - how dare she? This was Bea’s battle, not hers, and there was no need for her to intertwine herself in her little sister’s business. The heartbroken expression and the despair that came from her sister was enough to force her up and do what she thought was right - even if it was going to end badly for everyone.

Over halfway there, her footsteps stopped. She could just turn around, go home. Leave it to Bea. She knew that her little sister would figure something out - she always did. Or she would continue to wallow in her misery and not actually do anything about it like she had for the past month. 

No. She steeled herself against it, no, she had to do this.

Her mind whirled as she continued to walk. It was hotter that day; it usually did the closer it got to extermination day. It was only two weeks away and something in her had wanted to resolve this whole issue before then so that Franklin wouldn’t be disappointed when Bea didn’t want to hunt with him on that day - Maggie could barely deal with one sibling that was upset. When Franklin got upset - it just wasn’t fun for the entire family.

The doors slid open for her when she got there and her voice shook when she spoke to the receptionist. She tried her best to seem strong - she had to be.

“I’m here to see Valentino.”

The receptionist rolled her eyes, “Yeah, so are a lot of people. What makes you so special?”

Margret stood taller; not that she could, really, with how short she was, and her eyes flashed, “Do you not know who I am? Tell him that the Radio Demon’s daughter is here to see him.”

There was a lull of silence before the receptionist picked up the phone in front of her and dialed a few numbers, pushing the receiver against her own ear, “Some whore is here for you. Says she’s the radio demon’s daughter.” A pause, “No, blonde. Why? Alright.” She hung up and looked up at Maggie, who’s back had started to crawl with discomfort, “He’ll be down in a sec. Have a seat.”

Her body met with one of the plush couches that was in the waiting area, her eyes avoiding all of the provocative images of demonesses and demons that were on the walls. Porn Studios itself was the epitome of everything she hated and was against. From the lewd images to the drugs she knew that most of the actors used, her mother would throw a fit if she knew that Margret was there.

The elevator gave a soft ding and her gaze snapped up. Valentino stepped out of it, an easy grin on his face, “Ah, Margret.”

Not even bothering to ask how he knew her name, the blonde deer demon stood, “I think we have something to discuss.”

“Of course. Come.” He motioned toward the elevator, “We’ll go to my office.”

She had to force her ears to remain upright as she made her way to the elevator. It felt like she was walking straight into a hellhound’s den while she was coated in blood. Maggie’s heart raced as she felt him run his hand up her spine and she shuddered, stepping closer to the wall and turning to face him as he pressed the button that would lead them to his penthouse.

“Why did you come here?”

“You said you wanted the Radio Demon’s daughter,” She swallowed, trying to loosen the lump in her throat, “You never specified which one.”

His grin brightened, “Are you offering?”

“I have a deal for you.”

Valentino’s eyes glittered with amusement as they stepped out of the elevator and to his door. At the moment before she walked in, the door down the hall opened and her eyes met the eyes of Vox. She ducked her head and hurried inside, her face burning with shame.

He looked terrified.

Valentino motioned toward a sofa that was in the middle of the room and she took a seat, opening her palm so that she could read over some of the sigils. He sat down on a chair opposite her and for a split second, she was thankful that he was not next to her.

“Tell me the outline of your deal.” He purred, leaning back in the chair.

She sat upright, foot tapping lightly against the floor, “I take the place of what you wanted my sister to do. From what I’ve gathered, you didn’t specifically say that you wanted Bea, per say, you just wanted the Radio Demon’s daughter,” She paused, blinking away the prickling feeling in her eyes, “I’m the firstborn; the eldest. I’m more appealing in that sense.”

He hummed slightly, nodding, “I suppose.”

“And, um,” She fiddled with a thread that was loose on her top, “We do that, and my consolation is that it is never shared. For your own personal entertainment, I guess. Sure, you can tell people, I can’t stop you from that, but you can’t share it.”

The grin on his face lightened slightly and he furrowed his eyebrows, “Now, what would be the point?”

“You did it.” Her smile, which had previously been small with worry, grew maniacally, “You can say you did it. You can watch it over and over again. You can then leave my sister alone.”

“Ah, a gallant hero.” Valentino snickered, “Throwing yourself into shark infested waters so that you can protect the life of your sister.”

“Yes.” She nodded, grin remaining wide, “Do we have a deal?”

The air crackled and the lights dimmed, a pale green light emitting from her. She stood, reaching her hand out to him. Sigils danced around her, her eyes wide and irises gone; her whole eye was the pale yellow of her sclera. Valentino stood, his height so much more than hers, and dipped his hand into hers.

“We have a deal.”

~

Margret blinked away tears as she made her way up to Bea’s room. Everything in her wanted to just go to her bathroom, shower away any remnants and then sleep for a century, but she knew that she had to finish what she started. Her hands shook on the doorknob and she pushed the door open, her eyes meeting that of her little sister as she walked in.

Bea was seated on the floor, going through her palettes. Some of them were ruined and she was a little mad at herself for it - most she knew she could repair and set them to the side, “Hey, Mags.”

Margret swallowed and forced a smile onto her face, “I did it for you. I really hope Vox is worth it.” She stepped backward to leave the room, her breath leaving in funny little gasps.

“Wait, what?” Bea’s voice rose sharply, scrambling up, “You did what?”

Margret’s smile flickered, “I slept with Valentino.”

Bea’s face paled and her face twisted, “What in fuckin’ hell is wrong with you? Why did you do that?”

“I had to! I had to do it so you wouldn’t!” Margret’s voice started to rise hysterically, “I protected myself - I made a deal, I used the sigils and I studied them and it won’t fall apart; trust me, I know what I’m doing!”

“What the fuck, Margret!” Bea raced across the room and reached out for her sister’s shoulders

Margret flinched away, her ears resting back against her head.

“Oh.” Bea dropped her hands, shaking her head, “I can’t believe you.”

Maggie shrugged, a weak smile on her face, “I’m going to go to bed.”

Bea watched her sister turn around and high tail it to the room just a door away, her stomach churning with unease. Footsteps came from the other side of the hallway and her head snapped over to the left, eyes wide.

Alastor stood there, his smile close lipped and his eyes faintly glowing with radio dials. She swallowed thickly.

“How about we talk about this now, darling?”

[veridium]

heartbreak warfare

WELCOME TO MORE QUEER PAIN 

Hope ya’ll are ready for some shit. Because I brought the shit. Heaping dose, because I have had a wonderful day and feel all mushy. Enjoy!

part one // last episode

-- The man was a no-good blond bastard with too much wool in his wardrobe and clumsy taste in flowers. White carnations represent pure love, and he had the audacity to come around with a fist of them. He should have crawled up the stairs on his knees if he wanted to present pure love. Yelling at him made Olivia feel close to the goddess Medusa in levels of vindicated fury, though she was inconvenienced by the lack of hair snakes.

Despite her almighty and supernatural ire, Ellinor granting him entry is something she disagrees with but ultimately respects: her best friend is tired, and deserves to feel loved, and maybe the one silver lining is that there isn’t much else Cullen Rutherfudger can mess up more. Maybe if they get it together she won’t have to peel her up off the floor next weekend. Damn, had their standards for a good Saturday crashed down below sea level.

But, she will be keeping a close eye on him. A very close, and scathing, eye. To be fair, the man shows up and tows the line when he has fucked up; which is more than she can say for who she once thought of as a potential suitor as Sunday passes with no word. Potential suitor. Ugh, that kind of working only happens when you’ve paid attention to someone who’s a rhetorical romantic. Too much attention.

Monday comes, and is mundane. She keeps a low profile, and attends classes with little fuss; her Professor asks how she is doing because of her silence in class discussion, and she gives an excuse about getting over a head cold. Yeah, right. Besides lecture and a short shift at the gym, she goes back home to continue being reclusive. She does not cross paths with Ellinor much, though she fields the almost hourly texts asking her how she is, where she is, and if she needs anything. Ellinor is doing that innocent thing all friends do when they find themselves luckier in personal exploits than their loved ones: sympathy that is all-too-easily swallowed as pity when you’ve been kicked down one-too-many times.

Tuesday also comes and goes. Classes and a midterm exam, one she completes with confidence; cold war history is interesting enough. It helped that she had someone, for a brief time, to rant about it and dissect things. During the free response portion she uses a word Cassandra did during one of their debates: “pejorative.” How the hell she knew that word was whatever.

Then, Wednesday. Even though it’s only been a few days, when she wakes up to Ellinor’s voice it feels like it’s been a century since the last time she’s heard it.

“Liv, release the hostage oreos.” Oh, great. Long time no see, and she’s come into her room just to attack her for her life choices.

Olivia growls and hides away, bastard red velvet oreos in her clutches. “Bite me.”

“Liv. Come on,” Ellinor’s standing by her bed, hands on her hips like a fed up soccer mom trying to get her kid up for school. “You haven’t been responding to my texts and you don’t answer the door. I worried you ate yourself into a coma. I keep hearing the Scientist on repeat through your door. I think I can play the piano part off of just memory alone.”

“Good, maybe Cullen would enjoy another concert.”

“Olivia!”

She gives in and rolls over, tossing the oreos to her without looking. “Fine! Have at ‘em.” Ellinor misses and they fall onto the floor with a sharp, plastic crack. The worst part though is the thought that comes immediately after they crash: Cassandra would have caught it.

She groans again and tosses her comforter over her head. “What time is it? My alarm hasn’t gone off.”

“I caught it as it went off, bitch,” Ellinor grumbles. The sound of her picking up the oreos and tossing them to the table. She cares. I shouldn’t be so mean. She cares.

“Oh. Hm.”

“Seriously, are you alright? You haven’t dropped off the radar with me since that time you shaved half your eyebrows off at the Homecoming after party, remember?”

Oh, Jesus. How could she forget. “Mm. I’m fine. I’ve just been swamped with homework.”

“You? Olivia Sinclair, swamped by homework?” Ellinor’s voice veers farther away, towards the door. “Shit, the rapture must be upon us.”

“Give me a break, please. What are you doing up so early anyway? You don’t have class until…” that was a silly question. There could only be one reason she would be up and about like this. A week ago, it would have been the promise of coffee by Olivia. Now, it’s the promise of someone else’s coffee. Blond roast. Bleh.

“...Uh,” Ellinor chuckles nervously, “Nothing. I’m just hanging out. If you’d rather be left alone, I can go back to--”

“Don’t lay an egg, Ellinor.” Olivia gripes, stretching her toes. “You can say you’re up for him. I’m not a widow. Have fun, whatever it is you heteros do at the crack of dawn besides milking cows and...I don’t know, watching TLC or something.”

Silence. Ellinor sighs, and opens the door. “Okay, Olivia.” Dammit, she feels bad. Ellinor shouldn’t be feeling bad. She deserves to be happy, and she deserves a best friend who would support her being happy. Olivia flips over to lay face down and continue loathing herself. Every bone in her body wants to snarl and hide from everything good and cheery. Soon, Cassandra won’t be the only one steering clear of her, if she keeps this up.

Just outside her shut door, she hears a deeper voice. A deeper, calmer voice. Then Ellinor’s more opinionated tone. She says something bossy -- sounding like ‘I’m gonna kill your roommate for this, I hope you know.’ A sigh immediately responds. Typical. Cullen better have prepared himself to be with a woman who didn’t pull any punches, who could fight her own fights...and sometimes, fights that belong to her friends who have grown too tired of it all.

All she can do is wonder what it’ll take to feel okay again. It is one thing to say you’re hard to love, and make people miserable. It’s another to have someone confirm it so unapologetically.

--

Wednesday is as repetitive in the first half as Monday was: the same lectures, and then eventually a couple hours in the TA office waiting for nothing and no one to show up for assistance while she grades Blackboard responses to the week’s study question.

She’s in the thick of it when an email notification pops up on her laptop. Her women’s history 305 Professor, saying they’re switching texts for next week’s discussions. They’re going to study Heloise, a 11th century French nun and scholar. Great, fantastic, except none of their texts are about her. The Professor kindly asks they search for the suggested reading online or in the library. Olivia would be completely okay with digging up the text online if her laptop hadn’t just been salvaged from a virus stemming for the last time she did so.

Besides, the library was a reliable source. Why not do something she’s good at, and dig?

With a half hour left in her office hours she takes the liberty to stroll down to the main campus library. The book in particular is old so it should be in the stocks. When she goes to a computer and checks the catalog, she finds one copy is still available; her class’s rush to obtain it free hasn’t nosed her out completely just yet.

The Dewey decimal number takes her to a shelf on the fourth floor, but after 20 minutes of searching she uncovers nothing. No book, no Heloise. Defeated, she stands alone in the aisle and looks around one last time. It should be here, there’s no reason it shouldn’t. It said so in the database.

