#but I feel like I did a pretty good job with descriptions and supplying background info in this scene

[darkandstormydolls]

I’ve kind of lost my writing mojo over the summer (I have still been thinking about my characters and considering things of course but I couldn’t seem to get anything written down), but this evening I was feeling like “eh I could write” and then say down for over an hour and wrote a good half (probably more honestly) pf a scene that has been languishing as a five word idea in my extremely rough outline for literally months

Thank you, writing fairies, for smiling upon me today

[er-osion]

Stay (in my life)

pairing: Jason Todd x gn!Reader

summary: Red Hood comes back to your apartment for a patch job again, but his injuries are a bit more severe this time so he accepts your offer to stay over

word count: 4.3k

warnings: blood, fairly detailed descriptions of injuries, fluff

author’s note: sorry this one’s a little long ya’ll, i got a bit carried away. hope you guys enjoy. you can read part one here.

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“Holy shit, you look terrible!” You gasp as you take in Red Hood’s battered form as he clumsily steps over to your couch.

“Thanks, you look great too.” Hood grits out in reply as he slumps into the cushions. You hurry to grab your med kit and rush over beside him.

“You’re getting blood all over my couch, Hood.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m really good at getting stains out.”

“I hope you’re also really good at surviving what appears to be multiple stab wounds and severe burns.”

“You’d laugh at that statement if you knew my background.”

“We’re gonna have to move this to the bathroom, I need better lighting and access to the sink.”

“I just sat down.” Hood exasperated.

“You know it’s not far.” You rolled your eyes at his words but couldn’t fight the rising anxiety at his condition. On instinct, you got up and held out your hand for him to take. Hood moved his head to look at your hand.

“Considering my size and condition, I don’t think you’re gonna be much help getting me off this couch by yourself.” He noted, unimpressed.

You narrowed your eyes at him but kept your hand where it was, “It’s more the sentiment. However, in your condition you might very well need all the help you can get walking the short distance to my bathroom.” Hood paused but set his gloved hand in yours. It was dirty with dust and what you assumed was blood and gripped tightly, probably more so than he realized, but you paid no mind with your thoughts wrapped up in Hood’s less than favorable state. The vigilante got up slowly from your couch and he wobbled to and fro once he was on his feet. The two of you started to move carefully to your bathroom, which was just down the hall, but Hood seemed to be more injured than you initially thought because his knees suddenly became weak and you both had to make a combined effort to catch him.

“Did you hit your head tonight?” You ask as Hood tried to restabilize himself.

“You asking if I have a concussion?” Hood responded.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking, yes.”

“It’s highly probable. I was thrown against a cement wall pretty hard.” Hood moved and wrapped one of his large arms around your shoulder for more support, immediately putting more of his weight onto you. The man was heavy beyond belief, but he did his best not to pile his muscle mass on top of you. The arm around your shoulders was secure and his hand gripped the fabric of your t-shirt tightly. Hood groaned while he settled more into you and you began walking again. Despite your rampant mind, your heart hammered in your chest at the contact and you felt the skin touching his arm dance. By some miracle, the two of you made it to your bathroom, and you did your best to help Red Hood down onto the floor in front of your bathtub.

“Can you just start listing off all your possible injuries while I get all my supplies out?” You asked Hood while you opened the first aid kit. Hood complied, and started listing off all the places he suspected was injured during his patrol tonight. You noticed, though, that his words sometimes got slurred and his sentences kept drifting off —in other words, he didn’t seem all there. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?” You probed.

“Told you, it’s very possible. What do you think, doc?” Hood shot back.

“In all honesty, I suspect you have a concussion. Maybe not a severe one, but a concussion is still bad no matter the level. How does your head feel, where it got hit?”

“It hurts.”

“No shit Sherlock, but I was hoping for a more detailed answer.”

“I guess it’s kind of a dull pain? Not like a migraine, but it also hurts in my neck and back of the head.”

“Okay, I think we need to deal with your head first.” You stopped when you realized the implications of your words. You’d need his helmet off to examine his head for any open wounds, you’d never seen Red Hood with his helmet off. Hood seemed to realize this at the same time since you saw him tense suddenly. Neither of you moved or said anything for a couple seconds, trying to figure out how to proceed. You quickly tried to remedy the awkwardness, “Look, I know I’m not supposed to see your face, I’m just concerned about your head but the last thing I want to do right now is push your boundaries, so if taking off the helmet is a no-go we’ll figure something else out.”

Red Hood shook his head, “No, you’re right, as usual. I trust you won’t go mouthing off about what the Red Hood’s face looks like.” He teased as he moved his hand up toward his helmet. You heard a clicking noise and a quiet hiss and felt your body still with anticipation. Hood slowly removed the helmet and you saw him peel off a domino mask underneath.

When his face was bare and uncovered in front of you, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He’s beautiful. Red Hood was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. His eyes a mystifying swirl of green and blue, dim with exhaustion but there was still this inexplicable unnatural glow to them. His hair —while slightly matted from the helmet— looked deliciously soft, the color of the night sky with a bold white streak at the front. There was a long thin scar connecting one of his eyebrows to his pale pink lips. You were speechless as you took in Hood’s face, trying to wrap your head around how someone could look that goddamn beautiful. It really wasn’t fair. Your heart was racing out of your chest and you were having trouble maintaining a steady breath while you gazed at his features. Red Hood noticed your stare and shifted a little uncomfortably under your gaze, his gemstone eyes gluing themselves to the ground.

“You gonna stare at my face all night, or are you gonna fix me up?” His voice snapped you back to reality.

“Right right, sorry. I just… wasn’t expecting to finally learn what you looked like tonight… got caught up in the surprise I guess.” You tried to cover your embarrassment and scooched closer so you could examine his head. You looked around and felt very gently for any bumps or wounds. “Hood, you’re bleeding at the back of your head.” The worry in your voice was prominent.

“That would help explain the dizziness.”

Your lips pulled into a line and you started to clean his head wound as carefully as you could, and then wrapped it gently with a bandage. You then made the vigilante promise not to fall asleep on you while you worked on the rest of his injuries. The rest of his body made the head injury look like a splinter. Multiple abrasions were littered across his torso, the molested skin was red with blood and irritation. You could see small bits of debris lodged in the surface of his cuts and abdomen. The slashes on his arms were in a similar state. As if the knife assaults weren’t enough, spots of his body were marred with blistering burns the color of bright red and white. Your heart stung at the obvious pain your hero must be in. No one deserved this, especially not Hood. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper with concern and your frown carved further into your face.

You were startled out of your thoughts when a thumb brushed between your eyebrows, forcing the furrow to even out. You blinked, and shot your gaze up to the owner of the hand. Hood was looking at you with green eyes that were clouded with emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. He had been frowning, but when you locked eyes, the edge of his lips quirked upward ever so slightly. “Keep that face up and you’ll get wrinkles before you’re thirty.” He teased as his thumb once again brushed between your brows, to further his point.

You huffed and shook your head slightly, but not too much to force his hand off of your face. “Keep coming here on the brink of death at 2 am and I definitely will.” You fired back with the ghost of a smirk. Neither of you felt the need to say anything more, Hood’s hand lingered at the top of your head for a brief moment before he retracted it back to his side. You instantly missed the contact. But, you turned your attention back to the task at hand and began caring for Hood’s various other injuries. You used tweezers to fish out the pebbles that had burrowed into his skin and then cleaned the subsequent areas with water and your saline solution. You looked at each cut to determine if it needed stitches or not. For the ones that did, you warned Hood of your plans each time and made extra careful work of numbing the areas before stitching his wounds neatly and efficiently.

Jason watched you in a daze. He could never get over how well you handled everything. Even though he knew you were worried and filled with anxiety, you worked calmly and with composure. You were focused and didn’t let your fears rule your movements, something he greatly appreciated as the one with the injuries. Jason hadn’t planned for any of this to happen. He hadn’t planned for tonight’s ambush to go so wrong, he hadn’t planned to hobble into your apartment nearly blind with pain and dizziness, and he certainly hadn’t planned to take both of his masks off in front of you. Sure, the two of you had been getting closer as of late. After your offer to host him even on nights he wasn’t injured, Jason had been showing up to your apartment a couple nights out of the week to make dinner and watch tv with you. In the past few weeks, Jason had been relishing in the change in your dynamic. Just existing in the same space as you put Jason’s head into a flurry, but in the most exciting way. The best part of his day has been visiting you these last few weeks. And of course, each time he’s entered your place he’s thought about removing the helmet and allowing you to get closer to him in a way he hasn’t let anyone in years. But each time, he’s stopped himself in fear. Fear of what exactly? Fear of putting you in danger, fear of scaring you, fear of disappointing you. Jason Tood would not be able to handle it if any of those things occurred. But there’s no time like the present, as they say. At least you didn’t flinch when you saw him. He couldn’t exactly figure out what you were thinking (whether it was positive or negative) but it wasn’t disgust he saw on your face, so a win is a win.

The black-haired man is suddenly overtaken with words and spits out without realizing, “I’m Jason, by the way.”

You freeze and look up at him questioningly. “I’m sorry?”

“My name, it’s Jason.”

“Oh! Okay, Jason…” You test the weight of his name on your tongue, “Jason, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You conclude with a genuine smile.

Jason’s entire stomach has just done at least 20 flips. His heart is beating so hard and loud in his chest he hopes you don’t hear it. The man never knew a person could say his name so sweetly. He never knew his name could be uttered without any hint of malice by someone outside of his family. Your pronunciation of his name is echoing in his mind like bells to a dizzying effect. He’s been a fool. He’s been such an idiot. How could he let fear prevent him from lifting his helmet and telling you his name, when he could’ve been hearing the beautiful way you say it all this time? Jason realizes he’s left you verbally hanging for a good minute just staring, so he clears his throat and adverts his eyes. “The pleasure is all mine.” When Jason looks back at you, he sees your smile is still plastered on your face and it gives him a strange sense of pride.

“I want you to know though, I know the mask was probably a lot tonight. I don’t want to force you to say or give up anything for my sake, I’m the one treating you. I’m so glad you trust me enough with your face and name, but I don’t want you to think I need it to help you, Jason. I’d fix you up even if you came in here one day as a bat-Frankenstein.” You’re worried you might’ve pushed him too far tonight. You don’t want Ho—Jason, to think you’re only out to discover his secret identity. You want him to understand that you’d care for him no matter the circumstances, whether you knew his face and name or not.

All at once, Jason felt his throat close up and tears brimming his eyes. Do you know what your words mean to him? Do you know how instantly you make him feel loved? Jason is so certain he is undeserving of your kindness and understanding, but here you are giving it to him freely. Will you ever understand the effect you have on him? How you heal pieces of his soul he thought long shattered. Jason’s full, pink lips quiver into a small smile. A smile of profound gratitude, appreciation, and sadness.

“Angel, it’s long overdue. You’re right on one thing though, I do trust you. I trust you far more than my colleagues would probably advise, but I do so anyway because I can’t do anything else. I keep invading your life in sharp broken pieces and asking you to pick me up off the floor, even at risk of hurting yourself. Yet, you do it each time with a grace Shakespeare wishes he could write about. The fact I want you to understand is that; if I didn’t want you to see my face or know my name, you wouldn’t. End of story. But that’s not the case, so it isn’t the end of the story. You’re not pushing me. And to know that you’d fix me up even if I did end up a bat-Frankenstein, is some of the most relieving news I’ve had all month.” Jason had to end his monologue with a small tease, worried his vulnerability would be too obvious without it. You listen to his words with so much intent you’ve forgotten the rest of the world. An invisible hand is squeezing your heart to the point it hurts. You can only take shallow breaths and you feel as though you might tear up.

“Well then, let’s finish fixing you up.” Your words come out barely a whisper and you go back to tending to his wounds. But neither of you can ignore the change in the air. The swift shift into a heavy lull that keeps a smile on both of your faces. You realize you’ll be done treating him soon and a wave of panic rises in you. He can’t leave now, not after everything we just left unsaid. But he leaves every time I finish taking care of him, without wasting a second. Then, an idea comes to mind. One you’ve conjured up multiple times in the past but never really entertained because of its unlikeliness to occur. It’s a risk, for sure. It’s very possible you mess it up and ruin the evening, but things have gone smoothly thus far and the success has given you a boost in confidence. Plus, you are still majorly concerned for his health, so you brave the question once you’ve completed the last bandage.

“I’m done wrapping your injuries, but that in no way means you’re recovered. I know you’re probably anxious to get back to your safe house or whatever, but you’re a severe liability in your condition.”

“So what do you suggest?” Jason asks with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“…Um well, I was going to offer —and it’s perfectly acceptable if you say no— but I was going to offer you stay over here for the night, to have somewhere to lie down without having to brave Gotham at night with a concussion and several broken ribs.” You refused to meet Jason’s eyes as you offered him to stay the night, so you missed how they widened in surprise and then lit with anticipation.

“Yeah that— um, I—” Jason coughed awkwardly, something you’ve never seen him do but find endearing, “I mean yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Not sure I could make it a block without collapsing. But you uh— you sure you don’t mind?” Jason’s voice softens in volume at the end of his query.

“I wouldn’t be offering if I did.”

“Fair point.” You smiled at his acceptance of your invitation, secretly giddy at the idea of him spending the night. “But um, I don’t really have anything for you to change into.”

“Understandable. I have my compression shorts on though so I’ll be fine.” Jason assures you and you nod your head. You then help him up off of the bathroom floor. Jason once again lays his arm around your shoulders for support and your stomach twists into knots. The two of you say nothing as you move toward your bedroom. Jason helps open the door with his free arm so you can shimmy your two bodies through the opening. Jason suddenly feels very awkward and misplaced inside. He’s never seen your room before, and to do so now feels so intimate it makes him light headed. This is the most personal space in your entire apartment and it is just now striking Jason that this is where he’ll be sleeping since you don’t have a guest room. Too lost in his racing thoughts, the vigilante doesn’t notice you’ve helped him to sit down on the edge of your bed. You reluctantly pull away from his grip around your shoulders to go turn on your bedside lamp, immediately feeling the absence of his body heat. Jason is pulled back into reality at the loss of contact and is hit with the need to say something but he searches for words with no avail.

It’s you who breaks the silence in a quiet but firm voice, instinctively not wanting to ruin the quiet air of the room. “You can sleep in here tonight. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything. If you get thirsty or hungry please help yourself to anything in my kitchen. The bedroom door locks too, just in case that’d make you more comfortable. Like I said though, if you need anything just come grab me, I’ll be on the couch.” You turn to leave him in privacy, but Jason quickly speaks up.

“You’re gonna sleep on the couch?” He asks incredulously.

“Well that is the only other option.” You affirmed with a raised eyebrow.

“No no no. It’s your house, you can sleep in your bed. I’ll take the couch.” Jason started to get up, but you could see him straining with each movement. You rushed over and gently but forcefully pushed him to sit back on the bed.

“Yeah, no. You are the one who’s severely injured, I’m not letting you sleep on a couch in your state. I really don’t mind anyways, it’s just one night.”

“Well I refuse to make you sleep on a couch in your own home, you already sacrifice enough just letting me in here.” You were about to protest his use of the word ‘sacrifice’ before Jason continued, with a suggestion that made you still. “We could… we could share the bed? I mean— it’s big enough for two people and we’re both apparently too stubborn to let the other one sleep in the living room.” Jason’s lake green eyes scanned your face for any sign of disgust or hesitation, his palms felt sweaty and he suddenly felt like an idiot for even suggesting such a thing.

You were frozen, the cogs turning in your head at the implications of his offer. Your heart was racing. The two of you sleep in the same bed? You had just learned his name, and now you two would be sharing a bed? You tried to stop yourself from feeling so excited at the idea. Jason took your silence for uncertainty and continued blabbering, “We’re both adults, right? I don’t mean anything by it, I just— I don’t want you getting a bad night's sleep on your couch, and your stubborn ass clearly won’t let me sleep anywhere that isn’t a real bed so… I don’t know, maybe it was a dumb suggestion. You can forget about it, I’ll take the couch—”

You interrupted him with a burst, shaking your hands in front of you to keep Jason from getting up. “Oh, no no no. It’s fine, it's fine. Really, it’s cool. We can— we can share the bed I don’t mind. It’s a smart idea. Just, ya know, be careful with your stitches and bandages. I’d hate for you to worsen any injuries in your sleep.” You tried to sound calm and collected, but really you were shaking with excitement and nerves. Jason just nodded slowly, still looking a little unsure at your agreement, but he moved to step out of his armor anyway.

You walked over to your side of the bed, and started fiddling with random nick nacks on your nightstand to try and appear busy while Jason got undressed behind you. Lord almighty, it was taking every ounce of your strength not to look behind you and oogle at what you knew were rippling muscles. “Focus, gotta get through this night without making a fool of yourself.” You thought as you felt the bed dip on the other side, signaling Jason was ready to sleep.

With that, you turned the lamp off and slipped underneath the covers. Jason copied you wordlessly and you both laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling in silence. The air was so thick with tension it was near suffocating, but the two of you were too scared to speak and break the spell of the night. You unconsciously let out a little sigh and turned on your side so your back was facing Jason. You closed your eyes to try and force yourself to sleep, but your mind was hyper vigilant at this point. You could feel the bed dipping to accommodate Jason’s gigantic form on the other side. You weren’t used to sharing this space with anyone, and the fact that you could feel his breath through the mattress had your mind in a frenzy. You were fighting every fiber of your being that was telling you —no, begging you to move closer to the man beside you.

Jason was pleading with the universe in hopes that you couldn’t hear how his heart was thundering in his chest. For someone who’s lying down, his breathing sure is quick. Jason thought this would be enough. Just having you near by, occupying the same space, he thought that’d be enough to satisfy his urge to be near you. But for some goddamn reason, it’s making it worse. How can you be so close yet so far? How much closer can he get before he crosses a line? Jason blames his exhaustion for his next move.

Out of nowhere, you feel something heavy curl around your waist. Your eyes pop open in surprise, and you have to force your body to be still. Jason uses the arm draped across your middle to pull you closer to him. Your back presses against his solid chest and you forget what it was ever like to be cold. You can feel warmth seeping into your skin from every point of contact between the two of you. You can feel each breath Jason takes pushing into your back and you can feel the speeding rhythm of his heart, which you’re sure is close to the speed of your own. Your lips have curled into a smile and you’re fighting off a sigh of contentment.

“Is—is this okay?” Jason’s question comes out in an unsure whisper. If you hadn’t been so close you wouldn’t have heard him.

“Yeah, this is okay.” You reassure at an equal volume, worried that being any louder would shatter the moment. Your smile has evolved into a full on grin.

“Okay.” Jason mutters and then presses his head into the curve of your neck. His muscular arm tightens around your waist and his hand grips your shirt gently. You subconsciously shuffle further into him, though, you didn’t think there was anyway you could physically get any closer. Still, any space left between the two of you was eliminated. Your two breaths became one as your heartbeats synced up. You could feel Jason’s warm breath against your neck and it sent shivers down your spine. Jason felt so warm and happy, here with you in his arms. Holding you felt like a reward he didn’t deserve. He only hopes he’ll be able to do this again…and again, and again, and again.

You’ve never felt so safe as you do in Jason’s arms. It’s almost euphoric, being like this with him. You never want this moment to end, but the warmth of Jason’s embrace is quickly dragging you under the spell of sleep. You hope you wake up with him in the morning, you hope this isn’t a dream. You two have probably crossed some sort of line tonight, not that either of you care right now. The unclear nature of your relationship with the vigilante is something for you to wrestle with in the morning. For now, you’ll fall asleep wrapped in Jason’s arms, with the happy thought that he’ll surely be coming back to do this again.

[agingdisgracefully]

Day 1 Post-Total Nail Aversion (3-23-2024)

WE GOT THROUGH THE FIRST DRESSING CHANGE, LADS

((GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS BEYOND THE 'READ MORE'; YOU'VE BEEN WARNED))

After spending my first hour if consciousness in a state of panic, I set up shop in the bathroom, gathered my supplies and got to work - though I did take a brief interlude to text my brother and see what he thought re: soaking the nail (he's had a few partial nail avulsions and has a medical background)

The tape and gauze wrap came off with no problem, though I did have a mini-breakdown when I finally peeled enough gauze away to see some blood. There was what can best be described as a hunk of folded up gauze covering the wound that was caked in dried blood.

It very much reminded me of the gauze pads that a dentist would have you bite down on after getting a tooth pulled.

Cue panic. Cue tears. Cue overdramatic bullshit.

