#and i need to hope that i get the same employee discount I got last time (I do not work for this store but Im working in the same mall)

[an--artistic--autistic]

let's see how long executive dysfunction will kick my ass before stress let's me do all the tasks that need to be done in the next 10 hours

[goon-writes-her-thoughts]

Wasted Potential & Self-Indugent Sadness Part 1

Google Doc from December 2022

In adulthood, we often find ourselves staying in a rut of what we know we’re good at. By the time you’re solidly in your 20s and the last glisten of hope has dulled from your eyes, you forget you’re capable of doing anything else. As for me, I’ve gone from retail job to retail job. The building might change but it’s all the same. I’ve known for a while that I’m good with people and that I can convince them to buy anything if I use my words right. Upon starting at this new mall, I noticed that hasn’t changed.

Long gone are my dreams of following in my father’s footsteps. A few broken ribs shattered my dreams of fixing air planes in the Forces. After that, I went through a depressive haze for a year and a half, never certain of what day it was or where my next pack of smokes was coming from. In the time between my dreams of joining the Forces becoming fleeting memories and the onslaught of Covid-19 and it’s variants, I got myself out of the haze enough to get cuffed and medicated for bipolar. From there, things started to look up but not in the way they were when I was to join the forces.

Since the depressing revelation that I’d never be fixing airplanes, I’ve been bouncing around from customer service gig to customer service gig. Some I’ve loved, others I’ve hated but mostly those I’ve just been neutral towards, allowing myself to trick myself into feeling satisfied by hearing my manager telling me I’m a good doobie. I find myself starting a new job every half year or so when I learn all there is to know about one and get bored with it. In customer service, every day is more or less the same. Put on a friendly face, fill some baskets with stuff no one needs and herd them out like cattle in a little under 5 minutes. 

Whenever I start a new gig, my monkey brain deludes myself into thinking it will be different. I won’t be just another bloodsucking shill here, no, no, certainly not.  Surely I’ll be getting customers to buy what they secretly desire. Bullshit; any job where I sell things will be the same. It’s simple irony that I’m a decent sales woman. I’m a character in the spending addiction of the masses, propped up in a store like the leech I really am. Getting people to sign up for a rewards account, like I don’t know the corporation will be sending them alluring emails and texts about sales, as though they’re Eve conversing with the serpent. I am a serpent, hell bent on taking advantage of Eves. 

Yes, I’ve resigned myself to this life. Convincing people that their credit card debt is worth it for what I’m selling while I desperately try to pay back what I owe to my own creditors. Sales is for suckers on either side of the counter. With company discounts and free product, the employees are built into the profit model just as well as the customers. I’ve resigned myself to a life of getting berated over a few measly cents, a life of telling people they look good to make a quick sale, and standing on concrete floors for hours and hours while I make money for the CEO.

You see, once you get sucked into a comfort zone, you’re blinded. You’re in your own little rut, rotting away, incapable of the self reflection to be disappointed in yourself. I had dreams before I entered the bleak and dull workforce, I’ve been over this, but it’s devastating enough to repeat this notion. It isn’t until you’re reminded of those dreams that they surface in your mind, but even then, the thoughts are different. No longer are your dreams attainable if you work hard. No longer are they something you aim to work towards.

The emotions towards these dreams now are bitter and laced with remorse. God forbid I see someone my age in the Forces or someone I knew in passing in law school.  The bitter and angry jealousy that thinly disguises my disappointment and dissatisfaction in myself haunts me for days at a time. Hearing of a celebrity my age publishing a book might as well be a one way ticket into a manic episode. The whole thing just reminds me of my once bright future, the potential that everyone saw in me. 

Even now, I’ve perused journalism programs. One last way I can follow in my father’s footsteps I guess, though largely motivated by reading Thompson. I’d love to dip my toes into that world and see what’s there. Id love to experience the rush of the scrum on Parliament Hill or be in some VIP’s entourage or even just be minor coverage at the Grey Cup. I did the freelance thing for a while, though it was copywriting for sketchy-at-best clientele. I enjoyed it well enough, but I was hardly thrilled with the shilling. It’s not journalism if you’re specifically instructed to be so biased that you only include links that sell some sort of gizmo. Naturally, even when I found a job writing, doing something I love, I was still in sales, still shilling, and still wasting that potential my family loves to remind me I once had.

I stopped copywriting soon after I started. I’d realized quite suddenly that the only way to make a living at it was to write drivel regarding the life changing effects of boner pills and reviews for products I’d never seen in my life. I don’t have much pride at all, but my Google search history isn’t something I’m willing to sacrifice for a measly 15 bucks. Besides that, I found a couple of other issues with the lifestyle of working from home. The key thing was that I was getting cabin fever, in my pyjamas day in and day out, only leaving the abode for groceries.

The other big issue was that I had no desire to shill. My work could have just as easily come from an artificial intelligence, scouring through the same information I used just in a faster, less dyslexic manner. There was no emotion, no grip and most certainly no personal experience. It was hardly even puff pieces, it was just tripe written in a caffeine-induced haze making little to no sense for clickbait articles about off-brand viagra.

[staygoldwriting]

Cousin Buckley: Part 3

Summary: You’re Robin’s cousin, and you’ve stolen the hearts of Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson 🖤💜

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: none, just fluff!

Word count: 1201

A/N: I am having so much fun writing these, you guys! Thank you so much for all of the love, support, comments, reblogs, notes, follows, everything! It means so much, and I can’t wait to continue on with this series ��� I’m currently navigating the taglist, so I apologize for any problems!

“Welcome to Family Video!”

Robin opened the doors dramatically as you three stepped in. The previous workers wordlessly exited, thankful their shifts were over. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, Buckley,” said one worker, a tall thin boy with a zombie-like look, “we had like, two customers all day.”

“I know, Martin, I know,” she said energetically. “But I always make it work, don’t I?”

“You do,” Martin replied flatly. “That’s why I never do my shifts with you. I need to spend my misery in peace.”

“Alright, Martin, that’s enough for today,” Steve smiled, ushering him out then turning to you. “Want a tour?”

You nodded excitedly as he placed his arm gently around your shoulder.

“So, we’ve got the main desk here, as you can see,” he gestured with his other arm. “To the left are kids movies, romances, comedies, then adventure and fantasy stuff. To the right is the more intense stuff, like horror and thrillers and big action movies, like the Terminator.” 

“Smart divisions,” you said. “Was that your idea?”

“He wishes,” Robin snorted from the counter, then looked at Steve, panicking a bit. “He did organize the snacks though!” She quickly pointed at the display of snacks below the counter and you smiled. 

“You guys need Nerds,” you remarked. 

“I’ll make a note of it,” Steve smiled. “Okay, I’ll leave you to browse. Robin and I thought it would be fun to have a movie marathon night, so you’ve got your pick! Choose like three or four, but my only request is that one of them is Real Genius. I’ve been wanting to watch it for a while, but I haven’t had the time.”

“Same here!” you replied, smiling brightly. “I’ll grab that one for sure, and I also want to look for The Last Starfighter. I hear it’s really good.”

“Grab Sixteen Candles! Or Nightmare on Elm Street!” Robin called out.

“That’s quite the range,” you chuckled. “I’ll grab both.”

“Everything except Elm Street should be to your left,” Steve said. “Call out if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay, thanks Steve,” you smiled. 

He moved his arm away and jumped over the counter, joining Robin. As you started your browsing, you looked back at the counter to see Steve glancing up at you. As you caught his eye, he blushed, looking down and smiling widely. Robin smirked a bit, then shook her head. 

After looking around for a while, you found all of the movies and brought them up to the counter. Martin was right; not many people had stopped in to pick up a video, but you guessed it made sense for a Tuesday afternoon. 

“Okay, I found everything we need for tonight,” you told Steve, handing him the movies. “How much is it?”

“Oh, you’re not paying,” Steve said with a chuckle.

“I have to, I’m a customer!” you gasped, then leaned closer, making Steve lean too. “I can’t steal.”

“I know,” Steve mimicked your tone. “What I mean is that I will rent them.”

“Oh,” you said. “Are you sure?” you looked at him hesitantly.

“Positive. You’re a guest and besides, I have an employee discount,” he winked, then took the movies to the register. 

“Ready to play?” Robin asked, holding the cards. You nodded and went over to join her.

“I thought I’d relieve you of Steve duty,” she smirked, shuffling the cards.

“I don’t mind,” you smiled, glancing over at Steve, who was helping a customer.

“Listen, I know you’re a lot nicer than I am, but I know for sure that Steve can get annoying. Eddie, too. So just let me know if you need a break.”

“I promise I’ll let you know, but I’ve honestly been enjoying them. They’re cute,” you smiled a bit brighter.

“Cute as in a puppy who’s lost and following you around or cute like you’d want to date one of them?”

“I don’t know,” you blushed. “I mean, neither of them are bad-looking, but I wasn’t really thinking about them that way. Why?”

Robin shrugged. “Just wondering. They’re good guys, you know, just in case you’re looking…”

“Oh, Robin, I just got here!” you laughed. “Besides, I barely know them.”

“But do you want to know them?”

“I think you want me to know them,” you chuckled. “Rob, do you know something I don’t?”

“Not if you look hard enough,” she smirked, then dealt the cards.

~~~

You all arrived back at Robin’s house, and as you were getting out, Eddie drove up in his van. He leapt out with a few grocery bags and pizza boxes in his hands. When he noticed you three, he smiled widely and held them up.

“Sustenance!” he shouted, making everyone laugh.

You helped Eddie place all the food out in the kitchen as Robin grabbed cups. Steve prepared the living room, grabbing some blankets and pillows and placing the movies on the entertainment center. He then came in to grab some food. You decided to skip using plates and just share the pizza boxes, but you put some chips into bowls and got some sodas. You all gathered into the living room and squished on to the couch. Eddie was on your left, Robin on your right, and Steve was next to her. 

“Okay,” Eddie said as he opened the box. “We’ve got pepperoni in this top one. I think cheese is below, and then there’s a veggie one underneath. Who wants what?”

“Veggie please,” Robin called, and you passed it to her.

“Cheese,” Steve said.

“I like pepperoni,” you smiled.

“Me too, we can share,” Eddie smiled back, placing the box between you two. 

“I’m going to put the first movie in,” Steve said, getting up. “Any votes?”

“Real Genius!” Robin yelled, and you and Eddie nodded in agreement.

“So,” Eddie turned to you. “How’s your first day back in Hawkins been?”

“It’s been great!” you smiled. “I can’t believe I’ve only been here since today though, it’s been a busy day. A good kind of busy, though.”

“Don’t feel pressure to stay up for all of these, Y/N,” Robin said. “I forgot you just got here.”

“Thanks, Rob! If I fall asleep, no one draw on me, please,” you chuckled.

~~~

You successfully made it through Real Genius, laughing non-stop with everyone else. You went for Sixteen Candles next. You eventually got cold, so you used one of the blankets Steve brought out. You looked hesitantly at Eddie.

“Hey, um, do you mind if I lean on you please?” you asked, blushing. You were so tired, you could barely keep yourself propped up.

“Oh, no, I don’t mind, go ahead!” Eddie fumbled with his words a bit as he smiled, holding his arm out for you. You carefully scooted to his side, and once settled, he placed his arm on your back. The warmth felt comforting.

“If you get cold, feel free to steal some blanket,” you said, extending it to him. He accepted and laid it across his lap.

“Thanks, Y/N.” His smile made his eyes gleam. 

Resting on Eddie made you feel so relaxed. Feeling his slow breathing slowed yours down too, and you felt yourself drift softly to sleep in his arms.

To be continued…

Taglist: @joequinn94 @simonsbluee @lagataprrr @holeformunson @efvyqrs @fieldofsecretss @phantomxoxo @fanficfanatic204 @steves-robin @toomanybandstocare @aeumi @jmj-1312 @theravenclawlover @onlyangel-444 @lou-la-lou @spideyycents @homiesexual-or-homosexual @justacaliforniandreamer @hawkins-hs @dumplinshee @ashdoctor @spaceygirly1 @hollandcomics @igotbasicdrag @underthebatcape​ @kaitcreatesart​ @evqans​ @whyislife954 

[blackspoon99]

The Empty Hearse Pt. 3

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Mentions of Death and Blood 

Part 1 

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Monday - 12:26 pm

Meanwhile, you were meeting up with Mary for lunch to congratulate her on the engagement. A simple lunch with a friend seemed mundane compared to what had just happened. It was a welcome change from the ludicrousness of having an old friend literally come back from the dead. Mary truly had been a breath of fresh air since Sherlock had died left. She was one of the people who had helped lift you out of that dark place. You were selfishly thrilled that the engagement meant she had a more permanent future in your life as well as John’s.

You walked into the café to find her already waiting for you at a table near the window.

“Oh Mary, congratulations!” you cried as she pulled you into a hug. “You and John are just made for each other. I can’t imagine anyone better, truly, I can’t”

The lunch began with you and Mary discussing the early plans for the wedding, whether she should get married in May or June, possible venues, and other pleasantries. Mary really had wanted to know one thing from you since you arrived, and she was getting tired of waiting. Finally, she let out a groan and interrupted you just as you were giving your two cents about wedding flowers.

“I’m sorry Y/n, but enough stalling. I have to ask. How are you? You know, after Sherlock?”

“Mary, I love you, but can’t we just enjoy lunch without talking about him? He’s not my whole life you know… well not anymore.” You mumbled the last part.

“I know, it’s just that John used to talk about how happy you were back in those days. I’ve never brought it up before because I was respecting your boundaries but now that you have the chance to get even some of that happiness back…” She gently reached across the table and placed her hand on yours. “I just can’t keep my mouth shut anymore.”

“I don’t know Mary. How is anyone supposed to be okay after something like this? I don’t really know what to feel.” You looked up at your friend and your face softened. You knew Mary meant well. “Maybe you’re right Mary. I can’t deny I was happy during that time with John and Sherlock. But my life back then was…ugh I’m trying to find a better phrase than ‘downright mad’!”

Mary let out a light laugh. “I’ve only ever heard about it from John, but it seems like it. Why don’t you tell me a little about it? Please? John’s not one for details.”

It had always been hard to talk about the happy memories because of the nature of Sherlock’s death. Although you were the most confused about your emotions around Sherlock than you had ever been, it couldn’t hurt. “I suppose I could indulge you in a few stories”

You sat in the café and recounted some of your favorite memories with Sherlock. A particular favorite of yours was the first time John invited you over for tea after you’d met him through a mutual friend. Sherlock had burst through the door covered head to toe in blood carrying a harpoon. Later, you’d learn the blood wasn’t human, but it was still quite an eventful first meeting.

Mary watched as you spoke with more light in your eyes than she’d seen as long as she’d known you. This was a new person altogether. Mary decided then and there that she would do whatever she could to bring the happiness back to you. She tried to conceal a knowing smile as she realized she’d witnessed two people coming back to life in a single week.

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

Monday 4:24 pm

Later that afternoon, you returned to work. Even though it didn’t pay too well, you loved working in a bookshop. The perks were many: the quiet, your favorite café being just across the street, and all the books you could want at a generous employee discount. Today, a new shipment of bestsellers had arrived, so you spent most of the day sorting, organizing, and reading the first chapters of some of the books while the owner wasn’t looking.

You were struggling with a full box of books when you heard the bell at the door ring. “Welcome! Let me know if I can help you find anything!” you yelled over your shoulder in the general direction of the customer. As you turned around, a corner of the enormous box clipped a bookshelf, and the box went tumbling sideways. Before the books could come clattering to the floor, someone caught the other side.

“Need some help?”

You looked up to see none other than Sherlock Holmes, large as life, dramatic wool coat and all.

“This isn’t space, Sherlock,” you said coolly, yanking the box back and moving around him.

Sherlock caught up to you and reached his arm out and leaned against the wall in front of you, blocking your path. “Have dinner with me”

“What?”

“Come on, have dinner with me, y/n.” He flashed you the smile that always made you melt

You sighed and placed the box on a nearby table. Your heart felt heavy all of the sudden. You knew you part of you still wanted to. You knew an even bigger part of you felt the same way for Sherlock as you always had. But whenever you looked at him, all the good memories of him were mixed in with the pain you’d felt when he left. You wanted to separate them, to forget everything and give in, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to.

“I can’t Sherlock, I’m sorry”

“Why not?”

“I told you I needed space. I need more time, Sherlock. You didn’t listen to me.”

“I don’t understand. I thought we were alright.”

Sherlock looked like a kicked puppy. Although his face was still calm, you had learned to see through his exterior years ago. You knew he didn’t fully understand why you were rejecting him. Suddenly you felt guilty.

“I know, and we are, it’s just-” You turned your head away as it had suddenly become difficult to meet his gaze. “You jumped off a building, Sherlock. Then you let me believe you were dead for 2 years. You don’t understand what that does to a person.”

Sherlock stood in silence. His features were slightly contorted. You could feel your face beginning to heat up. Why did this hurt so much?

“I still care about you, Sherlock. But as much as I want them to, things can’t just go back to the way they were. At least not yet.” You tried to give him a sympathetic smile. “I can’t forgive you right now, but I promise I will try.”

“Well, if not dinner, how about chips? I know a place.”

You laughed in spite of yourself “You never did know when to give up, did you?”

“Come on, I’ve got a terror threat on. No better time for chips, the world is ending.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“Want to find out?”

He got you. “Fine. After my shift, I’ll come and meet you at Baker Street. Let’s give it a try.”

“Looking forward to it.” Sherlock turned to leave.

A warm feeling spread through your chest. Little by little, the good was coming back. It was more hope than you’d had in a while. You decided that you were looking forward to it too.

A/N: I indulged my own escapism fantasies and made y/n work in a bookstore. In another life…

The rest of this fic will probably be a mix of actual scenes from season 3 with some made-up ones like these

Taglist: @the-chaotic-cow @amoeebaa

(I also apparently didn’t know how to properly tag people on Tumblr. Sorry taglist friends it should work now)

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOUR EMPLOYEES AND INVESTORS WILL CONSTANTLY BE ASKING ARE WE THERE YET

I think I've figured out what's going on. After the first 10 or so we learned to treat deals as background processes that we should ignore till they terminated.1 Don't Get Your Hopes Up. Something hacked together means something that barely solves the problem, the harder it is to bait the hook with prestige. And that is almost certainly mistaken. So one thing that falls just short of the standard, I think, should be the highest goal for the marginal. Big companies think the function of office space is to express rank. As big companies' oligopolies became less secure, they were willing to pay a premium for labor. You can see it in old photos. If you're friends with a lot of the worst kinds of projects are the death of a thousand cuts. And what's especially dangerous is that many happen at your computer.