Climbing down to the main floor, she takes the issue up with the work study student manning the checkout desk.

“I’m sorry,” she says after looking it up on her own computer, “it’s been incorrectly logged. It happens.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“We have a couple satellite locations in town where our reserves are loaned long-term; sometimes their books are kept under our organized log when it’s with them.”

“So...so it is here. In town, right?”

“Oh, yeah, it should be. It’s just at one of our outsourced places.”

She asks if she can check them out still, and to her relief, the answer is yes. The kind woman writes down the address and name of the place for her, so that she can find it for herself once and for all. Handing it to her with a nice-enough smile, she sees her off.

Olivia makes it through the metal detectors before checking the piece of paper with pencil writing.

‘203 Northeast Lillian Way.’ Why is that so familiar? Shit. No, no, no, no. She rips her phone out and starts scrolling feverishly with her thumb through the old and taboo messages between her and she-who-still-shall-not-be-named. Lo and behold, it’s the worst possible outcome: the Church library. Of course, they would demand premium on books about a French Nun. How poetic.

She stands outside the library for a few minutes and deliberates her choices. With any luck, Cassandra is elsewhere -- it’s mid-afternoon, she probably has practice, or volunteer hours, or class. She tries, but she can’t remember for sure what her Tues/Thurs routine is. It’s been that long, or it’s been that hard to have her in her life. Regardless, she needs the book, and if she can get a hold of it she can make a photocopy and give it back with no harm done. It takes her a while, but she convinces herself to make a break for it: pulling out her keys from her bag and heading straight for the blue parking lot where her trusty car is awaiting.

All the same, she can’t help but curse her luck.

--

The drive to the Church would make her emotional if she had any emotions left to give. Days of alternating between crying, eating junk food, denial, and good ol’-fashioned anger have jaded her. At this point, she would dare the fates that be to make her days. The point between her pulling into the parking lot, turning her car off, and walking inside is all a surreal blur. Once she would have rather walked on a chain-link fence edge barefoot than set foot in a House of God, and now it’s twice in one month’s time.

Walking down the center aisle of the hall isn’t the same without Cassandra there to burst open a door on the other side. The stained glass isn’t as colorful, and the bread bowls aren’t as interesting. Still, thankfully, she finds herself left alone like before: no one to pretend they care about her soul, or ask if she’s been saved. The whole place feels like a ghost town, actually -- an odd thing for 4:30 in the afternoon on a weekday. But who is she to judge? The Pope?

A right, then a left, then up stairs. She logs it all in her head. There’s so much more room in the hallway with just her. Too much room. Eventually, she finds the double-doors. One cocked open, with a wooden stopper wedged underneath it. She hesitates to show herself: she’s not as modest as she was when she first came around, black high-waisted shorts with tights on under, with a black short-sleeve v-neck tucked in. Heels, because, of course -- and they clank on the wood floor.

But she does go in. Brave enough, finally, after a couple breaths: and she’s vindicated for doing so. No one’s in. No school kids hiding out, no Missionary interns studying away. No Cassandra, either, skulking or pacing with a book in her hands contemplating the secrets of the universe. Fabulous, she can pull out the paper in her pocket with the decimal system number, find the damn book, and be out like a thief in the night. The mischievous fates have been thwarted, so it seems. If she ignores the sinking feeling in her stomach and feet, being back where Cassandra first surprised, she can be on with her day.

Coming towards the standalone shelves rowed together, she studies the note she made for herself. The first shelf is way too early in the alphabet, so she comes around to the middle and peeks down the first section. Nothing and no one, and still in the C’s-E’s. She needs J.

Then, the sound of paper rubbing against itself. Like a page being turned. She freezes, takes a breath, and approaches the corner of the second aisle.

God, please, no, anyone but--but it’s her.

Her shoes are hitting the ground too hard for her presence to be a secret, and she knows well enough. She stops, and a heel grades against the wood grain. Cassandra -- dressed in black leggings and a sweatshirt, over-sized, and the most casual she’s ever seen her styled -- is sitting cross-legged on the floor. Up against the stacks, with several books piled around her. One open in her hands, kept in her lap. At the noise of Olivia’s footfalls she looks up. Not expecting her, clearly, her eyes go wide and she jerks up to her feet in the blink of an eye. Agile enough to do so without stumbling all over herself, but not confident enough to stand all tall and proud. Not like she did in the gallery.

Olivia steps back, and she can feel her face sour. She crinkles the paper in her hand, and it bends beneath a fist. She doesn’t respond, only glares with steeled hopelessness.

Cassandra closes the book in her hands. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I came for a book.” Iced, and disdainful.

Her face strains a bit, and she adjusts. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she rolls her bottom lip and holds her ground. “That is all.” It’s crushing her slowly, the priorities: yell at her, say sorry again, cry, beg. Too many needs and too many wants. She takes a page out of Cassandra’s metaphorical book and holds it all in under a guise of self-sufficient introversion. 

“I...okay. D-do you need--”

“No. I know how to work a library.”

“...Alright.” She accepts it, and nods. Olivia sucks on her teeth. They both try to get on with whatever it is they were up to before they were aware of each other’s presence: Cassandra, sitting back down on the ground, and Olivia investigating the far end of the shelf. She tracks down the J’s, but there’s no book in sight. Again. First, twice, and thrice she checks the row where it should be. A couple minutes have passed, and she’s left standing there with no reward to her risk.

She lets out a sigh through puckered lips.

“What are you looking for?” Cassandra’s voice, clear and calm.

She keeps her eyes on the shelf, clinging to the paper. “I don’t need your help.”

“Um…” she treads lightly, very lightly, “some of the shelves are disorganized, because of the students.”

Fan-fucking-tastic. She’ll never find this damn book, she’ll never do her homework, she’ll just drop out and call it good.

“I’m…” she starts, but stops when Cassandra suddenly shows up next to her, having risen to her feet without so much as a sound. She takes hold of the paper that is in a death grip in Olivia’s hands, one which she releases against her better judgement.

She raises a brow. “Hm.”

“It’s--it’s a book with copies of letters from--”

“Heloise and Abelard. I know this anthology, I had it for...um, hm. You won’t find it here, though.”

Olivia slouches, and frustration escapes her. “What? Again?!”

“No,” Cassandra shakes her head, and then turns around, “it’s over here.” Without a word, she walks away, with the presumption that Olivia will come along. An audacious presumption; if she had not come all the way across town to track down the damn thing she would have laughed and said ‘fat chance.’ Beggars can’t be choosers.

They go to the back corner, where there are rows of tall volume books that look like dictionaries. The shelf above them is where Cassandra slants onto her toes and searches. Olivia does her best to keep her eyes preoccupied elsewhere -- anywhere else, but her -- and waits patiently. Finally she falls back, pulling a book out that’s rather small and thin. But it’s weirdly pink, like the catalog image.

“Here,” she breaths, pivoting back to her and holding it out.

Olivia stares at the outstretched book, brow pressing low as she bites back more bitterness on her mind. She takes it, gripping onto the opposite diagonal corner to Cassandra’s grip.

“T-Thanks.” She spits out, holding it to her stomach. “Do you know if I have to….to do anything special to check it out from here? Or do I just take it to the main library?”

“You just take it there…” Cassandra confirms, reaching across her own stomach and clasping onto her elbow.

“Okay.” Olivia keeps her eyes to the ground, and her responses curt. “Thanks again. I’ll be going now.”

“Olivia, I’m sorry.” The words cut through the air like a chef’s knife. Eager, and quick, like it’s the last word she’ll ever get in edgewise. Olivia has turned to the side by the time she hears it, and she stops cold. The book to her belly now feels like armor she can’t live without. She can’t bare to look at her, at whatever face she’s making. It’ll be too sincere, too heartfelt.

“I really don’t want to hear it.”

“I know you don’t, but you deserve to.”

“You thought I deserved to hear a great deal of things.”

“I...I know. And…”

“What?”

“And it was unfair of me. I shouldn’t have cornered you, when you were already feeling uncomfortable. It wasn’t right.”

Olivia sucks in her gut; the words she is saying are too poignant to face with a chin tucked in shame. She looks, only to feel punished for it: Cassandra is frowning, and not the way she does by default. It is a sad one. It makes Olivia’s heart skip, and plummet at the same time.

“Y-you know, Cassandra,” she replies, her voice brittle as her throat gets thicker with tears she thought she had long run out of, “I...I just wish I knew what your secret was.”

Cassandra blinks a few times, beautiful black eyelashes fluttering. “My secret?”

“Yeah. Your secret. The one behind how you always look so undaunted and...and un-phased,” she closes her eyes to hold back tears, and cradles the book in both hands against her. “You know, Cullen talks to Ellinor, and Ellinor talks to me. I hear about how you are minding your own business, going about your day, while I cry myself to sleep or eat my body weight in Taco Bell. Every time. It hurts, but I tell myself, ‘oh, she’s just coping in her own way, she has to be as messed up as I am about this, just as torn up, just as…” she takes a shallow breath, but it does little to assuage her. “‘She has to be just as inexplicably messed up as I am.’ But even when I worried you didn’t care, or that you were indifferent, never did I think you would walk into the room and rip my heart out the way you did.”

Cassandra had become more and more engrossed in a painful kind of way, the more she talked. It wasn’t hard to understand -- it was probably the most brutally candid Olivia had ever been in her presence. Bearing her most cringe-worthy sides of her survival, for reasons she could not articulate half as well.

“So…” she sharply sniffled, “I just want to know what the secret is. What you do, what you...you tell yourself, that makes you so magically put-together. Maybe it’s the same shit you take that convinces you that I’m the one tormenting you when I…” she closes her eyes again, but a stray, small tear runs down the outside corner of her eye. That is enough for her. “You know, whatever. I’m...I’m not gonna…” she started to walk back, verbally and physically, expecting nothing else but her own shame.

A few steps, and then, the second twist of the knife.

“Liv, please.” Once again, she asks, and once again, Olivia stops. This time, her back is to her.

“I…” Cassandra takes a moment, collecting her breath by the sounds of it. “Cullen knows me, but he doesn’t know...me. He sees me coming and going, but he doesn’t know what happens while I’m getting by. If he did, he’d tell Ellinor--or, probably you, more like--that from the moment you first spoke to me I haven’t been able to get your voice out of my head. I’ve never been good with sentimentality, much as I appreciate it. But when I’m...when I’m around you it feels like I don’t have to worry. If anything’s been a secret, it’s been that.”

The sensation of hugging her in this room is still fresh. The way her arms wrapped around her waist, the way her breath felt against her neck. The briefness of it, and wishing it could last. But nothing lasts. Head high as much as she could pretend, she swallows stiff and keeps her eyes on the door for just a beat longer. Then, she faces her again. And Cassandra, she...her red eyes, her slightly red, tired eyes. It’s horrible.

“If you were so crazy about me, then why didn’t you kiss me? I was all yours, I was--”

“Because I didn’t want it to be like that.”

“...You…”

Cassandra sighs tersely, rubbing the side of her face. Exasperated. “I didn’t want the first time I ever kissed you to be during a fight about you being slut-shamed and me invading your privacy, alright? Is that...is that so much to ask? That if I was going to...to let myself be with a woman, a woman like you, that that kind of thing would be a little more special?!”

“I would have agreed, if you would have just talked to me! About anything!” Olivia shifted, now head-on with her. “You said you knew what you wanted, Cassandra, but that’s just it. You knew. I may have had my hopes and...and you may have been right about me having more of a clue than I admitted, but a clue is not consent. It isn’t a consensus. When you rejected me, I felt like an ass! Like I had taken advantage of you in some way.”

“Something you would have known wasn’t the case if you would have just stayed and listened to me! I was trying to tell you!”

“Trying?!”

“Yes! Or have you forgotten how hard it was to say out loud to the first girl you ever liked that you had feelings for her, and you were terrified she’d walk out?!”

“I did--!” She begins to hiss back, but stops. Forgiveness was an easier visitor when it came to certain suffering. She couldn’t swing the gavel when it came to that: it was like breaking ten different rules of queer code. Ugh, dammit. “Intimidated or not, we’re adults. This isn’t a recess, or homeroom, it’s...it’s life. I don’t get it, you’re always so...just...mature, with everything else but this.”

Cassandra half-nodded, and folded her arms. “The heart of man is a labyrinth, whose windings are very difficult to be discovered.”

Olivia delayed her retort, a bit off-guard. “...Um...yeah, that is...one way of putting it.”

Cassandra’s sweetly sore, peering down at the ground. “It’s an excerpt, from one of Heloise’s letters to Abelard. It’s...it’s after one where he implores her to revoke their union for the sake of God, but she refuses.”

Who even is this woman? Some thesaurus of mankind’s broken desires, reincarnated into one toned, statuesque, androgynous body? Is she even real?