I filled my basin with enough lukewarm/room temp water to cover my foot, added a tablespoon of epsom salt, said a prayer, and put my foot in, making sure to swish my foot around every couple minutes.

The majority of the gauze loosened right off and left just a singular layer that I was pretty sure I was going to have to yank off - I think the fuck not. Decided to dump out and refill the basin just like the first time, soaking and swishing my foot for another 10 minutes. It still kind of wanted to stick in one corner, but it came pretty right off with no pain.

For a third (and final) time that day, I refilled the basin with water and now 1.5 tablespoons of epsom salt to do a 15 minute soak, as instructed by the podiatrist. There was some tingling, but like I told my mom "It's not really pain. It feels like my brain can't decide if it stings a bit or itches".

After 15 minutes, I took my foot out of the water - dried the other toes and rest of the foot with a regular towel, tried to dab a bit of the water off of the wound with a piece of regular gauze (not the non-stick) but it was too tender and I was too scared to push beyond a featherlight touch. There was a couple of tiny blood spots on the gauze I dabbed it dry with, but I saw no fresh bleeds so it must have soaked up the blood from the Proud Flesh (pyogenic granuloma) that my demon toe spawned; It doesn't look like the podiatrist removed it, but maybe it will go away on its own now that the source of irritation is gone. Slathered some triple antibiotic ointment (the kind with pain relief) onto the non-stick gauze with a q-tip, made sure it was enough to cover the full nail bed, and wrapped it back up.

Is my wrapping job as good as the podiatrist? No - but it'll do for now.

Gotta do that all over again, once per day for the next 14 days (though honestly I'll probably continue until my follow-up appointment in 2.5 weeks). Hopefully, all of the future dressing changes go as smoothly as this one.

[porcelain-soupspoon4]

You’re Not So Bad (Isaac Foster x Reader)

A/N: I finished Angels of Death a few weeks back, and it was so good! I just had to write a short story about it. I’m not the best writer, but hopefully my first writing of this anime is somewhat close to Zack’s character.  

Warnings: Cussing, Blood Mention (it’s Zack)

You never expected to meet someone like Zack until he arrived on Floor B2. You assisted Reverend Gray, acting as another guardian of B2 after he took you in when he found you as a homeless teen, sleeping on the outside steps of his building. He wasn’t the best father figure you could’ve had, but he still treated you better than the streets did. When hearing the elevator on your floor ding, you wanted to see who was there, but Reverend Gray stopped you, warning you to be careful of the people you may meet. When you asked why, he described the people that held the names Isaac Foster and Rachel Gardner. In all honesty, you didn’t think they were actually as bad as he made them sound, considering that he over exaggerates his descriptions of people to you to keep you safe. Also considering the other psychotic people he had as guardians on the other floors, you could trust your own gut when you met the duo. You stayed hidden in the background while you watched Reverend Gray journey with Rachel to Dr. Danny’s floor. Watching them leave from the end of the hall, you saw a man in a dark brown hoodie and a scythe laying on the ground. That must be Isaac Foster. You could tell that he was bleeding out badly, a pang of guilt and empathy coursing through you. You were hesitant to approach him, remembering that the Reverend said he was dangerous to meddle with and there was a high chance he could react violently to you if you dared to try and talk. But seeing him looking on the verge of death, you couldn’t help but walk slowly toward him. It may seem unreasonable to walk right into danger, but you knew you could take care of yourself. Reverend Gray provided you with a weapon of your own, a basket-hilted sword. He helped you to perfect every swing and stab. Not only that, but you weren’t too bad at fighting hand-to-hand either. Luckily, Isaac Foster appears to be too injured to try and fight back anyway. I honestly don’t think my sword would be able to block his scythe well, I hope he doesn’t use it on me, you thought. As you got closer and closer to the strange man, he fidgeted a bit. You paused your movements, clutching the handle of your sword in its scabbard. He weakly turned his head towards you, his eyes opening slowly. 

“Who the fuck are you? You gonna try and kill me?” he questioned, a sharp tone in his voice. You noticed he made no effort to reach for his scythe, so you let go of your sword’s handle. 

“No.....I wouldn’t try to kill someone if they’re already dying,” you responded. He let out a dry laugh. 

“I hate to break it to ya sweetheart, but I’m not dying any time soon. Monsters are hard to kill. Besides, good ‘ol Rachel’s gonna fix me up. But enough of the chitter chatter, you didn’t answer my first question. Who the fuck ARE you? I thought there’s only one guardian on each floor, unless Reverend Shithead cheated,” he spat. You let out a small chuckle, finding his way of talking a throwback to when you were a teen. Although, he seemed to be around the same age as you, twenty or twenty-two years old. His bandaged face looked confused to your lighthearted reaction. He scowled, “Hey, what’s all that laughing for? I didn’t even say anything funny.” 

“Oh nothing, just thinking of my teenage days. But to answer your first question, I am another guardian of this floor. My job is assisting Reverend Gray on this floor, though I’m not really allowed to interact with the people who come here. But I uh, couldn’t help feeling a bit bad for you, seeing you bleed out like that,” you finally confessed. Letting out another dry laugh, he looked at you with a smirk. 

“Feeling bad for me, huh? Not the best decision. Don’t know if you can already tell, but I’m a cold-blooded serial killer. If I wasn’t feeling shitty at the moment, I’d cut that pretty head of yours off. Seeing you this calm around someone like me really pisses me off,” he said. You only let out another small chuckle, which irked him even more. 

“I’m sure you would, Isaac Foster. Although, I don’t think a fight between the two of us would end so quick. My weapon may be smaller than yours, but I can hold my own very well. If I could survive majority of my childhood and teen years being alone in the streets, I think I could survive you,” you calmly said. His temper apparently sky-rocketed because the next moment, he was yelling. 

“The name’s Zack, you bitch! Don’t go being so confident in yourself, it’s sickening to watch. I bet my ass could ruin all that confidence with just one land of my scythe. I’ll have you begging for your life, just you wait ‘til I’m in a better state to kill ya. Ugh, now I have two bitches to kill!” he groaned, then coughed loudly, more blood oozing out of his wound. You felt guilty again, wanting to at least stop the bleeding for a little while. 

“I carry some bandages and patches with me in case there’s a time I ever need to fix myself. If you need some I can-”

“Just leave it alone, will ya? I already got Rachel getting shit for me back on the other floor, I don’t need your damn help! Why the hell does everyone wanna help me?” 

“M’kay, but you’re bleeding pretty badly, by the time she comes back, you’ll most likely be passed out-”

“I said leave it alone! Stop tryna play nurse, your stuff probably won’t even do shit.” 

“But it’s better to stop the bleeding as soon as-”

“Will you shut up? You’re gonna make me go into shock.”

“I just wanna help-” 

“I said I don’t want any damn help!” 

“Well you won’t be much of a monster by bleeding out all over this damn floor! If you wanna at least live long enough to kill that girl Rachel, you could at least be somewhat decent and let me patch you up before you go all out, getting your own self killed instead! Now shut the fuck up and let me help! Geez! How does that blonde girl deal with you?” you shouted. Your yelling got him to close his mouth and shut up, surprised that he got someone as calm as you to get angry. How can I get her angry, but not scared shitless? It���s like she wasn’t even phased by my damn appearance, he thought. There was a short silence in the hallway, until Zack finally spoke up. “Didn’t know you had all that anger in ya. Heh, to be honest you even got my crazy self startled. I have no clue how Rachel deals with me, but all I know is her messed up head wants me to kill her. So I’ll do it. If I want to keep my promise to her.....I guess you should do what ya want. But don’t be a pervert about it.”

A small smile formed on your face as you took out your supplies in the small medical bag you carried around. 

“How the hell are you smiling after all that? Sheesh, I’m starting to think you’re even weirder than Rachel is,” Zack let out noises of disgust. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his childlike behavior. 

“Tell me something.....,” he began to say, “why haven’t ya mentioned anything about my appearance? I’m literally covered in bandages and burnt underneath. Don’t I freak you out at all? Why aren’t ya scared?” 

“Well, I’ve seen crazier. I also don’t like to make a judgement about someone based on only their appearance. Sure you’re not ordinary looking, but I know there’s more about you than what I see on the outside,” you replied. Everything that you needed to help him was taken out. You didn’t have any type of alcohol or a sewing needle and thread to fully cover what you believed to be a deep gash in his abdomen, but it was all that could be done for now until Rachel got back. You reached over towards his wound, but hesitated. You looked him in the eyes, as if you were silently asking for permission. He nodded slightly, his breathing hitching a bit when he saw the look your eyes held. You looked so genuine, not one hint of fear in you. Was that.....kindness? No, it couldn’t be. Why would anyone show kindness to him? You unzipped his hoodie, a faint blush on your face. Sure he was an asshole, but it still felt.....somewhat intimate? Not in an inappropriate way, just in a trustworthy way. The fact he had so much trust in one stranger to help him like this.....it was odd. You undid the bandages already on him that were worn out. His wound was revealed, and so was his skin. Wow....is all of him burned? You shook your thoughts away. You grabbed a bunch of gauze sponges you had and grouped them together, beginning to apply pressure to his wound. Zack hissed at the pain, saying almost every curse word you think is in the dictionary. You let out a soft “Sorry” as you continued to clean up the big amount of blood on his body. Once you began to bandage him up tightly, Zack started up another conversation. 

“You’re different from the other guardians.....why aren’t ya trying to kill me? Isn’t that what you guardians do?” he asked curiously. You showed him another small smile. That damn smile, why does she smile so easily at me? It’s not like Rachel’s forced ass smile. What’s up with this bitch? Why is her smile so.....familiar? 

“Well, like I said before, I just assist Reverend Gray on this floor. He’s the main guardian. I’m just someone he happened to take in after he found me sleeping on the steps of this building. Heh, teenager me. Homeless after my parents abandoned me as a toddler. I’m not sure what made Reverend Gray want to keep me. Sometimes he acts like a father, but then I remember how self praising he is,” you sighed, “I know the people on the other floors kill so you expect me to be the same, but I don’t want to kill someone if they aren’t totally out of their mind.” 

“So is that why you didn’t try to kill me? Cause ya think I’m not totally out of my mind? Heh, well I’m pretty sure me killing people for fun isn’t sane either. I hate seeing people happy, sooooo I kill ‘em. What’s not psycho about that?” Zack stated. 

“Well for starters, I didn’t try to kill you because you were already injured, so it wouldn’t have been fair. And you can’t be totally out of your mind if you let me help you with your injury.” Zack scowled at your reply, knowing you were right. Even as a serial killer, he had morals. He hated lying, and he himself would never tell a lie. 

“You remind me of him too much,” he grumbled. Your head perked up. 

“Did you say something?”

“I said you talk too much.” 

“No, you definitely said something else.” 

“No I said you talk too much.” 

“Doubt it, tell me what ya really said.” 

“That is what I really said.” 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Zack.” 

“Ugh, I said you remind me of him too much,” he said softly. 

“Him?” you questioned. Zack sighed. “There was this man I met when I was younger, a blind man. He let me stay at his place for a couple days. Even after I told him I killed a guy, he still had that dumb smile on his face. He always had that smile on his face around me. It was annoying, him being so calm around someone like me. Pissed me off, but I didn’t kill him. He fed me and everything. I mean he already died cause of something else, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Are ya done with my bandages yet? It feels like it’s been hours!” 

You rolled your eyes at his commentary. “Well, whoever that man is, he had quite the patience with you.” 

“Hey! I was giving you a compliment! Geez, way to be rude!” Zack crossed his arms, turning away from you. You only chuckled once more. You finally finished wrapping enough bandages as you could, making sure it was snug enough. 

“Happy now, angry boy? I’m done. They’ll still get bloody, but at least the bandages are fresh and not worn out,” you said, giving him another smile just to annoy him. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “I never caught your name. Since I told ya mine, it’s only fair you tell me yours.” 

“It’s (Y/N),” you said. 

“Well (Y/N),” Zack rubbed the back of his head. “You’re not so bad.....maybe I’ll keep ya alive.” 

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

We meet Lucy, we meet Samantha and her twins & Mother Nature gets a little bit mad. But on the upside - she loves Tony :)

Kind reminder that this story will have horror/thriller elements & graphic descriptions of blood, gore and all the nasty stuff associated with superhero battles described in some detail. This chapter contains some of that.

Honestly, this story is getting- uhh- 8-12 notes on Tumblr. It's got a decent following on AO3 which brings me joy because I truly do enjoy the worldbuilding to a, perhaps, guilty amount. So if you like it too - please reblog :)

The fabric of my skirt was suddenly yanked and I jumped, dropping my phone and startling out of my daze. Two big, blue eyes stared up at me, curiousity mixed with impatience in them. I crouched down to pick up my device, coming face to face with a tiny blonde girl about nine or ten years of age.

"Lucy, hi!" I squeezed out a smile at the child. She looked pale, as if she'd never seen the slightest bit of sunlight, chubby cheeks contrasted by an overall spindliness of her body. Her dress was a puffy, long-sleeved, red and white polka dotted monstrosity with at least two petticoats that made her seem bigger than she actually was. "Sorry, didn't see you there. Long day at work," despite there being a worm of anxiety crawling deeply in my chest, I heeded the warnings on the list of rules and swallowed any unease I had.

Which was a hard feat. The stairs had gotten confused and I lost ten minutes of time going back, over and over, after encountering floors "5", "8" and "19" instead of my third floor, in a five story building. The building providing extra floors shouldn't have surprised me that much but the worst was fighting with the desire to explore them, my rational brain unhelpfully supplying that if this building was truly dangerous, nobody would be living in it.

The pull was almost unnatural in its strength yet my protection charms remained unaffected. Too tired from returning to work, I decided to distract myself with my phone - and nearly ran poor little Lucy off her feet.

"You are new," she signed to me slowly, carefully observing my reaction to her using ASL.

I had been truly unsettled by the rule list, perhaps more than I wanted to admit to myself, so I spent a night wide awake brushing up my meager sign language skills. "Yes, my name is Star," I replied, not quite sure if I wanted to shake her hand or simply make myself scarce as soon as possible.

Lucy gave me a closed-lipped grin, swooshing her puffy skirts in what I perceived to be a calculated amount of shyness. "Can I play with you, please?" Her hands moved a little more rapidly as she side-eyed my apartment door.

I briefly ran a mental checklist of the contents of my fridge. "Sure," I figured that two leftover steaks in it would be more than enough for the little girl. I'd splurged and gotten four prime pieces of meat to treat myself after a hectic moving process, cooking only half of them on the first day. "Come on it. You hungry?"

The door swung open as I led Lucy in, her bright dress and pale skin standing out in the twilight of my apartment. She nodded her head seriously, looking at me from head to toe as shivers ran up and down my spine. My bag was unceremoniously dumped on the couch, my socked feet shuffling into the kitchen and beelining for the fridge.

Lucy followed me quietly, taking a seat at the dinner table and folding her thin arms atop it, expectant blue eyes following my every move. As I plated the meat and reached for the roll of paper towels, I felt like I was being examined under a microscope. Somewhere in the distance, a quiet hissing noise was beginning to rise.

Lucy politely declined the fork and knife I attempted to give her so I just set down the plate in front of her, leaving the kitchen to change out of my dusty, sweaty clothes, too tired to really worry about the loud, sloppy and wet chewing noises and low growling coming from the dining area. I decided as long as she wasn't attempting to have me for dinner, I was going to be just fine.

I found Lucy on the carpet of my living room, flipping through a fashion magazine she'd found somewhere after I was done with scavenging some sweatpants from my mostly-unpacked closet. Her blonde curls bounced as she looked up at me with another tight smile, this time looking calmer, friendlier somehow. "I like those dresses," she signed, pointing at a few pictures with models wearing ballroom gowns in all kinds of colours. "And these..." She pointed out a tiara, probably not knowing how to sign the words.

"This is a tiara," I spoke slowly, signing the last word with my hands carefully as she observed. And then a few more times, until she repeated her last sentence perfectly. "Good job, Lucy," I praised her as she beamed at me. The river of quiet, scratchy giggles never stopped as she pointed out various things and I tried to sign them to the best of my ability, Lucy not showing any signs of upset whatsoever if I couldn't get the name for something right.

After some time, it was beginning to get very dark outside and a couple of pointed glances at the clock was all it took for her to stand up and carefully dust off her skirts. "Thank you for playing with me, Star," Lucy signed excitedly. "I like you. Do you want to know a secret?" She leaned in conspirationally, bursting into my space bubble with a lack of care only a child could posess.

I nodded, not trusting my mouth whatsoever. The closer she leaned in, the more overwhelming her smell became. Her pretty dress reeked of mildew and stale water, her breath - of dried blood and something earthen, like moist soil and cold cobblestone.

Lucy's eyes widened dramatically. "If you need answers, go on to the seventh floor. Bring some warm milk and cookies, they won't bother you too much, but be careful and don't stay for too long. You look tasty," I struggled to keep up with her rapid signing, my eyes firmly trained on her. Lucy's hand carefully patted my cheek and in my frozen state, I could only wave back as she skipped to the door and unlocked it, giving me one of her closed-lipped smiles before disappearing behind it without a noise.

The lock slid shut on it's own after the girl's departure. My heart briefly jumped up into my throat, trapping my jerky inhale in-between my throat and my esophagus. Coughing, I went on to double check the door lock before scrambling for the TV remote to add some background noise to the suddenly eerily quiet apartment.

The sit-com that popped up wasn't any of the ones I knew so I sat helplessly watching unfamiliar people get themselves into more and more absurd situations as the grating noise of pre-recorded audience laughter mocked the characters actions. A sudden shriek pierced the late night stillness, followed by a sound of breaking dishes and a woman's voice tiredly chastising the miscreants.

Samantha.

I'd seen her a few times as she smoked her strong cigarettes in front of the entrance, her twins running in circles around the large pothole in the middle of the driveway. She'd been friendly enough, the dark circles under her eyes and the unkempt state of her clothes telling me more than her words, "I love them, I really do. But I just want some sleep," she rasped as she sighed and attempted to gather her two kids.

I didn't examine them too closely but on first moment's notice their eyes and teeth appeared... Wrong. Samantha had taken them inside after that, clutching a coffee thermos of a size truly impressive, and I went on my merry way, trying not to think too much of the poor, single mother and her two mutant kids. I felt a little proud, even, as she didn't just abandon them like many other people did after discovering their children had an active X-gene.

It didn't take me long to cave in and offer my help with watching the twins, Anya and Arman; one noisy weekend bled into the next and I began to genuinely feel bad for the overtired woman. Inviting the two terrors into my apartment was a choice I had made mindfully: having asked Odette about advice on hyperactive children, she had proposed a puzzle or two.

The thrifted, wooden items weren't able to hold the twins' attention for long, and Anya was the first one to begin gnawing at the hard blocks, covering the area around her in splinters. Arman was a quiet boy compared to his sister: he'd stare at the TV or at the walls, avoiding eye contact and conversation at great lengths.

My couch was jumped on, my dishes were taken out and my houseplants rearranged chaotically; it was almost as if they purposefully tried to get a rise out of me without doing any actual damage. I spent the remaining few hours of my Sunday putting things back in their places - all that pent up frustration had done wonders for the state of my apartment; it sparkled, looking cleaner than the day I moved in.

The babysitting became a somewhat regular occurrence, more often than not with me popping in for a couple of hours so Samantha could run some errands and the odd weekend when the twins came over to me so Sam could get some much-needed sleep.

She was a kind, gentle if chronically overworked woman. We clicked pretty quickly over our shared desire for comfortable stability and some fucking peace; neither I nor she had it in sights for the foreseeable future. Sam's reaction to me being a witch was a shrug and a top up to her wine glass as she pointedly looked at her daughter who was busy chewing on a door handle, leaving small, jagged marks all over the dull metal.

I just had gotten sorted with a bunch of complicated orders when the radio interrupted Eric Clapton with an emergency message and instructions to steer clear of the next few blocks over. Something had hit NYC again and Avengers had been called but nobody knew exactly what it was or when it was going to be dealt with.

As soon as I shot a text to Sam, explaining the situation, I immediately retreated to the back rooms, setting up my healing station over the noise of Odette preparing her office for visitors. For some time, I waited with baited breath, jumping at every little noise coming from the outside. The people tickled in slowly, mostly one by one and all were covered in foul-smelling sludge that evaporated with a loud hiss when the concentrated light of the UV lamp in my office touched it.

"Some kind of aliens, I think," a man with a face somewhere between a human and a hedgehog told me, wincing as he retracted his spikes back into his skin. "There's a hole- a portal, right on a crossroads and there's these things coming out. They kinda look like dragons, or flying snakes maybe," the more light breached the surface of his skin, the more relaxed he became. "The Sorcerer and the Witch are trying to close the portal, unsuccessfully might I add, and the muscle is just," he paused, scratching his chin. "Just killin' 'em, I guess."