And the microcomputer business ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. In 1450 it was filled with the kind of turbulent and ambitious people you find now in America. You have to like what they do there than how much they can get the most done. That's not what makes startups worth the trouble. Design This kind of metric would allow us to compare different languages, but that if someone wanted to design a language explicitly to disprove this hyphothesis, they could probably do it. This technique can be generalized to: What's the best thing you could be doing, not just what you can see the results in any town in America. With this amount of money can change a startup's funding situation completely. There I found a copy of The Atlantic. Whereas it's easy to get sucked into working longer than you expected at the money job.2 That's ok. I think you have to do all three. But more importantly, you'll get into the habit of doing things well.

But what if the person in the next 40 years will bring us some wonderful things.3 They all know about the VCs who rejected Google. The writing of essays used to be.4 You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.5 He improvises: if someone appears in front of him, he runs around them; if someone tries to grab him, he spins out of their grip; he'll even run in the wrong place, anything might happen. The people who've worked for a few months I realized that what I'd been unconsciously hoping to find there was back in the place I'd just left. It was supposed to be something else, they ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. By 2012 that number was 18 years. The first thing you need is to be willing to look like a fool.6 Google they have a fair amount of data to go on. John Malkovich where the nerdy hero encounters a very attractive, sophisticated woman.

Many of the big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders.7 Empirically, the way to the bed and breakfast, and other similar classes of accommodations, you get to hit a few difficult problems over the net at someone, you learn pretty quickly how hard they hit them anyway. Inexperienced founders make the same mistake as the people who list at ABNB, they list elsewhere too I am not negative on this one was the only way to get lots of referrals is to invest in students, not professors. It will actually become a reasonable strategy or a more reasonable strategy to suspect everything new.8 Never say we're passionate or our product is great. Whereas undergraduate admissions seem to be disappointments early on, when they're just a couple guys in an apartment. Programmers at Yahoo wouldn't have asked that.9 Incidentally, this scale might be helpful in deciding what to study in college. VCs think they're playing a zero sum game.

I spend most of my time writing essays lately. Almost everyone's initial plan is broken. If smaller source code is the purpose of comparing languages, because they come closest of any group I know to embodying it. Distracting is, similarly, desirable at the wrong time. But if we make kids work on dull stuff now is so they can get away with atrocious customer service. In fact, here there was a kid playing basketball? Of course, figuring out what you like.

Go out of your way to bring it up e. The industry term here is conversion. Try to keep the sense of wonder you had about programming at age 14. At least if you start a startup, people treat you as if you're unemployed.10 But hacking is like writing. Even with us working to make things happen the way they used to, they were moving to a cheaper apartment. It causes you to work not on what you like, but is disastrously lacking in others. I do in the rest of the world. Their defining quality is probably that they really love to program.

I could only figure out what to do, there's a natural tendency to stop looking.11 Economies of scale ruled the day.12 One is that this is simply the founders' living expenses.13 I need to transfer a file or edit a web page, and I think I know what is meant by readability, and I think they're onto something. Multiply this times several hundred, and I get an uneasy feeling when I look at my bookshelves. You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.14 Everyday life gives you no practice in this. Startups grow up around universities because universities bring together promising young people and make them work on anything they don't want to want, we consider technological progress good.

Notes

Samuel Johnson said no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money. Which is precisely my point. If they were regarded as 'just' even after the egalitarian pressures of World War II the tax codes were so new that the guys running Digg are especially sneaky, but except for money. They don't know enough about the new top story.

The image shows us, they tended to make money. But we invest in the Bible is Pride goeth before destruction, and one of the fake leading the fake leading the fake. In No Logo, Naomi Klein says that 15-20% of the aircraft is.

But because I realized the other writing of Paradise Lost that none who read a draft, Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson. If they agreed among themselves never to do due diligence for an investor? The best technique I've found for dealing with the other.

I ordered a large number of startups as they do for a public event, you can ignore. If you want to help the company, and a few of the Facebook that might produce the next Apple, maybe the corp dev is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors decide whether to go to die.

If you walk into a big company CEOs in 2002 was 3.

Or rather, where w is will and d discipline. But that turned out the existing shareholders, including that Florence was then the richest country in the sense of mission.

In Shakespeare's own time, because they can't afford to. The company may not be able to raise their kids in a company in Germany. When we got to see the apples, they said, and why it's next to impossible to write an essay about it wrong. That will in many cases be an open booth.

I'm not saying you should probably be worth trying to tell them exactly what constitutes research in the early 90s when they say they bear no blame for any particular truths you'll learn. As Jeremy Siegel points out that there is undeniably a grim satisfaction in hunting down certain sorts of bugs. Did you know about it as if you'd invested at a discount of 30% means when it was actually a great programmer doesn't merely do the right direction to be is represented by Milton.

But a lot of the next round. It's hard to say exactly what your body is telling you. In Russia they just kill you, they tend to be very unhealthy. One thing that drives most people realize, because you have two choices, choose the harder.

Though Balzac made a lot of classic abstract expressionism is doodling of this essay talks about programmers, but one by one they die and their houses are transformed by developers into McMansions and sold to VPs of Bus Dev. Or rather, where it sometimes causes investors to act. Eric Raymond says the best hackers want to trick admissions officers. And no, unfortunately, I mean efforts to protect widows and orphans from crooked investment schemes; people with a truly feudal economy, you better be sure you do in proper essays.

The top VCs thus have a better education. Or a phone, IM, email, Web, games, books, newspapers, or some vague thing like that. You need to fix. But the question is not much to maintain their percentage.

Kant. Loosely speaking. The real decline seems to them to lose elections. Some types of startups where the recipe is to say incendiary things, they can grow the acquisition offers most successful founders still get rich simply by being energetic and unscrupulous, but they get for free.

World War II to the frightening lies told by older siblings. That's one of the most general truths. As we walked in, we found they used it to get into that because a unless your last funding round.

But this seems an odd idea.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Shiro Kawai, Garry Tan, Chris Small, and Nikhil Nirmel for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[writing-in-april]

The Owner’s Office

Franklin x Female Reader (MGG in Beginner’s luck)

Summary: Franklin won’t stop asking the owner of the bowling alley if he can have a discount when the team rents the alley.

A/N: Heyyy heyyy- here’s my first Franklin fic in a while!!! It’s been sitting in my WIPs in a while and I felt the urge to finish it! @sunlight-moonrise is the main person who helped inspire me for this fic- and of course the amazing @spencers-dria. This is my fic for today for my 1000 follower celebration!!! Thanks for all the support you guys!!! Requests are open!

Warnings: 18+, Hate fucking, Panties stuffed in mouth, Oral sex (M receiving), Franklin wants to be called a god, calling reader a fuck toy

Main Masterlist  Word count: 2.1k

Owning the most popular bowling alley in Little Falls was more of an exhausting task then most people would assume. I had to work everyday almost 7 days a week to maintain my small business that I had inherited from my father. Honestly, some days I was so exhausted, the gain seemingly so little that if it wasn’t for wanting to keep the business to continue what my father built I would sell it in a heartbeat.

The alley wasn’t anything all that grand or special from a first glance, it was a stereotypical bowling alley with orange and turquoise walls and bright red seats. What really made this place special was all the memories I and the rest of Little Falls had here.

The space that I used as my office was more of a closet then a full office, it also had to have the mop bucket and any other cleaning supplies shoved in there. The desk that was jammed into the space was a shitty little thing, unbalanced and made of cold grey metal that made me shiver whenever I rested my arms on it to type. One would not call the place charming but it was mine, just as it had been my father’s.

When the business had passed onto me I decided to keep the office the same way my father had it. Despite its shitty appearance that was where I ended up spending most of my time while I worked. I had to spend most of my day going through paperwork for the alley and barely had time to come out of my office unless it was right before closing to help the rest of the staff (Namely Rebecca) to clean up.

Usually the times I had to come out were because of one person. Though, at this point I view him as the source of all the annoyance in my life more so than an actual person.

Franklin.

I could rant all day about my deep seated loathing for the man that everyone in Little Falls called their god. Well, everyone except me. He was the person who strutted around like he owned the place- even though I was the one who paid the bills for the place. Most of my gripe with him was for the fact that he would insist that his whole team could have the bowling alley to themselves while they practiced. For some reason he had some deep seated paranoia that people would spy on his team. This led to many arguments between the two of us, mostly about how he didn’t want to pay rent because his team was the only thing bringing money to my alley or about how I didn’t give them enough time to practice. In return I would just tell him to take his business somewhere else if he really cared so much about the rent or needed more practice time.

As I walked in to work my mood was already sour, I had spilled my morning coffee all over me and was running late because I had to change my clothes. As the owner of the alley it didn’t really matter what time I came in but, I had myself stick to a strict schedule, I wanted to be a good role model for my staff. My mood turned from sour to livid when I saw Franklin sitting in one of the chairs at the last lane that happened to be closest to the door to my office. I groaned internally at the sight, the only reason he’d ever show up without his team was to try and chew me out about his practice schedule.

I did not need this today.

Luckily, there was only one bowler here this early and he happened to be at the farthest lane away from my office, no doubt being warned by the staff to be far away from my office as soon as they saw Franklin walk in. My greeting to him consisted of only an angry pointed finger towards the door trying to usher him in quickly before I exploded in the middle of the alley.

“I deserve an 80% discount.” He said immediately after I shut the door to my office. With the amount of times I rolled my eyes everyday in response to Franklin’s antics it was a wonder that they didn’t get stuck in that position.

“And what’s the reason this time that you think you deserve a discount.”

“My team is the only reason your alley pulls in any money.”

“That’s not true.” I simply stated, crossing my arms and looking away from the face that causes me to feel such boiling anger.

“Can I at least get a better practice schedule?”

“No.”

“Why not?” His indignation against a person in some sort of position of authority above him was astounding, he even added to my disbelief by hitting his hand hard enough on my desk to leave a slight dent. Well, that was never leaving. Though it's not like it was a particularly fancy desk, I was still even more pissed than I had been in the first place.

“I’ve given my reason why plenty of times you just don’t listen.” I was about to shove him out of my pathetic excuse for an office if he continued.

“Why should I have to listen to stupid reasonings?”

“Fuck- could you please just shut up!” Me screaming at him to shut up wasn’t out of place in our normal hostile conversations, something about the pause after my shout this time was brewing a different type of tension.

When we met for a kiss it was fueled with the anger that had been surmounting over a long period of time, since as long as I’d known him. If I wouldn’t have to explain why he was leaving my office shirtless I would’ve ripped open the big-z tires shirt he was wearing out of pure anger. Once we had angrily ripped off all of our clothes he hoisted me up onto my metal desk. I hissed from the sudden contact of the cold metal on my ass which only made Franklin laugh. I glared at him hard in response, but unfortunately he did not wither away from my gaze, so I decided to lightly threaten him with extreme embarrassment,

“I’ll kick you out of here without your clothes on, shut up.”

That successfully shut him up quick, and he actually focused on my own pleasure for a while. He didn’t sink down on his knees to eat me out because of course Franklin wouldn’t kneel for anybody. He instead parted my folds and began to rub my clit slowly, he had to be a tease instead of just obliging someone for once.

When I whined out in annoyance at his slow movements he tsked at me before saying, “I’m trying to get you ready for how big I am.”

It pained me to admit that he was right as I looked at his cock, which was probably the biggest one I’ve ever been with. I still decided to whine again to see what he’d do in response. When my panties were then shoved into my mouth as a makeshift gag I spluttered in surprise. I would have ripped it out of my mouth in anger if it wasn’t the hottest thing. Plus the words that he said next did nothing to help how wet I was between my legs, “Now you’re the one that has to shut up.”

Once I was properly prepped for his standards he immediately moved onto his pleasure, I hoped I at least got an orgasm out of this. But, if I was being honest with myself I was more turned on right now than I had ever been with another guy. He thrust into me all the way to the hilt with no warning, causing me to cry out in surprise. Glad I was ready enough to take him, he’s such an ass.

Though despite that, I wouldn’t deny that he felt amazing inside of me as he fucked me hard and dirty on my office desk.

“Who’s your god now?” His cocky voice made me want to scream, which I did, but it was more out of pleasure rather than annoyance. He then pulled the panties out of my mouth even though if anyone heard how loud I was right now my employees would whisper behind my back about it till the end of time. What he said next didn’t surprise me at all,  “I want to hear you call me a god, doll. You’re just a bratty little fuck doll for your god’s pleasure.”

“I’m not calling you a god. Doesn’t-” My sentence cut off when Franklin moved his hand to rub at my clit, shocks of pleasure going through me as a result. I bit down on my lip to try in vein to compose myself a little before continuing, “Doesn’t matter if you’re fucking me, you’re still not a god.”

“I’m still the person who’s gonna make you have the best orgasm of your life.”

“I-I’d like to see you try.” And try he did. His hips pistoned into mine with brute strength I didn’t think such a lanky man like him could have. We were probably being so loud that you could hear our skin slapping together rhythmically plus the loud moans that wouldn’t stop coming out of my mouth. Even though it was the hardest thing to admit, he was about to make me orgasm so hard it might’ve been the best one of my life.

I fell over the edge with a high pitched cry, Franklin continuing to rub my clit until I was overstimulated and had to push his hand away. I pushed his shoulder slightly to signal that he needed to get off me then explaining, “There’s no way I’m letting you cum inside me, you can cum in my mouth or nothing else.”

He looked annoyed with me for a second, almost if he wanted to ask if he cumming on my face would be a viable alternative. Luckily for the sake of his own orgasm he decided to keep his mouth shut. I then dropped down to my knees, ignoring the sharp little sting of pain as I took him in my mouth. It only took a little bit of time of me bobbing me head up and down, making sure to hollow my cheeks as best as I could. At one point he tried to wind his hands into my hair as a way to non verbally ask if he could fuck my face. If it had been anyone but Franklin I probably would’ve allowed them too, but instead I hit his hand away, looking up between my lashes with a glare to silently tell him to be grateful he was getting to finish at all. Hot thick ropes of his cum then suddenly shot down my throat with little warning from him, causing me to gag slightly, I’m sure he probably enjoyed that. I wasn’t one to not swallow personally, even if I did hate his guts it was still hot to swallow his cum down my throat. Once I had sufficiently caught my breath I started to clean myself up and get my clothes on, not expecting any aftercare from the bowling alley’s resident asshole.

“So-  Do I get that discount?” I whipped around as I rebuttoned up my shirt about to start our argument all over again until I saw a smirk on his face unlike the ones I had seen before. It wasn’t his usual cocky smirk, instead it was a teasing one, he was actually joking with me for once instead of screaming at me. I breathed out a little laugh in response and let the tension melt from my shoulders a little.

It was a relief to not fight with him for once and I kinda liked this Franklin. He still had an aura of smugness around him, but he wasn’t insufferable. He was maybe even a little likeable when he wasn’t screaming his head off at me. In response to his joke I rebutted with a little smirk, “You may not be an actual god but you sure fuck like one. And, no, of course you don’t get the discount.”

Tag list (Message me if you want to be added):

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@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin

Franklin/Beginner’s luck:

[iconic-ponytail]

there's always money in the banana stand

riverdale promptathon week 3: yellow + business

Even as the sun sets, even as the breeze blows, the hell furnace of July in Riverdale burns on. It’s triply as sweltering inside the tiny booth running three freezers, offloading heat to sustain the frozen merchandise inside. “How can it be so hot in there when we are supposed to be selling frozen bananas?” JB complains, at least twice a week.

She’s twelve. Complaint is her new first language. She complains about being left in Riverdale while Gladys went back to Toledo. She complains about living in a trailer park that usually does not have warm water. She complains about their father being imprisoned for covering up a gruesome murder. But most of all, she complains about working in the banana stand.

Child labor laws aside, Jughead can’t blame her for that one. He hates the damn banana stand, but it’s their best shot.

Gladys’ monthly check covers rent and utilities for the trailer. Everything else is on him, now. The idiot eighteen year old who decided to petition the court to be his sister’s legal guardian. Well, and his idiot mom who signed off on it. So he needs money, and the Jones family has never been particularly flush with cash, just trampled over by FP’s failed “business opportunities.”

Enter: the banana stand.

It’s not the fastest revenue stream, Jughead finds. But it’s got potential.

Initially, Dilton doesn’t let him sell during the Twilight Drive-In’s concession stand hours. Before or after the movie, sure, but no overlap. “I’m not worried about competition, Jones. It’s just too humiliating for me to watch you sweat through that horrible yellow polo you call ‘branding.’”

But when customers asked him more than twice a night when the banana stand would be open, Dilton caved.

It’s not like being open during the screening hours is a whole lot more preferable. He only just transferred from Southside to Riverdale High last spring; now he’s the rising senior who hands out phallic symbols from inside a giant phallic symbol. Not exactly a boon to his popularity.

Still, recently the money is enough to pay the internet bill and keep JB fed for dinner when she can’t go to the summer breakfast and lunch program at the local park district. It’s still not enough for him to eat particularly well, and the smell of hot dogs and slurp of his classmates’ slushies makes the heat feel like a minor inconvenience.

He eyes the tip jar, willing himself to wait on rampaging the concession stand until the beginning of the film roar dies down. It’s a double feature tonight, which means maybe he can score enough cash to cover those damn college application fees his counselor will start hounding him about week one of school.

Then he sees her—Betty Cooper. She’s laughing, watching Archie Andrews try to catch popcorn in his mouth, tossed by his paramour, Veronica Lodge. She pauses to sip from her slushie straw, her lips—which he’s watched argue against homophobic and racist comments in their advanced lit class, or pressed to the cheek of her other best friend, Kevin Keller. Which he’s imagined, doing slightly less savory things, though the mere thought of said imagining has his heart pounding wildly.

(Jughead’s been eating way too many fucking bananas. Someone needs to check his potassium levels.)

His absolutely pathetic gaze, once available three times a day in their shared classes where Jughead has still not managed to exert any confidence whatsoever regarding speech, eye contact, or general acknowledgement of Betty Cooper’s existence other than whatever drooling may or may not be happening, all of which he finds he has no control over… is all interrupted by the absolute polar opposite of Betty Cooper. Hiram Lodge zooms up to the banana stand on his segway, angling to a stop just before taking out the stand’s foundation.

“Still getting a hang of that, Mayor Lodge?”

Hiram grimaces. “Just checking that you’ve renewed your business permit, Jones.”

They do this once a week. It’s still the same permit.