“Yeah, well...Abelard was an elitist asshole who wasn’t worth it. And you’re still pompous, I take it.”

She smirks again, but not as sadly, as her eyes meet hers again. “Maybe so, on both counts. However, he still encouraged her in her work, and her learning.”

“Yes, as a means to punish her for behavior he deemed carnal even though he was a complicit beneficiary of if, not to mention--”

“Behavior he was punished for as well, rather grotesquely, if I can recall.”

Olivia’s hold on the book loosens, and she looks down at it, before back at her. “He...yeah. I mean, it was just a little...castration. It be like that sometimes.” They stare once again, and she clamps down on her tongue. They’re both fighting back something, some kind of expression, though Olivia denies the hope that Cassandra wishes to smile as she does. That is, until they both cough up a chuckle. The first in a long time; she can hardly remember the last occasion. That hurts.

After a moment, she gathers her wits. She slides the book into her shoulder back, and gets back to the unsavory topic.

“We’ve made a mess, haven’t we.” She can’t help but smile. Cassandra could run her heart through the mud and gravel, and then say something clever, and that’d be all it takes. She’d smile.

“I’m afraid so. They must think we’re devising to kill each other,” Cassandra says, coming forward. There’s no need of explanation as to who she’s referring to. In a flash, images of a very worried Ellinor and slightly scared Cullen come to mind.

“You would deserve it.”

A wry smirk. “Oh, would I?”

“Yes, you were a dick.”

“And you were an insensitive snob.”

Olivia chokes back another laugh. “Compared to the company you keep, Cassandra, I’m a down-home piece of apple pie.”

Cassandra scoffs. “Leliana? Ugh, God,” she grins, “she only pulls that act when she’s trying to pull something. She was being an ass, but, she was just...trying to protect me. I’m sure she’ll appear out of nowhere and explain herself, so, be prepared.”

“Oh, wonderful, I crave her company,” she mocks, eyes rolling gently as she looks back towards the door. “Why doesn’t she just show up now? I’m eager for more mortifying company.”

“She knew I wanted to be left alone. She does listen, you know.”

“...Oh. Well, damn.” That was a nice thing. Boundaries, huh, who knew. She can sympathize -- Olivia also has a friend who left her alone after one too many acidic quips. Oh, Ellinor. Though she wants to, she can’t crucify the woman for wanting to put up a fight for her friend. “Look, I know it makes me an asshole every time, but, I really should be going this time around. I have things to do tonight, and I really just needed to get this….this book.” She says it, but she hates it.

She hates it even more when Cassandra frowns, and blinks her eyes away. “I understand, no, it’s alright. You can’t just stay in every room I find you in.”

“No, I can’t, hah.” But I wish I could.

“Hey, Olivia?” she says one last time. Her full name. It’s nice, without all the malice.

“Yeah?”

Her eyes brighten a little. Bravery. “I...I hope that you’ll be happy. Whatever that means for you. You deserve it.”

It’s a stab to the side, clean and direct through her ribs and into her gut. Her voice saying ‘I think you knew what I wanted,’ rings loud and clear in her mind again. Wanted. Not want, wanted. And now this. Oh no, Cassandra, please, please don’t tell me you’ve really let go.

“...Thank you, Cassandra. I...I wish the same for you.” I wish it, and I wish it’d happen with me. Be with me. Ask me to stay. This time I’ll stay, I promise. Just ask it.

“Thanks. Um, drive safe, okay?” More of those polite, detached manners. Again. No, no, no.

“Yeah, um,” Olivia swallows, “I will. See you around, maybe?”

“Yeah. I think so.” A smile. She’s smiling. Oh God, she really has accepted it. That they aren’t meant for each other. Like Heloise and Abelard: Olivia as Heloise, ranting and raving in her letters about having been consumed by amorous affection. And then there’s Abelard, pointing her away towards higher callings, wishing her the best. Fuck Abelard, and fuck this.

Olivia tries her hardest to hide it, and she manages a wide grin and wave before leaving. She makes it out the hallway, down the side aisle of the Church pews, out the door, and into her car.

Slamming the car door behind her, she sinks into her compact leather seat and bangs her head against the headrest. Cassandra is letting her go. She did at the gallery, technically, but now it hurts in a different way. A way she feels no enraged pride in, no vanity. No need for spiteful indifference. She wants to take it all back, this time.

The one thing she couldn’t say, and perhaps will always regret, is that Cassandra was right. She is right. And now, she’s giving Olivia what she wants, what she clamors for, all the time. She’s giving it rather than trying to change her. So this is what respect feels like from someone who wants to love you.

The book stays in her lap as she drives home. When she stops at every red light, she clutches where Cassandra held it. If it were all a movie, this would be where she’d drive off into the sunset after her coming-of-age tale, leaving the reckless love behind. But she wants to do anything but that.

How long will it be until she finally stops? The answer is now.

She brakes hard and pulls into a street parking spot -- one of the luckiest moments of her life. Digging in her bag on the passenger’s seat, she finds her phone. Thumbing and thumbing, until she finds her name and the message thread she could never make herself delete.

--You know what’d make me happy? Because I have a couple ideas on the subject. The first is Friday night, at 11. Stay awake, or miss out.

[whiskeytangofrogman]

Magic AU. Bitty is a baker who really messed up this maybe-not-recipe. Jack is a powerful but quiet demon who isn't sure what's going on, but there's pie.

Okay you sent this a literal year ago, but it’s finally done. Also, it’s 5k. 

I will post another, more refined version on ao3 (with betaing, even) in December, after NaNo, but please enjoy!

“Aaand… done.” Bitty shuts the oven firmly, and claps flour off his hands. He picks up the yellowed piece of paper from the counter, and scans his eyes over the recipe. He’d had to buy a few… weirder ingredients from the internet to get it done, but as long as it came out of the oven correctly, he’d get an A on his project, meaning that he would be officially done with his Bachelor’s degree in American Studies.

Now, to wait. The recipe said an hour, but Bitty’s oven was, obviously, better (though not by much) than a simple fireplace stove, and so he’d set it for thirty minutes, which was just enough time to finish that new movie he’d been watching.

Thirty minutes later, he pulls out a steaming pie, and grins. The crust is a beautiful golden brown (and all the symbols the recipe said were necessary stood out nicely, a darker, richer brown than the rest of the crust, unexpected but pleasant). “Perfect,” he mumbles to himself, setting it on the counter. He was tempted, all of a sudden, to cut into it. But it needed to be perfect for his professor, and she was a renowned stickler. He’d fail if it wasn’t perfect, and he didn’t have the money to buy the ingredients for another try. There were only so many places one could get rat tails for cheap.

He grabs a towel and throws it over the top, and the temptation goes away. He nods then, satisfied, and pulls out his phone. “Final project for history and culture: done. On to studying French.” He tweets, adding a nauseated-looking emoji at the end. He casts one last proud look at the pie, and leaves the room.

There was one slice left of the pie, and only a day left until it was going to spoil. Bitty had forgotten about it completely, between finishing his finals week, cleaning his house, and baking for the holiday season. When he’d finally gotten around to being able to rest, the last thing he wanted to do was eat more pie.

But he also wasn’t one to let such an expensive thing go to waste. “Oh well,” Bitty mutters under his breath, foregoing a plate and grabbing a fork. “I’ll just have to double down on that New Year’s resolution to exercise more, I guess.”

Bitty works his way through the now slightly stale slice while flipping through the channels on his small tv. There was nothing on, as per usual, and so he settled in to catch the tail end of a hockey game.

He’d played hockey in high school, but had stopped after his senior year. There wasn’t much of a place on college teams for someone so… slight. He sighed, shoving the last bite into his mouth and swallowing, hard. If only, if only. He frequently found himself wishing it was still something he did, this exact moment included. He’d loved it so much despite how mediocre he’d been.

At that exact moment, post-swallow and mid-reminisce, his tv began to smoke. “Shit,” he muttered, getting up. It was a cheap one, an old vacuum tube set he’d bought off Craigslist midway through fall semester when his last roommate had moved out and taken his nice flatscreen with him.

Bitty gets up and bangs his hand against the side, trying to get the fuzz to go away. The tv hisses, and then snaps back to clarity once more. He sighs, relieved, and turns around.

And comes face to face with a tall stranger, standing in the middle of his living room, smelling of sulfur and campfire burn.

He screams.

Half an hour later, one and a half beers, and a considerable amount of questions had calmed him down. Or, calmed him as much as he could be calmed.

Because this man? Was a demon, apparently, summoned through a mixture of Bitty’s pie (an old witch recipe) and his wishing. The recipe, the demon said, was notoriously difficult, and this anyone who managed to pull it off was entitled to three wishes.

Bitty was now entitled to three wishes. Because he’d accidentally summoned a demon.

“Do I have to sell you my soul?” The demon’s eyebrows twitch, and he sighs, dragging a hand down his face and looking altogether way too human for something apparently hellish in origin.

“For the third time, no. That’s part of the recipe.”

Bitty swigs down another gulp of now-warm beer (clutching a glass bottle in one’s hand so tightly one’s knuckles turned white wasn’t necessarily conducive to properly chilled alcohol) and tugs on the ends of his hair. “And I get three wishes? Just for baking a pie?”

The demon looks agitated. “Yes. Like I’ve explained three, no, four times now, it’s an old clause in the rule book, one we haven’t had to uphold in near half a millennium, and one we’ve been meaning to get rid of. His highness just hasn’t seen the need to,” the demon says, adding a glare. “Until now, of course.”

Bitty giggles, high pitched and sharp. This can’t be happening. I’m dreaming, he thinks. “Well then, fuck it.” He chugs the rest of the beer down, and slams it on the table. “I want to pass my class.”

The demon frowns. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

“CUL 458. I want to pass it with at least a B.” 

The demon stares for a second, and then rolls his eyes. “You’ll pass it.”

“Cool, so two more wishes-”

“No, that’s not a wish. I already know you’ll pass it.”

Bitty flashed the demon a confused look. “Are you omnipotent? Like god?”

The demon winces. “No. I just have slight… sight, for these sorts of things.”

Bitty shrugs. “Okay. Well, then I want to pass French.”

The demon nods, closes his eyes for a few seconds, and then opens them up once more. They’re glowing a pallid yellow, and he blinks a few times, the color draining back into black as he does. “Done. That one you wouldn’t have passed. How are you so bad?”

“Hey!” Bitty points an accusatory finger. “French is hard.”

The demon mutters something like not that hard, and opens his palm. “Your next two wishes?”

Bitty thinks for a second, and then frowns. “I don’t know.”

The demon groans, and stands. “I’ll give you a week.”

Bitty nods, and watches as the demon disappears as fast as he’d come, leaving the room smelling faintly still of sulfur, and now of ozone.

“Fuck,” Bitty mutters.

He wakes up the next morning, draped over the couch with his phone making indents on his cheek. The ”ping!” of his notifications had woken him up. Blearily, he sits up and unlocks the screen. He recalls the weird dream as he scrolls through Twitter, and snorts. “Musta been somethin’ in that pie. That’ll teach me to treat old recipes like they can store the same,” he says to himself.

There’s an email from his French professor, probably one letting him know that in order to pass, he’ll need to do the last minute extra credit paper, something he’d been prepared for since his final earlier that week. This was his last semester of the two year language requirement, and he’d been in danger of failing all semester.

He opens the email, and reads it over.

And then stares, and reads again. And again.

Somehow, he’d passed the final with enough points to land him at a respectable 73% in the class, just enough to pass.

The dream (or maybe it hadn’t been a dream at all?) came flooding back to him. There was no way in hell.

Bitty closes his email, and begins gathering the remnants of the previous night’s boozing to toss in the trashcan, the fuzzy edges of his dream twisting and fading until he’d finally convinced himself that it was a dream indeed, one born of stress and too much beer, and that the final grade he’d received was based not on a demonic encounter but on the ten straight hours of review he’d done the night before the test.

By the end of the week, he’d forgotten all about his weird dream. His last final had come and gone, and he was well into prepping the baked goods he’d promised his mom for his short trip back to Georgia before his last semester. His final batch of cookies was almost done when the one thing he’d convinced himself wouldn’t happen, did.

The demon came back.

Bitty didn’t scream this time, but only just. The demon looked much the same: human enough to seem normal until closer inspection, tall, brooding, and altogether much too handsome to be a creature from hell.

“Have you thought of your next wish, yet?”

Bitty groans, and slouches against the counter. “I thought I made you up.”

The demon stares at him. “Obviously not.”

Bitty clicks his phone off, and buries his face in his hands. “Look, I-” He sighs, and peeks through his fingers. The demon was watching him intently, eyebrows cocked. “I don’t know what I want, and I don’t want to die, so please don’t kill me for bein’ indecisive.”