I nodded enthusiastically, prompting him to continue to rely the state of the affairs as I applied the thick, viscous ointment on a gash on his leg. "It's hammer and Frisbee time," I mumbled to myself sarcastically.

"Yep," the man popped the 'p'. "Most of us are trying to keep the creatures contained to that one block. I saw Iron Man blasting off some of the creatures off of some of my friends," the last sentence contained a great deal of puzzlement. "Though you won't be seeing much of us this time. These things... They're vicious. They've got claws the size of my foot. A lot of us are going to die where they gut us," the sentence was spoken so matter-of-factly, my hands paused on the man's leg, bringing my eyes to his unblinking dots of black.

"What do you mean?" I swallowed in an attempt to chase away the dry, rough feeling in my throat.

"Those beasts... They're smart. One of my friends - she's a... Telepath of sorts... Says they're an intelligent hivemind," the man's broad, warm palm closed over mine. "The beasts leave only the ones that won't get help in time. They can smell death from a mile away. That's how they hunt," his voice was gentle, soothing over the sudden ringing of my ears.

"I..." My mind stuttered, a sticky ball of anxiety, fear and sorrow gathering up in my chest. "I'm so sorry. I..."

"We know what we're doing, out there, we know the risks," his smile was tight and full of grief. "You're doing your part here, makin' sure our babies have parents. We're out there makin' sure our streets are safe. Such is life," the grin acceptance in his pitch-black, small eyes set fire to the tension in my chest.

I exploded, inside out. The sudden burst of decisive, clear-headed energy made the objects around me vibrate, metal resonated my sorrow and my determination, the wood heated up with the force of Mother Nature itself responding to an act of cruelty bestowed upon her creations.

As soon as the man's bandage was finished and he headed out, I grabbed my old, ratty backpack, hastily shoving things into it in a semi-organized fashion. Clean linen strips, bandages, some premade elixirs and draughts, a few jars of salves, carefully tucked in-between the cloth. As I knocked on the door of Odette's office to retrieve the last few items I would need for my reckless journey, the door handle turned on its own, letting me observe her tending a woman who's skin was peeled off most of her back.

"Can't you see I'm..." Odette exclaimed, throwing her free hand towards the door, which did not budge. She turned on her heel, eyes widening when she observed my wide, solid stance in the doorway, lips immediately curling into a small grin. "I understand. Take what you need. It's not wise to resist Her call," the words were spoken carefully, as if not to spook me, before Odette resumed her delicate work of putting the injured woman back together.

Without a word, I finished packing and left through the front door, not needing more than my scarf and my light sweater to keep me from the freezing gusts of wind. My very core was the centrefold of an active volcano, bursting with white-hot bursts of energy as I approached the injured people on my way towards the terrible screeching noise.

This far out, most of the injured were able to make it to Odette's or to the other healer, who's name I had found out only then, but they were thankful for the water I offered them. Not once did they question me: my star-patterned scarf, out of all things, had become somewhat of a symbol for me among the different folk. Mutants approached me fearlessly, giving generous updates on the direction of the battle and the hotspots I probably should have avoided.

The louder the screeching noises grew, the more people needed my help. The stops took longer, my painkillers were becoming a short supply, the main relief provided by a couple of mid-range, mid-strength energy manipulating mutants that began to tail me after I offered to patch them up in exchange for help with the injured.

It was as if I instinctually knew where I was most needed, my decisions were seldom my own. Me and the two mutants bid a haste goodbye after loading up their truck with the injured, although deep inside, I knew that the amount of corpses, bloody and messy, littering the streets had begun to get to them. In a normal state of mind, I would not have been able to look at them either: then, each mangled, broken body only added fuel to the fire within me.

As I stepped foot in an intersection where someone had piled up bent and broken cars, the shadow flying over my head shrieked, taking a fluid nose dive towards another, smaller flying figure. I dropped flat on the ground, the contents of my backpack clattering, watching the small figure in the sky blast the beast with an off-blue ray of concentrated energy. As soon as the creature began it's graceless drop, Tony turned around and flew off, looking none worse for wear.

At the very centre of my chest, a faint feeling of fondness and hope blossomed into tiny little flowers that soothed the aching sorrow for the dead. Each warcry of the beasts from another world fed the anger, the anguish Gaia seemed to exhibit at their intrusion; the revolt I felt upon laying my eyes on one of them made me sweat, hands clenching into fists until my skin crawled under my nails.

The last part of me that wanted to pretend I was in control was gone; my soft, untrained body a mere vessel for a force stronger than me, stronger than anything. Noise around me grew in pitch, some of the creatures circling around my hiding spot cluelessly, aimlessly, as if they could not find what they were looking for.

I moved spots in a daring series of runs, bringing me almost to the portal itself, and the hellish lizards dived into my previous sanctuary, shattering the concrete and the wood of the house under the amused black stares of glassless windows.

The realization set it - they could not see me. Or perceive me properly, I deduced, inspecting the creatures for any sort of orifice except for their mouths and finding them to lack eyes and ears.

My own stare fell onto Sorcerer Supreme, floating amongst a variety of moving golden circles; I was close enough to hear him talking in a language I did not know. Wanda was hovering nearby, holding up a wall of red energy, protecting the chanting sorcerer.

A united screech invoked a shiver from every living being within it's reach, the creatures circling the portal for the last time before flying off in haphazard directions as the portal slowly began to close. I was prepared to cheer, yet, something stopped me; not a second later, the circles surrounding Stephen dimmed as the man himself jumped up onto his feet in alarm, screaming something unintelligible at the Scarlet Witch.

The overturned food cart I was hiding behind slowly began to creep towards the portal. A couple of rats, a pigeon - the animals flew in front of my eyes, rapidly, as they struggled against the unseen force. My hands grasped the handlebars of the cart in vain, I struggled against the force, seeing a moment of confusion on Wanda's face as I floated- no, rocketed past her as Stephen's golden magic forcefully pushed her out of the portal's reach.

It's size no bigger than a doorway, the vile thing blew cold, dry air under my sweater, muffling Stephen's cursing as we briefly collided during our violent expulsion into another world.

And then, there was darkness.

Taglist! @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[spencerreidshortstories]

The Team Found Out About You

Description: The team finds out about the girl Spencer has been spending time with.  There is slight teasing from Morgan, but that’s the be expected, really.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None really, just light-hearted teasing amongst friends.

Spencer's team didn't find out about her until he'd known her for three months. He was a pretty private person, and he hadn't planned on telling them yet, but the team had all made plans to go out on a Friday night after work since they didn't have a case. The thing was that he already had plans and since he never had plans, they all wanted to know what was going on.

What was going on was he was in the middle of Star Trek and he wasn't watching it alone.

"Pretty Boy has himself a girlfriend," Derek said, grinning, teasing like he always did. It didn't really bother Spencer anymore. He knew Derek would never tease him with a harmful intent behind it.

"No, I –"

"Oh, who is it?" Penelope broke in. "Do we know her?"

"No. We met at the library, and she's not my girlfriend. I haven't known her that long."

"But you've invited her into your apartment?"

"Well, yes, to watch Star Trek."

Spencer knew what they were talking about, though. He had a thing with his personal space. He didn't let just anybody into it. For him to let her in his apartment meant that he felt some kind of attachment to her.

He regretted telling them her name, though, because Garcia literally pulled up her personal history and a background check, which Spencer was not okay with even if he was curious. He could just ask her and she wouldn't mind telling him. She was an open book.

"You sure you don't want to know?"

Derek and Spencer had followed Garcia to her tech room and she'd gotten done in less than five minutes. There obviously hadn't been much to find, which was good. That meant there weren't any skeletons in the closet.

"As long as there's nothing bad, I don't need to know."

"Well, there's no criminal record. Not even a speeding ticket."

"She's a very safe driver."

"You've let her drive you around?"

"Sometimes . . ."

He began to fidget. This was why he didn't let people in on his business. They always had questions and they wouldn't leave him alone about it. It really wasn't a big deal. Okay, it kind of was, but still . . .

"What's she like?" Derek asked.

"She's . . . I don't know – our first conversation was about books. She was having trouble reaching a book on the top shelf because she wasn't tall enough, so I got it for her, and she had a basket of books she was checking out and – "

"A whole basket?"

"She likes to read," he said and shrugged. "We talked for a while and we went out for coffee that weekend. She didn't treat me like a freak when she found out how many I have or how many Bachelor Degrees I have."

Neither Derek nor Garcia said anything about the freak thing, because some people did have an adverse reaction when they found out how smart Reid was.

"Does she know what you do?"

"Yeah. We – we try to hang out when I have time off. Or when she does. She stays pretty busy. She has two jobs."

"She runs a youth center and works at a Jr. High as a guidance counselor," Garcia supplied for Derek.

"She calls it her baby," Spencer said. "Anyway, we just – we just get along. We can talk about anything and she doesn't mind when I don't know when to stop talking, so that works, and she's smart –"

"She was one of the highest scorers for her college entrance exam. Top five percent," Garcia said, looking at one of the computer screens. "She took five, sometimes six, classes at a time, and still kept an A average in most of her classes."

Okay, so Spencer hadn't known that part, but he didn't need to know every little detail of her life. They were just friends.

"That's – stop. I'm good not knowing. I didn't need to know that to know she's intelligent. She can keep up with my train of thought, so –"

"That's a miracle right there, Boy Genius."

Spencer grinned and shook his head. "It's great. She's letting me explain the science behind Star Trek as we watch it."

"That's – that's commitment right there. When can we meet her? Why don't you invite her out tonight?"

"How about I don't? I don't know how she'd feel about me just springing this on her last minute." Then, "I'll ask her how she feels about it and maybe we can do it next time. Just . . . don't embarrass her."

"Is she easily embarrassed?" Garcia asked. And then, "You know, I can't find this girl on social media at all. What's up with that? There's her professional email for the school and that's it."

Spencer remembered she'd told him one time that she hated technology. She could type on the computer and that was about as far as her knowledge went. The kids at the youth center had had to show her the different apps on her phone and how they worked.

"She's not great with technology."

Garcia seemed offended, and Spencer shrugged. He wasn't great with technology either.

"To answer your question . . . she's not easily embarrassed, exactly, but she does blush a lot." When Derek's eyebrows shot up Spencer was quick to say, "Shut up, and you're not allowed to tease her if she decides she wants to meet you guys."

"We would never make her uncomfortable, Reid," Derek said, serious now.

"I know that, but you tease people. It's part of who you are. Just . . . wait for her to get to know you first, so she knows you don't mean anything by it. It's how you show affection."

As if Derek had to prove Spencer was right, he said, "Have you kissed her yet?"

"What? No!" And then, "She's not my girlfriend!"

He decided now was the time to leave. He felt like he was in a bad teen movie – not that he'd seen many of those – and he was confused as to why he hadn't extricated himself from the tech cave sooner.

As he was walking back to his desk, he wondered how long it would take for the rest of the team to find out about her. There was no way Morgan and Garcia were going to keep their mouths shut about it.

As it turned out, Garcia was the one to spill the beans and everyone knew by the time they went out that night. None of the others made as much of a fuss about it and Spencer was grateful. They all seemed interested in meeting her though.

When he asked why, Derek said, "Because she's gotta be special if she caught your interest, Pretty Boy."

"Yeah, we have to meet her now," JJ said. "From what you've said, she sounds amazing."

He didn't say it, but he did think she was amazing. She was kind and bright, and had nothing to do with his job. She brought him a kind of peace that he hadn't known for a long time, since before he'd started working.

He loved his job and he couldn't imagine doing anything else, but that didn't mean the cases didn't bother him or stay with him, sometimes keep him up at night or bring him nightmares when he did sleep. He didn't have to think about murder or rape or kidnapping when he was with her because she wasn't part of the team. She was something far from them, set apart from his job. That was one of the reasons he hadn't thought to introduce her to his friends. He didn't want to mar his friendship with her by maybe bringing that part into it.

He would, however, ask how she felt about meeting his team members. He had said he would, and he didn't like lying. He hoped it didn't change anything between them. He still wanted her as his TV show buddy. As she had said when they'd had coffee, it wasn't fun binging a show on your own.

[let-me-be-a-fander-in-peace]

Outsider.

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My versions of demons are technically not Christian demons, but it’s a bit more complex than that, so VERY information about the demon race at the end of the fic. Here is the prompt I used.

Next

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Relationships: Virgil & Thomas, Remus & Janus & Virgil.

Word count: 3,100.

Description: it was bound to happen eventually, doesn’t mean that Virgil, a human, is happy about being put in a school for demons.

Tw: Joking about skinning someone alive and comparing their organs, and joking about hostages. (Yes, Remus is mostly the one joking about it)

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Of course, Virgil thinks, only my parents could mange to make this big of a mistake.

Standing in the hall you enter once you walk through the frount door of the school. Virgil sees all of the baige lockers lined up, most of the few gaps in between the lockers against the wall are wood doors that enter into classrooms.

Virgil sees students walking down the hall, talking with friends or walking alone. There also students standing by the lockers grabbing thing they need for there first class or putting their supplies away. There are also groups of people just standing by the lockers taking with each other. this would normally not surprise, except for one key detail;

They were all demons.

Everyone had horns and some color from the rainbow skin tone mixed with unique features every demon have, like wings, tails, multiple eyes, plants growing in select areas, and more.

Virgil felt anxiety pounding in his gut as he walked to the councilors office. He could feel eyes burning his skin and he can see the double takes some of demons are doing.

Virgil stops in frount of a door and pulls out his crinkled postet note with the councilers door number on it from his pocket. He glances down at his postet note to confirm that he is at the right door. yep, Virgil thinks, this is the right door, and he hesitantly walks in.

Virgil enters the Councilers office and walks towards the accountant, He glances down at the name tag, Mrs Qucei to ask for his schedule.

“..Hello? Um, I’m Virgil Angst and I’m here for my schedule?”

Mrs. Qucei without looking up from typing on her computer says “Go to the door behind you to enter Mr. Sanders Office for you schedule.”

Virgil stands in that place for a second before quickly turning around and speed walking to the door behind him and knocking.

“Oh? Come in!”

Virgil hesitantly turns the door handle and pushes the door open, just enough for his body to fit through.

When Virgil closes the door he looks a around the room. The room has beige walls and dark wood flooring, on the left wall there is a giant picture frame with a bunch of mini lgbtq+ flags with the corresponding meaning for each flag.

In the left hand counter there is a bedside table with small figet toys on it and a lamp. There is a bin under the table with more figet toys, and next to the bedside table there are different types of chairs, there is a beanbag, a spiny chair, a stool, and a two person couch.

Across in the back right corner facing the right there is a wooden desk and a big computer screen in the middle of the desk. The desk seems to be kinda messy, there is a messy stack of papers on the side and a buch of pens and pencils littered the desk, when they look like they should be in the cups with pens and pencils, (some with animal erasers and fluff balls on the top).

But typing on the computer in your typical office chair there is a demon, he looks to be an short demon, (so around six foot four) and his skin is a warm gray. This horns go up and then swoop down, kind of like a crooked upside down L. He has a slim-ish nose and small lips. His eyes have no whites in them (most demons don’t) and his eyes are a dark brown. His hands have webbing in between them, and he has sharp and long nails. he is wearing a warm brown leather jacket and a dark blue top, he’s wearing jeans and brown loafers.

He looks up from where he was sitting and smiles at Virgil, ushering over to the many chairs. Virgil drops his backpack right against to the tall stool so it’s leaning against it, and Virgil sits on the tall stool where he can hang is legs off. Virgil pulls on this sleeves and bunches the extra fabric that goes past his hands into his sleeve covers hands, and he keeps doing that to have something to do with his hands.

Mr. Sanders smiles at him before talking, “Hi, I’m Mr. Sanders he/him, what’s your name and pronouns?”

Virgil figures that Mr. Sanders already knows his name, seeing as he is the new human student, but goes along with it anyways, “Um, Hi? I’m Virgil Angst.. uh- he/him.”

Virgil mentally cringes at how he spoke, why did I have to be so bad at social interaction.

Luckily for Virgil, Mr. Sanders didn’t seem to mind, and keeps talking, “obviously your the new student, I have your schedule right... here!”

As Mr. Sanders shuffled around his desk for Virgils schedule, he let out a small ‘ah ha!” As he found it. He quickly stood up and walks over to Virgil, handing him his schedule. Then goes back to sit at his desk.

Virgil looks at the schedule handed to him, it has his locker number and combination, and it has his six classes in this order: Biology, Algebra, World history, English, Lunch, German, P.E.

Virgil looked back up at Mr. Sanders. There was still one question in his mind, why was he, a human, doing in a demon school?

As if Mr Sanders could read his mind, he starts the talking, “Now I’m pretty sure your woundering why you’re in a school full of demons, and I would be wondering the same thing if I were you. The reason for this is that the school was informed of your parents, er, work schedule,”— I know that parents keep getting relocated and moving for the new job—“and sense this is the easiest place for your parents, we let you enroll!”

Oh. Oh...

my parents were to lazy to get me into a human school...

...So they signed me up for a school for demons.

...Eh, it was going to happen eventually, I guess.

“Now that I’ve given you your schedule go to your first class! You don’t want to be late!”

Virgil pushes himself off of the tall stool and swings his backpack over his sholder before saying goodbye to Mr. Sanders and walking out of the Room.

Virgil entered the hallway and looked at all of the locker numbers and counts until he hid his own locker.

A-124.

A-125.

A-126.

A-127 .

And... A-128!

My locker.

Virgil looked at his looker and back at this schedule a few more times confirm that he was actually at the right locker. Once he wasn’t so anxious that this wasn’t the right locker the looks at the locker combination and puts his hand on the lock to try.

17.

Virgil put it to number 17.

45.

Virgil twisted the lock in the other direction to get to 45.

31.

Virgil twisted the lock in the opposite direction all the way around before putting it on 31.

Finally Virgil pushed up the black peace that opens the locker, and the locker opened with a small squeek.

Virgil suddenly felt a wave of relieve that he hadn’t been assigned the wrong locker, and then he put this backpack in his locker and took out his binder and a book Virgil is currently reading. Then Virgil took a picture of his schedule and set it to his background screen. Then was on his way to biology class.

As Virgil walks down the hall he saw a bunch a demons looking at him. He understands why they’re looking at him, doesn’t mean he has to like it though.

Virgil steps infrount of a open door and checks his phone to see if this was the right class.

He checks his phone and thinks, yep, this is the right class.

Virgil walks through the door and sees a seating chart being protected on those roll up white screens. Virgil looks around at the seating chart before in the corner of his eye he catches his name. Virgil’s name is in a box that represents the back corner table, with two other people, A Remus Creatività and A Janus Dolus.

Virgil walks over to where his name corresponds to and sits down, putting his binder and book in the table corner. Virgil grabs his book and opens it up to his paper bookmark. Pulls the bookmark out and sets it to the side, and continues reading where he left off.

Not even a page in, Virgil feels his book get suddenly ripped out of his hands. He looks up at the bitch who ripped his book out of his hands, and see’s a tall demon around six foot nine with light green skin, he has a pointy nose, and big eyes with a white eye color, around his eyes there is purple eyeshadow, and (really good) winged eyeliner. He also shaved his eyebrow ends. He has a crazed smile with a lot of sharp teeth. He has a dark green curly muttet with a buch of small white streaks in his hair and one prominent white streak in the frount. In his hair there are dark green horns that fade into black at the top, the horns zigzag to the back of his head.

He has two pairs of tentacles, they’re a dark brown, lighter on the bottom where the suckers are. and crossed like you would cross your arms if you didn’t have bones.

He is wearing a black T-shirt with the red anarchy symbol, and a bunch of Bracelets on his wrist, some are your average homemade friendship bracelet, some are rubber bands with stuff on them, and there are also hair ties and those animal shaped rubber bands. He’s wearing gray ripped shorts and purple tights with a bunch of holes in them. And finally he’s wereing doc Martins with purple lace.

I think that’s lace code Virgil thinks, err... if that is lace code, which I think it is, purple means gay pride... I think.

Virgil is snapped out of his head by the demon talking,“Oooo! What’s this!”

The boy exclaims, closing the book with a finger in the book to hold the placement, and reads the summary on the back.