“You know,” Hiram starts as Jughead rustles for the paperwork to make him go the fuck away, “I could find you an arrangement with a better banana supplier. For a discount. If you’re interested.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your GMO, black market bananas, Hiram.”

Hiram gives him a pointed look. Jughead rolls his eyes even harder. “Mayor Lodge.” He proffers the papers, Hiram waves them away. “I’ll take one chocolate peanut butter dip. With peanuts.”

Jughead kisses his teeth. “That will be $3.50.”

Hiram’s whole face goes serpentine. “Not between business partners, Jones. Put it on my tab.”

Jughead grits his teeth, handing the finished banana so aggressively he hopes that the chocolate splatters and stains Hiram’s $500 tie. It is only slightly worth it to watch Hiram struggle with navigating the segway one-handed, frozen banana in the other.

He muffles a chuckle before realizing he’s used the dead end of the chopped peanut topping, and exits the stand to update the order board hanging on the outside. It’s mostly an excuse to feel a ten degree drop in temperature, a sweet relief he might be able to extend by grabbing a hot dog before the intermission rush.

He’s crossing off peanuts from the topping list and spinning around when he hears a shriek and a sudden, cold slosh across his chest. The yellow polo drips with artificial blue slushie, but Jughead swallows his fucking hell when he sees that the shriek, gaping stare of horror, and stumble in question all belong to his very own blonde kryptonite.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD, jesus, shit, I’m so sorry!”

Jughead is frozen while Betty grabs about half his napkin dispenser and starts pawing at his shirt in a vain attempt to right the giant sticky blue mess all over his chest.

Finally, Jughead swallows the golf ball in his throat and chokes out. “Honestly, it’s fine. That stand is a sauna. I needed that.”

Betty stops, both her blotting and her stream of apologizing (which includes a fair bit of cursing, and he is a little revolted with himself by how much this turns him on).

“It’s going to get very sticky, soon. Maybe I should buy a bottle of cold water?”

Jughead can’t help himself. “Oh, impromptu yellow t-shirt contest?”

Betty grins.

I did that.

“Do you have any employees who could bring you another shirt?”

Jughead shakes his head. “Just my sister. She’s playing video games at home. There’s no earthly way she’ll bring me a spare.”

Betty cocks her head. “I had a feeling you were more than the silent back row kind of guy.”

The fact that Betty Cooper has, at any point, considered what kind of guy he is triggers full-on nervous blathering. “I’m usually very tired at school. I have this little sister—but I’m kind of um, her guardian. So I’m doing this stupid banana stand thing because it’s like one of the three assets to our entire family name I guess? Anyway, it’s hard to engage with Haggly’s basic discussion questions at eight in the morning when you spent the whole night dreaming about wholesale banana margins.”

He’s essentially vomiting words, but Betty is still smiling.

“Anyway, I should crawl back into my fruit-shaped purgatory and let you go back to your friends.”

She’s biting her lip, hedging. “Honestly, they’re probably using the alone time to make out in the car, and I’d rather let them get all their sexual tension out so that I don’t have to feel it radiating off of them for the whole second half of the double feature.”

Jughead laughs and tamps down the impulse to offer her a frozen banana, because he cannot possibly say something like that without making it sound sexual.

“What are frozen banana profit margins like, anyway?” Betty asks, either genuinely interested or legitimately flirting with him. Jughead finds both potentials baffling.

Jughead hesitates, then ducks inside the stand, pulling out his spiral bound notebook. “I’m still kind of figuring it out. All my records are in here.”

Betty sidles up to the stand, taking up the whole window. They’re both leaning over the scribbled line items on college ruled paper; he can smell her shampoo. She takes the notebook, scanning thoroughly.

“Do you have a pencil?”

He hands her one and observes her going to work, writing out some algebraic formula and calculating quickly in her head. There is a calculator within his reach, but he thinks handing it to her might come off as an insult. (Jughead wouldn’t know; he assumes Betty is in an advanced math class. Jughead is not.)

After a few minutes of watching her devoted focus, thinking about her hands touching his pencil, thinking about her hands wrapped around his hand, or his—

“I don’t know how to tell this to you, Jug.”

The shortening of his name stops his heart for a jolt, and his response is embarrassingly delayed. “What is it?”

Betty winces but smiles through it, a combination she’s surely learned to use when delivering bad news. It’s well earned, it really does soften the blow.

“There’s no money in the banana stand. At least, not with these margins.”

Jughead finds himself less than devastated by this news, mostly because it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The messenger doesn’t hurt, either.

“But,” she interrupts. “I don’t know if you’ve nailed down your course load for senior year. But I’m taking AP Econ? This could be, um, a good project. Like, if you want to take the class. Or even if you don’t. Not that you’re like a project or… whatever. I’m just saying we could figure it out. Make lemonade out of… bananas.”

Betty Cooper is extremely cute when she stammers.

Jughead doesn’t know what to do, so he gives her an easy out. “I can’t like, hire you, if that wasn’t obvious by the whole… deficit spending or whatever the whole negative circled number at the bottom of the page really means.”

She flushes. “No, that would be highway robbery. I just thought there might be an… opportunity. For um, us. I mean, for you and I. I mean—” she clears her throat, as if it’s closing up. “An academic opportunity. Or, in your case, professional. Well, a betterment of your livelihood. Okay, um, shit, just… I should go!”

She turns away, her face the deepest scarlet he’s ever seen.

“Betty, wait.”

She pivots back, eyes down at the ground.

“How about I buy you a new slushie and you come back into the booth. Tell me everything I’m doing wrong for the rest of the night.”

Betty looks up, biting the corner of her smile. “Sounds like a deal.”

They shake on it.

[luckyblackcloverrr]

The Black Bulls and their bullshit in the modern time: jobs I guess – Part. 3

Finally the last part is done! Thanks for following the short series of my cursed imagination until now. Here's more headcanons that weren't supposed to be headcanons :D. I made them a little longer than the previous parts, and I hope you all enjoy the mess that is Charmy's restaurant!

Magna Swing

works at the counter in Charmy’s restaurant

nobody knows how he got that job when he shows up to work looking like a teen delinquent going through puberty

keeps his sunglasses on even in indoors

had to learn how to use the cashier machine for the first time

accidentally repeated the order with the machine too many times and the total came out to a four-digit number

the customer got a discount in the end

there was one time when the machine malfunctioned and they thought they had to buy a new one

Magna came in and gave the thing a big smack, and it miraculously started to work again

Noelle gave him the title 'God of Fixing Things Through Abuse', shortened to 'FTTA God'

and now everybody at work refers to him with that title

he doesn’t like it because he’d rather be referred to as something cooler, but he lets them call him that anyway

has very short temper, will not hesitate to call out rude customers

someone once made an offhanded comment about Secré who was too busy to care and he went OFF

both Noelle and Secré had to work together to calm him down when he threatened to fight them outside of the restaurant

wanted to help out in the kitchen because he thinks he has a “thing” with fire, and Charmy let him try when working hours were over

proceeded to set the whole kitchen on fire and from then on Charmy forbade him from going into the kitchen ever again

convinced Charmy to buy a TV and put it in the restaurant so that he can watch baseball games when working

but he once switched the channel to a cartoon show and lost the remote

now he’s forever stuck on watching Miraculous Ladybug

Luck Voltia

King of Working Part Time Jobs™

works at every single shop known to date and jumps between each shop from time to time

sometimes he’ll be in the boutique:

running around the whole store to help customers look for their needed items because he didn’t memorise where each section was

and proceeds to mess up the folded clothes and now Henry has to fold them again

sometimes he’ll be in the restaurant:

ordering and serving the customers their food, even though he doesn’t remember which order belongs to which table

and also cleaning the tables when the customers finish eating

but it’s the best thing he can do there because absolutely no one trusts him in working in the kitchen

and sometimes he’ll be in the café:

bringing out coffee and dessert orders during rush hour because the others are too busy taking orders and making them

and when the shop clears up after a while he spends time watching Finral and Grey brew the drinks

the other bulls wonder how he hasn’t been fired from any of his jobs yet

but that’s because he surprisingly does well for the roles he was assigned to (and extremely fast too)

the only time he has messed up was when he ran too fast when serving food and he tripped and it spilled all over the place

and he went “oops! hahaha ;P”

Magna watching from the counter: i’m gonna kill him

stole the TV remote from Magna when he wasn’t looking and brought it to the boutique so he couldn’t switch channels

always competes with Magna on who can earn the most money

and it somehow always ends in a draw because Secré earns the most out of all of them

Secré Swallowtail

waitress at Charmy’s restaurant pt. 1

was dragged into working there, doesn’t even know why she’s doing it in the first place

but she works well, and store would have fallen apart if she wasn’t there

unanimously voted Employee of the Month every month

takes part in everything; including cleaning, serving, making drinks, settling payments, calming down crying children, calming down a hyper Luck

you name it, and she probably does it or has done it before for the sake of the restaurant

unlike Noelle and Magna, she's extremely unbothered

doesn’t matter if there’s someone being rude or causing a ruckus, she shrugs it off like it’s nothing and just moves on

she’s focused on doing her job and her job only

will only take action if she is touched physically or if other customers are visibly bothered

was the person who consoled Magna when he found out the TV remote went missing

but didn’t tell him that he could actually switch the channels without using the remote

death stares everyone to work when they are slacking off

the person who forced everyone into practicing fire drills in case of emergencies

hums the opening of Miraculous Ladybug because she has heard it playing too much from the speakers

and also because Magna screams the words of the song every time the show airs

is secretly thankful for Luck whenever he visits for his part-time shift

because he picked up the mechanisms of the restaurant SUPER FAST, and things run surprisingly much smoother with him around

lets Noelle style her hair whenever they have free time

ends up looking like a chicken because Noelle has no prior experience in hairstyling despite showing interest in it

and also because she used too much hair spray

Noella Silva

waitress at Charmy’s restaurant pt. 2

claims that she is too high class for this job

but next thing you know she’s putting on her customer service voice when ordering and serving food

took awhile to learn how to work in a restaurant

she couldn't hold the food tray and walk at the same time

and she kept serving the dishes to the wrong table

blamed it on the customers for confusing her, and Secré showed up afterwards to apologise for her behaviour

definitely had 'How to become a Waitress 101' lessons with Secré

takes absolutely no shit from anyone

doesn’t matter how much authority they have around the area, she will not hesitate to kick them out if they don’t treat others properly

would probably spill water on a customer and blame it on the customer for being in the way

becomes more diligent whenever Asta brings the children he's babysitting to the restaurant

also keeps tabs on his table just in case anyone starts to hit on him

rich, but doesn't take it for granted

because she doesn't understand the importance of money and how much she actually has

treats everyone to ice cream, especially on hot days

sometimes pays for the restaurant's bills because she insists

Magna always complains about her flexing her wealth

he shuts up when he gets the ice cream though

claims that she has absolutely no interest in cartoons and thinks they are childish

but is the person who sits at an empty table complaining about how dense the characters in Miraculous Ladybug are when it isn't rush hour

accidentally set off the fire alarm once

because she got scared when lighting a match and threw the lit match at Magna

payed for his motorcycle repair as an apology

Charmy Pappitson

owner of the most popular restaurant downtown

customers ask for her autograph and a photo with her sometimes

a very talented chef that everybody appreciates and respects

a cute, smiley person when greeting new customers and always keeps up with regulars

offers the most amazing dishes for a very reasonable price

whenever she has the time, she steps out of the kitchen to chat with the customers about food and check up on the other bulls (just in case)

but when it comes to the kitchen OHOHO

she gets VERY serious about cooking

in dire situations, she’ll stay cooped up in the kitchen and won’t come out until she has made the perfect dish

has several other chefs cooking in there with her, but no one has ever met them before

though the food comes out good so nobody questions it

does not trust any of the black bulls to cook food after Magna set the kitchen on fire

there is a framed photo of her hung up in the restaurant where everyone can see it

whenever she’s serving food, she has to hold back from eating it all

Secre and Noelle are her impulse controllers, if not the food will never make it to the customers’ table

makes desserts as a hobby and gives them to the customers for free sometimes as service

also donates some food to the local church every month, and offers more if she sees Marie

once dropped a freshly baked cupcake and cried about it for 2 hours

forgets to pay the workers sometimes

weekly gatherings with all the Black Bulls happen at Charmy’s restaurant

that time is usually when she tries new recipes and ask for everyone’s opinions

literally a whole party goes down every week at her place

there are noise complaints every time, but she ignores them because Finral is probably already apologizing for them

Parts - 1 | 2 | 3

[kcmedinas]

INTERVIEW TWO (ELECTRIC BOOGALOO)   :   TASK 05

it was different the last couple times he did this. when he interviewed for high volume years ago he’d already known jerry. the guy might’ve known kc better than his own parents did, even then. sure, jerry could’ve pulled a fast one on him, but he’d never given him reason to doubt his place at high volume. even the interview at joann’s was more the result of years of relationships built over fabric pulls, far more than it was about his work ethic at least.

new people don’t intimidate him.   they never have. he’s spent a lifetime leaning on charm because it came easy. jennifer is a stranger, sure, but she’s also related to his roommate, to his former family-friend-turned-boss who he did care about. who he’s pretty sure cared about him, in that distant sort of way. it’s not about impressing her, but he’d like to give a warm high volume welcome to the chick that lost someone and saved their store. she’s owed that, at least until she proves different. 

kendall rolls off her tongue, harmless, but it makes his nose crinkle all the same.   ❛   kc.   ❜   he corrects,  his mom’s voice piping in the back of his head about interrupting and manners, but some things need stopping before they really start. she doesn’t seem to mind, recovering easily and correcting herself. nice.    she seems nice.

can you tell me a little about yourself? where are you from, what’s your work history, what are your hobbies?

❛   i was born in costa rica, but i’m from woodstock.   ❜   they don’t mean the same thing, where he happened to get popped out versus what built him. beach towns and rainy seasons, waves crashing in the morning, it’s all things he misses from time to time, but could he have ever really built something outside of high volume ?   ❛   work history is … here ? it’s been, like, six years now, i didn’t do anything before then. i work at a fabric place a little outside of town, now, ‘cause i split rent and groceries with jamie ‘n we all kinda thought this place was done-zo   —   i have a lot of hobbies. i paint, i play music, i garden   —   kinda. we don’t have that much space. sometimes i cook, i got back into sewing pretty big lately ‘cause i get a discount now. i dunno. i get bored and i do stuff.   ❜

in a typical work environment, what are your strengths/weaknesses?

❛   people like me.   ❜   he shrugs, feeling sure there isn’t a hint of misplaced confidence. he’s not a liar, he has no business bringing up anything like timeliness or discipline or dedication. a lot’s changed for high volume, but he’s under no impression he’s changed enough to give her that sort of false hope. there’s a beyond good chance if he comes back it’ll be twenty minutes late, right off the bat - but people, he can do. he spent most of his shifts placed carefully behind the register, or meandering around the store while customers filtered in and out.    ❛   i’m not bragging, but it matters when we see ‘em all day. especially here, ‘cause it’s not like … walmart or anything, you wanna shop from someone you like talking to, and everyone likes talking to me. i guess i’m not good at the numbers, or any of the technical stuff.   ❜

can you tell me a little more about what happened when jerry was missing? what was the store like? did your role change?

a time when jerry was around feels so far away. it hasn’t been that long, he knows, but it feels like years since it wasn’t just them keeping things afloat.   ❛   it was … fine   ?   not saying it didn’t matter that he was gone, but there’s a reason we were good at stepping up. not everyone around here likes each other, but we all know each other. we didn’t argue ‘cause someone might’ve shorted a paycheck while the boss was away or anything. we just did what we could.   ❜

can you describe a time that you had a disagreement with a fellow volume employee while working here? how did you handle it?

he blinks.   once.   twice.   looks up at the ceiling in thought.   ❛   no   ?   i’ve never disagreed with anyone here on anything besides, like, how good a movie was. that’s not really something you handle.   ❜

what type of management style would you like to see from me? how i can help you do your job best?

❛   that’s a nice question.   ❜   not one he really has an answer to, but it’s nice. it doesn’t help that this whole thing’s now veering into the outer edges of his ability to sit still. his foot taps, not intentional and not quite impatient, but antsy. tap tap tap tap. he’s going to go and get a milkshake after this, to reward himself for getting through it. not the questions, those he doesn’t mind, but this part. the waiting. it hasn’t even gone on that long, he’s just getting bored.   ❛   i get bored easily,   ❜   he states, catches the flicker of confusion across her face. ❛   that’s a weakness. i just thought about it, but i don’t know about the other thing. we’ve only ever had jerry here, but i’d tell you if you were making my job worse.   ❜

what was it about the way jerry ran things that made this place great?

he hums under breath, leg bouncing.     what was it that jerry did that made high volume so special  ? 

it was special back when he was in high school, running from god knows what like a little hamster stuck back in it’s cage. he’d seen the world,  known how big it was and chosen to return to his little rectangle of space. objectively, the place was nothing special. he has an artist’s eye, and it was no picasso stuck in the middle of nowhere.    it was more like something messy stuck on a fridge, valuable for entirely different reasons. 

❛   i don’t think it was about how he ran things.  he was flaky, super easygoing, usually we knew where stuff was more than he did, but he loved this place. he kept it honest,  like    —    do you get what i mean   ?   you go to the city and walk into some store and it’s all kinda fake. everyone needs stuff but no one wants to be there, but you wanna be here,  don’t you   ?   i mean   —   you came, and you stayed.  when you live in a little place like this, you can’t really wait around for something to knock your socks off. you need somewhere you can dance on a tuesday,   and someone’s dancing here all the time. 

—   anyway,   jerry did that. he cared for it and then he hired people who cared about it enough to do dumb shit just to keep it going. that’s what makes it great. there’s no right management style or anything, but i think if you find a way to love the place half as much as i do, you’ll be alright.   ❜   he’s smiling,  not unusual,  struck by the realization that it would’ve been something awful to see this place go.  he’s kept it tucked into the corner of his head with all other possibilities of things going wrong,  too distant to feel the looming harm,  close enough to access when he can just be grateful it turned out okay.  

he snaps fingers suddenly,  lightbulb flickering overhead.  it’s a sudden movement,  sitting up straight.  ❛   oh,  hey  !  i can still wear my piercings,  right  ?  they make me flip my septum up at joann’s,  but it always feels like i’ve got dust in my nose.   ❜

[someguynamedstevewrites]

My Roommate is an Apparition: An Apparition A-Pink-ciation of Culture

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

From the diary of Lily:

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

When I was little, I used to talk to my stuffed animals all the time.  They were my soft, cuddly friends who were always there for me, and even though they never spoke a word, I always imagined I could hear what they wanted to say.  Even as an adult, I still treat inanimate objects like they’re people too.  In fact, everyone does at some point or another in their adult life.  Anyone who has ever argued with their car that refused to start knows what I mean.