The demon huffs. “I’m not going to kill you.”

The oven dings, and Bitty moves the demon out of the way, bodily. “Hang on.” He dons oven mitts, and pulls the tray out. The cookies, despite all of the work he’d put into making sure ol’ Betsy wouldn’t fritz out on him for this, are burnt.

Beyond repair.

Bitty resists the urge to screech. Instead, he slams his mitts down, and clicks the oven off. “I wish this damn thing wouldn’t burn anything. I don’t know how many times a week-”

“Done.”

Bitty stops mid-rant, and looks at the demon. “What?”

“Your wish. It’s done. Your oven won’t burn anything anymore.”

Bitty frowns, and looks down at Betsy. He stares for a moment, pondering, and then looks back up. “That wasn’t going to be my wish-”

“It’s too late to take back.” The demon interrupts.

“But.” Bitty glares. “I’m not mad.”

“So-”

“But I also don’t have a third wish.”

The demon looks even more cross now, eyebrows folded as far down his forehead as they’ll go, the inky black of his eyes only barely visible through his squint. “You’re incredibly annoying.”

Bitty’s protest fall on nothing but his kitchen appliances, as the demon disappears once more.

He sighs, and begins mixing a new batch of cookies, despite his flight leaving in less than four hours. If the universe was gonna give him an oven that never burns, like hell he’s gonna wait another week and half to try it out.

And, true to the demon’s word, the cookies come out a beautiful golden brown, the likes of which he’s only made once on his moomaw’s oven back home.

���Well, sure as shit,” he says, hands resting on his hips. Guess I can’t pretend it’s a dream any more, he thinks, picking up a perfectly crisped cookie and biting into it, letting the chocolate melt over his tongue while he thinks about what else he could possibly wish for.

The demon comes back a few days later, and Bitty’s sick of referring to him as the demon. “What’s your name?” Bitty hands him a plate and sits across from him across his island bar.

The demon looks puzzled. “Why?”

“Because I feed people,” Bitty says, taking a bite from his own plate. The recipe was an old family one he’d been playing with on and off since he got to college, but never had the oven to get the temperature just right.

Until now, that is.

The demon sets the plate on the counter, and delicately sits down, as if he’d never been in a chair before. “No, my name. Why does it matter?”

Bitty rolls his eyes. “Because I like to know who I’m working with.”

“You won’t know how to pronounce it.” The demon picks up a fork, and jabs it into the pie, the crust giving the smallest of satisfying crunching noises.

“Try me,” Bitty says, setting down his own fork onto a now-empty plate.

The demon utters a noise that makes Bitty lean back in his chair, and wiggle a finger in his ear, trying to get out a ringing that isn’t there. “Uh.”

The demon settles a look on him, cool blue eyes, normally void of any emotion, now showing a hint of smugness. “I told you.”

Bitty sighs, and stands up. “Fine. So what do I call you?”

The demon falls quiet, and when Bitty looks at him, he looks deep in thought. Bitty waits, quietly cleaning up the results of his latest test in the meantime. “Jack.”

Bitty rolls it over his tongue, mouths it quietly to himself. “Why Jack?”

“My name is equivalent to that in English, in terms of how common they both are.” The demon — Jack — shrugs. “Plus, I like the way it sounds.”

Bitty hums. “Fair enough, Jack.”

“Do you know-”

Bitty interrupts Jack before he can continue. “I don’t know what I want to wish for, yet. Sorry.” He feels only slightly guilty.

Jack’s gone before Bitty can even finish the sentence.

Jack comes back, again and again, every time with the same question: Has Bitty figured out his third wish?

And every time, Bitty gives him a slice of pie, or a cookie, or something. Eventually, Jack starts eating them too. And Bitty stalls for as long as possible, asking Jack relentless questions to make him stay.

Do you have horns? “No, not usually.”

Why aren’t you red? “I can be, if you want,” Jack says, his skin tone rapidly changing to match that of a particularly vibrant strawberry. And then back, because Bitty won’t stop laughing at him.

What did you go to hell for? “What do you mean?” Aren’t demons all sinners that went to hell? “No, I was born there, like you were born on Earth.”

Jack’s answers are reluctant to come at first, he grumbles about how he shouldn’t be answering any of this, and then answers them anyway. He starts to stay longer each time before he asks Bitty if he’s figured out his third wish, and lingers before disappearing.

Bitty, for all he’s been trying not to, is liking Jack more and more by the day.

On the fourth, maybe fifth time Jack appears, Bitty’s back home in Georgia. It’s Christmas Eve, and he’s nervous for tomorrow. All his relatives come over to the house, and though they love him, they don’t understand him.

It’s “the gay thing,” as his mom’s uncle calls it. “Hate the sin, love the sinner” is a motto in their family, when applied to him. They don’t understand it, and he still gets asked about a hundred times every Christmas if he’d found a girlfriend yet, despite the fact that he’d been out for half a decade now., as if one day he’s just going to decide he’s not gay anymore.

He thinks he hates Christmas.

He’s in the kitchen, kneading dough brutally, when Jack appears beside him. Bitty tries to smother a shriek.

“Have you-”

Bitty throws a towel at him. “Be quiet,” he hisses, glaring. Jack looks taken aback, but he stays quiet.

Bitty sets the dough to rise until morning, and tiptoes back to the guest room, gesturing for Jack to follow.

Jack does, footsteps not even making the wood of the old house creak in the slightest, something Bitty had only achieved after years of living here and sneaking out at night, a practiced sort of silence. Bitty’s almost jealous.

Bitty shuts the door behind him as silently as he can, and wheels around to face Jack. “What are you doing here?”

Jack looks confused. “The same thing I always am?”

“How do you know where I live, though?” Bitty folds his arms across his chest.

Jack’s confusion grows, visibly. “What? It’s you.”

Bitty makes a noise in the back of his throat that prompts Jack to continue. “I don’t need your address. I just find you, and go there.”

Bitty frowns. “Oh.”

Jack looks around the room, and then sits on the bed. He looks… worn, in a way that he usually doesn’t. It’s only been a few weeks, but Jack looks five years older, and tired. Bitty sits next to him. “Are you okay?”

Jack’s eyes settle on Bitty’s own. “No,” he answers, blunt.

Bitty takes in the rings around Jack’s eyes, how rumpled he looks. He looks… human. “What’s wrong?”

Jack drops his eyes, and fiddles with the edge of his suit jacket. He always wears the same thing, a gray suit over a light blue shirt and black tie. It brings out the blue in his eyes, Bitty notes, and then promptly tries to forget. “Demons shouldn’t… be on earth. This long.”

Bitty’s concerned frown gets deeper. “Why?”

“We’re not meant to take this long. I’m supposed to get what I need from you, and then go back for the rest of my life.” Jack meets Bitty’s stare again. “We only get one contract in our lives, and it’s never supposed to take this long.”

Bitty feels guilt sink in his gut, twisting his insides ragged. “Oh.” He settles a hand on Jack’s cheek, and rubs a finger under Jack’s eye, as if he can smudge the circles out. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t want to pressure you.” Jack’s eyelids flutter closed, and he lets out the smallest of sighs. “The magic won’t work right if it’s not something you want.”

Bitty gnaws at his bottom lip, thinks. He still doesn’t have an idea for a wish, and it only makes the guilt worse. “I’m sorry.”

Jack opens his eyes, but doesn’t lean away, doesn’t push Bitty’s hand away. “Don’t be,” he whispers.

Bitty feels like they’re on the edge of a precipice. He leans in.

Jack meets him halfway, and they’re kissing, soft, slow. Jack’s hand finds Bitty’s hip, slides up under his shirt. Bitty cups Jack’s face, fingers curling through the strands of Jack’s hair.

And then it’s over. Jack pulls back, looking startled. He stands. “I have to go.”

Bitty reaches out a hand. “Wait-”

Jack’s gone, with an audible pop, and the air is sucked out the room, leaving Bitty alone. He presses his fingertips to his lips, and thinks.

Jack doesn’t come back until the day before the new semester, almost two weeks after Bitty gets back from Georgia. He looks even worse now.

“Hi,” Bitty says, and hands him a plate. “Try this.”

Jack is silent, but takes the plate and sits down. He makes a noise of approval at the spongy cake, uniced but dusted with powdered sugar. “S’good.”

Bitty smiles. “Thanks.”

Jack finishes the cake, not offering up anything more until he finishes. He opens his mouth to speak, and Bitty holds up a hand. “Wait.”

Jack frowns, but lets him continue. “I’ve been thinking. About my wish.”

Bitty’s fingers tap against the edge of the counter. Truthfully, he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since Jack left last time, running through his mind all of the possibilities. He could wish for anything in the world, and Jack would give it to him.

“Do you like hell?”

Jack lifts an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just answer it.”

Jack shrugs. “It’s alright. Cold.”

Bitty hums. “I want-”

Jack interrupts him this time. “You don’t.”

Bitty gives him a look, frustration creeping in. “What?”

“Whatever you’re about to wish for, you’re doing it because you feel guilty.” Jack stands, and meets him on the other side of the counter. Bitty had known Jack stood over him since the first time they met, but he hadn’t realized how severe the height difference was until now. Jack towers. “Don’t say what you’re about to say.”

Bitty steps closer, angry now. “You can’t stop me from wishing for what I want.”

Jack leans down. Over the course of the several months since Bitty’s pie incident, Jack had gone from emotionless, robotic, to something more, something emotive and less and less other. He looks angry now, and Bitty’s never seen this one. “I can’t, but I’m asking you don’t.”

Bitty huffs, and pulls him down. Jack meets him easily, submitting to Bitty’s angry kiss. Bitty pulls away. “Fine.”

Jack’s lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. “Good,” he says, and leans back in.

Jack stays for the longest time yet, before he says he has to go. It’s been almost an hour of talking mixed with more, and Bitty doesn’t know what to with their newfound closeness.

Jack disappears, leaving Bitty sitting on his kitchen counter, dazed, confused, and a little bit in love.

Jack comes back, again and again, but he stops asking Bitty if he has his wish. He spends longer at Bitty’s side each time, learning how to bake, watching movies.

He looks worse every day, by small increments.

Jack doesn’t seem to mind, but Bitty’s guilt only grows. He can’t think of a third wish, and he’s too selfish to try, because if he does, Jack will be gone, forever. He’s told Bitty he goes back to hell, and “gets unmade,” which Jack makes sound boring. His purpose, Jack says, once filled, makes him useless, and so he’ll disappear. “It’s the way demons are,” he says, false cheer in his voice.

Bitty’s terrified by the idea.

Jack stays over more and more, and falls asleep despite telling Bitty demons don’t technically need to. He looks like he does, though, dark circles under his eyes almost purple, clothing in disarray, though different every time, now. Jack shows up in t-shirts more often now, and Bitty comes to find he has terrible fashion sense.

It’s three in the morning the first time Bitty realizes he’s in love with Jack. Jack’s arm is curled around his middle, skin warm against Bitty’s bare chest, soft breath making the back of his neck tingle.

“Shit,” Bitty whispers, frozen. He’s in love with jack. He loves Jack.

Jack, who can’t lattice a pie for shit, who thinks yellow running shoes and green shorts are acceptable as an outfit. Jack, who’s laugh sounds halfway between a high pitched giggle and goose honk and is still endearing anyway.

Jack, a demon who will disappear once Bitty gives him his third wish.

Bitty starts to shake, anxiety building and choking him. He doesn’t know what he wants, he can’t want anything because what he wants is Jack, here, alive, and for the rest of his life.

Jack stirs beside him. “Bits?” His voice is sleep rough. He props himself up on an elbow. “Y’okay?”

Bitty nods, fighting back tears. “Bad dream,” he mumbles, squeezing his eyes tight and trying to make his internal chant of Jack is going to disappear and you’ll never see him again stop.

Jack leans down, and presses a soft kiss on Bitty’s temple. “M’sorry.”

Bitty turns in his arms, pulls him into a real kiss, and tries to put all the feeling he can into it. “It’s okay.” he whispers back, stroking a thumb down Jack’s cheek. “It’ll be okay,” he says, trying to convince himself of something he knows he can’t.

Bitty withdraws. He can’t do this anymore, can’t hurt Jack like he has been. The longer Jack’s on Earth, the more ragged he becomes., the more sleep he needs, the more food he eats. It makes him better temporarily, but Bitty knows it’s only a band-aid. He has to make a decision.

But for Bitty to end that, he’ll also be ending Jack entirely. Jack begins to notice when Bitty withdraws, begins only visiting every other day, and then once a week.

Bitty makes it to finals week before he breaks. Jack’s visiting for the first time that week, and he’s pale. His hands shake, and he sounds like he has bronchitis, voice scratchy and a cough constantly lodged in the back of his throat.