Then another demon, around six foot three, walks up to the other demon and pulls Virgils book out of his hands. This demon has a golden skin tone and a long nose. His face is half regular and half snake. On his regular side he has dark brown eyes, just like most demons, you can’t see the white in his eyes. On his snake side there are yellow-green scales, the scales start right next to his nose and go to his ear. His lips look totally normal except for that where the human lips end on this snake half there is a snake mouth, (stretchy skin that Virgil can’t see connects his snake mouth together), and it extends to his ear. his eye on his name half is fully yellow and he has a split pupil. under his name eye is what looks to be a giant pink eye bag.

His clothing is very causal, his black hair is slicked back and in a black Beene, so Virgil can’t see his horns.He is wearing a black long sleeve shirt with thin yellow strips on the sleeves, he has three pairs of arms, (so six arms total) that all have the same sleeve pattern. He has black fingerless gloves, his nails are painted white with a glossy topcoat, and you can see scales on some of his fingers. he is in black leather pants with a brown belt. His shoes are black high tops with white accents.

“Remus, Why are you harassing the new student?”

The tall demon, who’s name is apparently Remus, pouts, “Jannyyyyyy—“ Remus gets a death glare from... Janny? “Janusss! I wasn’t harassing him! He’s at our table and I want to know if he’s juicy or not!”

“You could do that without harassing him.”

“But that’s no fun!”

The short demon, Janus? glares at Remus, crossing his multiple arms, he still has Virgils book in his hand.

“...Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He sighs giving in to Janus’ stare.

Virgil feel kinda awkward, and interrupts, “Uh, hi, this is fun and all, but can I have my book back.”

They both turn to him. they look at each other and back back at Virgil, “Sweet Satain, I forgot you were even here.” Remus bluntly responds.

“Ah, I’m terribly sorry, here is you book back.” Janus says and he hands Virgils book back to him. Virgil hesitatly takes his book back, and puts his book mark on the last page he was at before shutting his book.

“So! Your the new kid! And your human, of course I was curious!” Remus exclaims, “So, how did you get into this school? Last time I checked humans went to that other school a town over, so what are you doing here?”

During that speech Remus went to sit across from Virgil, and Janus went to sit next to Remus. Remus is leaning over the table with his fists against the table looking at Virgil with wide eye curiously.

“Ummm..”

I really dont what to say to to demons, who are basically strangers, that my parents where so busy that they convinced the leaders to let me go to school here because I can comfortably walk here.

Suddenly the teacher starts calling for everyone’s attention, signaling that class has started.

Virgil silently sighs in relief. Saved by the teacher.

Class is pretty boring, seeing as it’s the first day of school and all classes are just going over rules and stuff like that.

Virgil is reading the class syllabus when suddenly a paper is sild over to Virgil. Virgil looks up from the class syllabus to see Remus wink at him, so Virgil hesitately unfolds the paper and reads their writing in it.

Did you know that skin is the largest organ?

Virgil feels confused, why is Remus asking if I know if skin is the largest organ?

...no, I didn’t.

Virgil slides the paper back to Remus, he writes something down and slides it back.

Well it is! If you skinned someone alive and separated all of there organs, all of their skin clumped together would be bigger than all of the other organs, even the big intestine!

Virgil writes something down and slides it back to Remus, Why is them being alive while you skin then important?

Before Remus could write something down Janus slides the paper to himself and looks between Remus and Virgil with a ‘seriously?’ Expression. Remus quickly nods and Virgil hides his face in his hoodie out of embarrassment.

Janus writes something and slides it over to Remus, who writes something down and slides it to Virgil.

Virgil unfolds the paper and reads it.

Why must you always have the most gruesome conversation starters. Is written in nice cursive with a black pen.

After that is, Because you always gotta start out conversations with your true self!

Next to that Virgil writes, So,,, your true self is skinning a person alive to compare there organs?

Yes! Inside my soul is skinning someone alive and comparing their organs. There is a picture of a ghost, inside the ghost there is one stick figure with exed out eyes and with red pen scribbled all over the stick figures torso. Next to the stick figure is another stick figure nellinf next to it with a knife and the end of what is supposed to be the arm.

I can attest to that, is written next to it.

Now we know what is inside Remus’ (that’s your name right?) soul, what’s inside your soul?

The paper was eventually sild back into Virgils area and he read what was new in it.

Yes! My name is Remus, you also spelled it correctly, an what is inside your soul, Janus?

Below that Janus had written, ...Hmmm, inside my soul is a very rich fancy old lady who killed her husband for his money, and she is covered in jewelry drinking wine in a finch wine glass. what about you, Virgil. (if that is your name.)

The paper slides to Virgil, he reads the paper and thinks for a second, before writeing something down. Yes, Virgil is my name, In my soul there is a 2000’s emo kid writing decent poetry about how ‘no one understands me’ while blasting The Black Parade.

Virgil sides the paper over to Janus, who does one of those nose laughs where instead of making noise you choppily exhail. He writes and slides the paper over to Remus, who slides the paper back to Virgil.

You couldn’t come up with anything more creative than The black Parade?

Yeah! Is written in his chicken scratch handwriting, what about the screams of hostages?

Virgil rolls his eyes and slides the paper back. You couldn’t come up with anything more creative with just ‘the screaming of hostages’?

The paper is slid back to Virgil, oh-ho! Do not test me! I don’t want to scare you, too much, you feel me?

You say that as your convertation started was about organs. Is written in Janus’ fancy handwritten

Yeah, why did you try to start a conversation with that?

The paper is slid back to Virgil, and Remus has a weirdly smug face on as Virgil opens the folded paper. because only juicy people actually respond to that! Congrats Virgil! You passed the juicy test!

With his micanical pencil Virgil writes, I don’t know if I should be relived or scared that I passed the ‘juicy test’, and slides it over to Remus and Janus’ side of the table.

The paper slides back to Virgil. I’ll leave that up to you! But just know now that you have passed the test you are our friend. You cant escape. Below that in Janus’ black pen is, good luck.

Just as Virgil finishes reading Remus’ and Janus’ nots the bell goes off, making Virgil jump in his seat.

The bell is so loud, he thinks while packing up. Once he has all of his stuff ready to go he gets up to leave class when he hears Remus yell, “SEE YOU LATER!” And Virgil waves back at him.

Virgil walks out of the classroom and looks at his phone to see what his next class is, it turns out his next class is algebra.

———————————

Heyyy everyone... I have so many other things planned out, but I saw this prompt and all of my modivation for all my other wips left my body... so have this!

There is going to be more than one part! it should be out soon, now information on the demon race!

——————————-

I do not mean to disrespect Christians! This universe’s version of christainly is just that, a fantasy version that represents the worst version of Christianity. so please don’t come for me.

The demon race and the Human race met in the 500’s, the reason I say demons are technically not the Christian demons is because they were labeled as the devils followers, they were said to be devils from hell. That is where the image of Satan was created. There where lots of hate agents demons back in the old days. but demon and Humans have been collaborating for so long that most of the hate and suspicion for demons has died out with time.

In this universe Demons are taller and stronger than humans, but there senses are dulled down compared to humans, (which was why the bell was louder to Virgil.) Demons where also considered to be Dumber than humans (there not), because they were hunters and gathers, and they spoke a different language. So in this universe that was how the image of the devil was created. in the modern day (when this story takes place) most Christians consider the big, red, horned version of Satan bullshit, (especially demon followers) but it kinda rude to call demon’s devil’s.

[vaguely-concerned]

Some T.F./Graves thoughts from their bios

I realize what a dumb move it is to base uuuuh basically anything on lol bios, since riot apparently change those like other people do underwear, but if I’m not here to build my castles on sand what am I here for honestly  

- I LOVE the description of their first meeting, it’s such a meet cute lol... these two assholes really did just take one look at each other and mutually went ‘so is anyone gonna enter into a life-defining homoerotic partnership with this lying cheating bastard??’ and then neither of them waited for an answer 

- Though at times Twisted Fate would blow all their shares and leave them with nothing to show for it, Graves knew that the thrill of some new escapade was always just around the corner…

I am genuinely a little emotional about how obvious it is that at the end of the day the money really is secondary to him - what really drives him is how much FUN they have together. (he seems in general quite driven by that sense of Adventure; if it were just about the cash he had steady work in bilgewater before he took the trip over to the mainland as a kid) it’s like the part of ‘the road to el dorado’ in the boat except more sincere... ‘you made my life an adventure bro’ :’) 

(also very funny that graves’ bio is where you learn that t.f. doesn’t always win or get away with his shit hahaha, in his own bio it’s played like ‘oh gotta let people win once in a while to throw off suspicion’ flasdhfjsad. it’s mentioned he gets caught a lot more without graves watching his back too, which also gets me in my feelings a bit) 

- one thing I find interesting is that t.f.’s parents aren’t referenced directly at any point (the only family members mentioned specifically are his aunt and grandfather, I’m pretty sure). I’m wondering if they were already out of the picture somehow and that’s part of the reason no one spoke up for him? I mean it’s fucked up either way, I don’t know what’s worse; that his people found it so easy to exile him because he didn’t have anyone to protect him, or that his parents were alive and JUST LEFT HIM THERE. like what the fuck. from how it’s written it’s pretty clear he was still considered a child at the time too, so, y’know. (Graves is described as ‘little more than a youth’ when he headed for the mainland while T.F. seems to have been a kid when he started being on his own, so I’ve headcanoned something like 16-17 and 13-14 for their respective ages of leaving home, with both of them around 19 when they met) I’m quite curious about what kind of internal family politics were at work for them to apparently all agree -- or perhaps be too intimidated to disagree -- to exile a child for life with no recourse and no resources. like yeah okay he messed up but that’s some next level assholery to pull on a kid honestly, no wonder he grows up to have a bunch of abandonment and emotional intimacy issues (and presumably some prime survivor’s guilt as well. oh buddy) 

- eternally entertained by how much meeting t.f. is worded like the ‘how they met their spouse’ section of a wikipedia article in graves’ bio

Across one table, he met a deplorable fellow named Malcolm Graves is also *mwha* so good 

- for fic purposes I would just like to give a moment of thanks for the paragraph in graves’ bio that mentions a bunch of shenanigans they got up to back in the day, very useful thank you

- from what I understand t.f.’s exile-causing transgression has been changed quite recently from fighting back to running away, which I am so happy about because it makes a lot more psychological sense to me and makes graves’ words in ‘burning tides’ hit so much better.  

- I like that their individual descriptions of graves being captured are so indicative of how they each think about it -- namely t.f. doesn’t want to think about it (repress! repress! repress! very relatable) but probably has the more accurate view of it: The exact details of that night remain shrouded in mystery, for neither of them likes to speak of it—but Graves was taken alive, while Tobias and their other accomplices ran free, while graves does think about it but sort of still has his trauma goggles on for it: During a heist that rapidly turned from complex to completely botched, Graves was taken by the local enforcers, while Twisted Fate merely turned tail and abandoned him. t.f.’s is obfuscating and refusing to engage in the emotional aspect of it, graves’ is much more emotive in the language used, like ‘abandoned’. the lol bios often teeter awkwardly between straight biographies and wanting to dip into prose/flavour text, I must say I usually find them very clunky and unsatisfying, but this juxtaposition works for me.

sort of weird the details that don’t make it in, though -- like the fact that they’re both aware that miss fortune was the one who screwed them over in the whole gangplank Situation? (I love that part in ‘destiny and fate’ where graves is gamely like ‘yeah of course I’ve got a grudge against her but that was pretty metal too so y’know *shrug*’ haha)   

- it’s interesting how much t.f.’s uh connection I guess to the cards is almost described as some kind of... compulsion/unstoppable drive in the middle of his bio and then fades into the background towards the end (because his priorities have changed to repairing his marriage now that it’s an option and by god I support him in that). I really do wonder how his card magic actually works -- it’s a cool mix of extremely unsubtle and undeniable sorcery (straight up throwing fireballs around) and subtle (’hunches’, being ‘guided’, just knowing things he sort of shouldn’t), which seems to be where it started

also it seems like he can do it with just about any playing card he comes across? would be sort of weird if it’s the cards that are special, considering he keeps throwing them away and also I don’t know a lot about gambling but I distinctly imagine that casinos don’t let you use your own decks haha. and t.f. seemingly can’t do magic just on his own, without them. so it’s a thing that happens very specifically in relationship, when all the elements come together, symbiotically sort of thing? could he do magic without the cards but it’s how he’s trained himself to think of it so he doesn’t realize it (well I honestly doubt that but just for the thought experiment)? is there some sort of spirit behind those cards looking out for him? is it lady luck keeping an eye out for her favorite boy lol? we know this stuff can physically change the cards like when they showed the crown in ‘destiny and fate’, and he seems able to ‘prime’ a card with magic beforehand if ‘double-double cross’ is anything to go by, but even then mf can’t actually use or release it. hmmmmm many questions  

- the more of my long fic I write the more I am questioning what the fuck these two DO with all the money they steal -- like they’ve clearly pulled off some HUGE heists, surely it can’t all go into like drinks and cigars and fancy waistcoats and tf’s seemingly unending supply of playing cards

do they have like. a bunch of small caches of gold hidden away all across two continents in case of emergency? are their buried treasures the stuff of runeterran urban legend and people go out hunting for them? Have they invested this stuff in actual banks? (actually no I refuse to accept that as a possibility lol if nothing else this would make it hard to figure out if they were robbing THEMSELVES sometimes, sounds like a lot of hassle)

- His people had always waved away concerns over primitive magic and “cartomancy”, but now Tobias began to seek out ever more dangerous means to bend the cards to his will. 

I’m having a little bit of a hard time parsing this -- does this mean his people didn’t believe the cards were magic at all and he’s the only person he knows who can do it, or do they know but just don’t think can be dangerous??? I chose one particular interpretation for my fic, but I honestly can’t figure out what it’s actually meant to mean haha

- T.F. getting a special satisfaction from robbing people who are Assholes is a good character detail (his colour story really goes out of its way to show that the merchant he’s playing against is a real shitbag, for example); there is some lopsided form of righteousness/sense of justice there, I think. and it also ties in with why I like that his exile was because he ran away rather than because he resorted to violence -- there’s this underlying sense that he particularly enjoys outsmarting people who’re dickish to outsiders in precarious situations (like his people) so thoroughly that they don’t even realize it before he’s long gone, without ever having to even lay a finger on them, because that’s a way to fight back while staying out of reach when you come from relative powerlessness. There’s a... lack of malice, I guess, to both of them that I find quite endearing, you can see in Burning Tides that even at his most mindlessly vengeful Graves doesn’t actually enjoy being actively cruel. ‘mutual sense of roguish honor’ is RIGHT they’re bad men but not Bad men you get me  

- All in all, Twisted Fate is glad to have his old friend back, even if it might take another job or two—or ten—to restore their once easy partnership.

This probably means nothing because as I said the lol bios seem an endlessly shifting kaleidoscope of canon, but I think it’s so sweet that both of their last sentences/’where are they now’ statements are about them wanting to repair their partnership (and do some Cool Big Stuff together in graves’ case, I do wonder if that’s foreshadowing for the ruined king game or what)

[cabin-fever-bang]

Campfire Stories (Vol. 1)

Welcome to the Cabin! We proudly present the first edition of Campfire Stories: your one-stop shop for quality quarantine content. 

We’re going to do these regularly, with in-depth reviews of everything that’s been submitted as a prompt fill and additional recommendations from the masterlists of writers who get involved. 

If you’d like to be one of those writers, just follow us, comb through our prompts, and be sure to tag us when you post! It’s that easy. We welcome all fandoms and pairings. 

This batch of reviews was cooked up by @thoughtslikeaminefield​ (MJ), @there-must-be-a-lock​ (Lou), @itmighthavebeenintentional​ (Val), @fangirlxwritesx67​ (Viv), @cracksinthewalls​ (Bri), and @mskathywriteswords​ (Kathy), but we encourage you to pass along the random acts of writer-love and reblog with your own additions! 

Pull up a seat, toast a marshmallow or two, and settle in for some excellent reading material.

Choices We Make - @becs-bunker​ - GIF prompt submitted by  @dawnie1988​ 

Pairing: Demon Dean x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, brief threat & violence, smut, language, dub con-ish, unprotected sex, orgasm denial

Words: 1374

Everyone loves a Demon!Dean fic, and this is a good one! Lots of action, lots of angst, and some really hot, awful Dean.

Honestly it all felt like some surreal nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. You just wanted Dean back, your Dean.

These lines summarize both the Demon!Dean story arc and the narrator's frame of mind so well, pulling the reader right into the perspective of the story.

“I missed you, y’know?” Dean sighed, and the naive part of you wished he was telling the truth. That somehow, deep down, he still loved you.

This is heartbreaking because it's relatable, because the author does such a good job with the narrator's voice.

Dean licked his lips and there was a familiar hunger in his green eyes that made a whole different sensation rise in your body, and it wasn’t fear.

I'm not going to quote any more lines from the story because the author has written one hell of a twist, but trust me when I said, I gasped out loud reading it. The rest of this story is an absolute roller coaster, well worth the ride.

- Viv

Come For Me - @fangirlxwritesx67​ - image prompts created and submitted by @idabbleincrazy​

Pairing: Sam Winchester x female reader 

Warnings: smut, canon level violence, fingering, first time together

Words: 3100

First, let’s talk about this aesthetic. It’s soft and beautiful, but stark and needy. I love the quotes and photos, the way they flow together. Fantastic visual prompt. "Sam Winchester?” He spoke in a theatrical, mocking tone. “Ooooh, I’m frightened." This line made me chuckle. I love the idea of what’s ahead of us. The bad guy is built up in a hilarious way. Sam is presented through the heart and mind of the narrator, you. But thinking of Sam suffused you with a warm confidence. Not for one moment did you doubt him. This confidence is contagious and warming. Meanwhile, the anxiety over the vampire lurking somewhere else, waiting to taste you… it builds in a beautiful and believable way. There’s a rush of emotions as Sam rescues you, and he’s patient and kind, even while making jokes and being the Sam you know and love. Things progress, and there’s a beautiful and sweet (okay, and hot!) sex scene, with a first time between Sam and you. All in all, a really solid piece, with some story, some tension, some sex, and a whole lot of sweetness.

- Kathy

A New Day - @becs-bunker​ - image prompt created and submitted by @there-must-be-a-lock​

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Warnings: fluff

I’ve not reviewed an image prompt before, so let’s just jump in. The first word that jumps to my mind is light, but I love how suffused and golden the whole image is. Softer, safer, intimate. There are little pinpoints of light, rays of light, shining light, and the whole thing makes me feel...well...light. Sunrise and candlelight, new day, new beginnings. 

The images chosen for Sam, the angles and features we get, are such close, personal angles and shots, giving us this tender atmosphere and setting the tone for this story: personal. Everything you're about to read is intimate, personal, and private, in such a lovely, delicate way. 

The curtains in that first shot are so filmy and ethereal, and the whole story feels like it’s set in a kind of golden-hazed forest. And, let’s face it, any sort of vacation for a Winchester is a kind of fairy tale. 

I’ve managed to stay pretty much above the brow, so Imma have to dip down for a minute and just drool over Sam’s trapezius muscles. Oh. MY. GAWD.

Golden, glorious, graceful, and just a touch of gooey. Good, good, good.

So, right off the bat, let me tell you that this story is everything I’ve ever wanted for Sam, like everything the show and Chuck and the universe has ever denied him. He’s rested, he’s comforted, he’s bathed in glow (the sun, the reader’s love, all that jazz, you know?).

And then it goes and hits all my camping weaknesses. I was literally just telling someone how I’m missing my camp more than ever now. It’s been eight years since I’ve been, and this story brings back all those feelings of serenity and calm, voluntary isolation with people you more or less chose, because camp was and is my forever real home.

I know that seems a little rambly and off-topic, but the thing is, that’s what this story is for me. They aren’t at the bunker, their “home,” but they’re still home all the same, because (and, yes, you can shoot me for this) home is where your heart is, so this wonderful little cabin in the woods is home, whether they’ve been there together once or a hundred times because Sam.

And then that bit of sugar tossed in at the end...Oh, this story was good for my soul. “Warm mug of coffee on a chill morning, under a blanket” kind of good for my soul. 

It’s one of those where I would love to have so much more of these two, of this warmth between them, but I also am perfectly content to know them just in this one perfect moment forever, before the day starts, when everything is still in the “it’s about to happen and it will be great” stages. The beginning of a great new day.

Thank you. I needed this story, now more than ever.

- Val

Crash  - @myinconnelly1​ - requested by @adoptdontshoppets​ for @idreamofplaid​ aesthetic

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: smut, fluff

Words: 810

The first thing that draws my eye in the aesthetic is the linked fingers. I love pinky links (I’m sure there’s a less cutesy way to say it, but I like it; sue me). They’re sweet, and really personal. You’ve got super tough Dean Winchester who isn’t embarrassed or afraid of intimate, goofy gestures. In fact, I feel like that would one hundred percent be Dean in a relationship: Dean is a giant ball of goofy, intimate gestures. 