But recently, I realized that sometimes people can do... well the opposite. That sometimes we don’t treat people (who are actual, real people) like they’re people.  It’s not something we consciously think about, but it’s more like we forget that, well, people are people.  I know this sounds really dumb, but I felt like I needed to write about this after a... well after an “argument” I had with my roommate.

I’ve lived with my roommate for a few months now, and I thought I had gotten to know them pretty well.   They like to watch cartoons (like, seriously LOVES them) and we had worked out a TV viewing schedule to make sure that we got along together.  But the other day, I realized that I wasn’t necessarily treating them like they were their own person.  I didn’t mean to do that, but it just kind of happened, and...

...well it gets really complicated because, technically, they aren’t a person.

I mean, they aren’t human; they’re an apparition.

It made me think about all those stories about monsters and ghosts.  Like a ghost used to be human, but then they died, and their spirit became a ghost.  Do we still treat the ghost like the person they were when they were alive?  Outside of a few exceptions, the answer’s a definite yes.

But what about an apparition? It’s kind of like a ghost, but it’s not. I mean, it’s not the soul of someone who died or anything. They just sort of exist. (Would Slimer from Ghostbusters be an apparition or a ghost?).

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

So anyway, reason I’m bringing this all up is because of what happened last weekend. I was channel surfing through the Cable Guide and as I’m flipping through, I pass by Boomerang (you know, the cable channel that spun-off Cartoon Network to hold all the older cartoons?) and all of a sudden, my roommate appears out of nowhere (literally) and practically grabs the remote out from my hands.

“Hey! What gives!?” I say to them.

They immediately change over to Boomerang and my TV screen is suddenly filled up with the color pink. At the same time, my roommate starts “doot-ing” along with the song and goes, “Doo-Doot! Doo-Doot! Do-Doot-Do-Doot-Do-Doot Do-Doot-De-Dooooooooo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doooot”. I have no idea what they’re doing, but then the cartoon starts up and it’s the Pink Panther.

Rhetorically, I go, “What’s this?”

“Pink... Panther...” my roomie says.

And then I make my first mistake by saying, “Huh. Never seen it before.”

Now if I had been paying attention to them, I probably would have seen the face of shock they were making. “You... NEVER... saw it!?” They gasped.

“Nope. Must have been before my time,” which was totally true. I mean, I later found out my Dad used to watch it when he was a kid. It wasn’t on TV when I was growing up. (Why am I defending myself for not watching a specific cartoon?)

Anyway, roomie asks, “Watch... with me?”

And then I, being a total dumbass, say, “Nah. Think I’ll get some dishes in,” before getting up and walking away.

If I had stayed put for just a few seconds longer, I would have heard them asking, “...please?” (In case you’re wondering, they told me about that later.)

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

Yes, I hurt its feelings.  Yes, it was insensitive.  Yes, I am sorry.  But like I said, the thought didn’t even cross my mind back then.  As far as I knew, as long as my roommate had their cartoons, they were happy.  It didn’t occur to me that they cared about anything other than the cartoons themselves.

For the next week, my roommate made sure I knew, now and forever, that this was not true.

My first clue that they were mad at me was later that evening when I went to the living room to watch my usual shows.   It was my turn on the TV, and usually I have to pry my roommate away so I can watch what I want to watch. But that night, the instant I walked into the room, they changed the channel to what I wanted, put the remote down on the couch, and left the room without saying a word.  I thanked them, plopped myself down, and went straight into couch potato mode.

This should have thrown so many red flags in my head, but for some reason, it didn’t.  Maybe I was being too self-absorbed at the time? Maybe I was just tired and thinking, “Aww man, I gotta work tomorrow!”?  No matter the excuse, mistakes were made, and I started paying for them the very next morning.

My “haunting” kicked off with waking up to find most of my rock collection missing.  I have a particular affinity for pretty rocks and gems (I’m kind of a rock nerd) and have my favorites out on display.  But that morning, the only rocks that I could see were the pink ones.  Someone had pilfered almost every pebble from every pedestal to perturb me.   (I saw a chance for alliteration and took it! So sue me!)  I was still waking up and too tired to care about it at the time (me making excuses again) and had work, so I got ready to go and left.

Now I’m not sure how they did it, but my roommate did something to my car radio.   I turn it on and all I get are tunes by Henry Mancini.  Fifty percent of the time, it was the Pink Panther theme, twenty-five percent was the theme from A Shot In The Dark (I had to use Soundhound to figure out that one), and the rest was a mix of some of his other work.   It didn’t matter what station I tried changing it to!  Although I did learn that Mancini composed Baby Elephant Walk, so that’s something.

By now, I’d already figured out what was going on (roommate did it), but couldn’t really do anything about it because I still had work to go to.   As if the daily grind working at an art supply store wasn’t hard enough, I had to work while having the dang Pink Panther theme stuck in my head all day.  Not even the music that played over the store radio could get rid of it.  (Given the quote un-quote “music” they play over the speaker system, I eventually considered it a good thing.)

Then I came home, and that’s when things REALLY escalated.  First words out of my mouth after I walked in was, “Hey, I’m hoooOOOOOLY~!”  Every single wall in the apartment, from the living room, to the kitchen, to the bedroom, and even the bathroom...

PINK!

All of them were painted PINK!

Like strawberry frosted doughnut pink!

As I’m gawking at the interior design sugar rush nightmare, out walks my roommate from around the corner.  Immediately, the first thing I noticed was that they had feet. (Normally, they don’t have feet; they just kind of “hover” or “emerge from the ground” or something.) They had their eyes closed, head held up, and made a point of showing off these noodle legs they had constructed by skipping every other three steps.

They were doing the Pink Panther shuffle.

They walk out of my line of sight and I run over to have a word with them, but by then they disappeared.  I look around and all I see is more and more pink.  From behind me, I hear a mix of snickering slash wheezing.  Like you ever hear of this cartoon dog named Muttley?  They were laughing like him.  And of course, I turn around, and the only thing I see is more pink!

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

I knew that my roommate could be ornery at times, like that time I tried to get an idea of their daily routine by setting up a webcam, but this...

I mean, where did she even get the paint?  (Upon reading back here, I realized I referred to them as a ‘she’ even though I’m not sure if they are a ‘she’ or not.  Yeah, I can edit it to a more neutral pronoun, but something tells me I ought to point this out instead of editing it, for some reason.)

I was half tempted to get back at them by painting the walls back to their original color (they do sell paint by the gallon where I work, and I get the employee discount), but realized they’d just paint(?) the walls pink again.  Like I’d turn around after thinking I finished only to find the work I did completely undone.  I could just picture my roommate doing that and finding it hysterical.

Anyway, tacky as the pink walls were, I didn’t get too angry about them.  For starters, my lease agreement said that I couldn’t paint the walls without landlord approval.  But my lease agreement also acknowledges that my apartment may be haunted.  If the landlord ever brought it up, I’d just tell them the “ghost” did it.  Second, these pranks my roommate was pulling were kind of amusing and didn’t really bother me that much.  (I mean sure, I wanted my rock collection back but I doubted my roommate would have thrown them away.  They know how much they mean to me.)

The one thing I was putting my foot down on was that I wasn’t going to ask my roommate what was wrong.  I got the hint, sure, but I wanted them to know that if something is bothering them, they need to, y’know, actually say something instead of leaving spooky pink clues.  They were being a butt, and my hope was that when they saw how much the pink wasn’t bothering me, then they’d finally open up.  This went on for about a week with me going about my daily routine only to be surprised by the occasional pink interruption.

Like on Wednesday, I go to the fridge to get something to drink, and all I find in there is Pink Lemonade.  It actually wasn’t that bad, but I have no idea how my roommate actually got it given that they never leave the apartment.  Thursday, I get a notification saying a package arrived, and find my roommate used my debit card to order the entire Pink Panther cartoon series on DVD.  And earlier on Tuesday, I got a call from my landlord asking if I knew why someone had called in an order, in their name, to have Owens Corning insulation installed.  In case you weren’t aware, that’s the pink insulation who has “you can guess who” as their mascot.

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

So, Friday rolls around, and by now, the entire apartment is pink.  Like EVERYTHING.  The furniture, the electronics, the toilet, the sink, the appliances, the TV, and everything in between has been made pink somehow.  I’m not sure who out there still makes pink toilet paper, but apparently my roommate has either some special powers I don’t know about yet, or they got connections.

At this point, since my roommate had yet to approach me about “The Pink-ening”, I began playing the reverse-psychology card.  I came home and got to making dinner.  While some of this was a bit more expensive than what I usually spend on food, I figured it was worth it if it meant getting my roommate to talk to me.  My menu included delicious smoked pink salmon, some crab linguine with a nice amount of pink to it for a side dish, and some mashed red potatoes that turn out nice and pink if you got the right recipe.  To wash it down, I picked up a glass of pink lemonade from the fridge, and in the freezer, some strawberry sorbet.

I get down to eating at my pink table, with a pink wooden chair, pink napkins, pink silverware, pink glass of pink lemonade.  It took a little more effort to put this together, but I made an exaggerated point of showing off how good this pink meal was and how much I was just enjoying all this pink.

About halfway into my meal, I get a feeling that someone’s standing behind me.  It’s hard to put into words how you know someone’s there especially since my roommate doesn’t really eat or breath.  It’s like the hairs on the back of your neck become sensitive like cat whiskers and can just... feel that someone’s there.  Usually sends a chill down my spine when that happens, but this time, I was ready and waiting for it.

“Care to join me for dinner?” I say without turning around.  If I had, they probably would have vanished on me again like they had been doing all week.

“Looks... good...” they say in their ever so familiar by now raspy voice.

“Got something you want to talk about?” I ask between bites.  There’s a brief pause as my roommate thinks to themselves.

“...yes,” they finally answer.

“Okay.  Pull up a chair!  It’s been a while since we just, y’know, talked and stuff,” which was true.  

The instant I said that, I realized that even before the “week of pink” began, we hadn’t spent a whole lot of time together outside of our usual TV time.  I had long since figured out that my roommate wanted me to watch Pink Panther with them, but I just thought they wanted to show it to me to show off how (subjectively) good the cartoon was.  Only then did it hit me that they wanted me to watch it with them because they wanted to watch it together with me.  It was like they were hoping for some roommate bonding time or something like that.

Now, it wasn’t like we weren’t talking to each other before this.  I greeted them whenever I saw them, and let them know whenever I came home or was leaving. but we hadn’t actually talked, like... “talk-talk” in a few weeks.  Instead, the conversations over the last few weeks were like the kind of conversations a person would have with their pet cat or pet dog.  Like you’d talk to them, but not really expect an answer from them.

I had been treating her like a pet more than a person.  (Did it again!  I’m thinking I’ll ask them later what kind of pronouns they’d like me to use, or if they’ve even given any thought towards gender or anything).

My guess is that my roommate picked up on this themselves, and just like a disobedient pet who is bored, lonely, or other, they made a mess of the place.  Maybe they were thinking that if I was going to treat them like a pet, they would act like one too?

Of course, I didn’t mean to treat them like that.  I don’t think anyone really does mean it when they do.  It just kind of happens without thinking about it.  The whole reason I’m writing this down here in you, diary, is so that I can make a mental note slash reminder to be careful of doing that kind of thing.  It’s especially important to remember when interacting with other people, like my co-workers or the store customers.  (Unlike my roommate, they can’t get on my case by making my entire apartment pink.)

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

Now where was I?  Oh yeah, our talk.  I think I remember the most important bits of it.  It went something like:

“So, whaddya wanna talk about?” I ask between bites of food.

“Pink...” they say to me.  I wait a moment, expecting them to say “panther” after that, but it when it doesn’t arrive, I step in.

“Yeah!  Pretty amazing what you did with the place!  I didn’t know things could even get this pink!” which was one-hundred percent true.

“...Thank...you...” they say with a smile.  I can tell that was not the answer they were expecting as I could have swore they turned and blushed.  Although I couldn’t tell because of how pink everything else was.

“Although,” I add, “I don’t think the landlord is going to like the apartment being this pink.  If it stays like this, they might kick me out.  And we wouldn’t want that, right?”

Now my roommate, the apparition, actually looks shocked for a moment.  The thought hadn’t entered their head, and for a moment, they looked a little scared.  “N-n-n-no...” they stuttered.

“Well, I’m sure together, we can get this place back to the way it was before the next time they have an apartment inspection.  Whenever that is,” I reassure them.

“Yeah...” my roommate nods.

“Say I got some time off this upcoming weekend.  Want to watch some Pink Panther with me?”  (Oh my God, you should have seen the smile on my roommate’s face when I asked this.)  “I see I have the DVD collection now, apparently,” I say with a wink, “and we can even watch the movies together too.”

“...movies?” they ask.

“Yeah, the Pink Panther was a movie first before it became a cartoon.  It was a live-action movie, but... well some of it’s like a cartoon here and there.  Lots of slapstick comedy that I think you might like.”  They were practically beaming and agreed immediately.  

After Friday’s dinner, we watched some of the cartoons (which are actually pretty funny) and for the upcoming weekend, we’re doing a Pink Panther movie marathon with cartoons mixed in to spice it up.  I also found out that my roommate doesn’t just watch the cartoons, but actually knows a thing or two about them.  Like how Friz Freleng, one of the directors and creative minds behind the original Looney Tunes cartoons, was involved in the Pink Panther’s creation along with a new studio after he left Warner Brothers.  I don’t know how my roommate came to know so much, but it’s pretty cool.

Anyway, I got me some sweet, pink treats to snack on during the movie marathon.  The apartment is still pink as can be, but my roommate said they’ll take care of it once the marathon’s over.  Exactly HOW they plan to take care of it, I have no idea.  Oh well.  No use pinking too hard about it.

(HA!)

[youngerdrgrey]

highlight(s) of my life // a WildMoore fanfic (2/2)

about: Inspired by Sophie's new S3 highlights. Good Bro ™ Ryan Wilder teases Sophie about what other post-break up activities Sophie might have partaken in. Sophie is less than amused and more than a little interested.

read part one here + read part two on ao3

🦇

Right. It’s not like Ryan hasn’t considered it. Sophie is, well, she’s Sophie freaking Moore. But she’s also Sophie ‘Kate’s ex,’ and Sophie ‘member of the Bat Team.’ Sophie ‘quit her job after Ryan wanted her to.’ Sophie ‘sat with Ryan on Coryana when they both thought Ryan was dying.’

There have been many nights where Ryan lies awake with the ghost of Sophie’s hand in hers. It’s ridiculous. She couldn’t really feel the heat of Sophie through the gloves. But she could feel Sophie’s shoulder. Hear Sophie’s breathing along with the crackle of the field. Remember Sophie’s voice straining as she urged Ryan to hold on just a little longer, just until they got to Luke.

Ryan used to say she wanted to go peacefully, in her sleep, with her wife beside her. Very The Notebook. Dying on Coryana like that wouldn’t have been the exact same, but it wasn’t the worst interpretation.

Maybe that moment did something to her. Maybe it changed them both. Maybe it… crossed some wires to have literally been there together through that. Or maybe it has more to do with the last few weeks. With everything from “I know you’re Batwoman, Ryan” through to here, in the bar, with Sophie’s expectant eyes on her.

What the fuck does Ryan say to that?

Another woman slips up beside Sophie before Ryan can respond. This brown skinned girl with dark blue box braids and a staggering set of dimples. Her smile’s amazing as she turns to Sophie.

“I’ve seen you around here before. Vodka, right?” she asks.

Ryan responds at the same time that Sophie does. “Tequila,” they say together. Ryan flashes back to that night of Never Have I Ever at the loft. Back when the couch seemed miles long and too small at the same time, when Ryan’s face betrayed her and softened as she watched Sophie think up things that she hadn’t done.

Sophie gives Box Braids a polite smile before looking back to Ryan. “Can we…?” She motions with her head to the side.

Box Braids’ eyes volley between Sophie and Ryan. “Ah. Well, can I still get the discount?”

Ryan shakes her head at Box Braids. “Deal’s off. Sorry.” Box Braids walks off, and Sophie stares at Ryan expectantly. The thing is, if Ryan goes with Sophie, then everything changes. That should be a good thing. That could be, right?

Ryan scans the bar for some kind of excuse. Sophie clocks the avoidance. Sophie’s earlier nervousness shifts into impatience. Her brows lift as she tries to tamp it down.

“Seriously? You’re supposed to be off soon anyway.”

Ryan chuckles. “Leaving work early? Issa bad look for the manager.” Sophie glares at Ryan, which, okay, that’s fair. Sophie’s trying to put herself out there, and Ryan can feel her heart pounding in her chest.

“You know what else is a bad look?” Sophie motions at the general charged air between them. “This. I’m a big girl, Ryan. If you’re not interested, then say that. I can handle it.”

After being rejected by her own mom, a bartender probably wouldn’t hold much weight. Ryan gulps. It’s not that she isn’t interested. It’s just… the timing and the bar and… the them. But she can’t let Sophie leave thinking that Ryan’s not interested.

Ryan pulls her apron off and slips it under the counter. “Come on.” She leads the way from behind the bar and out towards the back exit. Sophie follows her without another word. They turn down the small employee-only hallway and out the door to the back.

It’ll be better out here. It’s private, but not too private. The loft would’ve been an awful idea. Mary’s gone tonight, and it would’ve just been the two of them. Just Sophie with her sunshine hair and incredible lips.

The back of the bar’s well lit, but it’s an overhead light that somehow makes Sophie look smaller than normal. Sophie holds herself tighter when she’s unsure. As if exuding confidence will make up for the fact that she so clearly doesn’t know how to proceed here.

Sophie breaks the silence first. “Believe it or not, I thought this would go much smoother.”

Has she thought about this a lot? How long has Sophie been into her? Ryan bites down the questions and goes for a smooth response of her own.

“How’d you see it going?”

Sophie glances around. Her eyes land on the bench against the brick wall. It’s mostly for smokers and vapers. One time Ryan saw two people hooking up on it. Ryan’d hosed them down and taped a ‘DO NOT HAVE SEX HERE’ sign on the wall behind it. Sophie chuckles at the sign as she crosses to sit down.