Bitty breaks down, tears flooding down his cheek as he curls into a ball. Jack looks alarmed, tries to soothe Bitty in between coughs. “Jack, Jack stop.”

Jack pulls back.

Bitty wipes his cheek. “We need to talk about my wish.”

Jack sighs, and folds his hands in his lap. He looks resigned. “I know.”

Bitty draws a shaky breath inward. “I don’t know what I want, but I need to want something.”

Jack nods. “I know.”

Bitty scoots closer, and twines their fingers together. “Please, tell me what to do.”

Jack shakes his head, smothers another cough. “I can’t. I can’t influence you like that.”

Bitty pushes Jack’s hair from his forehead, locks their eyes. His skin is clammy. “I wish you could stay.”

It’s like the room freezes. Jack sucks in a breath.

It’s then Bitty realizes what he’s said. “Oh, no.” He’s panicking. “That doesn’t count, does it?”

Jack stares at him, and then gulps. “It can. If you want it too.”

Bitty stares back, mulling it over. “What would that mean for you?” He can’t believe he hasn’t thought of this possibility, of using his wish to make Jack whole again. “Will you be sent back?”

Jack frowns. “I… don’t know. No one’s ever done that. No one’s ever taken this long.”

Bitty squeezes his hand. “Please, tell me it would work.”

“I don’t know.” Jack pulls his hand back. “I have to go. I’ll… I’ll be back.” To the sound of Bitty’s protests, he disappears.

Bitty barely makes it through finals. His grades aren’t amazing, but he graduates. His parents come up for the ceremony, but he can’t even muster up enough cheer to enjoy it. He answers every question about campus, about the football team, all in a voice void of any emotion. His mom gives him worried looks all throughout, and finally pulls him aside after what’s supposed to be a celebration dinner, but feels more like a funeral.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” She looks concerned, in a way only a mom can. “You just graduated, aren’t you happy.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. I’m just tired, I guess.”

She smiles, sadly. “You upset it’s over?”

Bitty winces. He’s not upset school is over. He probably killed Jack with a careless word, and there’s nothing he can do to get him back. “Yeah,” he lies.

She pulls him into a hug. “It’ll feel better eventually. You got that job at the bakery lined up, don’t you?”

He nods in agreement, but doesn’t think it’ll ever feel better.

He pulls up a list of romantic comedies a friend from one of his economics classes had given him a while ago. Adam had said it was his “cheer up” list, and Bitty finds himself, if not feeling better, at least distracted.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t at your ceremony.” Bitty yelps, pauses the TV, and turns around. Jack’s there, behind him, dressed in another suit.

He looks the worst he’s seen yet. His skin is pallid, and he looks starved. Bitty’s eyes burn with unshed tears just looking at him.

“Jack?”

Jack smiles at him, a wide smile Bitty’s never seen before, still tired, but alive. “I’m sorry I took so long. I had to do some research.”

Bitty hops off the couch, and wraps him in a tight hug, which Jack returns happily. He’s lost weight, and Jack’s arms around him return his hug weakly.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He looks up at Jack. “How long do you have?”

Jack’s face drops into confusion. “What do you mean?”

Bitty looks away. “You have to go back, right?”

Jack puts a hand under Bitty’s chin, and tilts it upward. “Tell me your last wish.”

Bitty shakes his head, eyes refusing to meet Jack’s. “I can’t. You’ll be gone.”

Jack repeats himself, more forcefully. “Tell me your last wish.”

Bitty shoves backward. “No! Jack, if I do, you’ll be gone.” He leans against the back of the couch, and folds his arms across his chest.

Jack kneels, and forces Bitty to look at him. His blue eyes are wide, pleading. “Bitty. Bits.” He grabs Bitty’s hand. “Eric. Please.”

Bitty gives up. He can’t do this anymore, can’t cause Jack any more pain. “I wish you could stay.”

Jack grins. Before Bitty’s eyes, Jack’s skin flushes back to a healthy tone. The exhaustion he’d been wearing like a cloak for the last few months falls off his shoulders. In less than a minute, he looks like the Jack from the first time Bitty saw him.

Bitty drops to his knees as well, takes Jack’s face in his hands. “How?”

Jack pulls Bitty into a kiss, and if Bitty wasn’t already on the ground, the sheer force of emotion wafting off Jack would have put him there. “Your wish.”

Tears spring to Bitty’s eyes, happy this time. “You can stay?”

Jack stares at him for a second, and then nods. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Bitty pulls him in. “Forever,” he whispers.

Jack explains to him that he’d had to search through records of previous deals. There had only been one wish made before, asking for a demon to stay on Earth, after much the same situation had happened as Jack and Bitty’s. “There was precedent for it,” Jack says to him, after telling him the story. “All I had to do was ask.”

Apparently, not many demons fell in love with humanity (with a human, to be more specific) the way Jack had.

Jack gets more and more human as the days pass. One day he wakes up, and the faint rings of etchings into his skin, the marks that made him demon, have completely faded. Bitty hadn’t been able to see them, but Jack knew what this meant. Bitty’s wish had come true.

Next Christmas, he brings Jack home, and when his aunt asks where Bitty found such a good man, they share a small, secret smile. “I wished for him,” Bitty says, and leaves it at that.

[cheesyramynry]

tag time

mel tagged me in a lot thanks bro

aye aye aye thanks to he homegirl @starlightjeongin ily so much melly and you’re an angel <333 eskgetit!!!

also,,, there are like,,,, 4 tags in this so uhhhhh have fun

Σ੧(❛□❛✿)Σ੧(❛□❛✿)Σ੧(❛□❛✿)Σ੧(❛□❛✿)

i dont have a name for this tag

1ST RULE: Tag 9 people you want to get to know better

> so um if you read this you are tagged now congrats <

2ND RULE: BOLD the statements that are true.

APPEARANCE: - I am 5'7 or taller - I wear glasses - I have at least one tattoo - I have at least one piercing - I have blonde hair - I have brown eyes - I have short hair - My abs are at least somewhat defined - I have or had braces

PERSONALITY: - I love meeting new people - People tell me I am funny - Helping others with their problems is a big priority of mine - I enjoy physical challenges - I enjoy mental challenges - I am playfully rude to people I know - I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it - There is something I would change about my personality

ABILITY: - I can sing well - I can play an instrument - I can do over 30 pushups without stopping - I am a fast runner - I can draw well - I have a good memory - I am good at doing maths in my head - I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute - I have beaten at least 2 people arm wrestling - I can make at least 3 recipes from scratch - I know how to throw a proper punch

HOBBIES: - I enjoy sports - I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else - I’m in a orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else - I have learned a new song in the past week - I exercise at least once a week - I have gone for runs at least once a week in warmer months - I have drawn something in the past month - I enjoy writing - Fandoms are my #1 priority - I do some form of Martial arts

EXPERIENCES: - I have had my first kiss - I have had alcohol - I have scored a winning point in a sport - I have watched an entire TV series in one sitting - I have been at an overnight event - I have been in a taxi - I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year - I have beaten a video game in one day - I have visited another country - I have been to one of my favorite band’s concerts

MY LIFE: - I have one person that I consider to be my Best Friend - I live close to my school/work - My parents are still together - I have at least one sibling - I live in the United States - There is snow where I live right now - I have hung out with a friend in the past month - I have a smart phone - I own at least 15 CDs - I share my room with someone

RELATIONSHIPS: - I am in a Relationship - I have a crush on a celebrity - I have a crush on someone I know - I’ve been in at least 3 relationships - I have never been in a Relationship - I have admitted my feelings to a crush - I get crushes easily - I have had a crush for over a year - I have been in a relationship for over a year - I have had feelings for a friend

RANDOM: - I have break-danced - I know a person named Jamie - I have had a teacher that has a name that is hard to pronounce - I have dyed my hair - I’m listening to a song on repeat right now - I have punched someone in the past week - I know someone who has gone to jail - I have broken a bone - I have eaten a waffle today - I know what I want to do in life - I speak at least two languages - I have made a new friend in the past year

alphabet tag

Rules: answer the questions in a new post and tag 10 blogs you would like to get to know better

> i dont know/remember enough blogs to tag im sorry <

A: age? > 15!!! <

B: birthplace? > californiaaaa <

C: current time? > 4:43 pm <

D: drink you had last? > water bc its good for you <

E: easiest person to talk to? > my irl homie @realmzenith , the most fantastic perosn i have ever met on this site and of whom my soul burns with affection for @starlightjeongin , and my rad friends in my got7 amino groupchat - selena, haru, apple, and emi :) <

F: favorite song? > oh boy i dont have a favorite favorite song bro i guess the first things i can think of is either danzon no. 2 by arturo marquez, martini blue by dpr live, and home run by got7 <

G: grossest memory? > asdf uhh when i went hiking with my pathfinder club and we went through a “long-cut” and went off the trail and we had to walk up this super long river, and then to get out of the river to land we had to walk through these riverbed plants and this gray mud stuff and i had to put on my socks and sneakers and it was disgusting <

H: hogwarts house? > i say that im a hufflepuff, lately i got placed in ravenclaw but i dont agree <

I: in love? > in love with the fact that im old enough to be a little free, in love with my kpop faves, in love with all of my friends who tell me they appreciate me, in love with the idea of being productive, in love with music and daydreaming <

J: jealous of people? > tbh i catch myself being jealous of other people’s artistic abilities, but i turn that into a need to become better/daydream about myself being that good so uhh???? yeah <

K: killed someone? > i was playing overwatch with a friend late last night and one of our comp matches there were these two dudes who played tank, one in particular imma call CTL who was rude to me and the whole team (my mic doesnt work so i couldn’t talk back but he was still a bing bond :( ), a few rounds after we left that one we got placed against the two mean tanks, and me, a mercy main with crappy aim, 1v1ed CTL who was playing mccree and i was HAPPY. we lost but binch i teabagged the heck out of his douchy body <

L: love at first sight or should i walk by again? > walk by again im staring at you either way <

M: middle name? > danielle!! <

N: number of siblings? > i have a younger sister!! <

O: one wish? > tbh to be better at what i want to be better at, like someone please give me like a stat 100 potion or something <

P: person you called last? > last person i called was my friend mikey of whom i was playing overwatch with lmao <

R: reasons to smile? > music!!! art!!! alan menken said that there will be a musical production of hercules in the future!! <

S: song you sang last? > the finale of newsies bc my sister left it playing on the tv as i ate nine (9) quesedillas

T: time you woke up? > techinally 6:30 am bc my dog was scratching my door, then 9, then 11 am <

U: underwear color? > mint blue and gray <

V: vacation destination? > i think i would love to go to the places in europe where composers lived, that or i would love to visit every place my internet friends live :D <

W: worst habit? > probably sleeping until noon, forgetting to do important responsibility things, reading a text message/email and then not responding bc i forgot about reading it

X: x-rays? > i got an x-ray on my right arm when i fractured it in kindergarten, some on my stomach when i ate like three whole mangoes with the skin on them, and some of my teeth before i got my braces <

Y: your favorite food? > thai food, stuff from panera bread, or pretty much warm foods with rice <

Z: zodiac sign? > im a virgo!!! <

✨ Fun Facts Tag ✨

Rules for this are:

Have fun with it!

Tag some of your mutuals

1) Favourite colours:

> green or purple!!! or like whatever im feeling lmao but those are my first choices <

2) Favourite song at the moment:

> asdkfjas;ldfkjsdlkfj bro i cant choose okay im going to shuffle my fav songs playlist adn put the first thing that comes up: damdadi by golden child

3) Last book you read:

> i think its my history textbook lmao finals are this week for me <

4) Last TV show you watched:

> my friend’s younger sister showed me clips from Stranger Things but i never have watch it before, i also watched a few dramas at a friend’s house but idk the names of them lmao

5) Last movie you watched:

> oh golly uhhh i think its enemies in-laws on netflix <

6) If you have a pet whats their name?:

> i have a doggo(?) named tucker <

7) If you have siblings how many?

> i have one younger sister!1! <

8) Favourite thing to do on a weekend:

> i think resting, getting up to date with my million notifications, just scrolling through the internet, or writing <

9) Best tumblr friends:

> on tumblr i have the amazing wonderful fantastic showstopping gravity-defying dabtastical @starlightjeongin aka mel aka melly aka melmel aka infant aka like the coolest and raddest person i have ever meet 

10) Favourite thing about yourself:

> idk if this is hard to explain but sometimes i do things people dont expect, like i was using my friend’s neighbor’s airsoft gun and like they were surprised that i have pretty good aim and that just makes me feel really good yknow <

11) Favourite memory:

> back in april 2017, during my band’s new york tour, in our hotel when i asked my friend what she was watching (it was got7′s m/v hard carry)

12) 3 weird habits:

> i turn on all of my nightlights in a specific order, when its dark in my room i like to dance to music and watch myself in the mirror, i tend to randomly scream i think <

13) What would you call your style?:

> i like to wear large clothes, even though im like a medium small bc ahaha i have slight body dysphoria, i also like to wear button-ups from the men’s section that have weird designs, suspenders, and i guess things that make me feel aesthetic and free < 

14) Odd talent:

> i can clap with one hand and me fingers bend weirdly <

15) Do you have a tumblr crush?:

> i have a big ol friend crush on my dear friend mel and a lot on the gr8 ppl of the aroha fandom <

the stray kids tag

Rules: answer the questions in a new post, and tag 10 blogs you would like to get to know better.