I love the choices of relaxed, bearded Dean/Jensen paired with the casual, cool color palette immediately set me at ease. This isn’t going to be a terrifying, angsty ordeal. This is going to be calm, soothing, sensual. 

And the roses, the sand, the surf, the candlelight, the pokey palm tree fronds...I can hear, smell, feel every bit of these images. The golden-pink wine...ugh. This whole experience is a trip to paradise.

I love how all five senses are emphasized and made equally important. It gives us so much more connection to the moment, makes it that much more intimate. The constant crashing of the waves in the background; the bittersweet chocolate; the cozy, homey image of the baking-wrecked kitchen followed by the much more erotic, candelit bedroom; and then the scent of the oil mixed with the warmth and strength of Dean’s touch.

I also love the level of comfort in the story. We have the cookies, a hard-core comfort staple. We have the warm, lazy beach setting. And the easiness these two have together: that’s the dream, my friend. I love how they have no trouble at all communicating what they want and need, how they are comfortable enough to be messy and cute and flirty and sexy, one right after the other. 

And the description is so thorough, I have no trouble at all imagining myself there, in that wonderful, relaxing moment.

This story is relaxing, decadent, soothing, and fun all at once. I am a huge fan of the ending, as well. I was smiling through the whole story, but at the end, I literally laughed aloud. And now I think I’m going to have to excuse myself to go find some chocolate chip cookies. This story gave me a couple of cravings, and as Dean Winchester is in short supply in the real world, cookies are the one I can satisfy right now.

This story is, dare I say it, such a sweet escape. 

- Val

No Sugar Added - @myinconnelly1​ - requested by @fangirlxwritesx67​ - “I’d like to see Steve Rogers from MARVEL sharing Depression-era coping tips. Maybe he vlogs how to make apple-less apple pie.” 

No pairing

Warnings: Spoilers for Infinity Wars + Endgame, mention of mental health issues

Words: 446

This was my prompt for the Cabin, and I loved what this author did with the story! A little bit of fluffy cheer.

“Hello, I’m Steve Rogers.  As many of you know, I’m also Captain America, and I was alive during another time of hard living conditions.” 

Right now, a lot of things in the world seem scary and unsettling. It's one of those times when we turn for comfort to the lessons of the past, to the wisdom of generations, and to heroes. This author does a great job with Captain America, Steve Rogers. His cooking lesson is exactly the sort of inspiring, instructional video I would love to see.

“What is that smell?”  Natasha asked as she looked behind her to see Steve walking into the office with the plate.

Because it was never about pie, apple or otherwise. It was always about comfort. Our favorite foods help with that, and so does Captain America, especially written this well.

There are some fun tidbits in this story, including a peek of history and an actual recipe!

- Viv

Communion - @thoughtslikeaminefield​ - requested by @mskathywriteswords​​ “Fluffy dean or Jensen smoking weed plz, ty”

Pairing: Dean Winchester x unnamed female character

Warnings: marijuana use, high sex, het sex, fluffy smut

Words: 1002

How do I love this? Let me count the motherfucking ways. 

First of all, the way this sucks you into the characters’ headspace is beautiful and subtle and masterfully done. It’s in the sentence structure and the flow of the words; there’s no need to describe their inner state, because it’s written into the movement of the sentences and the choice of words. She doesn’t have to say that they’re high, because you can fucking feel it in phrases like “It’s sending me off somewhere…” or “I shiver at the thoughts careening through my mind.”

Second, this is molten hot, but (as with the best smut) it’s not just some rote story of “then he was hard and we banged and it was great.” The sexy bits are unique; this isn’t the same smut you’ve read a thousand times before. It’s got its own personality and tone and voice that very much belong to this particular story. 

Also? Filth with feelings! My favorite genre! It’s deeply emotional. I am all for smut that is both dirty and tender. This is like a masterclass on how to walk that line. 

It’s such a simple premise that becomes so much more; this has things to say about Dean, about his personality, about this relationship. This takes a very specific moment and uses it as a framework for something big and meaningful. This, for example: 

When Dean has to be big, he uses his whole self. His body takes up space and his mere presence -- he can make the darkest of demons shudder with his presence alone.

But Dean’s natural state is this -- nesting, nuzzling, curled up and warm.

Yuuuup.

Also: 

His hands -- the same hands I’ve seen thrust a blade into the guts of angels and demons -- are tender, fingertips light but persistent as they slip under my tank top and splay over my belly.

It’s so intimate. This is why we read fanfic, right? To feel like we’re close to these characters that we love so much, to delve into the sides of them that we don’t get to see much in canon… this fic feels like something personal and private that we’ve been lucky enough to be let in on. 

- Lou

Deeper Than Deep Conditioner - @fangirlxwritesx67​ - requested by @awesomesusiebstuff​ “The two Sam’s (our Sam and AU Sam) maintaining their hair care routines while quarantined.”

It’s one of those days when I’m feeling too fragile for this world. What’s the best remedy to knock some sunlight into my dark mood? Today, it’s fic -- and one that makes me giggle is a bonus.

This little gem is filled with funny one-liners and side-eye moments to make you laugh out loud:

Dean dreamed of driving away, of bikini beauties on the beaches of Rio. Sam dreamed of scarves and what it would be like to have no bigger worries in the world than his hair.

The look Dean gave him would’ve curdled milk, if there was any, which there wasn’t, because Dean took his coffee black, like a man.

A touch of realism in this bizarro situation got a chuckle, too:

“Sorry, sweethearts,” alt!Dean said, “Flights are all cancelled. A virus or something.”

When Viv named the alternates Deano and Sami, I gave in and embraced the madness. I was delighted with Deano; that’s my own nickname for Dean in my head. But Sami, a most pretentious twist on Sammy? A master stroke. I was tickled.

I was fully on board with enjoying this romp through the bizarro world, but then I was taken by surprise. This little moment, a hint that Sam has been trying to make the best of their circumstances, touched me: 

“Is this really how you live?” said Sami, with a dismissive glance at his paper napkin.

“Look,” Sam answered. “I’ve done my best. It’s taken a lot to get us this far.”

I was prepared for that to be the exception to the rule -- a moment of sincerity amongst a sea of lighthearted fun. And there was plenty of fun ahead of me. The jokes come at you hard and fast in this story! But I realized the mood was steadily changing, and suddenly, I was immersed in sincerity and maybe a little sadness:

...somewhere out there, was a universe where he pampered himself...

...maybe there was a place where he could enjoy something as simple as a deep condition...

...something Sam had wanted to watch but never had time for...

...for the first time in a long time, he caught himself laughing...

I thought maybe that was it. A few moments of Sam learning to appreciate what Sami (I was still laughing at that) had to offer, instead of simply mocking his manbun and scarf (I don’t think I could ever stop mocking that, but Sam’s a better person than I am).

But no. It didn’t end there, and I still wasn’t ready. Before I knew it, I was steeped in Sam’s melancholy, his yearning for a life kinder and gentler than what he’d been given. I was truly heartbroken for him in that moment.

I won’t spoil the rest, but by the time I got to the ending, I was grateful for the funny beginning that softened the landing. I expected a comedy, but what I got really was deeper than deep conditioner.

- Bri

Dear Mr. Fantasy - @itmighthavebeenintentional​ - image prompt submitted @thoughtslikeaminefield​

Warnings: SEASON 15 SPOILERS, bit of angst. 

Words: 2157

I found the image prompt in my Tumblr feed and immediately started plotting ideas that I cannot write bc I have too many fucking WIPs so imagine my excite when one of my all-time favorite fic writers (and one of my very best friends) filled the prompt as a surprise for me!

Val tells stories with a depth and humor like no one else I’ve ever read. Her natural wit and smarts shine through her fictional words as well, and I love seeing glimpses of her in her work.

In one universe, someone neglected Baby (couldn’t have been Dean, had to’ve been Sam) to the point where she pulls slightly to the left. Dean spends the morning after that dream with a muscle tick in his cheek and a suspicious, side-eyed glare for Sam that he never bothers to explain.

Dear Mr. Fantasy is bittersweet. It is soft and rich and full of color — all the senses are here. It’s a sledgehammer of realism wrapped in velvet. And it’s so very Dean.

At forty-eight years old (none of that years young bullshit, either; he’s old, and he’s goddamn earned it)

In the midst of reading canon Dean dreaming of and admiring and protecting his favorite of his AU-selves and that version’s life, we are treated to what it would be like if he was allowed a normal life. Our devoted, brave, warm, and loving hunter as a common mechanic would be just as brave and loyal, no?

“Pretty sure she’s settled on ya, so just make sure you’re worth it.” 

So that’s what Dean did. 

But our Dean — the Real Dean as Chuck says — can’t quite let his guard down even in his dreams of another world, even if that other world is safe as houses. He’s still aware of just how unreal this reality is.

Splashes of indigo and orange paint the horizon, framing her approach in a wash of colors blending into shadows that hold no danger.

Then, he lets himself mingle with that dream, if only for a few moments and it’s bliss.

Older Dean and worn-out, monster-plagued Dean sigh together, content down to their bones. This life is it for both of them. She is it. One Dean still can’t believe his amazing luck after all these years, and the other aches at the simple, total happiness he feels honored to witness.

I love you, she whispers, and he allows himself to believe for one moment that she’s talking directly to him.

I’m not going to spoil anything for you, but I will say that you need some tissues. I cried through 90% of this story, from joy and from heartache. 

Because that’s what Valerie does, breaks your heart and makes you smile, and it is so fucking good.

- MJ

Synesthesia - @there-must-be-a-lock - request by @wendibird​ “SPN, Sastiel, due to all the Angelic Grace Sam has been exposed to over time, he starts resonating with Castiel’s. Especially if Cas’ emotions are running high.”

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Castiel

Warnings: none!

Words: 750

First, I love the song that enhanced this idea for Lou. It lends a tenderness and whimsy to the plot that isn’t inherent. 

Second, Lou’s words are like poetry and watercolor doing a dance of their own making — GORGEOUS phrasing and rhythm.

Cas whirls around, and Sam is hypnotized by the bright blue in his eyes, wide and concerned in a way that makes Sam feel like he’s being lit up from the inside. There’s a floodlight in his chest. 

And, y’all, I don’t even go here, but I swooned SO HARD.

It’s an effort to focus, but when he meets Cas’s eyes, Cas smiles. Sam sees a shower of sparks like the last fizzle of a firework.  

Sam hears it as a flutter of spring green like a new leaf. 

And Lou’s characterization is always spot on, right? But like Dean isn’t even in the scene, yet here we are.

Don’t let the words fool you; there’s a very angry rainbow happening in his head most of the time.

And did I mention the ARTWORK that is this woman’s WORDS?

There are stars under their feet, entire galaxies spinning out around them, dancing spirals of kaleidoscopic green and gold melting into whorls of brilliant blue.

Anyway, please go read. You’ll be flying high for hours afterward. xox

- MJ

Salvation - @dontshootmespence​ - image created and submitted by @idabbleincrazy​

Pairings: Sam Winchester x reader

Warnings: angst, torture, gore, smut 

Words: 1,401

The aesthetics by this artist inspire stories just because they are so well done. This one was a good balance of handsome Sam and some nice suggestive pics along with the phrases that helped shape the action of the story.

This story feels like an episode of the show from earlier seasons, just the right balance of angst and monster fighting with tantalizing peeks of smut and feels. Excellent job!

There are no words that come close to explaining what she means to him. How she saves what soul he has left.

These flashback scenes are both hot and tender. The voice the author  gives to Sam is spot on, achingly familiar.

"You're Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood."

It's easy to forget, sometimes, all the things that Sam has been and done, how fearsome of a hunter he is. This story reminds us with razor sharp precision.

When he meets her gaze, he finds the peace he's craved for so long.

The contrast between the flashbacks and the action is painfully good.

What’s more frightening, a man like Dean, practiced in his violence out of necessity? Or a man like him, on the verge of losing everything and nothing left to lose?

This is a well drawn distinction between the Winchester brothers, and such a good characterization of Sam!

"You're safe with me, Sam. You never have to hide from me." 

Such a beautiful relationship between Sam and this woman! It's no wonder he's fighting so hard to save her.

This story has an imaginative plot, fast paced action, some sweet hotness, and such a good Sam!

- Viv

The Second Hand Unwinds - @mskathywriteswords​ - image prompt created and submitted by @there-must-be-a-lock​ 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: hurt, comfort, angst

I had a vibe in mind when I created this aesthetic but this went so far beyond anything I could’ve imagined. It absolutely nailed that nostalgic, wistful, antique-photo-album feel, and then it managed to knife me in the fucking gut in a few ways, none of which I saw coming. 

The JOY in the first part of this is absolutely tangible. It’s so romantic and sweet in a very dreamy way that feels exactly like first love. I love the scattered, disjointed imagery around the flowers in the first part, like flashes of memories coming at you all at once, and then when it settles into the narrative it manages to hold onto that dreamy feeling while still moving neatly through the plot. 

This moment was about us, and I wanted to live in it forever. You never gave me reason to cover my body, not that night or ever.

Goddamn right. Ugh, precious and beautiful. And then this:

After so much undiluted time together, I had no idea how to sleep alone. I felt raw waking up by myself, not being able to feel your stubble tickling my skin. 

There’s something about that last line that just grabbed my heart and tugged it in a wonderful way. It’s ACCURATE, first of all; this is one of those super-specific feelings that is hard to describe concisely. I haven’t really thought about that feeling in a while, but that little sentence just cut through so many years and brought me right back in a deep and visceral way. 

You took pride in doing all the things that were never done for you, you’d told me.

Ouch. It’s little touches like this that make this ring true to character even though it’s a very different Dean than we see in canon.

And then that ENDING. 

How do you contain a bomb once it’s been set on fire with grief?

Fuck, dude. Everything about that ending was so painful. I love that she left it raw and messy and not like a simple “welcome back!” kinda moment. 

This was just gorgeously done. Can not recommend it enough. 

Fort - @there-must-be-a-lock​ - prompt by @mskathywriteswords​​ “Fluffy dean or Jensen smoking weed plz, ty.” 

Pairing: J2 x reader

Warnings: blowjobs and weed. 

Words: ~2150

This piece of deliciousness opens with Jensen walking out of the bathroom with a towel on his hips; do I need to say more? I don’t, but I will. After some beautiful description of the blanket fort, we get treated to Jared in nothing but pajama pants. The descriptions in this piece are vivid and full. the way Jared’s hand looks between Jensen’s muscled shoulderblades, thumb stroking back and forth between patches of gold and red light, makes me want to capture the moment and hold onto it. I can see that image in my mind, picture the two of them together, and that’s what makes excellent writing for me. The warnings attached to this piece are fully applicable; the story is very cute and sweet, there’s weed, and there’s Jared and a wicked oral fixation, which in the case of this one-shot means dear Reader, that’s you, get to witness a searing blowjob from one J to another. The way these three interact makes my heart swell, and there’s something about watching the dynamic change between them that really hammers home just how functional they are together. Dive in to this universe, Everything. There are no regrets to be had, maybe only that you waited so long to get wet.

- Kathy

The Gazelle - @thoughtslikeaminefield​ - requested by Anonymous “I’d really love some more Dean x Benny fanfiction, AU, aligned with canon timeline, whatever. I think they deserved a chance and Benny got killed off before it could even be explored :(”

Pairing: AU Dean Winchester x AU Benny Lafitte x unnamed female character

Warnings: power exchange, mmf threesome implied, Denny apparent, nudity

Words: 1000

Let me start with a caveat: I’m in the bag for pretty much any Dean x Benny fic, pretty much any Dean x Benny x person #3 fic, and absolutely any MJ fic. So you could stop reading this review right now and just go read the fic, if you want; in fact, I sort of recommend it, because it’s better than anything I could have to say about it. But if you want to stick around, I promise to be a little more coherent than ZOMGGGG PERFECT HOT SEXY TIMES DENNY LOVE GORGEOUS MORE PLZ!  

Before we even get to the words, we’ve got a gorgeous graphic. Black and white beautiful boys, staring you down with those “I’m gonna fuck you so good” eyes, paired with a sweetly sexy woman tinted with a soft pink; she looks carefree, open to have some fun, and you can imagine her telling them to bring it on. MJ’s graphics are always great, setting the perfect mood for her fics, and this is no exception.

And right from the jump:

Dean and me — we share a lot of things.

We share good music and good drink. Tonight, we’re sharing a good woman.

Oh, this is in Benny’s voice?! Okay okay okay, cool cool cool, I can handle this…

...Dean purrs like a jungle cat as he hovers behind her, hands in her hair, twisting and twirling the silky tresses…

...Dean sets the pace and is the anchor, always. He keeps everything stable and grounded…

And now I’ve realized that I’m going to be seeing Dean through Benny’s eyes -- and no, not cool, can’t handle this -- but I’m definitely not stopping.

I like to mix things up, though, and he lets me.

MJ is a brilliant writer with many talents, but I think her specialty, regardless of what characters she’s writing with, is brilliantly salacious smut that’s steeped in emotion. She can’t help it. Her fucks come with feels, every single time, and I hope it never changes. 

This piece is certainly no exception. Dean and Benny are circling their prey, this unnamed woman, utilizing their individual strengths -- Dean’s encouraging, I’m demanding -- and the sexual tension is building with soft touches and lingering kisses. As the scene is progressing, Benny’s inner monologue is sprinkled with thoughts about Dean:

Times we don’t have a subject, Dean’s focus is on me. I don’t argue and I do not complain. Dean knows what to do with every inch of that long, lean body of his. He knows how to cage a person in, make them feel safe, wanted, fucking needed.

She’s handily building emotion and a personal backstory without an exposition dump, without taking focus away from the action for too long:

His hands move slowly, seemingly random, but I know how focused he is on her and the moment. Giving and seeking pleasure are vital things to Dean and he takes the acts to heart.

I’m immersed in the now of this scene but I also understand the depth of their feelings for one another, their history and dedication to each other, and how they work together to bring another partner into their orbit. MJ makes it look easy, when it’s anything but. 

And then she gifts us with this perfection and I’ve melted into a puddle of emotionally aroused goo:

“You promise to love, honor, and cherish ‘til the morning light, Dean?”

That is a vow of devotion to a one-night stand. What?! How?! Does her brain come up with this?

From there, the scene continues, the action escalating, supported by a framework of realism and heart. Her Dean feels familiar and in character, even though we’ve never seen him in this particular situation. And Benny, we hardly knew ye, but she brings him to life alongside Dean and I buy their relationship completely. I buy all of this, and now I’m invested.

And then… 

“Do it, then,” she says, challenging. “Wreck me.”

My breath catches, my heart starts to race -- yes, here we go! -- a few more sentences, one last connection between Dean and Benny, and then --

Oh, you are evil, MJ. You are so perfectly evil and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

- Bri

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. Bonus #2: The E! True HollyWood Story

Rewrite Masterlist

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

Chapter Summary: E! News has made a documentary on you, following Shannen's. Although it may seem like the full story, remember-- media is still media and there's still things that need to be uncovered. Italics are the narration.

Warnings: mentions of drugs, addiction, sex, adultery, divorce, rumors, tabloids.

Word count: 2,500

A/N: Like the other bonus chapter, this isn't necessary for the rewrite itself, but will supply background knowledge for the reboot! Hope you guys enjoy :)

-

July 19th, 2008. E! True Hollywood Stories.

America's sweetheart. The girl who played with fire. An old interview of yours pops up on screen, from when you were promoting season 4 on 90210.

"Shannen's a lot more... headstrong than I am, for sure. She gets me in trouble from time to time," you laugh. Y/N Perry. She blew audiences away with her portrayal of Y/N Y/L/N on Beverly Hills, 90210. But she wasn't always the wholesome 90's starlet.

Jason Priestley, "Y/N was one of my best friends. I've never met anyone with a bigger heart." Her romantic and musical exploits made her a tabloid heavyweight. But her friendship with notorious bad girl Shannen Doherty was what made her a target. This is the story of Y/N Perry. The E! True Hollywood Story.

-

Y/N wasn't always the romantic we knew her to be, but that charming sparkle in her eye quickly became a trademark for her.

June 20th, 1972, Y/N was welcomed to James and Carol Clark's upper-class home.