She leans back. “First, I walk in with my new hair and my nice outfit, but you don’t see me right away.” She’s already off to the wrong start. Ryan had spotted Sophie the moment that she entered The Hold Up. Ryan played it off, but Ryan usually knew where Sophie was.

Sophie continues, “I sit at the corner of the bar and wait until you look my way. You’d go to make me a drink, but I’d stop you and say that we’re getting out of here.”

Ryan would’ve smiled at that. Would’ve joked that Sophie isn’t in charge here, and Sophie would’ve lifted a brow in a silent challenge. Her apron would’ve been tucked under the counter within minutes.

Sophie grins. “I drive us out to the quarry near the river. There’s not much to do there, so it’s quiet when nothing else ever is. I’ve got blankets in my car, and a hoodie since you never wear real clothes.”

Ryan cuts in. “I wear real clothes.” Sophie gives her a doubtful look from the bench. There’s still way too much space between them, so Ryan walks over to sit beside Sophie. “I’m not knocking your plan or anything, but you know I have a van, right? It’s got a heater, a ton of blankets, and a lot more space than your car.”

Sophie’s eyes widen. “Wait, is that where you went when Kate came back?” She turns to face Ryan as her own face crumples. “You chose a van over staying with me?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Ryan insists.

Sophie’s tone hardens anyway. “Yeah, right.”

Ryan shakes her head. “It wasn’t. I…. I’m used to holding space and giving it back.” In group homes, in seasonal jobs, and here, in the most important job she’s ever had. “You were so excited to have her back, and I didn’t want to be in the way of that. It’s easier if I just let go.”

Sophie breathes that in, and her eyes seek out Ryan’s. Ryan averts hers to the ground in front of them. She doesn’t need to see the pity. It’s not—

“Hey,” Sophie bumps her shoulder into Ryan’s, “You’re not in the way. You were once or twice, like when you stopped my fear toxin run, but….” Sophie takes a deep breath. “I meant what I said during the blackout. About you making Batwoman your own and giving the city hope again. It’s not the suit that did that. It’s you. And I would gladly spend the whole night praising you if that’s what it takes for you to see that.”

Her tone’s earnest and raspy in the way that makes Ryan’s heart swell. It’s hard to talk around it, so Ryan jokes, “I don’t need your praise. It’s not really my thing.”

Sophie reaches up to cup Ryan’s cheek in her hand. Ryan melts into the touch. It would be embarrassing, if not for the fact that Sophie’s hand shakes just a bit against Ryan’s skin.

As Ryan turns her head to face Sophie’s, Sophie whispers, “Show me what is?”

Honestly, the praise thing would be pretty great. Ryan could use a few reminders that she’s meant to be here, that Sophie wants this and wants them. That Ryan’s not a placeholder and is actually the reason Sophie’s sitting out here instead of going after any of the women who might want her.

Ryan lifts a hand to the highlights in Sophie’s hair. “You really do look amazing.”

Sophie smirks. “You should see them in the sun. Maybe in the morning?”

Ryan laughs. “Very smooth.” She drops her forehead, and Sophie brings hers to meet it. “I’m not that easy.”

Sophie snorts. “You’ve never been easy, Ryan. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”

This could be an awful idea. But Ryan’s done a lot worse than go out with a woman she’s already falling for. Ryan has to look through her lashes to meet Sophie’s eyes. They’re rich and searching, and Ryan knows hers could give the answer. Hers could give everything. So she pulls back just enough to bring her lips to Sophie’s. A soft brush at first. A yes to trying. A yes to a night on the river and finding each other under the covers. A yes to a life, if that’s what Sophie wants.

Sophie chases after Ryan’s lips, catching her and deepening the conversation. Because she does want. She’s shown again and again that she wants anything Ryan will give her. She’s gone along with ridiculous plans and the countless times that Ryan’s iced her out. She’s here for this, and as her tongue swipes across Ryan’s lips, Ryan finally lets her in.

When they do break away, Ryan’s breathless. “You wanna see my van?”

Sophie laughs, then nods, then kisses Ryan again. “Who’s easy now?”

🦇

[vanilla107]

Five Minutes of Sunset

Before the Curse of Sarah Fier series

Summary:

 “We meeting after? Same spot? Sam gonna be there?” she asked, and Deena nodded.

“Simon too. He said he got us discounted food!” Kate said excitedly.

“I hope you know that means that the food is about to expire,” Deena said, deadpanned.

“Whatever! Food is food and I’m not going to turn down chicken wings and all the candy bars I can eat.” ~~~ Four friends get together on a Friday afternoon to talk shit about Sunnyvale and watch the sunset. 

Also titled as: I JUST WANT TO WRITE FICS WHERE EVERYONE LIVES AND ARE HAPPY LIKE FUCK THEM DYING. GIMME MY FAVS BACK.

Read on AO3

It was a usual overcast Friday afternoon in Shadyside and Deena stretched her arms over her head as she headed towards the Shadyside High girl's locker room. The potent smell of floral body spray made her sneeze as she entered the room, high pitched voices bouncing off the walls and she winced before making a beeline down the corridor towards the toilets.

Her breath caught in her throat though, when she saw Samantha Fraser walking away from the toilets and towards her, and the grin that Sam gave her was enough to make her stomach knot.

Sam’s blonde hair glimmered under the crappy fluorescent lights and usually, Deena would have questioned that because the lighting was really shit but she didn’t care. Sam had already changed into her Shadyside cheerleader uniform, the blue and black standing out against her skin and her toned legs on display. Deena realised that she was shamelessly checking Sam out but before she could look away, Sam’s hand gently brushed against hers.

“I’ll see you later? The Spot?” she whispered, and Deena gave her a small nod before they walked past each other.

Deena’s heart could’ve exploded but she contained herself before turning left to the cubicles. There were two other band girls, Krystal and Lili, at the sinks chatting about some test they had earlier that day and Deena gave them a nod before walking to the end of the room where Kate, her best friend, was checking her hair. Kate grinned when she spotted Deena and gave her a hug. With black hair in a neat ponytail, a spotless record and dark eyes that could pick up the smallest detail, Kate was a good friend to have.

"How was AP English?" Deena asked and Kate rolled her eyes.

"Insufferable as always. Gary was a prick and decided to argue with me on every point I made while discussing Macbeth. I get that he doesn't like me, but fuck can he just give it a rest?” she groaned as she rolled her shoulders back.

“You do realise that he probably likes you, right? C’mon Kate, that’s the oldest trick in the book. He’s probably being an asshole to get your attention.”

“It’s stupid and if he thinks that it’s some form of flirting, then he’s dead wrong,” Kate huffed before looking at Deena’s gym bag.

“You getting ready for band?”

Deena heard Krystal and Lili take turns at the hand dryer before walking down the corridor, their retreating steps and voices echoing.

“Yep. And you have cheer practice,” Deena sighed, and Kate looked around, as if to check that no one was listening to them, before giving her a smirk and lowering her voice.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hog your girlfriend for too long. Besides, I’m there to yell and be on top of the pyramid.”

They both knew that was a lie. Despite Kate’s dismissive attitude towards cheerleading and all her other societies, she took it all seriously so that she could ‘Get the hell out of Shittyside’. She planned choreographies, sold extra drugs to raise money for cheer uniform upgrades and more. Deena felt that Kate did too much for a town that seemed against them with their nickname ‘Murder Capital USA’, but she knew that between the two of them, Kate deserved to get out.

“Oh please. We both know you do more than that,” Deena scoffed, and Kate shrugged her shoulders.

“We meeting after? Same spot? Sam gonna be there?” she asked, and Deena nodded.

“Simon too. He said he got us discounted food!” Kate said excitedly.

“I hope you know that means that the food is about to expire,” Deena said, deadpanned.

“Whatever! Food is food and I’m not going to turn down chicken wings and all the candy bars I can eat.”

“I gotta get changed and you should get going. Don’t want to be late for practice,” Deena said with a smile and Kate flipped her off before leaving her to get changed in one of the cubicles.  

Deena listened Kates’s footsteps retreat, and she undressed and changed into her band uniform. She wasn’t self-conscious of her body and didn’t mind changing in front of other people, but the girl’s locker room didn’t leave much to look at. The last thing she wanted was for a girl to point at her for staring and then the whole school would think she’s gay (which she was but that’s wasn’t the point).

Kate had managed to spin a rumour that Deena had a scar on her lower abdomen that she had gotten in an accident and was still ‘healing from the trauma’. While her eyes wouldn’t wander around the change room now that she only had eyes for Sam, it was easier to keep the rumour going and have privacy.

That was another reason Deena loved Kate. Kate could lie flawlessly, and because she was a good student, no one would think twice.

Deena opened the cubicle and adjusted her hat before heading out the locker room and to practice.

~~~

She sighed in relief as she took off her hat and threw it into her bag and changing out of her clothes and changing into a fresh set of clothing.

Most of the band kids had left soon after practice, uniform and all but Deena was headed straight to The Spot as soon she could, so avoiding a trip back home would be beneficial.

Kate and Sam had ended practice earlier and both had gone home to shower and freshen up. Deena didn’t blame them. The showers in the locker room were gross and she was sure she saw mold on the ceiling.

She shuddered before throwing on a t-shirt and jeans and heading out of the locker rooms. She waved bye to Krystal and Lili, who somehow always ended being the last ones getting changed and left the locker room.

Deena thought about the homework she had to do as she walked past the pep rally posters and the banner reading, ‘Let’s Bring It Home, Witches!’. Deena was aware that the biannual football game against Sunnyvale and Shadyside was next Friday and despite Shadyside High having a good football team, Sunnyvale almost always beat them.

It was like a joke. Every single game, a Shadyside football player got injured or a Sunnyvaler would score miraculously, and Deena didn’t mean any offence, but what was the banner supposed to mean?

What where they bringing home?

The last shreds of their dignity?

It was so embarrassing but with Sunnyvale being the only city close enough to them, Shadyside didn’t have a choice.

Deena took a deep breath in before exhaling her feelings of the rivalry between Shadyside and Sunnyvale. This last week had been exhausting but she was happy it was over, and she could spend her weekend unwinding. She didn’t need to think about Shadyside and Sunnyvale.

All she wanted to think about was her, Sam, Kate and Simon hanging out on a late Friday afternoon.

She walked out of the school and a breeze lifted a few of her curls and inwardly thanked that she had packed blankets for them. She thought about the homework she’d have to do on Sunday and the three-page assignment for English, before shaking her head and taking out her Walkman from her backpack and drowning out her thoughts.

~~~

Simon was waiting for her, at least 6 shopping bags with him on the ground and he grinned mischievously as she gestured to all the bags.

"Look if we're starting this weekend off with a bang, we're doing it right. I got mini pies, meatballs, weird little vegetable sticks, donuts with that thick icing Kate loves so much, fries with enough oil to clog up our arteries-"

"Did not need that image Simon," Deena interrupted with a shudder.

"-sugar cookies, three different types of Oreos, cupcakes and... a little magic juice," Simon said, wiggling his eyebrows as he opened one of the bags that had a brown paper bag it cheap white wine.

Deena winced at the beverage and Simon straightened up and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, you don't have to have. I got it because I thought we could all loosen up a little. It’s not heavy shit either but no worries if you don't want, Dee."

His tone was sincere, and she gave him a small smile. Only Kate, Sam and Simon knew about her dad’s drinking problem, and they had been over to her house enough times to see some of the empty beer cans in the bin. While Deena knew that it was her dad’s fault for drinking too much and being passed out on the couch, she couldn’t help but wonder if alcoholism ran in her family.

That last thing she wanted was to be like him.

"Thanks Simon. Now let's carry this to the spot,” she said, and he smiled dopily at her.

They grabbed three bags each and they began to walk away from the supermarket.

"I'm surprised you got off so early. Don't you usually close the store on Fridays after school?"

"Yeah, but my manager loves me so much that when I asked him and flashed my beautiful doe eyes, he told Kristen to do it instead. She looked furious," he giggled, and Deena snorted.

Simon frequently complained about Kristen Jenkins, his other co-worker, who was a nightmare. She did all her work but was always trying to one up him to get employee of the month. While Simon didn't care for the title, he liked seeing his picture on the wall and knew it would only piss if Kristen more of he was overly sweet to her.

"You know she might kill you some day," Deena laughed.

"Not if I get to her first," he said suggestively, and Deena hit him playfully.

"Pervert," she said, and he danced forward, the bags swaying in his hands.

"Nah, just a law-abiding citizen your honour!" he yelled.

They discussed their homework and their other plans for the weekend (Simon was working as usual and Deena knew she would be stuck at home with homework and looking after her brother, Josh). They walked past familiar streets and soon the gravel under their shoes became a steep rocky path as they exited their town. Deena hated this part of the walk, but their destination would be worth it. They took a left into the forest and continued their walk in a comfortable silence.

The path got steeper, and Deena gritted her teeth as she made her last step up, revealing a little patch of grass with the best view of Shadyside. She could see the grocery store, her school and even the Sheriff’s office in the distance.

It was a hidden gem that she had found one night after her dad got home drunk and in a fit of rage, left the house with no idea where to go.

She didn't want to go to any of her friend's houses and at that point, Sam wasn’t her girlfriend yet and she didn’t want to scare her away (even though Sam reassured her a few months later after Deena had confessed that her dad was hardly around). Instead, she ran. Ran to the point where her lungs were burning for air and her shirt stuck to her back with sweat. It was so dark, and she realised she had no idea where she was going. She took lefts and rights before realizing she was in the forest outside of town but eventually saw a light source and kept following it until she got to the small patch of grass that overlooked Shadyside. Deena had stayed there till sunrise, watching the world go from dark to bright and a feeling of calm passed over her as she soaked in the first rays of the day. She had made her way home to find her dad passed out on the couch and Josh still asleep, both unaware that she had been gone for nearly four hours.

She had collapsed onto her bed and slept, her anger seeping away from her bones, but the memory of the sunrise embedded in her memories. She had shown Kate and Simon that spot a week later, and it became a regular hang out for the three of them until Deena started dating Sam a few months later.

Sam had been hesitant at first to go to ‘The Spot’ as Simon had called it but then again, Sam was hesitant with almost everything concerning her budding relationship with Deena.

Deena was hoping that Sam would loosen up over time, but she knew how her mom was…strict, had high expectations and a tight grip on who was in Sam’s social life. Deena hadn’t messed up yet but knowing that Sam could disappear from her life purely because of Sam’s mother was another kind of fear. Deena had met Sam’s mom, who seemed nice enough but hearing about a fight between Sam’s mom and dad, it sounded like her mom was slightly more vicious.

“Deena? You good?” Simon asked and she blinked as she snapped out of her daydream.

“Yeah…sorry. Oh…you set up everything,” she said, raising an eyebrow at the beautiful scene in front of her.

“When you leave a retail employee alone with food that needs to be organized, you can’t expect him to not do anything. I assumed that the two fluffy blankets were for cuddles later and the other was for this picnic, so I took it out. That okay?”

Deena nodded and made herself comfortable and grabbed a mini pizza.

“Perfect Simon. So…how expired are these?” she asked, taking a sniff and Simon stared at her.

“Do you not trust me, Deena?” he gasped dramatically and before she could answer, a familiar voice from behind them yelled.

“If she did, I would be worried!”

Deena grinned as she put down the pizza and stood up to see Kate and Sam walking together. Kate was holding two bottles of apple juice and Sam had a box of cookies in her hand. Sam’s hair was damp from her shower earlier and Kate’s cheeks were a rosy red. They were both in comfy clothes and Deena hugged Kate first before hugging Sam.

“Glad you could make it, Sam,” Deena whispered, and she felt Sam hold her a little tighter.

“Me too. Snuck out the house and everything,” she giggled into her ear, and Deena’s jaw dropped.

“Wait what? Seriously? Damn Samantha sneaking out-?” Deena teased, and Sam grinned.

“Won’t your parents notice you’re gone?” Simon asked as he popped a grape into his mouth before frowning and inspecting the container. “Okay…the grapes might not be good.”

Kate raised an eyebrow and she swiped a grape before her face scrunched in disgust, “Ew no. Oh that’s disgusting. Take it away.”

Simon laughed before taking the grapes and throwing them away into one of the empty carrier bags.

“Uh…not tonight. They both have work and stuff,” Sam said, and Deena detected the hesitance in her voice. She pushed down the urge to ask what the real answer was and sighed in relief when Kate let out a squeal from behind her.

“You are fucking brilliant Simon Kalivoda!” Kate said as she held up a donut with white icing on the top.

Simon gave Deena a triumphant look as Kate bit into the donut and signed in happiness while Deena took Sam’s hand and lead her to the food. The sat down and soon, conversation filled the air in between bites of food.

“Shadyside versus Sunnyvale next week. Yay,” Kate grumbled in between bites of her donut, and Simon looked at her with sympathy.

“At least their cheerleading routines aren’t as good,” he said and at those words, Kate visibly perked up and Deena hid her laugh.

“Damn right,” Kate said, before grabbing a meatball and popping the whole thing into her mouth.

“Okay so here’s what I’m thinking…we graffiti Sunnyvale’s bus!” Simon smiled evilly and Kate smacked him on his head.

“We’re trying to avoid conflict Simon. Not give them a reason to retaliate plus knowing them, they’ll get lawyers involved and all that crap.”

“But they win almost every time!” Simon moaned in frustration, “What’s the point of even having the matches if we already know the outcome?”

Deena heard Sam giggle next to her and she smiled as their conversation continued.

“Does no one think it’s a little weird that their team’s name is the ‘Sunnyvale Devils’?” Sam asked and Deena turned to look at her in surprise.

“Care to elaborate?” Kate asked and Sam sat up a little straighter.

“Well Sunnyvale has all these good things happen to them and it only seems that Shadyside suffers right? Economically and all that.”

As Sam spoke, she opened up the plastic container of cookies and she offered to everyone. Simon bit into one and Deena swore his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he let out a moan of pleasure.

"Stop being so sexual, weirdo!" Kate said and Simon ignored her as he turned to face Kate.

"These are incredible. Did you make them?" he asked and Sam smiled brightly before nodding. "You must give me the recipe, holy shit. It's like there's cocaine in here!"

Everyone laughed before Sam continued.

"It's just strange that between two towns not too far apart from each other, one is thriving economically and the other is suffering."

“Except we have the murders! What's that nickname...'Murder Capital USA'? Yeah that!” Simon chipped in and Kate rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, but that hasn’t happened recently,” Kate argued.

“Not yet!” Simon said lowering his voice eerily and Kate turned back to look at Sam.

“Ignore him. You were saying?”