I’ve decided that in celebration of Stray Kids pre-debut album I needed to create a tag. The ultimate goal for The Stray Kids Tag is to learn about your Tumblr mutuals, and have fun answering the Stray Kids related questions! Here we go:

1: When did you decide to join the Stray kids fandom?

> lmao i learned about them when it was rumored that jyp was going to have a new boy group, and i followed the updates until the announcement of the webseries/release of hellevator. i didnt want more ppl to remember on my plate until december 30ish when i finally gave in to mel so here i am <

2: What is your favorite episode of Stray Kids? 

> im actually going to watch it right after i finish this tag post lmao ive never watched it before but i think ive seen clips??? when the boys were vlogging themselves packing idk if thats part of the webseries but thats cute <

3: Who would you say is your bias in Stray kids?

> I DONT HAVE ONE OKAY I DONT WANT TO TRY TO FIGURE IT OUT YET IM SCARED i legit like,,, dont know a whole lot about each member but i know their names but,,,,,, i think,,,,, before i start truly getting into them myself,,,, is probably seungmin,,,,, i think,,,,,,,, maybe,,,, whoops i just remembered woojin existed uhhhHHHH idk <

4: Who would you say is your bias wrecker in Stray kids?

> (im listening to ailee’s i will go to you like the first snow rn and im so emo while doing this tag) i love all of them!!!! probs chan or changbin or jeongin bc they are so sweet!!! <

5: What line would you want to be apart of in Stray kids? 

> idk the team compositions of stray kids so i will get back to you on that one until i watch the series lmao <

6: What is the first song you heard of Stray kids?

> of course hellevator lmao <

7: What is the first song you heard of 3racha? 

> FRICK actually i dont know bc melly showed me vids of them performing live but i dont know what the song was :( <

8: What is your favorite song on their pre-debut album?

> legit only have listened to hellevator and grrr so um ill say grrr?? <

9: What is a concept you’d like to see Stray Kids try in the future?

> SUSPENSE!!! idk if that ‘s hard to explain but like something with a story in the background, maybe like a spy concept with a nice orchestration i think they can do it <

10: if you could meet with the members of Stray kids for one day what would you say to them?

> ahhh!!! i dont know they all too too well but i would love to tell them that i feel that they are different from any other kpop group i have ever seen, bc they all seem genuinely happy and they are like the coolest bros and their friendship with each other is something that i could only dream of!! also ive heard that their songs have rad lyrics and they work super hard so i look up to them for that!!!1!!! <

[objectsdeconstructed]

Chapter 1, Tale 2: “Home"

“Now, in the following chapters, Mr. Plankpine wrote down several poems on the brutality and meaninglessness of war, and memoirs regretting the loss of his youth, and innocence, reflecting his post-war attitudes. He kept these anti-war sentiments up until today.”

Of note is the poem on page 753, which is particularly harsh on the Literopian government, and their decision to implement recovery and regeneration technologies in object warfare. These values held by Plankpine led to the heavy censorship of his book, in the years following the war. And that's-

RRIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!

-That's the bell. Well, bye, kids, We'll, uh, continue on with the book on Friday, so, your assignment for today is to do an analysis on page 632 to page 636, detailing Plankpine’s meeting with Dr. Harrison Flasks. Christ, finally.”

Mr. Keyes slammed his book close, and roughly shoved it into his satchel, and with the air of a man who had better things to do, speed-walked out of the room. He had a reputation of being even less excited about school than the kids he taught, and it seemed he wasn't gonna lose said reputation anytime soon.

A moment later, it finally set in for the rest of his classroom that the day was over. John rose from his desk to pack up for the day, as he did so, a metal slat slapped him on the back.

“What the FU-” John turned backwards, his arms out in defense.

“DUDE! WHY THE HELL DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!” Bryan screamed at him.

"What?! What the fuck was that for!?“ John exclaimed, slowly regaining his composure.

“YOUR FUCKING BIRTHDAY! YOU HIT EIGHT-FUCKING-TEEN AND YOU DIDN'T MENTION IT, ON OBJECTCONNECT OR IN REAL LIFE!” Bryan motioned at his phone “WHO DOES THAT?!”

“What- my Birthday?! Oh, GOD. Who told you ‘bout that? Jesus. I- I told you! I don't like celebrating my birthdays! Haven't done one since- I was 14, man.”

“Yeah! But it's your 18th birthday! It's special! It's- you're officially a grown-up!”

“Heh, doesn't feel like it. I feel like nothing's different. I'm still confused about almost everything, and I still feel tired all the time. I don't get additional rights or anything. Look, just drop it, okay? I'm 18. Yes. It's not that big of a deal, everyone hits 18.” John turned to his backpack.

“Okay, but- Look, man, why are you so against birthdays! It's the best! You get free shit, free cake! What kinda object hates birthdays?”

“Well, I guess the novelty of me being alive wore off a while ago, sorry, man. Bye, I'm leaving.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever, okay. Well, don't be sorry when you don't get a present from me, J.”

“I'm too old for presents, man.”

John continued packing for a few seconds before he realized that Bryan wasn't leaving.

“...Can I help you? Or are you just gonna stand there. Like, I'm being creeped out.”

“Oh, uh, sorry. Tony, good ol' Tony told me to hand you this.” Bryan slipped John a piece of paper. It felt warm to the touch, as if recently printed.

“Again? How many time is this?” John snatched the paper, inspecting it.

Bryan didn't reply, he was already heading for the exit.

“Oh, and, when you get online, DM me.” Bryan waved back.

John slipped the poster into backpack, headed to his locker, and retrieved his school-issued key, and headed headed to the school entrance.

John's school entrance consisted of a regular gate, to allow entry and access into the building itself, but to the side, there lies a sleek, metallic building, where rows upon rows of objects were standing in line, one by one, they were entering the building.

John pocketed his key, and got in the nearest line to him, and waited for his turn. He waited as familiar and unfamiliar objects went past him, and entered the building, some of them waving to him before entering the place.

Finally, the crowd began to thin, and it was finally his turn. John entered the building, and walked into a small hallway, with a bunch of doors. He retrieved his key, and inserted it into the door in front of him, and it opened. Inside was a small booth, slightly smaller than a public toilet. It contained an empty tray on one side, and a timer with a button on another. John walked into the room, the door locking into place as he did so, shutting out all outside noises, and shrouding him in momentary darkness. A light inside the booth turned on, illuminating the place.

John removed his backpack, and clothes, and placed them on the tray. He pressed the button, and the timer started.

5 seconds.

John wondered what they he was going to have for dinner today.

4 seconds.

Maybe pumpkin soup again? John liked pumpkin soup.

3 seconds.

John wondered why Bryan wanted him to DM him. Maybe that bot account  updated?

2 seconds.

John suddenly became aware that he hadn't kept track of the bot account as much as he'd like. Realizing this, he made a mental note to do so as soon as he got on the net.

1 second.

John grimaced and braced himself. Nowadays, the process doesn't feel like anything, but he still hated the brightness.

A flash of light erupted in the room, evaporating all things inside the room, yet leaving the walls untouched. It obliterated everything of John's body and his belongings, and John was no more.

But John's consciousness lived on. He felt himself in the dark, weightless, deaf, blind, mute, formless, floating in mid-air. Then, a light appeared, as though seen through a tunnel, it rapidly approached him, and he was enveloped in the light.

John opened his eyes to find himself in the booth again, with his clothes and backpack on a tray next to him, his body a little warmer, lacking a few kinks and cramps, a few ink stains on him that were there previously wasn't there anymore. He put his clothes back on, and his backpack, and left the booth.

He was in a building much like the one he'd been in, but he wasn't at school anymore, he was a block away from his home.

“Man,” John thought, for the thousandth time, “These things are really convenient”.

____________________________________________________________

John logged into his ObjectConnect account to find a bunch of notifications from his friends. He clicked through all of them.

Yup. That's Anna. You’ve actually never met Anna in real life, so you wonder if she's as... chipper there as she is here online.

Yup. That's Tony. You actually HAVE met Tony in real life, being that he's your classmate. And you can say with absolute certainty that he hates conversation online as much as he does in real life.

Now to DM Bryan, like he asked.

Bryan, strangely, is nothing like his real life self on the net. He's simply more polite, or more articulate. For most people, the anonymity given to them worsen their behaviors. For Bryan, it had the complete opposite effect.

Now, what does he have to say?

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

____________________________________________________________

The next day, Bryan was absent. John’s skepticism grew, maybe Bryan was just pulling his leg? No, Bryan was a practical joker, a shitposter, and other things, but he hated lying. So could it be that Bryan was really onto something? That Bryan really had info on the Literopian government's misdeeds, crimes, and everything else they tried to keep under wraps? That he possessed what conspiracy theorists everywhere considered to be the holy grail?

As days grew into weeks, and as Bryan failed to show up at school, or to respond to John's messages, skepticism turned to worry, and worry turned to paranoia. Had they silenced Bryan? No, they couldn't have, could they? They're the government, they very well could have just assassinated Bryan. He could've been killed moments after that last text he sent John.

But John also knew that Bryan would have known the risks, too. For a long time, he had been skeptical of the Literopian government. Maybe he's gone into hiding? John would later ask Mr. Keyes the reason for Bryan's continued absent. Mr. Keyes told John that Bryan was on an extended family trip.

Bryan hated going outdoors. So, either this was a lie from his assassins, or it was cover-up for Bryan going into hiding.

But after a month, and Bryan wasn’t back yet, John quickly focused his paranoia on himself: Bryan had told him about his discoveries. If ObjectConnect was really in league with the Literopian government, then could he be silenced?

But John hadn't time to really process that concept, for his problems were soon replaced with another.

That day, when John returned home, he looked at the house, it was quiet and solemn. Something was wrong. He stood outside his abode, wondering whether he should enter or not, when Larson opened the door.

“...Heya, kid.” Larson muttered, his voice was thin, there was no hint of the energetic spark that was once there.

“Larson? Something wrong? You look like shit.” John said, chuckling nervously.

“...Sorry. Heh, I do feel like shit, though. Enter quietly, and follow me. Mom's asleep. Bad day.” Larson opened the door wider.

As John entered, he noticed Susan peering down at him from her room through the slightly opened door. Her face was wet. They made eye contact, and Susan quickly slammed the door shut.

“...You uh, you probably don't read the news much, kid?” Larson enquired.

“What's wrong with Susan?” John pointed at Susan's room.

“Nothing.” Larson waved him away, “Bad day. Look. I'll be blunt. Today has been shitty as fuck.”

“Lars. What the hell is going on?”

Larson didn't reply. John followed him to... John's room.

“Larson, come on, what did I do?”

“Nothing, it's... Look, get in.”

Larson went in the room. John followed, closing the door behind him.

“Sorry, John. Just needed some sound-proofing. Don't need to wake Liam up again. Ugh.” Larson groaned.

“Larson. What the fuck is going on? Why is Susan crying? And mom never sleeps at this hour.”

“She spent the last hour in a screaming match with a government agent. That's what happened.” Larson said flatly.

Something caught in John's throat. He felt like throwing up.

“A g- government agent? What, am I being arrested or...” John forced a chuckle. Was this it? Were they here to kill him?

“No, no, you are not, unfortunately.” Larson cracked a weak smile, “But it's uh, not good news. Look, kid. I won't sugar-coat it. You know the Age Bill?”

“Uh, yeah, kind of. There was a buzz about it a few months ago, about it being passed.”

“Well, you know how it was super vague and people were upset at it for a while?”

“Yup. What happened?”

“Well...” Larson rubbed his temples. “It just came into effect. And they just cleared up a bunch of things. Really bad things.”

“What kinda things?”

Larson didn't respond for a while.

“The Age Bill’s details reveals that the Literopian government's enacting a protocol. A relocation protocol. They're randomly selecting “contestants", anyone of age from 18 to 25, and they're forcing them to undergo an advanced 24-months long course to determine who gets to stay behind and who has to be relocated. They're taking away our recovery and regeneration rights if we do get relocated.” Larson said, in a single breath. “Literopia's getting too crowded, they said.”

The two were silent for a while.