A man, Kevin McLaren comes on screen with the title "Entertainment Journalist." He speaks, "Y/N was born into a catholic family in Columbus, Ohio, and they had her working in commercials by the time she was eight." Her family then located to Encino, California. From there she joined a Children's drama group where a talent agent immediately took notice. Not long after, she was introduced to TV star, Tom Selleck.

Mary Murphy, senior editor of TV guide, "Selleck sort of... discovered her. Her teacher at the theater group introduced them and he seemed to see something in her. He was her mentor, she really looked up to him. He even got her her first major acting job." She had a 3 year stint on Magnum P.I. as Carol Baldwin's spunky and outspoken niece. She later won the role of Diane Court in the 1989 classic Say Anything, opposite John Cusack which was what began her lift to stardom. The buzz from the romantic comedy hit veteran TV producer Aaron Spelling, who was currently auditioning actors for a new series.

Aaron Spelling, 1993, "We went through hell with casting. It took weeks to pick everyone out. Then, Tori came to me one night talking to me about the lead girl in Say Anything, Y/N Clark. She was telling me "She's perfect, you have to hire her." and I told her uh, we'll see." That show was Beverly Hills, 90210. And in February of 1990, Y/N landed the part of Y/N Y/L/N. But she had originally gone for a different part.

You, an Arsenio interview in 1995, "I was called in to read for Brenda at the beginning, Y/N Y/L/N didn't exist. I didn't get the part obviously, and I was totally crushed. But then a few weeka later my agent called me to let me know that they had written a new character, and they wanted me to play the part. This was after they had filmed the two part pilot, which was why I'm in the second episode." The cast included several unknown actors, including Spelling's daughter Tori, Jennie Garth, Ian Ziering, Luke Perry, Jason Priestley, and established actress and Y/N's soon-to-be best friend, Shannen Doherty. The cast bonded immediately. And while Y/N would continue to become closer with the entire cast, she was instant best friends with Doherty, both of them bonding over their similar family lives and careers.

On October 4th, 1990, Beverly Hills 90210 premiered on the fledgling Fox network. The series clicked immediately with teen audiences, and so did the hot young cast. 17 year old Y/N Clark was center stage. She was a magnet for paparazzi, but she didn't understand how wanted she truly was until leaving a night club with Tori Spelling and Shannen Doherty one night, when they were immediately surrounded. The night was heavily publicized-- magazine covers and gossip columns.

You, 1992 at the red carpet with Tori and Shannen for the MTV Video Music Awards, "Just don't believe everything you read, tabloids are nasty and they only want to twist the truth and bring out the worst in people. They'll dig anywhere they can to get something that shows in the worst light possible." 90210 was becoming the most famous zip code in the country. You, 1992, sitting down for a casual interview on Howard Stern, "I don't think anyone expected the show to take off like it did. No one is quite used to it yet, at least I'm definitely not. On one hand, the attention is flattering and I'm grateful for all the love, but on the other... it's definitely a little scary." 90210 originally centered around the Walsh Family as they tackled their new surroundings. But as the show carried on, it turned into an ensemble show.

Mary Murphy, "They all had different opinions about the switch. Shannen was definitely happier when every episode was going to be about Brandon, Brenda, and Y/N. She didn't like the shift in attention at all, and she wasn't afraid to speak her mind. Y/N, though, wanted to keep to herself and was willing to go where the show took her, wherever that was." During the very beginning of the first season, Clark would become infatuated with castmate Luke Perry, but he immediately rejected her, due to her being barely 18 at the time. Things heated up later for her though, when she and Jason Priestley began dating near the end of filming the first season.

-

Tori Spelling, for the documentary, "Y/N and Jason were so crazy about each other. It was so sweet. If you ever look at behind the scenes stuff from the show, they're all over each other. I think their chemistry really translates on screen, and that's what made Y/N and Brandon so great."

You, the Today Show, "Our relationship was so wholesome. I was so in love with him. I had been eighteen for a while and he'd just turned 20 or 21, we were total babies back then!"

Jason, "I remember the night we got together. She'd been flirting with uh, Brian-- Brian Austin Green the entire night, it was a cast Christmas party and I was grumpy, unbelievably grumpy. And I couldn't figure out why. Ian Ziering had to pretty much spell it out for me because everyone else knew why and they were pretty fed up. I was head over heels for her from the start."

They would continue to date for almost five years. But romancing Priestley and befriending Doherty would prove to be an unlucky combination for her.

Joe E. Tata, 2001, "When the tabloids got ahold of her and Jason, they had a field day. They followed them on dates, to clubs. Everywhere." Shannen and Y/N continued to fuel the fire with non-stop partying and clubbing.

Kevin McLaren, entertainment journalist, "After working non-stop since she was a child and being 21 and newly exposed to things like drugs, alcohol, sexual freedom, she certainly fell prey to it all." 1993 was just on the horizon. But little did she know it would become her most dramatic year yet.

Charles Rosin, producer of 90210, "We do know, during 90210, when there was a lot of coverage on the tabloids that we had people in our own crew spreading stories and feeding them information."

Jason Priestley, 2001, "It was horrible. We felt so violated. I remember Y/N/N being absolutely destroyed. And that made me feel awful, because there was nothing I could do, nothing she could do. We had to sit there and take it all."

Clark would continue to be slammed with press, her partying habits only elevating as the tabloids became more and more vicious. Rumors of her being pregnant with other castmates babies, cheating on Jason Priestley, sex tapes, and an oxycodone addiction.

You, filming an MTV interview, 1998, "Media loves to make you and break you. They build you up, and they tear you down twice as hard. It's... ridiculous. But it comes with the job description, I guess. For a while I just felt like I couldn't do anything right." Her frequent club nights came to a crashing halt, as Jason Priestley became fed up with it, and managers and agents became worried of her further tarnishing of her good girl image.

Jennie Garth, "Her and Jason were a real fireball together. Jason adored her, so when he saw her start to spin out of control he gave her an ultimatum. Either she settles down and stays away from the party scene, or he leaves. She was crazy in love with him, so she had no other choice." But her image and her drama didn't stop her from bonding closely with yet another co-worker. Luke Perry. Despite being rejected early on, Y/N maintained a friendly close relationship with Luke and as those two became closer, so did their characters.

Heidi Parker, Playboy, "Y/N, Jason, and Luke were very close. Although Y/N got along with everyone, those boys loved her, and she loved them. It was a really strong, intimate friendship. Despite Jason and Y/N being in love, that didn't stop people from insisting Luke and Y/N were seeing each other. I mean, when you saw them on screen, it was completely electric and everyone caught wind of that. It spawned some awful rumors. This girl hadn't done a thing to anyone, but her mere association with Doherty was what dragged her in to begin with. Y/N was known for being a total sweetheart on set, yet she was still getting pummeled. It got out of control. Everyone who knew her loved her and everyone who read about her hated her."

-

At the end of 1996, Jason and Y/N parted ways. After almost 5 years of dating, Y/N moved out of their shared condo and into a Beverly Hills apartment with Tori Spelling.

Jill Ishkanian, US Weekly, "Everyone was surprised when they split. They had talked marriage, they had talked kids. But she left him after they had gotten in a fight about Shannen. Jason did not want Shannen around as often as she was and Y/N wasn't willing to let Shannen go that easily. She was Shannen's main support system, especially with all of her relationship struggles. Two failed marriages, a handful of abusive relationships. Y/N was the only stable thing she had. So, she dumped him, packed her things and left." Y/N went on a few dates with Ian Ziering a few months after, but they quickly decided they were better as friends and they kept it professional from there on out.

You, late night with David Letterman, 2000, "Oh, everyone hooked up with everyone. I definitely wasn't one to stray from that. We were so young, everyone was so attractive on that show, I mean it was kind of inevitable."

Clark and Spelling would live together for two years, with Spelling being a shoulder to lean on during the fallout.

You, 1996, "Look, it's not a pretty scene for anyone and I really just need... privacy right now. It would be great if people could stop asking me about it." As the couple fought in real life, so did their characters.

Jennie Garth, "When Jason and Y/N broke up it was chaos. There was a good period where they didn't even want to be near each other, let alone make out all day at work, y'know? They weren't exactly fighting, but they wanted nothing to do with the other, they were miserable. Luke had been gone at that point and the producers were freaking out because they had planned out this whole thing with Brandon and Y/N and they had to scrap it, because with them butting heads it just wouldn't work. So they switched gears and had their characters fight too. I think it was just cathartic enough to get them close again." They repaired their damaged relationship slowly but surely, just in time for things to heat up with Clark and ANOTHER 90210 alumni.

-

In the winter of 1997, Y/N and Luke Perry embarked down a romantic path, sharing their first kiss at Tori Spelling's casual New Years Eve party with their friends and families.

Tori Spelling, "When they started dating it was like everything fell into place. It dawned on everyone how perfect they were for each other, I know Jason wasn't thrilled about it, but we were all genuinely happy for them."

Jennie Garth comes onto the screen. "Luke and Y/N/N have always made sense to me. They're both very humble, well rounded people. And they always had this really flirty element to them from the start, I'm surprised it took that long," she laughs. A year and a half later, they tied the knot with a small private ceremony at their shared home in Beverly Hills, California. Costing only $20,000, it was the cheapest wedding of all of the 90210 clan's. And in June of 1999 they welcomed their first child, a baby girl, Sophie. Selling their 3 million dollar home, they moved into a 6 million dollar house outside of Hollywood, accidentally moving in next to none other than Jason Priestley.

Thankfully that caused no serious drama between the two families. But the finale of Beverly Hills, 90210 caused a stir that no one could have expected. Priestley made a surprise guest appearance that reportedly caused more drama off screen than on.

Jennie Garth, MTV, 2000, "It's so ridiculous. Everything was just weirdly timed. Jason being on the show had nothing to do with his divorce and it has nothing to do with Y/N's pregnancy, either. People love to make stuff up and cause drama that wasn't there to begin with and it's probably so exhausting for her."

Shortly after appearing on 90210, Priestley filed for divorce, ending his 8 month long marriage. Around the same time, the Perrys announced their second pregnancy. Tabloids began to say that Y/N had caused the divorce and that she was secretly pregnant with Priestley's baby.

Tori Spelling, "Those were so awful and so fake. Her son is a carbon copy of Luke, I'd be floored if Jason was the father..." "I think that part of Jason will always be in love with her... and that shined through in the finale a little bit and that's what people are picking up on. But her and Luke are soulmates. She has a good head on her shoulders, a lot of integrity."

Shannen Doherty, the Rosie O'Donnel Show, 1997, "Y/N's my best friend in the entire world, we went to Ireland together last summer and everything. Yeah, her and I have always been close."

Jennie Garth, "She's incredibly intelligent, super funny. Easily one of the strongest women I know."

Join us tomorrow when we air Tori Spelling: The E! True Hollywood Story. Only on E!

-

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Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life

[ill-skillsgard]

Phoenix Rising, Part 3 - Valter Skarsgård

Title: Phoenix Rising

Description: The struggle for domination is paved with deceit and destructive lust as two enemies battle it out for control night after night.

Warning: 18+ swearing/mentions of rape/violence/femdom/DDLG leanings

Part 1 Part 2

Three losses and two wins put me up another rank to number five. When I saw my name rise up one more slot on the board, two slots below Vscars I cheered rather enthusiastically only because I was by myself. It took me over three hours to get there and by the time it happened my opponent told me that he was signing off for the night. Really I had nobody to celebrate with but myself.

Going to work the next day, I felt confident and eager to stand around and talk video games but when I got there the only people in the store were Riley and Valter. There were no customers at all. It was ten AM on a weekday but even at that, I thought maybe at least a few people would wander in.

Riley greeted us with a little less heart than he had on our first day. Valter was there before me again and the both of them were at the front counter counting out the cash register for the day.

"Good morning, Nix. You ready for a day of cleaning?" Riley asked.

"Sure. What will you have of me?" I asked.

"Well, one of you are going to have to sweep the floor and the other will have to mop after so you guys can rock, paper, scissors for who has to do what. I could delegate the tasks but... You can battle it out."

Valter simpered at me and it was the first time I noticed the magnitude of his pout. He was undoubtedly tall and maybe just a little intimidating by the way his blue eyes never seemed to give you a break. But he had a soft face and a wholesome smile that betrayed any notion of ominousness when he flashed it. He held out his fist and prepared to play me at Rock, Paper, Scissors, looking down at me with the corner of his mouth drawn up.

"All right, let's do this," he rolled up the sleeves of the grey hoodie he wore over his black work shirt.

"Okay."

"Rock, paper, scissors!" We cast our choices and I chose rock.

Valter's hand grabbed my clench fist and squeezed gently as he had chosen paper. His smirk only intensified.

"All right, Valter, you get to choose," Riley announced.

"Good game," Valter said, holding up his fist for me to bump knuckles with him.

I did so and without being a sore loser either. There was something nice about him that I could gather just by how he carried himself around others. He seemed like a sweet guy and it didn't bug me that he had won. Either way, I was prepared for a graveyard day dedicated solely to cleaning the store.

"I'll be a gentleman and take the harder job. You can sweep, how about that?" He offered.

I shrugged my shoulders but there was a smile on my face. "Sure, whatever you want, V."

"V?" He cocked his head. "Nicknames already?"

"Sorry," I said. "Old habits. Nicknames for everyone."

"What about me? Don't I get a nickname?" Riley asked.

"I'll probably just end up calling you Rye. Like the bread," I laughed.

"Well... Bread is the best so I guess that's fine. Totally uncreative but, it will do."

"Nah, I think V is much better," Valter joked.

"Isn't it? Who doesn't love a good V?" I asked rhetorically.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Riley said, raising his hands as if that would dismiss him of all responsibility to our borderline inappropriate morning talk. "So guys, keep your heads up for customers. Work on getting the floor nice and clean and overall don't have too much fun, all right? I'm going to set up your payroll accounts so I'll be in the back. You're confident you can work the register and all that?"

Both of us looked at each other and nodded back at Riley.

"Good. If you need me just come and find me in the back. I'll check up on you periodically but try to give it a go on your own. You guys seem pretty capable. Cleaning supplies are in the closet beside the staff bathroom."

The three of us disbanded to set off on our tasks. I found a large push broom in the supply closet and started sweeping the aisles as best as I could, taking a moment here and there to look at all of the games from all the different generations of consoles. There were so many games that it was overwhelming and more than tempting, to say the least. I could perfectly envision myself spending the majority of my paychecks just filling up my collections even though I didn't have the room for it in my apartment.

"You missed a spot," I heard Valter say from behind me.

When I turned around he was smirking at me and resting his chin on clasped hands at the top of the mop handle. I knew by the way he grinned that he was just trying to pull my strings. It had been a quiet day and I had started to feel a little awkward since there were no customers and the music playing was too low to make out any words.

"Be my guest," I offered him the broom but he held up one finger and wagged it at me.

"Ah, ah. I mop, you sweep. That was the deal."

"Well if you can do so much better than me, go ahead," I bantered with him.

"I'm just kidding. You did a fine job. Now if you would be so kind as to get out of my way so I can mop this bitch, that'd be great."

The way he pronounced words was endearingly tinted with his Swedish accent and I wanted to ask him more questions about his background but I didn't know him well enough to feel comfortable prying. I resorted to smiling and allowing him to pass me so he could start his portion of our joint task.

When the first customer of the day came in through the front door I greeted him with a smile. He stared at me for longer than what was casual and stopped in front of me.

"You new here?" He asked.

"Yeah. My second day on the job."

"That explains why I don't know you," he replied with an uppity tone that told me he was probably a regular customer and was used to being served by certain people.

"I'm Nix. Now you know me," I said with a smile.

"Can you look up to see if you have a certain game?" The customer requested, unmoved by my attempt at friendliness.

"Sure."

That's how it was for most of the week. I would show up to work every day and Valter would already be there talking to Riley. We would have our tasks assigned to us alongside regular supervision of the customers and that was mostly it. The guys joked around a lot and I kept to myself unless my commentary was warranted.

One night at closing, Riley and Valter were chattering and goofing off while I counted the cash register and hung up my cabinet keys. The both of them had formed a buddy-buddy relationship that I had been somewhat left out of. Not that it bothered me all that much since I had gotten used to going home and wasting my free time playing Agents of Carnage. When they both noticed me they straightened up and tossed me glances like they had something to say.

"What's up, guys?" I greeted them.

"You coming to game night, Nix?" Riley asked me.

"Oh, that's tonight? Uh, I don't know. I kind of had plans for later," I lied.

"Cancel them. We're going to Kyle's. He has an insane setup. Like his basement is wall-to-wall screens and he has every system set up to it."

I tossed a glance in Valter's direction and he nodded along with what Riley had to say. "I'm going to be there."

"Oh, now I definitely don't want to go," I teased.

"Well, I for one, think you should come! We'll chalk it up as a team-building exercise. Unpaid, of course," Riley claimed.

"Hm," I pondered. "What are you guys playing?"

"Well we were going to play classic Nintendo tonight but Valter suggested we play Agents of Carnage. You play on all platforms, right?"

I lit up at the mention of my favourite game. The one that I was ranked fifth in the world in. The prospect of blowing the guys away by my nearly unparalleled skills tickled a bone in me that helped to shift my attitude totally.

"I love AOC!" I beamed.

"So, you'll come then?" Riley verified.

"I guess I have to so I can show you boys how it's done!" I accepted.

Valter smiled sincerely and so did Riley.

"Give me your number so I can send you Kyle's address?"

After we exchanged all the information needed, we locked up the store and went our separate ways until reconvention later on that night. I still had my reservations about going to hang out with a bunch of guys in a basement but the temptation to showcase my gaming prowess in front of them was stronger than my need for social isolation.

When I got home I got three text messages in a row from Riley.

It's BYOB by the way but if you don't have anything I'm bringing beer.

Unless you don't like beer. I can bring something else for you?

Or if you don't drink at all that's fine too. I'm not sure!

I gave a light scoff as I read his messages. I wondered if Riley was eager to have me over for game night or if he had different intentions. His concern about bringing drinks for me was a little flag that waved, warning me that an impending crush may have been on the horizon. I texted him back.

I'll be okay. I have some things I can bring. Thanks though, Rye.

At home, I showered and changed into some denim shorts and a plain red tank top to wear underneath a black knit cardigan. I grabbed up a couple of beers that had been inhabiting my fridge for days and put them into a backpack to carry along with me.

My nerves started to get to me as I pulled up in front of the address that Riley had sent to my phone. It was one of those eye-poppingly modern and lavish houses that were tucked away in a new suburb up on a hill. There were half a dozen cars parked out front so I wasn't sure just how many people would be there to participate in game night. I hoped and prayed that I wasn't the only female there.

There was a sign printed in black ink on standard paper that had been taped to the front door that read 'Side Door for Game Night' with a big arrow pointing right. Adjusting the straps on my backpack, I prepared myself to make an awkward entry into a place I had never been before.

Through a door and down a flight of stairs, I descended into a fully finished basement with dark carpet and bright white walls. There was a projector in the middle of the room pointed at a huge white screen and it was split up into eight squares. Two consoles and four controllers were lit up, eight pairs of headsets on the heads of a group of guys of whom I only knew three and even that trio I wouldn't consider good friends of mine. Riley took notice of me and lit up when he saw me at the second to last step clutching the straps of my backpack.

"Hey, Nix is here!" He announced and suddenly sixteen eyes were on me.

Some of them smiled and some of them took long swigs of energy drinks or beers. I tried to smile charmingly but I felt like I was failing because almost nobody gave me much more than a nod of their head. Except for Riley and Valter.

I made my way over to them and Valter took off his headset, letting it rest around his neck. "Hey, Nix. Ready to slaughter some noobs with us on AOC?"

I cocked my head at him after be said that. The way that he uttered those words made me feel strange. I couldn't quite put my finger on why all of a sudden I was having the weirdest sense of déja-vu.

"We're going to set up another console in a second because a couple of people will be here. Then we're going to run a Game Night Battle Royale and the winner takes all."

"What is all?" I asked.

"We do a pool. Everyone throws in twenty bucks. Right now there's one hundred sixty," Kyle explained.

"Soon to be one-eighty if you decide to throw in, Nix. Or I can throw in for you if you don't have the cash on you?" Riley added

When I looked up at the split screens and saw everyone logged into their accounts my eyes were drawn to Valter's screen- the top left-hand square. I felt my gut squirm uncomfortably when I saw his username at the top right of his corner. Vscars.

All at once I felt like I wanted to vomit, scream and piss myself. I looked at the blond who had focused his attention back on the screen without having replaced his headset.

Pussycat... Come play with me!

I swallowed hard and felt my apprehension turn from tolerable to pure anxiety attack in the amount of time it took for me to realize the user I had been playing Agents of Carnage with for the last few weeks was the same guy I was spending nearly every day with at work.