“Well, it’s strange that they’re the Sunnyvale Devils. Why would they name their team after the devil since they clearly have a blessing from God to thrive,” Sam said snarkily, and Deena grinned, happy that her girlfriend, who usually said things to please everyone else, was allowing herself to loosen up a little.

“I don’t know but they suck and maybe they deserve to have a mascot who is the literal devil,” Kate said proudly.

“A toast to Shadyside!” Simon yelled and Deena gave him a look of confusion.

“How about a toast to friends?” Kate suggested before looking over to Simon. “Y’know, since we have a ninety-nine percent change of losing next week’s game?”

“There’s still the one percent,” Sam said softly, and Deena squeezed her hand.

She loved how optimistic Sam was, even in the shittiest situations. Deena felt like sometimes, Sam was too bright and sunny for her, and that Sam deserved a person just as bright and sunny as her, but Sam eased her worries instantly with a kiss and words of comfort.

Simon took out the cheap wine and raised an eyebrow at Deena, who shook her head.

“You not drinking?” Sam asked and Deena gave her a small nod.

“Okay, so it’s just me, Kate and…Sam, you in?” Simon asked as he lifted an empty cup and Sam smiled at him.

“No thanks. My mom can smell any sort of alcohol a mile away, even if it’s the cheap stuff.”  

“Suit yourself!” Simon said with a shrug, and he held up a bottle of apple juice that Kate had bought. “Would you prefer this?” he asked, and the couple nodded.

The sky was a haze of orange and gold clouds as the sunset and while Deena had witnessed the sunset at The Spot for the last couple months, she never got sick of it. The sun lit up the town and for once, Shadyside’s beauty seemed to nearly be on par with Sunnyvale. Sure, they didn’t have three story mansions or newly painted tennis courts and country clubs, but the weirdly homey feeling of the town was what Deena appreciated. The sunset made her feel like Shadyside wasn’t all bad and that things could get better for her and her family. The feeling that she could come out with Sam as her girlfriend and her dad would stop drinking so much. It made her fantasize of travelling and experiencing life with Sam at her side but knowing that Shadyside was her home.

It gave her five minutes of hope that she needed.

“Cheers to friends!” Kate announced, holding her cup high and they all cheered before downing their drinks.

Simon decided to pretend being drunk as he stumbled around the grass and made dirty jokes while Kate pulled his arm to go explore a part of the forest. Deena knew this was Kate’s way of giving her and Sam some alone time and she inwardly thanked her friend before turning to face Sam, who was glowing from the golden rays of sun on her skin.

“Wow…” Deena whispered, and Sam looked up, a frosted cookie in her mouth.

“Hmm? Did I miss something?” she asked, as she chewed and swallowed.

“No…it’s nothing,” Deena said, before leaning back on her hands. “So…you want to tell me what’s going on with your parents?”

“Ugh, nothing gets past you!” Sam groaned before closing her eyes and turning to face Deena, nibbling on the cookie as she started to speak.

“I think they might be getting a divorce. The fights have gotten worse, and they argue almost every day. It’s like a relief when I wake up to them not fighting. I think they went to see attorneys this evening after work which is why I could sneak out. I…I don’t want to be home waiting for them to tell me that type of news right now.”

Deena winced as Sam's voice broke and Sam buried her head into her hands, silent tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I don’t know what to do, Deena. I saw this coming, but I don’t know what’s going to happen to me if they go through with the divorce. My mom mentioned something about Sunnyvale to my aunt on the phone a few days ago and…and what if I move and if I don't move and stay with my dad...I don't know...what if I have to choose between my parents-?”

Sam broke off and began sobbing and Deena took her into her arms smoothing down her hair. Sam relaxed into Deena's arms and after a few minutes Deena spoke up.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. You still got me, and Simon and Kate and…I’ll do everything I can to help you through this. I promise.”

“You mean that?”

“Yes, every word. I know it's going to be hard but you will always have me.”

Sam sniffed before lifting her head and wiping away her tears.

“Thank you, Deena. That means everything to me,” Sam said before cupping the side of Deena’s face and closing the gap between them.

Deena could feel the butterflies in her stomach and taste the strawberry icing from the biscuit Sam had eaten. She could feel Sam’s growing smile against her lips, and she melted into Sam’s arms.

How had she gotten so lucky?

Deena wasn’t sure how long they kissed but after they came up for air, there was a wolf whistle from behind them and Sam nearly screamed before realizing it was Simon, grinning manically with Kate by his side, a similar grin on her face, holding a polaroid camera.

“God, you scared the daylights out of us!” Deena yelled and Sam chuckled before clearing her voice.

“You guys find anything cool?” she asked, and Kate shook her head.

“Nah. Simon saw a skunk and wanted to chase after it, but I dragged him away before things could get…gross. But…we did get these!”

Kate bounded up to them before presenting them with two polaroid pictures and Deena let out a gasp. It was of the two of them, the Shadyside sunset in the backdrop while their silhouettes were nose to nose. Deena knew that the photo was discreet enough for them to not be recognizable, with her hoodie hiding her hair, but Deena knew that made it even more special to Sam, who couldn't afford her mom finding out that it was two girls close enough to kiss.

Sam was frozen in shock as she stared at her picture before jumping up and hugging Kate and repeating ‘thank you’ repeatedly while Kate just laughed.

Simon sat back down and grabbed a handful of cheesy puffs before smiling at Deena.

“You still think Shadyside is going to lose next week?” she asked, and he hummed before winking at her.

“Who knows? I’m feeling kinda lucky this evening,” he said as she smiled as Sam sat down and wrapped her arms around her, so that her back was against Sam’s chest.

Kate sat down next to Simon, who pouted and glanced in her direction, before rolling her eyes and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“There. That’s all the love I’m feeling tonight,” she said nonchalantly, and Simon only grinned before tackling her, kissing her cheeks and she squealed.

Deena snorted and Sam gasped in surprise before asking, “They’re not together, right? You told me that they weren’t?”

“No, but Simon is overly affectionate, and Kate tolerates it. He’s kissed my cheek a few times before I told him I was lesbian, and he’s backed off ever since to respect my boundaries. Kate describes it as friendly connections, but Simon is convinced that she’s madly in love with him,” Deena explained, and Kate glared at her from the ground as she pushed Simon’s face away from hers.

“Simon! Get off! And no Deena, I’m not madly in love with him!”

“But I have so much love to give Kate!” he complained, his words slightly slurred from Kate's hand being against his cheek.

“Then date one of the cheerleaders I’ve told you about! Or one the football players!” she yelled.

Simon have her a goofy smile before smiling mischievously.

“Nah, none of them would be able to tolerate me the way you do and don’t act like I haven’t caught you staring during cheer practice. You crush on the cheerleaders and football players too!”

Kate’s face flushed and Simon smirked at her before she ruffled his hair.

“Shut up Si-money. You know we’re platonic soulmates.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Simon as he helped her sit up right and he gave her a shit-eating grin.

“Hell yeah! Platonic soulmates! Now that’s something I can do,” he hummed happily, and she rolled her eyes, but her smile was undeniable.

The four of them watched the sky turn lilac with streaks of pink and orange and slowly but surely, the deep navy started to set in. The wind picked up, and soon the blankets were brought out and wrapped around shoulders. Deena and Sam cuddled together, their body heat more than enough, and Simon tried to cuddle with Kate before she scolded him.

“I already let you kiss me, Simon. Don’t push your luck with any skinship!”

“I just don’t want you to catch a cold! It’s called ‘being considerate’ Kate!” he argued back.

Deena tried to keep her laughter in when she looked over to them a few minutes later, with Kate looking grumpy because she was shivering, and watched as Simon wrapped his jacket around her as well as the blanket around them.

“This changes nothing, Simon,” she grumbled.

“Wasn’t planning on changing a thing,” he said, and that answer seemed to make her rest her back against his chest.

The stars came out and the sound of crickets echoed through the air. Deena wanted this moment to last forever. Everything was perfect.

“You going back home tonight?” Deena whispered into Sam’s ear, and she nodded.

“Yeah. Gotta get back before the parents but thankfully dinner is in the fridge, and I can avoid them for the evening by locking myself in my room.”

“You could always come back to my place.”

“You have a project to do plus even if you didn’t, I can’t. I’m visiting my grandparents tomorrow for breakfast and the parents would definitely notice my absence,” she said apologetically.

“You’re right. I should focus on school,” Deena said sarcastically, and Sam rested her chin on Deena’s head.

“I know you’ll create an amazing project.”

“You always have so much faith in me.”

“Why shouldn’t I? You’re Deena Johnson, my sarcastic, moody, intelligent girlfriend and I know you can do it.”

Deena’s heart swelled at the word.

Girlfriend.

She cuddled closer to Sam and watched the sky turn fully to deep navy, the lights from the town the only reason it wasn’t pitch black.

Deena knew they’d have to leave in a few minutes so that Sam could be home before her parents. Kate had mentioned she was babysitting that seven which automatically meant Simon would be accompanying her. Deena knew that Josh would probably be at home under a sheet and doing whatever dorky shit he did online, which left her alone to do work in her room.

She shook away those thoughts and decided to focus on how she was in Sam’s arms, feeling warm and with Simon and Kate, who made her stomach ache from laughter. She chose to focus on the sweetness from Sam's kiss on her tongue and the last glimpse of pale yellow before it vanished under the navy sky. She chose to look at the stars and close her eyes to make a wish, and even though she had grown out of the habit that wishes couldn’t come true no matter how hard you believed, she took the chance.

She could choose happiness now and that was all that mattered to her.

~~~

Thank you so much for reading!

These events take place before Sam's parents get divorced (and all the shit hits the fan) and she moves to Sunnyvale hence the Shadyside cheerleading uniform and all of them attending the same high school.

Kate and Simon are 100% my favourite characters and I adore how goofy Simon is. I definitely headcanon Kate as bi and Simon as pan (literally everyone in Fear Street is queer you cannot argue with me on this!) and I adore their friendship throughout Part One hence PLATONIC SOULMATES EVERYONE. Simon seemed to love hugging people and throwing his arm around other people's shoulders so I made in overly affectionate with Kate in this fic.

Not going to lie, I would love to write a part two for this where Deena is reflecting on this moment while visiting Simon and Kate's graves but that might make me sad soooooo...let me know if you guys would want to read some angst lol.

I also really love Ruby Lane and I might write a whole fic about her because she was definitely my favourite killer in the trilogy! Also Alice and Cindy because those girls were gay as hell and I really did think they were going to kiss at one point.

Anyway, thanks for reading and if you liked it, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

Stay safe, vanilla107 xoxo

[the-modernmary]

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 7)

Chapter summary: Your best friend confronts you about your revived relationship with Aaron and how much things have changed from two years ago when you run into the BAU at a bar. 

A/N: This chapter is definitely not my finest work, but we get some background on Hotch and reader. The part that is italicized is a flashback.

masterlist || read on ao3

Don't you want to take time and get to love me? We could build a perfect world I got tricks I really want to show you I could be your perfect girl - Wolf Alice, “Your Love's Whore"

~~~~~~~

“Okay, I can’t deal with this anymore. I have to say something.”

You looked up from your textbook to see the disappointed stare of your best friend, Aly, from the other side of the bar. She worked as a bartender, so sometimes you would hang out with her while she was working, maybe do some homework, and she would give you drinks with the employee discount price.

The two of you had been best friends since you were in middle school. When your mom died and your dad went back to prison, you were originally supposed to be shipped off to live with an aunt in another state that you had never met before, but Aly’s parents decided to claim legal guardianship over you, allowing you to live with them. From then on, you and Aly had become inseparable, even following each other to college. 

You snorted softly and took a sip from your drink. “Oh boy, this should be interesting,” you said sarcastically, and Aly rolled her eyes as she tossed the bar towel over her shoulder.

“You are acting way too casual about the whole Aaron thing.” You groaned, but she didn’t give you a chance to speak up. “He just shows up out of the blue after two years, and you dive right back in, head first, and act like nothing changed? You’re not even going to ask him what happened?”

You sighed. You knew that this was going to be a conversation that Aly was going to have with you at some point, and you were actually a little surprised that it took her a full month before saying anything, but that didn’t mean you liked it. “Yeah, because the murder of his ex-wife and the attempted murder of his son makes great pillow talk. No, I haven’t talked to him about that.” You rolled your eyes as you finished the rest of your drink. “And I don’t need to. The only reason you’re making this a big deal is because you don’t like Aaron.”

She stared at you in disbelief. “Don’t like him? Babe, how can I have any opinion on him if I don’t know him? I didn’t even know that you were sleeping with him until you called me crying because you thought-”

“I really don’t want to have this conversation,” you cut her off, and you pushed your empty glass towards her, wordlessly asking for a refill. You didn’t want to go through those memories right now. Or ever, if you could help it. “I don’t need to know everything about his life. It’s not like we’re getting married.”

Aly raised an eyebrow at you as she started to make you another drink. “Maybe not, but do you want to? Do you want an actual relationship?”

“No!” you said, too quickly and too defensively, but it was true. You liked what you had with Aaron, all of the benefits and fun parts of dating somebody without any of the responsibilities. But you understood where Aly was coming from.

If there were such a thing as “Build-A-Boyfriend”, and if you were being completely honest with yourself, your ideal partner would probably be a lot like Aaron. More age appropriate perhaps, less baggage for sure, and most likely with a different job, one that didn’t slowly chip away at his soul until he became a shell of a man.

But somebody determined and focused like him. With a soft side like his, and the same dry sense of humor as him. A person you could talk to for hours, who sees you and pushes you towards greatness. Maybe even somebody who makes you feel special because they can only ever relax and be carefree around you. Somebody who just wants to do good in the world and who cares.

Somebody like that.

Aly opened her mouth to say something, but it quickly closed it as she looked at the entrance. “Damn, there’s a group coming in. Okay, I actually have to do my job now. But we will talk about this later.”

You started to tease her until you caught sight of the said group walking in. “Shit,” you hissed under your breath, turning your back towards the door and praying they didn’t see you. “We summoned them.”

Aly looked at you in confusion. “Y/N, what-”

“That’s Aaron and his team,” you whispered, although it didn’t matter much, “and will you please stop staring?”

A gasp left Aly’s mouth and, in true best friend fashion, she didn’t stop staring. Despite Penelope’s invitation a week earlier, you had been able to avoid going out with the BAU team. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them - you actually really liked being around them - but it would have made things way too complicated with Aaron. He compartmentalized even more than you. “Which one is he?” she asked excitedly, and you had to reach over the bar to get her to turn around.

“You’re going to draw so much attention to yourself,” you hissed, and the two of you started to frantically talk over each other.

“Because I want to know which one-”

“- Tell you later -”

“- have to at least take their order -”

“- Really don’t want to see them -”

“- Coming over here now -”

“Hey Y/N!”

You grimaced to yourself before turning around on the barstool, forcing a smile. Penelope was the one who greeted you, but the rest of the BAU had made their way to where you were sitting. The looks they were giving you unsettled you, like they all knew something you didn’t, but you decided to chalk it up to nervousness. Aaron, however, was standing in the back and looking about as mortified as you felt.

“Hey guys,” you said, stretching out each word. You weren’t drunk enough for this. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world…”

“Casablanca,” Spencer noted out loud. 

Aly smirked and leaned against the bar. “Y/N, are you going to introduce me to all of your FBI friends?”

You had to fight the urge to glare at her, because you knew what she was doing. She wanted you to introduce her to Aaron, but she was just going to have to wait. “Aly, this is the BAU team. BAU team, this is Aly.”

Aly pouted at you but surprisingly said nothing else. You weren’t sure if you were grateful for that or if it just made you more nervous.

Emily looked at the open textbook that was long forgotten next to you. “Are you studying at a bar?” she asked, amusement evident in her voice. “I thought only Reid did that.”

You shrugged and closed the textbook. “I was studying, but I gave up on that about an hour ago,” you admitted. 

“Good!” Penelope said excitedly. “Because if you’re not studying, then you can join us!”

Your eyes flicked nervously to Aaron, whose face was completely unreadable. You wanted him to give you some sign of what he thought would be the best, but he just stared at you, stoic as ever. The conversation that you had with Aly was playing on repeat in your mind, making you feel sick. You didn’t care about Aaron’s past. You couldn’t care.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude,” you settled on.

“It’s no intrusion at all,” Rossi piped up, and you and Aaron both stiffened. Rossi knew about you and Aaron, so the fact that he was encouraging you to mingle with the rest of the group was a bad sign. “And besides, drinks are on me tonight.”

Aly laughed from behind the bar. “If that’s the case, then she is definitely joining you guys so that she can stop mooching off my employee discount without even tipping me.”

So just like that, it was settled. You grumbled something about always tipping as you grabbed your drink and your textbook before following the group to a large corner booth. You didn’t miss the smirks each of the team members was throwing your way, and you definitely noticed that they left the only open seat next to Aaron. The two of your exchanged tight-lipped smiles as you slid into the empty space, careful not to touch Aaron. This was partly because you wanted to keep a calm and collected exterior, even if the team did know about you and Aaron - which you had started to suspect.

It was also partly because the idea of being Aaron’s dirty little secret right in front of his coworkers was too tempting, and you already had 2 long island iced teas, so you did not trust your self-control.

“So Y/N,” JJ started, breaking you out of your thoughts. You had hoped, maybe naively, that they would just ignore you and let you observe for the night. “Does Aly go to law school with you?”

You laughed despite yourself and you shook your head. “God, no. Although, she did take the LSAT with me so that even if I totally bombed it, I wouldn’t have the worst score.”

“What did you get on it?” Spencer asked, and you saw Aaron perk up slightly at the question.

“A 174,” you beamed.

“Look at you go! You’re like our own personal Elle Woods!” Penelope praised, and your heart swelled at the use of the word “our”, like you were already a part of the group.

“I wish,” you chuckled. “But that brilliant bitch got a 179.”

A simultaneous “Who?” came from both Spencer and Aaron.

“From Legally Blonde?” you prompted, but were met with more confused stares. “The greatest lawyer movie of all time?” They shook their heads again. “Okay, you both need to watch it, it’s a classic. Miss Woods was quite literally the only reason I was able to get through my first year.”

Well, that and fucking Aaron every chance you got, but they didn’t need to know that. 

You heard a gasp come from Penelope. “We should do another movie night! We haven’t had one of those in a while.”

Emily laughed and nudged Penelope softly. “Do you not remember the fiasco we had last time we did a movie night? We almost burnt down Rossi’s house.”