“They're... taking away our regeneration rights?” John spoke up.

“Yes.”

...

“...18 to 25. We got selected, didn’t we?”

“That's what the agent said.”

“Damn.”

...

“Out of the entire neighborhood, we're the only ones who got selected.” Larson mused, chuckling. “Fucking unlucky.”

“So, we're gonna have to leave?”

“Yes. You and me.”

“But... we just need to get through the course and we'll get to stay, right?”

“They're not making it easy”, Larson sighed. “Overpopulation’s been a pain in the world's ass for a while. This protocol, will definitely make it so that the majority is relocated. If most of the “contestants" gets to stay, the problem still remains, right?”

“Why do you keep using the words “Contestant”?’

“That's what they said in the official bill announcement, this evening. You should really start watching the news. “Think of it as a contest, and you're the contestants”, they said. They fucking compared people fighting to live to participants in a game show. Fucking crazy.”

...

“So I that the odds are against us.”

“Yup.”

...

“What about school, and work?”

“To hell with school. You've only got a few months left anyways. And for work, mandatory paid leave for the entire duration. At least I still get to support Mom and the kids, even though we're away from home, so that's good.”

...

“When are we going?”

“Next month. We'll get on a bus, and get taken there.”

...

“...but... if we do get relocated, then where will we be relocated to?”

Larson sighed, and stood up. His limbs were wobbly. “The same place where the rest of the world dumps their unwanted trash and waste,” Larson said. “They're relocating us to goddamn Foodsworth.”

[spongeekat]

The 6 Times Peter Wanted To Reveal his Identity (And the 1 Time He Did) Chapter 2

read on ao3

Masterlist Here

As always, HUGE thank you to my beta reader @alurkerofnote who was super patient during my busy ass weekend! 

Day 2- Monday

“Peter?”

“Five more minutes, May…”

“Peter, dude, your phone won’t stop buzzing and the professor is getting annoyed.”

Professor? Shit.

Peter shot instantly awake, the blurry image of Mary Jane’s fire red hair permeating his sleep-heavy eyes. He gingerly picked his sore body up until he was sitting up, wiping the moisture that had gathered on his forehead away. As promised, the professor was making direct eye contact with him while she continued to speak, and her finger pointed sharply at Peter’s cell sitting on the edge of his desk. Sheepishly, he retrieved it and mouthed an apology. His thumbs drug the notification screen down, finding a few texts from an unknown number. He absently tried to listen to the lecture, but he must have slept through quite a few key concepts, because he had no idea what was being discussed. Well, just another night he’d have to spend teaching himself from the textbook.

Curiously he swiped until he arrived at his texting app, and the harassment he was receiving suddenly made sense.

hey petey-pie checkin in since u didnt message me

luv dp

u getting these???????? is this a fake number?

pls tell me u didnt die.

hellooooooooooooooo

im gonna sing until you answer

since uve been gone i been lost without a trace

i dream at night only i can see ur face

i look around but its u i cant replace

i feel so cold and i long 4 ur embrace

i keep cryin baby BABY PLEASE

OH CANT U SEEEEEEE

holy fuck balls this dude wont put down his gun ill finish the song later but pleeaaaaseee text me back <3 or ill come over

That last text was sent 3 minutes ago, and Peter could only imagine his poor next door neighbors’ faces if Deadpool decided to show up at their door. He hurriedly typed up a reply before that chance even came close to becoming reality, trying to ignore the romantic connotations of the song.

Sorry. In class. I’m doing fine. Not dead. Please don’t stop by. I live next to an elderly Hispanic woman that would have a heart attack if she saw you.

There was a uniform page turn in the rows surrounding him, and he took that as his cue to flip the page in his book. Wade hadn’t responded yet, and Peter briefly considered dipping out of school to make sure Mrs. Moreno wasn’t calling the police if Wade really had decided to show up.

i was calling my ride but im glad to hear back from u

do u need anything??

warm milk, a big hug, an xbox one?

“Who are you texting? You look like a dork.”

Mary Jane’s whispers distracted Peter from his stupor, and he realized then he had a grin tugging at his lips that had only appeared upon reading his texts. He wiped the stupid look from his face and sucked in a breath to give a well-thought out reply. “No one.”

“Ah.” The redhead pressed the tip of her pen against her rosy lips, giving Peter a knowing smile that had heat crawling up his neck. “A guy?”

“Oh my god, MJ, it’s not like that. I’m just on an app.” Peter whispered back more insistently, flipping his phone over on the desk. “Just funny pictures.”

“Mhmmm.” Mary Jane’s hum was too insincere, and it was clear she wasn’t about to let this go. “Well, you should get back to your ‘funny pictures’ before they disappear.”

“I will.” Peter murmured and swiped his phone from the desk, tucking it back under the edge of the desk. His eyes read over Wade’s texts a few more times, a few different responses dancing on his fingertips, before he finally decided to type.

I’ll be fine. Thanks for checking in.

In truth, these past few weeks had been brutal. Between tensions building in the city, accompanied by the rise of crime, and the press being hot on his ass every time he missed an opportunity to bring someone in to justice, he had been missing sleep and stressing harder about trying to become a more efficient hero in the city. The meal that Wade had forced on him was the first time he’d even touched real food in almost 2 weeks. Being pressured to have a ‘night-in’ had taken quite a lot of stress off of Peter’s shoulders for at least a day, but it also meant his body realized he was willing to let it rest for a little bit and was fighting him to try to catch up on more sleep. While the night before had been completely humiliating, it had been relaxing to be taken care of. For a little bit he and Wade had acted like more than a set of heroes, and the memory of his kindness was still burning hot in his mind.

But he wouldn’t let this go on for longer than a day. It was wrong to lie to him, even if it felt this good to pretend.

----

Being Spider-Man was simultaneously the biggest stressor and most freeing part of Peter’s day.

Saving lives and stopping crimes ranging from petty car thieves to mutant bank robbers was difficult. Balancing two lives that intermingled more often than Peter would have liked was even more difficult, often lying to the people he cared about the most just to keep them safe. It was hard navigating the grey-area between morally just and lawfully sound, and there were multiple occasions in which he felt like a criminal running from police after just busting a potential felon doing potentially bad things. He operated more along the lines of a vigilante than a hero in most cases, and it took a severe toll on his mental health. Especially lately, when the city seemed to be getting more dangerous as the presence of superpowered people increased, he had been slandered in media every which direction. Even Mary Jane praising his decisions had stopped helping. He felt like he was starting to become completely alone in the heroing thing.

And then there were the nights he was over the moon with ecstasy; adrenaline buzzing low in his ears, wind rushing up the corners of his mask and breezing over his lips, his webs snapping out from his wrists and catching his fall in perfect rhythm so he soared through the low city buildings like a bullet, his worries and stress melting off every second he spent in the air. Peter’s own personal drama and angst seemed to matter less when his focus was on helping others. No matter what was happening in his own life, he left it on the sill of his bedroom window. When he was out on the streets he was Spider-Man, not a kid struggling to keep his head above water. He had strength, allies, and a will to do good. Grades and sleep felt way less important than his obligation to New York.

Still, there were slip ups. Sometimes his lives intermingled uncomfortably close and he was left covering for both of his personas.

Peter didn’t expect Deadpool to be at this fight. His fists were preoccupied knocking a goon on his ass when the sharp zing of sharpened metal cut close to his ear. His spidey senses hadn’t gone off, warning him of the impending sword, and when he jut his chin back to check who was behind him, he knew why. They never went off when he was around Wade anymore, because he wasn’t in danger around him.

That didn’t stop the anxiety that flooded his chest cavity a second later, however. He had gotten close to making a smartass comment so they could commence their banter that took place during every fight, when the memory of who he was under the mask- who Wade was now acquainted with- hit him hard.

Shit.

“You weren’t planning to keep a good fight like this from bad ol’ me, were you? Spidey, I’m shocked!” Wade greeted as he kicked back one of the men running at him with a bat, slicing the object in two. He’d gotten pretty good at the injuring and the take-downs without the actual murder. Peter grunted in response, maintaining his focus on jabbing, webbing, and jumping out of the way when his instincts called for it. “And here I was, hoping I’d see that tight butt come swinging past me tonight.”

“Not now.” Peter muttered, ducking just in time to miss getting his skull bashed in by a dude with a crowbar. Why crowbars? Why were henchmen so obsessed with their crowbars?

“Aww, okay, I see. You’re mad at me. Was it for ditching you last night? Because I swear, I was doing good! See, there was this kid about to do a triple flip face plant into the asphalt behind my apartment, and I really wanted to make sure he was okay, ‘cause he was alone and it was late and stuff, and-”

“Can you not talk for like, a second?” Peter didn’t mean to use such an aggressive tone, especially not on Wade who deserved it the least, but hearing Wade talk about him to him when he didn’t even mean to… it was making his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He slammed his knuckles into the jaw of one of the larger men surrounding him, receiving a crack in return. Oof, that would leave a bruise.

“Oooookay, Spider-ooni. I’ll let you focus.” Wade forfeited easily, catching a heavily swung and splintering 2 x 4 with his forearm.

Peter released a satisfied sigh that he didn’t really mean, his lean body hopping out of the way of a kick to the side before he shot a web at the attacker’s face.

---

The fight only lasted another few minutes. The goons, that had decided to test their pride rather than flee the scuffle they were at a clear disadvantage in, ended up face-down on the pavement, hands bound in web-handcuffs, and with a few broken noses or crooked arms scattered among them. Peter had been a bit too forceful tonight, he could admit, but it had been hard enough to focus on reeling in his strength when there was someone else on his brain.

And then said man had showed up and blew his head right open.

They were currently kicked back on a vacant apartment balcony, Peter sitting on the rails while Wade stood a few feet away but very much present, pulling off his gloves to assess the extent of the blood stains on his armor. It was chilly, and Peter knew he’d have to head home soon, but he couldn’t really deny Wade’s invitation to hang out for a little bit after all he had done for him the night before.

Even if Wade didn’t know he was the same kid he’d been ‘saving.’.

“Soooo…” Wade cut into his thoughts, his voice drawing Peter’s attention back to the surface. He glanced over at his fighting partner, surprised to see his face aiming off somewhere else. Wade acting timid was an odd sight. “You okay?”

“Huh?” Peter’s stomach churned and he blinked, even if the action was hidden by lenses. “Yeah?” No. “Why?”

“You’ve been acting funny, that's all.” Wade shrugged, and tucked his arms up against the balcony to lean on the rails. “You avoided me like all last week.”

“What? No I didn’t.” Peter said defensively, confusion clear in his voice. He had been making his plans for days, and sure, that may have lead to him feeling too awkward to really hang around Wade, but they just hadn’t seen each other that was all.

He hadn’t made an effort to find him until that night, though, either.

Wade paused, as if he was thinking of responding but decided against it, before his tone changed and he seemed to drop it all together. “Well, it’s okay, I did a lil’ heroing on my own anyways.”

“Oh really?” Peter asked with awkward amusement, tucking his ankles between the vertical railings to keep his balance a little better.

“Yup. I stopped a kid from killing himself and I’ve been checking up on him every day. I figured you’d be proud of me since you like all that righteous stuff.”

“So you only did it to impress me?” Peter asked flatly.

“What? No no no, Spidey, I did it because I didn’t wanna watch another good person die alone. Plus, if he was like bad or something I wasn’t gonna try very hard, but he was really hot- which I know, is totally shitty to think since he was getting ready to dive, but he just seemed like a depressed nerd and I guess that might kinda be my type. Actually, that’s not entirely true, because I like when someone can make me laugh, and long walks on the beach, and...”

Peter felt a tinge of jealousy in his stomach at his description of the boy he’d saved, which was ridiculous, considering it was him. He tuned out of Wade’s ramblings and squeezed tighter onto the railing, feeling the metal bending under his fingers. Maybe it was better to keep his identities secret. After all, Wade seemed so proud of himself for ‘helping’ Peter. Was it worth taking that away? He could just avoid Wade in his personal life. The man would give up if he realized his efforts weren’t being reciprocated and Peter stopped serving as entertainment.

That’s probably all he was. Charity fused with an audience.

“...But I guess that’s why I dated that crazy chick two years ago. She had a super cute face but she was also obsessed with ending the patriarchy and killing men. I think she stabbed me a few times in my sleep, too. But I guess crazy and crazy make a great match. Even if we ended pretty badly.”

“I think I’m gonna head back.” Peter announced, tucking his toes underneath himself until he was stood on the fence. Wade straightened, looking up at him inquisitively from the balcony floor. “I have an early morning.”

“We’ll meet up tomorrow night, though, right?” Wade asked hopefully.

“We’ll see.” Peter murmured, before he shot web fibers off into the dark and took off with a leap.