The accent I should have put together right away but it didn't occur to me even once to associate the two.

Aw, come here pussycat. I'll fuck you real gentle, promise.

All of the messages I had received from him were vulgar in nature or just plain rude but when I talked to Valter at work he seemed very nice and even a little shy. I couldn't imagine such obscenities falling from those lips when I looked at his face. He replaced his headset and looked back up on the screen. Some of the guys were in the lobby on the leaderboard and I could see my username in the fifth slot hovering just below Valter's.

"Oh shit, Valter. You dropped to fourth!" Someone pointed at the screen.

Valter's facial expression didn't change much as he shrugged. "I lost a couple times."

"He lost to a girl!"

I felt my face turn red with anticipation of how he was going to react but he didn't say anything until he adjusted his microphone in front of his mouth. "She's actually really good."

"Who? The user in fifth?"

"Yeah. She kicked my ass a couple of times."

"Hey, Nix, you gonna sit down and play or what?" Riley asked me.

"I... Um. I have to go get something from my car. Be right back," I claimed,

Once more, sixteen eyes watched me go back up the stairs and out the side door of the house. I fished my keys out of my pocket to unlock my car. After throwing my backpack into the passenger seat, I got in, closed the door and ran my hands over the material of the steering wheel, feeling all the bumps and rivets from the stitching as I tried to regain my composure. Certainly, I wasn't going back down there. Especially not now. Not after the discovery that the person that had been maliciously flirting with me on AOC was Valter.

I drove home quickly. It was only a ten-minute stint so I had enough time to park, take the elevator up and get into my apartment to catch Valter in the Agents of Carnage lobby. My phone buzzed to life with a message from Riley but I chose to ignore it and instead, put my headset on.

My heart was pounding as I waited. My phone lit up with an incoming call but I ignored it again. I knew I would have to come up with an elaborate lie to cover my ass at work for bailing but I couldn't face Valter knowing that he was the Swedish pain-in-my-ass whose voice was really starting to settle into me like a warm liquid.

I'm going to pound that cunt when I find you hiding, slut.

The only reason he had said that during our sessions was because I had told him that I was going to rip his dick off and use it to fuck his throat with. We had both laughed. Our banter had even become a highlight in some of the multiplayer battle royales we had played together.

My heart did a small dance when an invitation to a multiplayer battle showed up on my screen from Vscars and once I accepted I was put into the waiting room where I could hear everyone in the challenge who were using mics. Riley was in it, Kyle was in it, all those other guys that I didn't know were in and so was Valter.

"Phoenix, good to see you," Valter's voice came through over my headset like he was still in the same room as me, talking directly into my ears.

I stammered at first because I was convinced that if I spoke he would be able to piece together who I was. The chances of him making the connection were slim but I didn't want to risk it. I lowered my voice and replied with an easy, "What's up?"

Some of them were talking and I was sure that nobody had heard me say anything. I could hear Kyle talking about massively nerdy stuff to one of the other guys involving anime and cosplayers and then something transpired that was completely eye-opening to everyone.

"Fuck... I guess Nix isn't coming back?" Riley said.

"Shit... Well... Oh well. Let's just play. She probably got like, her period or something," replied Valter, his cocky gaming persona starting to show through.

"Girls don't just get their periods that suddenly. Maybe she just came down here and realized what a sausage-fest this place is and booked it," somebody else said in the group waiting room.

My mouth dropped open and the longing I had to respond to their outrageous claims was so strong I had to bite my tongue. Although, it was incredibly amusing to hear what they had to say at the same time and I wondered how far it would go.

"Fuck. I was hoping to like... I don't know. Hang out with her?" Riley admitted.

There was a chorus of booing from some of the guys before Valter spoke up, "Dude, I don't think she likes you at all. She's a little above your pay grade if you know what I'm saying."

"No, she's not! She's... She was texting me all night!"

"Then realized the horrible mistake she had made coming here," Valter laughed.

"Man, I don't know. I think I might have to demote myself from manager just so I can date her," Riley said.

"She would never," Valter reiterated. "She's probably one of those hot lesbian girls that are really cool but completely unattainable. Probably has a cute girlfriend too."

"What! She's not a lesbian! Wait... Is she?" Riley asked.

"I don't know, man. I never get the chance to flirt with her because you're always there trying to talk to her."

"You like her too?"

"I'm just playing! Anyway... She would definitely fuck me before you."

"Yeah," somebody else chimed in. "I'd fuck Valter before you. Sorry, Riley. It's the hair. And the lips... Yo, Valter... What are you doing later, cutie?"

"Man, Nix was right. This place is a gay old sausage-fest."

Laughs were shared all around and I felt like I was backed up into a corner being forced to listen to all of these things; the assumptions of my sexuality, how I was a topic of conversation in and out of work and that Valter admitted to wanting to flirt with me. It was all so much information I hardly knew what to do with it.

There was one thing I was absolutely sure of though and that was that I was going to make Valter my bitch in every single way imaginable.

[fox-household]

Fox Household Christmas Morning 2018

So, while I didn’t end up having time for a proper Christmas chapter or anything, (sorry about that). But I still wanted to at least have something typed for what they did or what happened I guess. This is basically just going to be a description, I wrote this all in one go until 1 in the morning. Honestly staying up this late or even later for Christmas Eve, last year I spent a huge portion of time playing Person 3 FES and its epilogue, The Answer trying to finish it, I didn’t finish it then but I did on Christmas day, so that was cool, those feels to man... Persona 3 is the best in the series for sure when it comes to story. The Christmas Eves before that I ended up spending my nights on an app called Geeking until 2 to 3 in the morning, that was fun, haven’t been on there for a while now though. The next chapter is going to be the New Years one I mentioned, just need to force myself to finish it off without distracting myself as I’ve been doing recently, it’ll get there. Hope this doesn’t have to many errors since I got a little tired writing this. Merry Christmas everyone. 

Anyway, Christmas morning arrives and as it turns out, Asgore is the first one to wake up who then went onto wake-up Clover and then they woke up Sci then the chain reaction moved to Alphys until finally Muffet was awakened. Before moving on I would like to point out that for the first four, when they woke up they found a sort of web sac hanging from the roof which turned out to be Muffet’s presents, later it was found out she tried to give it early so she didn’t have to watch them open it and their reactions or thank you’s, Asgore ended up giving a lecture on doing such an ‘’unchristmas’’ action. None of them did open it in their room though, some figured out that it was presents and the others were just to scared to open it without context.

Alright, so next they all moved out to the living room, but before this there was a ring at the doorbell. For some background here, for newcomers and people from the RP for some of it. Twice we did a Christmas RP special and everyone got sweaters with their own puns (Actually I should also mention we basically did a CPAU with our characters, look it up if you haven’t it’s funny). For FH, I have made it canon that no matter where anybody is in the world on Christmas day, when they awoke, they would have a doorbell ring and when they went to check who rang the door, they found a Christmas sack which its contents included a sweater for the specific person. Nobody really knows the how or the why except that maybe Christmas magic actually exists. This does include other people as well unless you don’t want it to.  

Alphys went to the door and brought inside a sack which to everyone (except Clover) expected since it’d happened for the last two years. Sci got his green sweater where it said ‘Merry Mathsmas’ and around the sleeves there were strips that were embroided with maths symbols. Asgore got a crimson sweater that said, ‘Hope Christmas won’t be a Reigny Day in gold lettering’, the sweater also had a golden crown under the writing around where his belly is (Honestly thinking on it, it has very similar colours to Gryffindor merch in Harry Potter). Muffet had a sweater that was grey and purple, the clothing article was made of webs and according to her, was mostly made by her ‘children’, with the simple phrase ‘I am to fancy for my sweater’, which while it did have the slight chance it was mocking her, it amused her all the same and she was relieved she didn’t have to advertise Christmas puns. Alphys got a sweater that was a strange and not quite even mix of black and white that was in all these different curvy lines and stuff. People found it strange that hers wasn’t exactly Christmas related and while it was a pun, it made some of the people she showed a little weirded out or react strangely, nobody quite understood why besides that it looked strange, Alphys herself always preferred everybody else’s. On hers, in green lettering said ‘Math Puns are the first Sine of Madness’, except the word madness was in blood red, the main saving grace that gave it any sign of normalcy was the cute little Sine graph on the chest area that looked like it was ripped straight from a graphics calculator, people just brushed it off as being a weird one. However, what nobody had expected was that there was a fifth sweater, a new one for the girl who had not been related to any of the RP characters during Christmas so now it was her turn to receive a brand new, never before seen sweater. What Clover ended up unfolding was a yellow sweater, on the front and back of it was a what looked like the reticule and lines from a sniper optical sight made of dark brown (I’ll have a picture to show what I meant). On the back in the middle of the target was what appeared to be her cowboy hat and, on the front, just like the others, there was writing. On the front written in a silvery grey was ‘I Beretta not get coal for Christmas’. While she did her best to hide it and would never admit it, she was actually pretty happy to get her own sweater and was feeling a little left out at first.

Now onto the exciting part, them presents. I’m going to split each person into a hopefully small paragraph for what they got starting with Muffet. Also I need you to realise that Sci was giving out the presents in a Santa hat and Asgore was wearing reindeer antlers while also helping Sci with the handing out.

Muffet: Muffet specifically got two presents, one from Sci and one from the others. Since Clover and Asgore don’t have jobs at the moment and they don’t really have much of an allowance or anything, at the same time Alphys really doesn’t make all that much money herself (a topic for another time, AKA just ask I guess) so to help each other out, the three of them teamed up for Sci and Muffet. The team of three struggled for quite a while since the only thing they could really think of was a tea set, but they were sure she had a bunch of those, until they remembered another hobby of hers and with a little help from Sci’s suggestions, they figured it out. Muffet ended up opening the Christmas wrapping of a small wooden, suitcase shaped thing that opened up into a chess set, they figured out she could use one after they remembered she used to complain a little bit that her only chess set was left back home, and she didn’t want to risk bringing her glass one. Sci went on solo and with much less hassle than the others. The second gift the spider ended up gaining was a pair of very good quality headphones, ones that would help her listen to her music when she was working, something that only Sci really knew she loved. After opening the two of her presents, she did her best to act all cool about it and while she mostly succeeded, she did end up giving one of her rare, genuine friendly smiles, that show up every once a while, to everyone.

Sci: The skeleton also got two presents since it was from the trio and Muffet. The trio took a little time with him as well and probably struggled a bit and pretty much ended up looking stuff up online for ideas, in the end they just figured they could give him something amusing that he would use in a helpful way. So what they ended up finding and using was a Darth Vader toaster that made Star Wars toast, also they found him a Binary tie on the internet to add on the side. In Muffet’s web sac which was quite heavy, he found two things that were related, one was just a much better, higher end coffee machine than the small time one they already had, this one had a bunch of buttons and settings he was certain he would never use. On the side of that was also a small handheld expresso maker that could basically make coffee on the go. Although Muffet did warn him that if he ever overdoses on caffeine or she sees him sneaking in some Red Bull somewhere to use in combination, she wouldn’t hesitate to confiscate them off him. Sci found the toaster and an incredibly amusing present, one that really helped put him in a fun mood, the coffee gear was also very welcome, and he knew for certain there was going to be a heck of a lot of use out of it all. Sci thanked everyone happily and was itching to test out the new machines for breakfast.

Alphys: So, for Alphys, Clover and Asgore couldn’t rely on her, so they decided to try and get Muffet to help them a little, what she ended up doing was giving them a freaking $100 bill and saying just use that. Asgore refused to take so much so she ended up forcing them to take $75 instead. They did realise they probably didn’t need to work with Alphys after that, but they felt to guilty to ditch or anything, plus they wanted to help her too. Anyway, the two kids ended up giving her an incense holder along with a large collection of different incenses that were said to promote relaxation and sleep, Lavender being a big part of it. The logic of it was that since Al seemed so tired all the time, incense might be able to help her sleep. Muffet’s present for her was a few anime posters she could put up in her room, from ‘Mew Mew’, ‘Cells at Work’, ‘Violet Evergarden’ to finally the movie ‘Your Name’. Muffet did also grumble afterwards that ads had started thinking that she was into anime. Sci’s present was simple in that it was a gift card to a science supply place, some place where she could buy whatever she wanted for her basement lab. The only way I can describe Al after that was gleeful, she was super happy, all the gifts to her were perfect and thoughtful, although she needn’t worry that her presents weren’t good enough compared to those. (I’m onto you Al -_- )

Clover: Muffet straight up got her a gun range membership so she could go out and shoot stuff, although she did require adult supervision. Al and Sci were pretty clueless about what to get her to the point that they straight up asked her, hoping it was something reasonable. She did end up giving them a small list, Sci ended up giving her a small pocket knife that he made very clear to be only used responsibly. Alphys ended up giving her some gun cleaning and maintenance supplies she found on eBay, just so Clover wouldn’t have to buy new ones for a little while longer. Asgore ended up getting her six different old, classic western movies and straight up challenged her to a marathon to see who would last the longest. Clover is someone who values practicality and the use of the present rather than the large amount of effort, that and she appreciated someone getting her anything at all in the first place, so even if Sci and Al had to ask her or even if she was sure Asgore managed to find those movies in a cheap bargain bin somewhere, she was very happy thankful for what she got, giving everyone a respectful hat tip and a thank you.

Asgore: Finally, the prince’s turn to get presents. Muffet ended up getting him a large supply of Golden Flower tea bags despite their rivalry when it came to making tea, along with that she also got him his own ornate, fancy looking tea set, one that was coloured in gold and red, real royal looking. Muffet made her own fun little comment that ‘’it was only fair that her greatest rival has the equipment to pose a challenge’’. Sci got him a book that was about rare, obscure and in some of the weird cases, mythical plants from legends, for the most part though it was a botany book. Alphys also had a similar idea to the skeleton and got him his very own tools to work on the garden, newer ones that he could keep in the shed to replace the older and crap ones she had from the beginning. Clover had actually originally planned to go the botany route, except she found out both Al and Sci were doing the same thing, so she made it her vow to do something at least a little different. So, what she ended up doing was getting a small tent that could only fit about two to three people in it and offered to take him on a camping trip in the woods. Asgore had always loved the idea of spending at least a few days in nature just for the hell of it, for fun and relaxation, so she figured this was the perfect opportunity. Asgore as expected was really happy about all of this, every single time he opened a new present he gave them his most sincere thanks and most appreciative smile. He gave everyone a hug… or well he offered one to Muffet and she threatened to stab him (Although he did give her one later in the day and managed to escape her wrath).

(Left one for Clover’s Sweater)

(Sci’s presents, because I could and because I had to look them up)

So yeah, that was their Christmas, I hope that was a good enough of an explanation. After that they spent the day chilling, they did have a Christmas meal together that Muffet and Asgore made, roast turkey and all. Thanks for reading, myself and the other five wish you all a Merry Christmas, you all deserve to have a great holiday, wish you all the best.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 16

First time reader click here

Summary/TWs: Trouble is brewing. Canon-typical violence, graphic descriptions of wounds and Clint whump. Bad, terrible, no-good medical accuracy. Aliens. Reader is an anxious genius with low self-esteem and PTSD. ✨spicy sadness✨

From now on, chapters will be posted un-beta-ed. She's taking a lil break. 💖💝✨

I liked to think I had made peace with the fact that my boys and girls had one hell of a dangerous job. Natasha, Clint, Steve and Bucky frequently left for missions and while I missed their usual bickering in the background, it wasn't like the tower's common room became absolutely quiet. The fact that they mostly did recon-only missions helped, too, as they would come home unharmed and in one piece. The worry was there but subtle - like setting the table and including silverware for the people who were gone on a mission.

Peter's patrols went less smoothly, usually. He was small and even in his spider-suit, the boy was frequently underestimated by common thugs. Apparently, they didn't know how to read the news - it was blatantly obvious the hero was enhanced. And yet somehow, Pete more often than not sported all sorts of bruises, scratches and tears.

Tony and I routinely tore out our hair over the spiderboy's carelessness. The engineer had a funny way of showing he cared for Peter. Once I got to know him better, my brain dubbed them as Irondad and Spiderson. And it wasn't weird at all, somehow, that I was basically fucking my best friend's dad. Tony never made me uncomfortable, if anything, he went to great lengths to accommodate my whims. Tony continuously found time for me, answered my dumb questions and soldiered through the shenanigans I got up to after having too much caffeine and too little sleep.

Sitting in the quiet, empty common room was unnerving. It was shortly after dinner time - the evening news skipped their usual political debate in favour of the battle that was raging downtown, the reason for my headache and wrung hands.

I missed Tony's running mouth. The aliens the team was fighting looked quite hilarious, murderous intentions aside, and I could only imagine the way Tony and Clint would mock them. Hentai rejects. Tentacle porn knock-offs. The aliens were squid-like, about half the size of a human and very, very slippery, from what I spied on the TV.

An irritated-looking Stephen had me equal parts apprehensive and drooling - one after another, he conjured up a series of small portals, teleporting the aggressive octopods only god knew where. It would have looked incredibly badass if not for the exhausted sheen of sweat I could see on his brow, even despite the camera footage being shaky and grainy.

The news footage showed Tony - Iron Man, soaring contentedly through the darkening skies and taking out the squirmy mass of tentacles with his plasma beam repulsors. Steve and Bucky and Loki appeared too, sporadically, being well-oiled murder machines. Nothing new.

Yet, I worried. The little worm of doubt was squirming full-force. I tried to ignore it, yet pacing, sitting and playing Candy Crush got me nowhere. I pestered Friday to order pizza, the team's usual post-mission order plus a large one for me - stress-eating was better than stress-popping-molly in a tower full of superheroes. It took some courage to admit to myself I'd gotten attached enough to be this much from running away from all that in a blind panic.

And it would be the best option for them, really, because they had much sensible things to worry about than me. Yet every time, my selfishness won against even the most logical arguments I presented. I hated fighting myself but it was all I did - not only I was in love with Tony, I loved him.

Even when he forgot about my existence for five days, to emerge from his workshop with a new piece of tech that revolutionised one or another or something else. I loved him when he annoyed the ever living fuck out of everybody, me included, because I knew that it was hilarious to see people getting riled up over totally trivial shit. I loved Tony Stark when he ran away from his feelings, and everybody else's, because he never managed to run far enough. Or he didn't want to. I loved him, because he was like a multilayered puzzle, complex and captivating and beautiful.

I thought a lot about it, more than people would have noticed. For someone as selfish and goal-oriented as me, Tony lived in my head rent-free most of the time. And nobody would find out if I had the choice because let's face it, I'm a short cameo in his life. I'm a fuckin' catch and even then, I can't expect to hold his attention forever. His genius is too brilliant to settle for one when he could easily have the whole damn world.

Another hour consisted of me pacing and accompanying the pizza delivery boys to the common floor. It was hilarious - they were obviously star-struck about walking the same carpet as their heroes. I could see the faint hope of meeting one of the Avengers in their eyes, their posture. All they got was me - in my sweatpants, Tony's tee and no bra. My tits got the attention they deserved, at least.

My lounging was interrupted by a golden circle noisily appearing in the middle of the room, followed by Clint abruptly falling through it with a pained moan. I froze, the pizza in my mouth turning to ash - Strange poked his head through the hole in space, finding my eyes. He looked exhausted.

"Help him, I don't have much time," He breathed and disappeared, closing the portal behind himself.

The pizza piece flew back in the box as I stumbled, jumped over the headrest, kneeling beside Clint in no time. "Bird, tell me what hurts," I demanded. Not that I had a clue what to do. I mean, I knew basic first aid and...

"My leg," He gritted out, curling in on himself. Fear flooded me, limbs turning to lead. Hawk had a good pain tolerance, I knew he could break an arm and not utter a single syllable until he thought it safe to showcase his vulnerability. "That squid motherfucker stung me, I don't know. My whole body is on fire," His speech was slurred.

I nodded, deciding to limit the touching to only the necessary actions. The leg of his pants was torn and the wound itself was shaped like a whip mark, thin and red and angry. It oozed a yellowish pus-like substance, it smelled bitter, almost like stale water and seaweed salad. I didn't know much about aliens but jellyfish stings, I could work with. A short Google check later, I had an approximate plan.

"Friday, run diagnostics." I ordered, taking a deep breath and filing away the fear, the panic and anxiety for later.

"Mr. Barton has a wound that appears to be contaminated with an unknown chemical that is causing an adverse reaction. The elevated body temperature suggests that his immune system is fighting it. I would suggest a blood test to examine the offending specimens."