Laughter erupted from the table as multiple parties started to talk over each other, and you were happy to slide into the background, making little quips when the conversation called for it. The most surprising part of the whole night was how easily you got along with the BAU group, and how much they seemed to like you. Less surprising, however, was how acutely aware you were of Aaron’s thigh, which was now pressed against your own.

Aaron had stayed completely silent since the time the team walked up to you, and you could only imagine what was going on in his head. This whole situation was probably a living nightmare for him, and you couldn’t say you blamed him. Your choice to keep Aaron a secret from your friends was just that - a personal choice. You didn’t want them to fuss over you or put delusions in your head of a future with Aaron. You wanted to be able to enjoy your privacy.

But the implications for Aaron were much more severe, especially now that you were actually working at the FBI. People would start to question his judgment, whether or not he was fit for his job. They would question if he had taken advantage of you or manipulated you, and that would all be before they even found out that the two of you were sleeping together years ago. He could very possibly be seen as just a high ranking government official who was sneaking around with a girl almost 20 years his junior.

In other words, it would look really, really bad for him. You downed the rest of your drink in one go.

Aaron raised his eyebrows as he watched your actions, his gaze heavy. His eyes ran up and down your body, and you could feel yourself start to overheat. He felt much closer than he was. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you noticed that the rest of the team had scattered among the bar - some playing pool, some ordering more drinks, and some in the bathroom - which left you and Aaron alone in the booth. There was enough room that he didn’t need to have his leg pressed up against you, and he definitely didn’t need to bring his hand down to your knee, but he did. 

“So, a 174? Impressive.”

“Mhm,” you mused, keeping your voice casual. “Does that surprise you?”

“Not at all,” he responded, no hesitation in his voice. 

His response didn’t surprise you much, but you preened at the compliment all the same. You wanted people, especially Aaron, to think of you as effortlessly successful and to be impressed by you. So you didn’t show them the countless hours spent in the library, and the many all nighters you pulled. You were careful to only show people the parts of you that you could brag about, like your class rankings or debates on subjects you were an expert in, so that it looked like it came naturally to you. So you didn’t look like you were struggling.

Part of that came after your mom died. You didn’t want everybody fussing over you and treating you like you were breakable, so you quickly decided to show that you were independent. If you didn’t give people a reason to worry about you, they’d leave you alone. 

The other part of that came during law school. You knew yourself enough to realize that it was probably because of Aaron, and how much he rubbed off on you. You wanted to be engaging like him, to be able to completely command a room without even saying a word like him. You wanted success like him. Aaron noticed that early on and challenged you. He let you debate with him just so that you could practice going against somebody smarter and more experienced than you. And it paid off. 

~~~~~~~

You stared at the email on your phone, your cheeks sore from how much you were smiling. You had already told all of your friends, but their reaction wasn’t as satisfying as you wanted. They were ecstatic for you, but realistically, you only wanted the approval of one person. 

Your thumb hovered over Aaron’s contact in your phone, debating on whether or not to call him. This could probably be a text, but Aaron was so formal when texting, even when dirty texts were involved. Besides, you wanted to hear Aaron’s approval, and even more than that, you wanted his attention. Even if it was just for a minute or two, you wanted his attention in the middle of a weekday, something you never got. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you hit the call button and brought the phone up to your ear. 

“Aaron Hotchner,” came the greeting, formal as ever. 

“Aaron, hi,” you started, and you were happy that Aaron couldn’t see the way you were nervously tugging the hem of your shirt. 

There was a beat of silence. “Y/N,” he said, surprise evident in his voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is great! I, uh…” You realized that you didn’t have a good explanation to give to Aaron as to why you were calling him while he was at work. “Is this a good time?”

You could hear light footsteps on the other side of the phone, followed by the soft click of a door closing. “That depends on the subject matter,” he mused, his voice lowering.

All the nervousness you felt melted away. “I made law review!” you blurted excitedly. “I just got the email and I didn’t have anybody else to tell. And God knows you’ve helped edit my papers enough, so I figured I’d share this with you.”

You wished that you could have seen Aaron’s face. You wanted to know if he was smiling, or if he looked proud. In hindsight, telling him in person probably would have been more rewarding. 

“I knew you’d get it,” he told you sincerely. “Automatic or write on?”

“Automatic,” you told him proudly.

“Congratulations, Y/N. That’s a big deal. I’m sure you’re going to celebrate tonight. It’s Bar Review night, right?”

You hummed to yourself, attempting to calm your nerves. You dropped your voice, adding a more seductive tone. “Actually… I was hoping that maybe I could be rewarded for all my hard work? Please?”

He hadn’t said no to you yet, and you doubted today would be any different. 

Aaron chuckled, low and dark. “Mhm, since you asked so nicely…” His voice trailed off, and you could practically hear him stiffen up. “But I can’t tonight.”

”Oh.” He didn't elaborate, and doesn’t have to. If it were for a case, he would have told you. When he didn’t say anything, that meant it was a Haley and Jack thing. Still, you couldn’t help but note the disappointment that bled into his words. 

“Are you busy this weekend?” he asked, his voice soft. “We could meet in Baltimore. Same hotel. I can make reservations now.”

For the second time that day, you smiled so wide that your cheeks hurt. Attention was what you wanted, and attention was what you got. “Baltimore sounds good. Send me the details.”

~~~~~~~

You mindlessly stirred the ice in your empty glass with the straw, listening to the soft clinking. “What about you? What did you get on your LSAT?”

Aaron thought about it for a second. “A 176. I think.”

A bitter chuckle left your lips and you turned in your seat just enough so that you could face Aaron. You were so close to him that, even in the dark lighting of the bar, you could make out every feature on his face. “Christ, and here I was thinking I could out-lawyer you,” you teased.

Aaron took a sip of his drink — double scotch neat. “I’ve seen the way you like to argue with me. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to go up against you in court,” he scoffed. 

“Hm, yeah but you like it when I argue with you,” you pointed out, leaning in closer to him. “Because then you get to shut me up.”

Aaron set his drink down on the table, his face never betraying any sort of emotion. “Come over tonight,” he told you, his voice lowering. The hand that was on your knee slowly trailed up your thigh, his fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You smirked, deciding to mess with him a little. “Presumptuous of you to assume I don’t already have plans after this.” You didn’t, and Aaron knew that. He somehow always knew. 

In spite of that, he decided to indulge your teasing. “Cancel them.” It wasn’t a suggestion, and he punctuated his demand by squeezing your thigh. “I can help you study later.”

That was all the convincing you needed. You slipped out of the booth, ready to pull him straight out of the bar, but his face gave you pause. “Meet me at my car in two minutes,” he told you firmly, and you nodded obediently and sat back down.

You watched him start to walk out of the bar, only to be stopped by Emily and Derek. You watched as the three of them talked, Aaron's whole body tensing. There was a lull in the conversation before the three of them looked over at you, Emily and Derek trying to hide their drunken smiles.

They knew. They had to know. It’s not like you and Aaron were being subtle. In some part of your subconscious, you were sure that they knew long before tonight, and that this was just a confirmation. Still, you didn’t know how Aaron was going to react. You thought that Aaron was going to deny it, or even end things with you right there. Besides that one office-sex slip up, Aaron had been so careful about keeping you a secret from his professional life, even going as far as asking you to not call his office phone. In a shocking turn of events, he just smiled and gave you a small nod before making his way towards the door.

Figuring that you didn’t need to wait the two minutes anymore, you started to head towards the exit, blushing as you went. You could feel everybody’s eyes on you the whole time, but when you looked around, none of them seemed to be judging you. If anything, they seemed… happy? You were just about to reach the doors when Penelope cut you off.

“Does this mean you’ll start having lunch with me in the Batcave?” she said excitedly, not even needing to preface her question. They all knew.

“Whenever I get a chance,” you promised.

Penelope reached down to grab your hands, covering them both with hers. “Good! It can get lonely when they’re all off saving the world.”

“Hey Penelope,” you started, pursing your lips nervously. “Is this thing with Aaron and I… is it okay? I don’t want to make things weird for your team.”

Penelope gave you a sympathetic look and shook her head quickly, like even the very act of bringing it up made her sad. “Of course it’s okay! Hotch is happier than we’ve seen him in a long time, and that’s all we want for him. He’s a good guy who has just been through too much. But if he gives you any problems, you come straight to us. You’re one of us now.”

Then, without any warning, Penelope pulled you into the tightest hug you’ve ever gotten. You could smell her perfume, something floral and sweet. “Thank you,” you said as she let you go.

“Oh no, thank you,” she retorted, grinning. “Now you go have fun.”

You laughed and walked out of the bar, making your way to the parking lot. Part of you was still worried about Aaron’s reaction to knowing the secret was out.

But when you saw Aaron leaning against his car, and you saw his smile when he looked up to see you, all your fears were assuaged. “Who ambushed you?” he called from across the parking lot, his voice light.

“Penelope,” you admitted, and he nodded unsurprised as he opened the passenger side door for you.

You buckled your seatbelt and watched as Aaron made his way into the driver's seat and loosened his tie. “Are you okay with them knowing?” you asked nervously.

Aaron was quiet as he started the car, so quiet that you thought that maybe he didn’t even hear you. It wasn’t until the car pulled out of the parking lot that he spoke. “Yes,” he told you, and it truly seemed like he meant it. Then, as a joke, he added, “Although, I reserve the right to change my mind after seeing them at work tomorrow.” 

“What?” you teased. “You’re not going to spill all of the dirty details to your coworkers?”

Aaron laughed and fuck if that wasn’t the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. “I thought you needed to study.”

You shrugged and leaned over the center console just far enough to press a kiss to his jaw. “I do. So you better make it worth my time,” you purred into his ear, smirking as you watched his knuckles turn white from clenching the steering wheel. “Or you can get me off while I study?”

You thought back to what Aly had said about whether things changed between you and Aaron. On paper, everything had changed. There was no need for secrecy or sneaking around anymore. You wouldn’t need to travel an hour outside of the city just to be seen with each other in public. The unspoken rules were going to change, considering the two of you had broken pretty much all of them already. Aaron had changed, and so had you. It was impossible for it to be the same as it was two years ago.

But as you sat in the passenger’s seat of his car, Aaron grinning devilishly at you, you couldn’t help but think that at its core, nothing really changed. 

[bagog]

What On Earth Has Happened

Hey, no story here, no experiments. Just a play by play of an awful year in my life. Please don't reblog. Trying to just get it down in one place for people who care about me. Long, sob-story beneath the cut.

Air - 'Things are looking up!' I had started to drift a bit from tumblr. The porno purge came and a lot of my friends trickled off the platform after that. I went back to school, attempting to score myself a Masters degree in something that would pay enough to get me out of Student Debt. I was doing great, picking things up fast. I got a new job at a company doing pretty menial work, but the people I worked with were great conversationalists. The work didn't involve dealing with customers at all, paid well, and was small and accomplishable tasks. Essentially I was being prepped to take a better position at the place once I had my Masters. Covid happened, then. Earth - 'The Whole World Sucks Right Now' My company was "essential," so I continued going to work, now on weird schedules. The company I worked for was profiting off Covid, all the while making fun of it as an overblown conspiracy, even as their own epidemiologist urged them to take better precautions. Work became hard to swallow. Water - 'When your lowest place could be lower' The apartment I shared with my boyfriend flooded. The lowest place in any sewage system is typically the bathtub, such that if it backs up, it does so into that tub. Our lowest point is the toilet. So the apartment flooded. Three times. Roots growing through the sewage outflow meant that, often, you needed to wait a solid hour between toilet flushes, or else the toilet would back up with such gusto the sewage would slosh down the hallway and into the living room. We mopped many times. The problem was finally fixed 8 months later, necessitating our having to camp because our house had no water. Fire - 'To destroy all you've done' One afternoon, I smelled burning. Going to our bedroom, I found our shelf a column of flame. I could barely breathe for all the smoke, but I managed to grab a blanket and beat the fire out. On the other side of the room, the pages of the books upon another shelf had begun to crisp from the heat, the blinds on all the windows were warped. The whole apartment had been about to go up. I'm kinda scared of fire now. Heart - 'When moving is too much to ask' Personal health sorta hit a new low. Migraines kept me out of work for two full weeks. I have seasonal foot pain, I always assumed from hiking for a living in my 20s. Turns out it was gout, all the while. Gout is exceptionally painful: it's like a messy pile of razor blades in the ball of your foot every time you step down. At work, I could barely stand. Walking from my car to the door became something I needed to psyche myself up for. Not a lot can stop a gout flare-up once it's in full swing, so I just had to wait it out. For a month. Two. Some of the worst sustained pain I've been in. Little did I know that, in January, come the kidney stones. Kidney stones feel awful. Feel like total shit. Gout and kidney stones are comorbid--brought about as a result of the meds I take to help me focus. So any day I don't drink enough water is a day when my kidneys or my foot just starts aching. But going back to September of 2020... Homophobia - 'goddammit' Finally things are looking better. I'm limping quickly again. Then I am called into the HR office. I am told that two sexual harassment charges have been brought against me. I'm told that one individual has alleged that I, while in the restroom, used a reflective toilet brush to attempt to peep him under a stall wall. I did not do this. I do not understand--reflective toilet brush?? wtf. The second allegation: I just straight up looked over a stall at a guy. I didn't do this either. I'm asked to defend myself, I ask who or date or time of day. I am given nothing. I remark that I don't think I'm tall enough to see over the stall, and I do not understand about the toilet brush. Of the ten minutes of the meeting, I spend 8 of them trying to get my head around how a claim about a reflective toilet brush has me here. "Would you like us to go now to see if you're tall enough to see over the stall? If that would help your defense?" says the HR head. "Yes, I

would," says I. We did not go. I am told that the accusers have no reason to be collaborating, or to even know each other made a claim. This is bullshit, because it was a company of 80 people, and only a quarter of those employees used the restroom where my alleged harassment was to have taken place. Before I am dismissed from work for the day to go home and wait to find out if I'll be fired or not, I march into the HR office once more and say "I hope none of this is happening because I'm gay." The HR head looks positively offended. I got fired cuz I'm gay. Next day I got a call. They'd come to the "objective truth" (that phrase is burned in my mind), and were terminating me. Apparently they discounted the toilet brush rumor, after all. But they really honestly believed I looked over the stall at a dude. Nightmare - 'No Fear One Fear' Let me tell you something: this is a nightmare. This is my honest-to-god nightmare. I've been terrified of getting accused of something in a bathroom since I was 11 years old. I am incredibly self-conscious and careful in public restrooms. To be fired? From a place full of people I like? And all of them will think I'm a pervert. My boyfriend worked at the same place. He would now have to work there every day dealing with people looking at him and wondering what he must think of his boyfriend. That sent me on a spiral. I'm still out of work, almost a year later. It would have been the worst mental health crisis of my life if it wasn't for my boyfriend, my support network, and the meds I've finally been able to get ahold of. Oh, also. My two accusers? Were roommates. HR knew they were roommates. They basically collaborated on a story to get me fired. The story circulating around the place (I still have acquaintances I talk to working there) has dropped the reflective toilet brush entirely. I guess they thought it was too unbelievable. So anyway, the people who accused me are now telling a different set of events than what I was told. Absolute horse shit. Tried to go to my city's human right's council to see if my situation warranted further attention. I gave my side of the story--including tales of the straight manager who had had enough harassment charges brought against him that he was no longer allowed to meet female staff--which indicated I'd been treated differently and wrongly. My old job made an impassioned argument that the committee violated their First Amendment rights(?) ('Freedom of speech' is the biggie with the First Amendment, for people who cba re:USA). I won the vote!! But one member of the committee was missing. So there weren't enough people for the vote to pass. Dismissed. We took it to the EEOC to make an official federal complaint. Just a week ago, an agent of the US Government patiently explained to us that these laws are literally designed to fuck over the worker and protect the employer unless they are epically stupid, and unfortunately, mine had not been epically stupid. So there's nowhere to go, no recourse to be had. It's over, I guess. Family - 'How to sum it up quickly...' My family hit me with the old soft-disown. No more calls, no more communication. They think they are loving me by not having contact with me. By depriving me of my family, they hope it will make me realize that the path I'm on is destructive, and I'll return to them living an upright life. No. I'm living an upright life, now. And if my family can choose to throw me away, then they are not a family I choose. Then my dad hit me back two months later, absolutely gaslighting me and pretending we never had the disown conversation at all. Reality - 'I don't know who I am anymore' I have trouble knowing what's real, anymore. Every message my dad sends on the surface seems loving and supportive and plaintive. I feel I must be the one in the wrong. I got fired for bullshit reasons. It doesn't feel real. "My family can't possibly have ceased contact with me: that's one of those things I know can never happen!!" But that did happen. So what else that feels real, actually isn't? I do

mean to be so dramatic, and I won't apologize for it. But I truly do feel like my mind has been pretty thoroughly unseated by the last year. Whoever I am, I'm becoming someone different. More distilled, at very least. I've discovered a lot of things about myself: trauma that has likely led to a lot of my mental health problems. Discovered I actually have RAGING ADHD, and it has robber me of a lot of things I wanted to do, and now is sort of consuming me completely. I'm looking for help. Trying to get better. Here's hoping. Every bold point above could be its own book, for all my thoughts about them. But enough of that for now. Love you. Thanks for reading.

[crystalessenceswrites]

Shadows- Chapter One

*not my gif*

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: dark themes, canon typical violence, reference to human trafficking, description of blood (brief), mentions of drugs and alcohol, swearing Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] Cross-posted to AO3

A/N: I told ya’ll I have no self control, so here’s ya go, have some enemies to lovers AU with some kinda mixed up timeline (there's some characters that don’t exist in the Mandalorian timeline).

Chapter One

Blood for coin.

One of the oldest transactions known to mankind.

And crypto-kind.

It paid your bills. And your family’s bills. So, you tried to not let it get to you, to not let some of the things you did get under your skin. There’s too much riding on what you do to back out; no matter how much you would rather be curled up under a blanket, couch scattered with snacks, bingeing some new mindless tv show, than here.

The bar is too packed for a Wednesday night. Had you been blessed with a more carefree personality you might have enjoyed the atmosphere, with a bottle or two clouding your system. Completely sober to the world the activities masked behind pounding music and strobe lights did not hold any appeal. Copper and iron tinted the air, pheromones were running rampant and other mind-numbing treats were being less than subtly exchanged.

“What’s your poison tonight, sweet-gills?”

You scoff, regarding the bartender through half-lidded eyes as you draw your dagger from a boot and slide it across the counter. “Zachriel.”

The man raises a bushy eyebrow in response.

“He’ll know who I am when you give him that.”