[imagines-hoarder]

Surprise Visit (Pt 2)- Derek Hale/ Big Bros Sam & Dean Winchester (TW/SPN Crossover)

Request// Can you please do part two of surprise visit? -@imadangerouscause

*So this was sent to me by that beautiful person above 2 months ago, and sadly I’m just now getting to it, I hope you enjoy it and aren't so mad at me xoxox*

Masterlist

(Part 1)

“So the rooms are clean and there’s beer in the fridge,” Derek reassured you as you watched over your phone.

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. We shouldn’t have done this,” you said, nibbling on your nails.

Derek gave a low chuckle as he came up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. “They’re your brothers, Y/N. They’d show up whether we wanted them to or not.”

Usually you would be taking the role of the joyous host while Derek would try to think of a reason to uninvite any guests to the loft, but Sam and Dean were different circumstances. Who knew that your overprotective brothers would love your overprotective boyfriend (possibly even more than they loved you)? While Sam and Derek became close after helping one another with information on the supernatural, you teased your oldest brother about his bromance with Derek. Dean and Derek would be texting back and forth constantly about cars, and sports, and you so much that Derek would be more likely to know where they were in the country than you.

You were pulled from your thoughts as soon as you heard the impala roll into the parking lot below and you phone vibrated with a notification. We’re here.

The moment you unlatched the front door, both boys came storming in and greeted Derek warmly, which was nice considering it wasn’t that long ago that Dean was holding a gun up at Derek. You cleared your throat, trying to gain the men’s attention.

“Well, finally we see you again. If it wasn’t for Derek, we’d think you were dead and have to come back sooner than later,” Sam stated with a light laugh.

“...which wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Dean added. Both boys moved in to give you a tight hug, their scent almost overwhelming you with relief of being reunited with them. After they finally let go of you, Derek offered to take their bags upstairs so the three of you could catch up. You moved to give him a kiss before he left, earning an eye roll from Dean. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to ask you to refrain from all the PDA while we’re here.”

“Sorry that he’s my boyfriend and not yours, Dean,” you said sarcastically before turning away, but not before hearing him scoff behind you.

“There’s not much about nogitsunes out there, Derek. I mean, most people who’ve had an encounter with it are either dead or driven to insanity,” you heard Sam explaining as you walked out of the kitchen.

“I’d be lying I said I was expecting any different. We don’t even-”

You interrupted Derek’s response with one of your own. “Food’s ready.”You found the three boys sitting on and around the desk with book scattered across it and Sam’s laptop glowing brightly in the center.

“We’ll be there in a second, Y/N. We’re just trying to tie up some loose ends,” Dean replied, distracted by your father’s journal in front of him.

“You said the same thing 20 minutes ago, and if we wait any longer, the food will get cold.” You placed one hand on your hips and the other rested on Derek’s shoulder. “You can spend all night researching together, but I’ll be damned if I let that pie go to waste.”

You managed to get them all to the table after you brought up pie, especially since it was cherry. After the food was served, the table remained silent for a while, everyone stuck in their own thoughts and their mouths stuffed. It was Sam who broke the silence.

“So, what’s next now that you’ve graduated, Y/N,” you looked over to Sam and finished chewing before you answered.

“I don’t know yet, we’ve never been ones to plan ahead, you know?”

“You could always come back on the road with us.” You tensed at the idea. It had been a long, long time since you had gone on a hunt, especially with your brothers, and while you missed them, you knew that road trips weren’t in the cards for you anymore.

“The one thing I do know for sure is that I’m staying here,” you proclaimed calmly. “I’ve got my pack, my job,” you reached under the table looking for Derek’s hand. You felt your tension resolve and his large hand locked with yours. “I’ve got Derek too. This is my home now, Sam.” He nodded knowingly but not despairingly.

“I’ve gotta say, Y/N,” Dean began as he finished his second piece of pie. “Derek’s a good guy, even though I wanted to put a silver bullet through his head at first.” Dean really was one to lighten the mood…

“Well, I can say for a fact that I’m glad you didn’t kill me on the spot,” Derek chimed in jokingly. You all held up your bottles for a mock toast and the rest of the dinner continued with playful banter.

You had just finished drying the silverware when Derek came into the kitchen and wrapped him arms around you, engulfing you in his scent per usual. “Let’s take a walk.” You raised your eyebrows and looked back at him as you put the last knife away.

“I thought you guys were doing research. You sure you have time for your poor, ole girlfriend?” He smiled gently down at you and nodded towards the front door, pulling you along with him.

Before you knew it, the two of you were walking down a back path in the woods, fingers intertwined and steps insync. You two had started taking long walks together after you both were labeled in a serious relation, subsequently after Sam and Dean had found you keeping a low profile in Beacon Hills. Sometime you would talk. Other times you’d be surrounded by silence, but either way you were comfortable.

“What’s on your mind, Der?” You finally asked. “I thought only serial killers took girls out for midnight walks in the forest, but of all people, you should know that I can easily defend myself now.” You laughed quietly as he rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not going to murder you, Y/N. Even though I’m the stronger werewolf, Dean would kill me before I could even come up with an excuse why you didn't come back with me.”

“Nah, I think he likes you more than me, now. You’re part of the family.” He came to a complete halt and looked at you, letting go of your hand as you came face to face. “Babe, are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

He shook his head as he looked off into the distance only momentarily. “You didn’t say anything wrong, Y/N. In fact, you said exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Your brows scrunched in confusion. Derek had never been the one to speak in riddles. “I don’t under- oh my God..” Your mind went blank as you he bent down on one knee, pulling out a tiny fabric box in the process.

“Y/N Winchester, this thing has been burning a hole in my pocket for months now. I don’t remember the exact moment I knew I was in love with you, but I bought this the moment that I realized that I can’t imagine living another day not knowing that I’ll spend the rest of my life with you. I had to ask for your brothers’ permission in person first or Dean surely would have pulled the trigger this time when he found out. So,” he began as he opened to small box, tears spilling quickly from your eyes as your body shook in excitement and emotional relief. “Would you be willing to marry a stubborn man like me and become Y/N Hale?”

You were nodding your head in approval and fell into his arms before he even finished the sentence. “Yes, God yes, Der!” You wrapped your arms around him and your finger found home in his dark locks. “A million times yes!”

He leaned back and wiped a couple stray tears from your eyes. “We should have invited your brothers back a lot sooner,” he joked.

[tebbyclinic11]

Phone Etiquette Rules The World Needs Right Now

New Post has been published on http://kitchengadgetsreviews.com/phone-etiquette-rules-the-world-needs-right-now/

Phone Etiquette Rules The World Needs Right Now

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Listen, people. We’re in crisis times here. We’ve become a nation of blithering blue-lit automatons who can barely peel our eyeballs off our shiny screen objects to acknowledge another human person within our breathing space.

Dinnertime—you know, the ritual of human-to-human bonding since time immemorial—has warped into an American tableau of disfunction and disconnection, with entire families tinkering on their phones instead of engaging with the people right there in front of them. And the same goes for friend dates.

We’ve all been there. You’ve gone back and forth and back and forth to set a date. You get to the restaurant, sit down, and your friend asks you a question about LIFE. But before you can get halfway through your first sentence, she’s checking her phone for extremely urgent updates such as a new like on the 5746th Instagram of her pug. Or maybe you are that friend, texting and tweeting while an array of small plates go cold. We’ve all been there too.

We clearly need help with this phones-at-dinner thing. So, I called up manners experts Amy Alkon, whose most recent book is Unf*ckology: A Field Guide to Living with Guts and Confidence, and Nancy Mitchell, author of Etiquette Rules! A Field Guide to Modern Manners. Here are the new rules for dinner etiquette in the age of smartphones.

The First Step is Admitting You Have a Problem

“Our phones are designed to be electronic drugs,” says Alkon, whose advice stems from evidence-based social science. “They trigger an intermittent reinforcement response.” According to Alkon, in a study with rats and cocaine, the rats that reliably got cocaine every time they pressed on a lever, stopped pressing the lever, while rats that only got cocaine intermittently would press the lever all the time. When we get the occasional Instagram like or Twitter retweet, that’s intermittent reinforcement and it makes us want to check our phones all the time. So, your first step is admitting that you—like a rat with an unreliable cocaine lever 🤷🏻—are addicted to dumb social-media feedback.

Brian Finke

These waffles need your respect. Put the phone down!

Start with a Plan, Man

It’s hard to wing fighting off temptation in the moment, especially later in the day when our will power is depleted. “Think ahead of time how to minimize the use of your phone,” says Mitchell. “Take the calls you need to take, visit the websites, and send the texts before you get to the restaurant.” If there is some rare reason for which you can’t wait a full hour or two to check your phone, then do it on your way to the bathroom or let your friends know the pressing reason and do it quickly after finishing your mains.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

“Putting your phone on the table advertises that the virtual world is more interesting than the people at the table,” says Mitchell. If you put your phone in a bag or a jacket pocket, you won’t automatically reach for it anytime it buzzes, flashes, or rings. Alkon puts her phone on airplane mode anytime she goes out to dinner. Unless you’re a cardiac surgeon or fireman, which, let’s be real, most of us aren’t, yours should be on silent at least. And if you’re a parent, who needs it near “just in case!,” then turn off all the notifications for your apps—the latest Twitter alert isn’t an update from your babysitter and shouldn’t be treated as one.

Alex Lau

Dudes, your faces are glowing.

Don’t Kill the Vibe

“These restaurants work very hard to set up an environment,” Alkon notes. “Don’t give someone epilepsy with repeated flashes.” This is an important point, for camera flashes as well as general screen brightness. The other night, I was waiting in a packed entryway of a busy restaurant getting partially blinded by some guy’s phone with the brightness cranked up to burning-surface-of-the-sun levels. What was this man’s vital reason for exposing half the restaurant to this obnoxious glare? He was writing a comment on Facebook. Remember, when you’re in a dark, ambient restaurant checking your phone, everyone else around you is forced to check it too.

Be in the Now, My Dudes

“All these people are talking about mindfulness meditation, but you don’t have to lay on the floor for an hour,” says Alkon. “We can choose to have lives that are connected and engaged and in the moment.” That means paying attention to what people at the table are saying instead of mouthing “just one minute” while you check your phone for the zillionth time. “It’s mean and unkind,” says Alkon, to make your friends feel ignored.

Michael Graydon & Nikole Herriott

Take the photo of your porridge at Sqirl—then put it away!

But What About Food Photos?

Right about now, many of you might be asking, but what about Instagramming? Isn’t that what we all do? Sure, take your phone out when a dish comes around, take your photo, and then put it away. You can edit and post it in the Uber ride home. Done and done. You don’t need to tweet, text, or compulsively check your phone through the meal to see how many likes you’ve racked up. And it also doesn’t hurt, once in awhile, to go completely Instagram-free for a meal and enjoy your damn food while it’s still hot.

And Hey, Meet a Stranger, They Don’t Bite

“We’ve cut ourselves off from spontaneous encounters,” says Mitchell. “People are losing the ability to make small talk and basic communication skills are suffering.” It used to be that people would talk to strangers at the bar or in line, but now many people are too busy swiping left and right on virtual potential that they’re missing the real-world opportunities right in front of them. It’s still possible!

Alex Lau

We’re pretty sure she’s telling him to put the phone down here.

What About Your Friends?

Okay, so what if you have perfect phone habits, while your unwashed friends turn group dinners into silent retreats back into the virtual reality cult. There are a few different approaches to take. You can go with the ‘ol “phones stacking” challenge, in which everyone puts their phone in a neat little pile on the table and the first person to reach for his or hers has to pay the bill. You can also try, as Mitchell suggests, to broach the subject before sitting down by telling everyone that you’re going phone-free for the meal and would appreciate if they’d do the same. This also goes for dinner parties: Be the change you want to see in the world and announce that you, a hero, are leaving your phone in your coat pocket.

How to Handle That One Friend Perpetually Glued to the Screen

And what about that one friend who is always scrolling Instagram and tweeting observations about life’s hilarious little quirks as if a Seinfeld-like break depends on it? Whatever you do, don’t shame someone in the moment. Alkon says this triggers the same chemical response as fight or flight mode and people can get defensive. Instead take your friends aside at another time and let them know about how you feel when they’re staring at their always-available electronic devices instead of making the most of your QT together.

The Takeaway

What this all comes down to is being mindful of your phone use. “The basics of etiquette is thinking about how your behavior impacts other people,” says Mitchell. And it’s also thinking about how your phone compulsion affects you. At the end of the day, no one gives awards speeches or death-bed farewells about their social-media followers, so let’s keep it that way. Put your damn phone down and just eat with your real-world friends. Your notifications about your pug Instagrams and incredibly on-point Twitter gifs will be waiting for you when you’re done.

For your next (phones-free) dinner party:

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