He shrugs and takes the pearl-handled dagger. You were not the only one who came looking for his boss.

Before he left the bartender flashed you a smile of pointed teeth and poured you a glass of something strong. Halfheartedly you swirl the glass in one hand as you watch the mass of bodies blur together on the dance floor. Neutral ground clubs were truly a different world, one where the shadows of the world melted back into their old ways-the ways labeled sinful or unnatural by humans. Not that some of the old ways weren’t wrong. Many of the too grotesque and unsightly ways took place out of sight of other patrons- Zachriel made sure of that. As long as the living left alive and the dead remained dead then it was fair game. The shadows took advantage of that and chose to live their pleasures out here.

One such woman approached as your gaze wanders aimlessly, hips swaying and eyes glazed over she makes it no secret what she wants. You do not speak a word of acknowledgment as the woman closes the gap between your bodies. A hand slides over your hip, tugging less than subtly at the waistband of your jeans. She smells of juniper berries and cigarette smoke.

“Ma’am.”

The shark-toothed bartender returns, glaring slightly at the woman still hovering at your side.

“You’re welcome to head up now.”

“Thanks.” You leave the untouched drink and disappointed looking woman behind to fight through the crowd towards the stairs tucked away at the back of the establishment. You tap the “employees only” sign above the stairwell as you pass.

You are familiar with the maze upstairs. After all this time you could locate Zachriel’s suite blindfolded. Not bothering to knock, you’re not surprised to find it has been redecorated, again, since he had last called you here. Empty glasses litter the end tables by his settee, their owners presumably the young man and woman snuggled up to Zachriel’s sides. The smell of human permeates the space, seeming to originate with the glassy eyed man, much to your displeasure.

“Ah (Y/N), welcome darling,” Zachriel’s baritone voice cuts through the smoky air. “Have a seat and we can get right down to it.”

Wordlessly you slide into the armchair across from the bar’s owner. Neither or his guests pay you any attention, simply continuing to clutch onto their host, lavishing his exposed neck and shoulders with sloppy kisses. Both were presumably beyond drunk and only awake because of the stimulate Zachriel had burning in the loft.

“You’re looking lovely as ever, darling, but judging by that twinkle in your eye you aren’t just here for my company.”

The way Zachriel could read you no longer comes as a surprise, but that does not mean you have to like it. “Seven months apart and it seems you can still read me like an open book.”

“Oh, don’t sound so sour about that, darling. It makes our business easier, doesn’t it?”

Business it was, and Zachriel’s fares had been on the rise. You were either going to have to find a new informant or start getting the friends and family discount here.

“Then let’s get to it, I don’t have all night,” you kick your combat boots up onto his polished coffee table, both of Zachriel’s playthings jump, turning to you with wide eyes.

“Ha, not quite as dainty as your scaled sisters, you must hate stereotypes, darling,” Zachriel chuckles as he pours himself another drink. “What would you like to know tonight? It must be something big if you’re coming to me all the way out here on.”

“I need a location and names for Samson’s trafficking ring.”

The decanter comes down with such force you’re surprised it does not shatter. The playthings jump again, both putting a miniscule amount of space between them and the demon in human skin.

“(Y/N), have you been partaking in the festivities downstairs, because normally you’d know better than to ask me such a stupid question as that.”

“You know for a fact that I don’t. I am asking you in all seriousness where Samson is running these days,” you cross your arms, staring down your nose at Zachriel as he screws up his face.

“Get out!” He shoves his guests away and they quickly obey. The door slams shut behind them as Zachriel’s eyes begin to shift between his green façade and their natural coal-colored irises.

Feet planted on the floor, you lean forward, elbows on your knees, “no need to get so worked up. It is an easy question. You know the answer, or you don’t.”

Zachriel sneers, “I don’t.”

“Try again.”

“I’m still suffering losses from your last bust! I shouldn’t even let you step foot in here anymore!”

“You mean the bust that saved 25 teenage girls? I think that’s worth more than your profit margins.”

“Says you!” He snarls back, jaw clenched and face going red.

“Oh calm down and just think of the cut I’ll give you from Samson’s bounty once we take him down.”

A glass sails by your head in warning. If he wanted to hit you he would have.

“Get out!”

As the words leave the demons lip the door slams in, the doorframe splintering. You’re on your feet and reaching for your blade before you can even lay eyes on who’s kicked the door in. Fingers grasping the hilt of your sword dispels the enchantment, revealing the weapon strapped to your back. As you evaluate the man in the doorway, you’re not sure how useful it will be- he’s armed with a pistol, holding it in a stance the screams soldier.

Sword drawn, you stare down the man and he does the same, his dark eyes flickering up and down your form. He’s got a few years on you, you’d guess, but he’s well built, and sporting a bullet proof tac-vest under his black long sleeve judging by the shape it gives his torso. He is otherwise well prepared for whatever he came to Zachriel for; there’s an extra gun and ammo strapped to one leg, a blade and a stake strapped to the other. You briefly wonder how he got this far into the bar so armed without getting caught.

Indignant, Zachriel glares down the dark-haired intruder, “who the fuck do you think-”

You kick his settee over as the intruder fires. Zachriel tumbles to the floor as you jump to put yourself between the two men. As much as you and Zachriel had your differences, you were not about to let your informant get murdered in front of you.

“Go.” You don’t turn to look at him but hope the demon decides to cooperate for once.

Best guess, the man was after Zachriel, the way his gaze lingers on the demon as he scrambles to his feet behind you. Did not mean he wouldn’t shoot you to get to Zachriel though.

“I’d ask you not to shoot but I take it you’re not the type to listen to reason.”

The man scoffs, the thin mustache on his lip quirking with the sound. “It’s not like you monsters have reason to begin with.”

A hunter.

You spit a curse under your breath. Everyone in the building was in danger with him around.

“Stand down and I’ll make it quick and painless for you.” His voice is rough and dark even without the threat.

“Oh hell no.”

Your lunge manages to catch him by surprise, striking at his right shoulder. He recovers quick, managing to dodge before your blade can sink too deep. Grunting he aims a shot for your torso but you’re quick too, rolling out if the way and ducking behind the overturned settee. Reaching for your boot you launch your dagger over your cover. The thunk of metal on wood is enough to know you missed your blind shot.

“Fuck!”

With an almost comical puff of smoke Zachriel disappears, leaving only a dusting of soot on the floor where he had stood. Lucky demons and their dark magics, always had a quick escape. Now you just needed a way out.

A bullet flies over the lip of the couch as the hunter’s heavy footfalls approach. Rolling onto your back, you shove your boots against the overturned seat, pushing it right into the path of the hunter. He swears again, clattering to the floor. Jumping up you throw the end tables towards him, glass shattering around you both as the tumblers fly across the room. You dart for the door and thank whoever’s out there for industrial design and exposed pipes. Shoving your sword into the pipe above the doorframe with all your strength manages your desired effect. Water starts to pour from the hole into the already trashed room. Stepping out the busted door you mutter a few old words under your breath and with a flick of your wrist the liquid covers the doorway and freezes solid. A door of ice to keep in the hunter, just in time. He rushes towards you, fist slamming against the ice.

A sigh of relief escapes you as the magic holds. He glares at you through the ice, dark eyes burning with a hate you have not seen in a long while. There’s blood smeared across his face and neck, creating a terrifying image as he snarls at you. His shoulder is bleeding pretty heavily where you nicked him, but it doesn’t look too deep; he would live, and his shoulder would heal fine. Good.

His shirt is torn down to his forearm revealing a myriad of tattoos painted across skin, one in the shape of a horned skull just below his shoulder. Solid and black. So painfully obvious.

Fuck.

“I have no desire to kill you. So just stay here for a bit while I get the hell out of dodge and then we’ll be good to go.”

You wave at him as you dash away, ignoring his shouts trailing behind you. Sliding your sword back into its scabbard, the blade disappears again by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs. The bartender spots you long before you reach the counter. You must look a mess now.

“Hunter. Zachriel’s suite. Gotta go.”

Lips set into a thin line the man nods, swift to wave over the security lingering around the edges of the room.

Then you’re gone, weaving through the crowd to disappear out a fire exit and into the city streets.

At least Zachriel owes you now.

.

“Boba Fett was the last Mandalorian we had in these parts; are sure this hunter was one of them?”

Rolling your eyes, you grimace at the aging man, “well I didn’t think to ask him while he was trying to kill us, Boss. But he had the tattoo, plain as day. Black mythosaur skull, right shoulder.”

“Boba Fett used to hunt around here?” Kanan’s dark-haired apprentice is filled with awe, missing the important point at hand.

“Ezra-” Kanan goes to chide him for interrupting but Boss cuts him off.

“Fett was the only Mandalorian we’d ever dealt with in these parts before he died five years ago,” Boss explains. “We’ve only seen some lone wanderers since. None of which have been much cause for concern.”

He thinks you’re overreacting.

“This one seemed pretty serious.”

“(Y/N) had a point.” At least Kanan agreed with you.

Boss sits for a moment, wrinkled hand stroking his wiry white beard. Murmurs ripple through the small crowd that they’d gathered in the office. Mandalorians were not to be taken lightly. They were better equipped and considerably more organized than any usual human hunter. Many slayers had fallen to their kind as well. Even one Mandalorian hunter running around the city could spell the death of hundreds of cryptos. The issue was they rarely operated alone. They were the communal type. One Mandalorian could mean a whole covert more of them nearby.

“We’ll release a bulletin with a description of the Mandalorian. Any other sightings or run-ins will need to be reported and compared to the initial description to confirm there is only one in the area.”  

Well at least he was doing something. Now everyone in the area would be walking around with bated breath until they knew exactly what they were dealing with.

“Dismissed.”

The group disperses, considerably more solemn than when they’d been gathered.

“What was the Mandalorian like?” Ezra looks to you with the same wide-eyed enthusiasm you imagine you once held for the job.

Kanan rolls his eyes but doesn’t stop the teenager. He understands the curiosity in the apprentice slayer.

“Angry?” You offer.

Not quite the answer the boy wanted. “Was he as tough as the rumors say?”

“Ah- it wasn’t much of a fight, Ezra. I was just trying to get out without any issues.”

The boy’s face falls. He was still so new to all this, high off the pride of being strong enough to protect others no matter how strong your foe. You could imagine he wanted to see the Mandalorians as this tough advisory that one day he would be strong enough to beat without breaking a sweat.

“Ezra, you have to remember. Mandalorians are humans so we cannot put ourselves in their paths. And we absolutely cannot harm or kill them without good reason.”

Meaning the only choice was their life or yours.

He sighs at Kanan, “I remember.”

It was the, often fatal, disadvantage you faced. You were sworn to protect humans from your own kind, to the point that you were not allowed to harm the humans out to kill you.

.

Karga looked rather smug when Din returned to see him the following morning. Not a look Din enjoyed being on receiving end of.

“Well looks like you had quite the night.”

Din rolls his eyes and slides into the seat across from the barkeep as he works through his books. Most of Din’s injuries had been minor, cuts from the broken glass around the room, sore back (though that wasn’t news these days), and a bruise blossoming across his jaw from the table the woman had thrown at his face. His shoulder had been the worst of it, and he had managed to get away without proper stiches, just butterflied it up on his own. It still ached a bit under the bandages, but Din had dealt with far worse.

“I can take your sour mood as you didn’t catch what you wanted?”

“Managed to get away,” Din grunts.

“Well, the information did say that the owner is rather crafty. I thought you would have been prepared for that.”

The frown on Din’s face deepens. “It wasn’t the owner. There was a woman with him, managed to keep me busy so he could escape.”

Karga looks surprised, “a woman? Security maybe?”

“No,” Din shakes his head, “it sounded like she was there to do business with him, but she didn’t hesitate to put herself between him and me.”

“Strange. I hadn’t heard of any women he was doing business with. I can poke around, see if I can’t find out who she is.”

“That could be helpful, thanks.”

Karga chuckles, “don’t thank me yet. Questions around here tend to lead to more questions than answers.”

[jefferoni-quotes]

coffee mates and clueless dates

I've never written for Thomgelica before but oh well!

1,348 words

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Full fic under the cut!

When Eliza tells her she's hired a new employee without telling her, Angelica is - of course - surprised. She's a little taken aback at her sisters' straight-forwardness, and that she doesn't even know who the new employee is. But Eliza refuses to tell her anymore than the man’s name, a certain Thomas Jefferson. She can’t decide if he sounds good for the job, but it’s too late for her to decide. If he can't pour a coffee, then he won't last long. The Schuylers pride themselves on their little independent coffee shop being amazing quality. Angelica berates Elizabeth as literally hitting her wrist gently, and reminding her to inform her before she hires someone next time. Eliza had merely winked at her, told her just to wait and see the guy come in.

Angelica is wiping down the table top, using a white cloth just to swipe the breadcrumbs to the floor for later, when the bell at the door rings signifying someone else walking in. She glances up and- wow. So, whoever this is, whether it be a customer or a new employee, he is exactly Angelica's type, and that's just from looks. Tall, handsome and seemingly full of charisma, simply from the way he walks.

She watches him saunter up to the counter, lean on it with one elbow and smile. Dashingly… 

What was getting into her? Angelica was the calm, unaffected one! She didn't fall for smoldering good looks! "Hello," she started, "can I help you?"

"I would sure hope so," his voice comes out a slow, Southern drawl, it leaves her clinging onto every syllable, ogling like a simple school-girl. "I'm the new start," he stands up straight and offered a hand across the counter.

Angelica takes it in her own, shaking firmly. He has an excellent handshake, which always makes for a good start, seems relatively confident in himself. "Oh, perfect. I'm Angelica Schuyler, co-owner. I suppose my sister was the one who hired you? Thomas Jefferson, right?" 

Thomas let go of her hand right before it got too awkward, "that's me, I'm happy to start here. Need something to get me through law school," he chuckled a little.

Angelica found herself smiling, so he was smart too? Damn Eliza to hell, she knew exactly what she was up to.

-

Angelica is 100% going to kill her sister.

She was never one to fall for guys so easily, but a good looking, self assured, smart man - who is a little clumsy and ever so slightly clueless? Well, he ticks every box.

And it simply isn't fair, because she should be opposed to this Jefferson, after all, she is technically his boss. But he's so clueless and helpless and honestly it's doing things to her heart that it shouldn't. He's playing her like a goddamn fiddle and he doesn't even know it. (Maybe violin would be more fitting - since she discovered Thomas actually can play violin.)

Angelica takes every opportunity to help Thomas, even having Eliza overtake her place at the front of house, just to help Thomas fixing the coffee machine. She notices that he finds it especially difficult talking to customers if he's unlucky enough that they start small talk. Angelica has watched his eyes screw up for that single beat, sees only the tips of his ears go a dusty sort of pink with nerves. And she takes pity on him, takes him under her wing and teaches him all there is to know. 

She doesn’t need to thread her fingers with him to show him how to work the cashier on his third time using it - but she does. And she doesn’t need to astound at how soft at how meticulously smoothed with bath products his skin is either - but she sure does. Angelica giggles when Thomas trips over the legs of chairs, curses under his breath to himself. It’s weird - strange - how the Southern fuck captured her attention, dragged her under into the deep depths of attraction, but she left her life jacket behind and never learned how to swim, so she’s happy to drown in the view of Thomas. 

She almost hates herself for it, she’s strong goddamn it! She doesn’t need a man… until she does. Fuck- fuck society for forcing the perspective she needs a partner, fuck Eliza for hiring a sweet dork, fuck Peggy for laughing whenever she blushes at his oddly flirtatious comments. And especially, fuck Thomas for not seeing that she’s falling head over heels for him when she doesn’t want to.

But he keeps doing this thing where he bats his eyelashes in the light, or tucks his hair behind his ear and smiles at her - all teeth and brightness in his eyes. And it’s killing her. It’s making her melt and building her stronger all at once. She consults Eliza one night after closing, while they’re cleaning tables of stale coffee and donut crumbs, to which she gets, “just ask him out, Angie,” she had giggled every time Thomas moved past her from there.

Maybe Thomas even felt the same way, he seemed to squeeze past her through tables, maybe his eyes lingered on her a little too long, or maybe… just maybe he was picking up on her hints?

“Wanna grab a coffee one day?”

She finally works up the courage to ask him out, tapping him on the shoulder when she’s on her break and Thomas is washing out a ceramic mug. 

“We sell coffee every day, I can get one whenever,” he pauses and turns to her, placing the mug in lukewarm water. “Wait- do I get an employee discount?” Thomas’ whole face lights up again, that way that makes her stomach feel all fluttery and gross. 

Angelica swallows thickly, nods her head and internally screams. “Yes, we get an employee discount, ten percent,” she grits her teeth, turns on her heel before she hears Thomas’ turn the tap back on.

So Thomas is a little more clueless than she first expected, maybe she should just be more obvious. Angelica knows she should really give up now, but there’s something nagging in the back of her mind - that that extra bit of stupid has managed to make her more attracted to him. It isn’t fair. Fuck!

Despite Peggy’s suggestions which is to quit while she’s ahead, Angelica tries again. 

“Hey, Tom? Do you wanna get dinner tonight?” She asks, leans on the counter as a customer leaves. The store is oddly empty for once, and she uses it to her advantage.

“We serve dinner?!” God he’s so STUPID! How can someone be studying to be a lawyer and not see a date request even when it slaps them across the face! 

“No! We do not serve dinner!” Angelica snaps. She drops her head to her hands, cradling herself. “God- you’re so- fuck. How are you so smart and so dumb all at once?” She mutters, almost ready to cry or hit the table or something.

“Hey… you okay, Angie? What’s bothering you?” Thomas leans over the counter until he’s close to her ear to whisper and it finally makes her snap her head up.

“You! You’re the problem! I’ve been asking you out, and you just- how are you not catching on!?” Angelica slams her hands down on the tabletop and gets up in his face. She can smell a mix of coffee beans and expensive cologne, stinging in her nose. 

Thomas leans back, so he’s not quite in her face and exhales softly. “Ohhh,” he drags and chuckles, hanging his head to hide his smile. Angelica spots the tops of his ears go red. “Then I accept. Sorry, I’m just really fucking stupid.”

“Well, at least you admit it. Tonight at 7? Italian over the road?” Angelica suggests.

“I was thinking the Mexican next door.” Thomas counteracts her with a raised eyebrow, gesturing vaguely out the window.

“I don’t do Mexican, not on the first date.”

“Fine, the Italian then.”

“Perfect.” 

Angelica smiles. Maybe this clueless coffee boy will be better at dates than he is at flirting.

-

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