A blood draw? I could do that. I definitely, absolutely, could do that.

"Bird, Clint, did you hear that?" I gently touched his shoulder only for him to recoil from my hand, muttering unintelligibly. "Pretty bird, I'm going to help you. Let me." My bedside manner needed improvement - with brain running a mile a minute, I babbled utter nonsense as Friday directed me to the needed supplies. Getting the blood was a feat on it's own - I had to physically sit on top of Clint to get but a tiny vial of the red liquid.

A few tears escaped the emotional fortress I had to build within myself. Clint was in so, so much pain - pain I was inadvertently making worse by touching him. I sprinted to Bruce's lab, feeding the sample to be analysed by Friday, tearing through the room in a hurricane. First aid kit, IV, saline, antibiotics. Restraints, too, just in case.

"Analysis complete. The contaminant appears to be acting similarly to a parasitic infection with a short life-span. Primarily feeds on copper, iron and various metals contained in the human body. Does not appear to reproduce or multiply, my algorithms cannot determine the cause of said behaviour. Calculating..." Friday's mechanical voice paused. "I have calculated the approximate duration of Mr. Barton's symptoms. Onset of critical stage in one to three hours. Complete extinction of parasitic organisms in approximately sixty hours."

"Fri, do you think I have a chance of saving Clint before he goes crazy from pain? And have you figured out what's causing it?" My brain was all over the place.

"I have the best faith in you, miss." The AI sounded almost... Comforting? "I am still running multiple diagnostics. My algorithms suggest the organisms may be attacking the nerve endings - reason unclear."

An idea struck me. A crazy, brash, absurd idea. The pathogen was alien and we didn't have antibiotics to kill it. Even if I gave Clint some sort of medicine, it could go awry really really quickly. Besides, wasn't there a medical team for this..?

"Friday, alert the medical suite."

"Request denied. Per Mr. Stark's protocols, only Sir himself and Dr. Banner are authorized to request medical assistance in case of alien pathogen contamination."

"Fuck. Fuck, that makes no fuckin' sense!" I yelled helplessly. "Okay, do you have blood matching Clint's type laying around?" I asked sarcastically. This protocol pissed me off. What was Tony scared of? That someone would steal alien germs? Too late for that, there were plenty of samples all over the sidewalks downtown.

"A-positive, blue refrigerator, top shelf." Friday's answer was curt.

My hands shook. My whole body shook. Clint was laying in fetal position right where I'd left him and the man wasn't looking better - he became paler, dark circles under his eyes, clammy sweat breaking on every exposed part of his skin. Moving him was out of the question - Clint violently recoiled from me once I tried to touch him.

Reluctantly, I dragged the dining room chairs and piled up whatever heavy things I could on top of them, praying to every god that they would hold a trained man trash around in pain. Then, came the restraints. Belts with clips unlike one could see in a movie with a psych ward. I fumbled with them, then with Clint - very slowly, but I got both of his arms fastened and the man rolled onto his back.

"Wwhat... S'appening..?" Hawk finally slurred, cracking his eyes to see my (probably) disheveled and panicked face.

"This is going to hurt, I won't lie. A lot," I rambled, setting up the tools needed for both a blood draw and a blood transfusion. "I'm not a doctor. I'm not a scientist. You have alien parasites in your blood. I'm going to get rid of em," I announced, not mentioning the fact that I had to Google all the things I was going to do to him.

"S'okay, I trust you," Clint slurred again, moving about much more weakly than before. The tips of his fingers began to turn blue and the blood vessels on his face stood out in a pink-purple web. Not good.

My finest thinking moment: laying out some tarp around the archer and putting on gloves and a mask to minimize the possibility of getting infected. I started with the wound first, carefully wiping away the yellowish goop and immediately sealing it into a biohazard container. Some alcohol around the edges, the wound began emanating a faint wisp of smoke as Clint yelled hoarsely. I didn't even react - man, aliens and their germs were fuckin' weird.

Another biohazard container traveled next to Clint's arm. I had a disposable scalpel in one hand and my courage in another - it was now or never. The vein I was cutting was a minor one, but with Clint's body in total disarray, it was an ugly fountain of pinkish-purple liquid that spurted from it. I was no doctor but blood shouldn't have looked like that.

I stared at the timer on my phone. Twenty seconds, thirty, fifty. Eighty seconds, the blood was beginning to have more of a red hue. Clint's breathing slowed, tremors subsiding by a smidgen. One hundred and eighty seconds, the stream was a healthy deep red colour. With a swift motion, I wrapped up the wound, folded his arm, tied off the blood flow higher up his arm with a spare restraint. Clint wasn't moving much anymore; my hand that periodically checked his pulse shook but dutifully did it's job. His heart was working steady.

Compared to having to drain a friend of his blood, setting up the IV with a transfusion was a walk in the park. My mind was empty of any thoughts but for the actions needed to complete the process.

The container with contaminated blood, closed, sealed and put in a plastic bag, along with the gloves and the tarp. My own exposed flesh, meticulously scrubbed with alcohol until the skin became red and raw. All the instruments, Clint's pants, my clothes - in the bag.

The archer himself was laying still, his breathing steady and calm, face no longer looking like he was one step away from the grave. After undoing the restraints, I wiped down every surface we touched with Tony's vodka - rubbing alcohol had run out and I was too emotionally drained to go downstairs and leave Clint for too long. Whenever the booze collided with a stray drop of blood, a wispy smoke emerged. Such an interesting reaction. Part of me couldn't wait to examine the phenomena together with Bruce. The other part was considering the possibility of having a panic attack in a seafood restaurant.

"Fri, keep an eye- a sensor on Clint for me, will ya? I need a shower and some pants," I denounced tiredly, padding to the communal shower. I found respite, however brief, under the steam for a few minutes. Then I found Tony's old tee and a pair of someone's sweats - I didn't care whose. Post-stress adrenaline shivers had me feeling stark naked in the middle of Alaska despite the room being a toasty, comfortable temperature according to the digital thermostat.

Now I just had to think about what to tell the team.

Propping Clint's head on a decorative pillow and covering him with a soft fleece blanket was the least I could have done for the long suffering archer. The floor was hard but I sat next to him, running a hand through his matted hair, my brain an incomprehensible mess.

✨ TAGLIST OF MY LOVELIES (OPEN) ✨

@another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby

[hopeandharmonizing]

Gigs

Briar + Faye Valentine ( @alreadyafairy​​ )

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Faye made a face of disgust as she finished the last of her drink, placing it aside. “ is there anything good in here? ” she grumbled, more to herself than anyone else.

“It’s a casino, honey. No. Nothing good can be found here. Just a matter of picking your poison, honestly.”

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Casino.

Not the typical den of sin this she-wolf hangs out in. Her ears ring with the clacks of spinning roulette, rolling of dice, beeping of machines, chiming of spare change, calling of numbers, and whispers making deals. Her nose stings with cigarette smoke and scotch and the stench of people who have been sitting in their seats all day or even longer.

But she won’t complain about a new adventure given a pinch-hit gig. The manager found her name and number to fill the slot of a lounge singer called off sick (or so she hopes, for how the story goes), and she can always use the cash which comes with a contract padded in this kinda luxury.

Jazz.

Not her strong suit. Unlike the matte silver three-piece she’s wearing, which looks pretty damn good, honestly. A sleek look for a slick place; a classy cover for her curves in a crowd of less than savory customers than the usual.

Besides, the job description read clear enough. She’s not to be the center of attention tonight. Performance from a small, velvet stage plants as an accessory, a background, a soothing song streaming in the heads of those spilling out their money, making them feel comfortable enough to keep doing so.

The nature of it raises her hackles, but it ultimately boils down to a more meaningful experience - hope. Hope keeps them at the tables. People who somewhere in the depths of their souls believe they can win, come out to try - they swarm the place. Their lien bleeds out from their wallets and her heart bleeds for their misplaced faith. She can still make the command her own, twist words to shepherd the lost in the best ways she knows how.

Harmonizer sits off to the side, plugged into some sweet ass amps provided by the house. The instrument holds a pre-programmed melody of simple, echoed beat and basic strums. Briar clicks play and dress shoes step to the mic stand. Her voice flows smooth and sweet, tail and body swaying in similar soft waves. Hands twist and worm in gestured emphasis, like a child’s stuck out of a car window and riding the air currents, like a creek bubbling over pebbles after a spring rain…

♫♫ This is my brand new day in the light Trouble rising up on the left and the right I keep my eyes fixed on where I want to go The rest will follow And this is my prayer without ceasing the negative releasing and as I rise above my burden is easing

This is my brand new day starting now Letting go of the ways that I fall down The old can be made new, the lost can be found the lost will be found This is my prayer without ceasing the negative releasing and as I rise above my burden is easing

I bring the pure flow, like water around the rocks of life won’t pull me down I bring the pure flow, drink so deep the river of life, my soul at ease I bring the pure flow, like water around the rocks of life won’t pull me down I bring the pure flow, rising above the storms of life to live and love… ♫♫

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°୭•.═══ singers would come and go in lounges . faye hadn’t always paid attention to that , and she knew none of the others did . as far as a singer was concerned ,  their voices were meant to add to the ambiance . to let a few men who’d lost a game cry over their drink - and then return to their houses of cards and chips and broken lives . they’d drown in it, watch it all collapse on them and take everything they had away ….

but they’d still return .

faye knew she still would .

one thousand points. not bad . today’s round of pinochle was far better than the last few -

she eyed her lien , counting it in a dedicated , practiced manner . her mind was running through a checklist , things she could do with the amount . three hundred ….

she could go for a game of blackjack . the men there -

seven hundred lien .

or poker . no . the old guy there was hustling the others . sounded like a boring game to her . and definitely not an easy win .

the singer today was different . they always were . but the song was different too . out of place - not what you would expect in a place like this . too raw . too straightforward . and the woman wasn’t sad-faced or thin or red-eyed . she wasn’t just her clothes, and she didn’t have a volatile presence . the opposite of all that, actually .

different .

eleven thousand lien .

faye settled for a drink - ‘almost blue’ , the house special, intrigued her . looked like a smoky drink ,  with a sizzling campfire dying out in the rain . ninety lien . hah , daylight robbery .

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Seven hundred lien. Rent. Three hundred lien. Food and supplies. One hundred lien. Utilities.

Robbery, indeed. No free drinks for the employees here, so Briar sticks to water while sticking to a tight budget. Unless someone could repay some cosmic kindness…

Tempting, to take an immediate chunk of tonight’s gig and toss some on the table just to see what happens. Slip a coin in a machine. Test her poker face for one round. But, no, Briar’s full speed ahead, whole hearted lust for life doesn’t always know when to stop. Sometimes best not to start at all.

She gets it, though. Really, she does.

What a fascinating place. The people? She’s still working on. A loose lean supports her back on the lip of a bar counter as she gazes out and sips a goblet of water like white wine. Briar’s used to bar crowds looking heavy and tired. Or an audience raring and ready to rebel. These folks lie somewhere in between, if she had to say.

Most wear weary bags beneath bloodshot eyes, in the middle of a never-ending all night bender, yet they come alive every time they go the next round.

If she could bottle that feeling and bless her music with it, some of the world’s problems might be solved overnight.

Damn, does money motivate. But… there must be more to it than that. The atmosphere. The winning. The losing. The cycle of both. The immediate payoff and the promise of more. There’s a song waiting somewhere in here…

Humming, tapping toe of a dress shoe on the tile, she loses herself in the beat of her own thoughts, until someone slides into the seat she stands next to.

She smiles, full of friendliness almost too genuine, and casually asks, “What’s the feel out on the floor today? Hitting it big?”

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°୭•.═══ the presence from the stage drifted to her. her first instinct was to ignore her companion. drink up, go back to gambling , probably amass a few more debts and try not to get outed for the con woman she was. but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do , right ? no one thought about it that way , though .  real pity .

she rested her head on her arm, frowning into the drink in a kind of weary , bored manner . ninety lien ,  and it tasted like complete crap - plus , the bartender didn’t seem to be the friendly sort . beer would have been a way better choice , honestly .

faye tilted her head ,  eyeing her companion for a moment or two . the singer . up close ,  she seemed a little more open  ,  unlike the stuck up , sadder ones that usually cried for a solid hour at the counter , mascara running down their cheeks .

this one was worth her time , she decided . but not enough to con . she seemed sharp , smart . not the best victim to pick a gamble with .

she spread out a hand in flippant manner , red nails glinting under the light . “ just the usual . one thousand wasn’t much , but it wasn’t her usual amount either . it was normally much , much lower . not that she would admit it .

“ this place’s got easy wins . ” the truth ! half the men here didn’t seem to know they were being two-timed .” dim wits . ” the whole lot of them . women were smarter ,  in her opinion .

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Survival is tough. Tastes like grit and blood and shitty food and drink you must suffer through because you already paid for it. Human nature to want better, even if it means taking it with your own cunning hands. Most people here to see what they can scam from the laps of the more deluxe, whether by luck or by patience, or cheating and praying to the gods not to get caught.

Tiring to the bone, no matter how you slice it. But a girl’s definitely gotta do what she’s gotta. Sometimes it meant showing life and its rat race how that girl can put on an even tougher act.

Or, in Briar’s case, a fresh face with golden eyes aglow.

A dance within the gray of dim weather.

No need to con this woman; Briar would offer freely anything she had to give to someone without, if they only ask. But the other woman doesn’t. Drooping disinterest makes her appear too used to cutting her losses.

Yet cockiness in her comment says to the contrary, perhaps not tonight. She carries herself lowly but speaks of others as even lower. What an attitude to have. Fierce in the face of a hall of many failings.

Hips turn towards trash talk, and an easy laugh falls from Briar’s lips, “You sound like an experienced player, my dear. But I’d bet there are many who underestimate you.”

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  °୭•.═══  many underestimated her, alright. that was part of the fun, really. gave her more opportunity to hustle a few of her opponents. play the shark. men took women too lightly in general – and she found some kind of twisted triumph in showing them their fallacy.

but that was superficial. like so many, many things about her. a patchwork of clothes from different people she never knew tailored to provide a mask of sorts. she supposed that everyone wore masks – especially in a place like this. but some people here were themselves. like they had broken that mask a long while ago.

like this woman here. that made faye wonder who she’d lasted for this long in a world like this. survival of the fittest. truth had no place here. everybody lied – so why not her?

experienced? well, you could say that. she let herself seem flattered – albeit in a coy, sly manner. tilted her head at the woman, a sea green eye studying her. a confident smile rested on her lips. all an act, through and through – a projection to hide her insecurity.

“ they wouldn’t know what hit them if they take me lightly. ”

her past self had been sleeping for years. then who was she, right now? she just had her first name at hand, her surname a placeholder. hah – she couldn’t even call her name hers.

valentine was a lie – and valentine was who she was. ‘faye’ wasn’t there anymore.

she made a face of disgust as she finished the last of her drink, placing it aside. “ is there anything good in here? ” she grumbled, more to herself than anyone else.

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

Briar knows all about patchwork clothes and acts and masks made of others. Masks made for herself too, a performer. And maybe the secret is that after so long, it’s too hard to tell the difference. You can only wear a mask for so long before your skin gets used to the feel, before it starts to shape the contours beneath.

Some people do pull it off, some people do break it. Briar can’t remember the last time she donned or doffed one, not intentionally. She absorbs them, makes them her own, until changing personas came as simple as changing her own expression, no need to pretend, no need to hide, every facet of the soul a part of her.

What the woman sees is not the disowning of a mask, but acceptance that everyone wears different faces for different reasons.

Admittedly, though, hers is not as painted up today. Lashes which blink as Briar meets her side-eye and listens, not as full.

they wouldn’t know what hit them if they take me lightly.

Another sip of water, and then she thinks, hard hitter then. But doesn’t ask if that means the games or the people.

She doesn’t ask her name, either. Not yet. Briar sees many people come and go, finds what someone is called less important than what they have to say. Names only important if a need to ever address a person beyond a single interaction makes itself known. And she has a hunch that this is the type of woman who likes to fade away, disappear just like the dregs of her drink; force a finish, win or lose.

Another sip of water, and then laughter huffs and shoulders bounce at the question, and Briar smirks. Her paycheck only dictates the words offered on stage; after and aside she can say whatever she likes.

Her lean sinks further against the counter, and her head tilts to the side as if she shares some great secret of life, or at least something bigger than the drink menu, “It’s a casino, honey. No. Nothing good can be found here. Just a matter of picking your poison, honestly.”

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

°୭•.═══════ she’d been expecting to hear the woman’s name, the moment she’d stepped onto the stage. they usually announced their ‘ special stars for the evening ’ . all the estella’s, the rouge’s, the rosemary’s, diamonds, pearls, gold teeth and violent eyes. the whole shebang. not this one. they’d conveniently forgotten her name – like they’d expected everyone to know it. and maybe they all did. not her. not faye. exchanging names was a DEATH sentence and that came with being a grifter —–— a part of this tiny, pretty package with gift wrappers, ribbons and a cute little card on the top to go with it.

she never went around chit-chatting. not unless she could wrestle something for herself out of it – money, a favor, food, drink. you get the picture. this woman didn’t have anything but herself, her company to give. nothing but her gypsy voice, syllables taking in the sweetness.

there was a lonely child in her heart, and she hid herself under the hills and twisted paths. she’d heard some song, and now her skin was being pried open. the girl wanted out. wanted in. wanted, wanted, wanted, wanted.

tall, woman of mysteries, but all that was rolled up in those fancy clothes of hers was GENUITY.

mm. maybe she’d be interesting to talk to. provided she didn’t end up being one of the people faye didn’t want to cross paths with. people she’d pissed off. the law. people she really shouldn’t be messing around with.

rosewood lips parted, an amused breath curling out. her voice was a bubble in a glass of cheap champagne.

“ it’s a mess, alright. ” her gaze darted up to the bartender, nails rapping the glass with a dismissive flick of her wrist to indicate that she was done. “ that isn’t even poison. i’d like to call it sludge with a drop of alcohol.”

a remark that drew an ugly look from the bartender. poor aim, though. the bullet missed her by a mile. better luck next time, old man.

hands were clasped in front of her, elbows propped up on imitation-mahogany. lips curled into an artificial star-strung smile. fingers flashed nails the same color as her lips. always looked her best. dressed to kill, so to speak. emeralds were trained on her companion, watching, studying, reading. no cards, not an opponent, no game here.

“ none of the people here tonight are good looking, either. ” her gaze darted to the sea of faces around her. “ the only things that’ve ever been good here are the men and women. the ‘company’. ”

fingers danced idly on the wood, sights turned to the woman. her eyes were gold, she observed. gold, like sunlight haunting windows. what a map of obscurity. she could barely get a glimpse of this woman.

“…do you gamble ? ”

[craigrcannon]

Employee #1: Warby Parker

A conversation with Mara Castro, Warby Parker’s first employee.

Employee #1 is a series of interviews focused on sharing the often untold stories of early employees at tech companies.

Mara Castro was the first employee at Warby Parker. She currently is the Director of Customer Experience.

Discussed: Working at a Nonprofit, Finding the Job Posting, Interviewing with the Founders, Starting Part-Time, Figuring Out Operations, Moving to New York, Going into Retail, Building the Brand, and Learning to Manage People.

Craig: So the easiest way to start is just to explain what you were doing before and go from there.

Mara: Sure. So I graduated from Texas A&M then went back to Brazil and was working with a former Formula One racecar driver, helping him set up his nonprofit. At that point I was pretty dead set on wanting to build a nonprofit that was going to do good for the world. So I started in Brazil but knew that I did want to come back to the US.

I was originally from Brazil but my father worked in oil so we lived around the world – UAE, Libya, Singapore, Venezuela – then I ended up moving back to Philly for business school and from there started working at a nonprofit called the Food Trust. So I got a lot of exposure to how nonprofits work in the US.

I loved the work that I was doing but felt like I wanted to do something more with a little bit more of a business background. I felt like I could add more value to the world instead of spending so much time fundraising and policy writing and that kind of stuff. As I was trying to look for something different, Jeff Raider, one of the co-founders of Warby Parker, put out a job description looking for an operations manager.

At that point the four founders were still in business school. It was November of 2009. Warby Parker was really just an idea. They didn’t have a website or anything but they knew that they wanted help from someone to set up customer service and operations in general.

Craig: Where was the job posting? Was it on Craigslist?

Mara: I think they had posted it in quite a few places but because my ex went to Wharton business school, it had been shared there to all of the students and he shared it with me.

Craig: Gotcha. Okay, so you email him and then you meet up. How does that go?

Mara: It was great. Jeff is one of those guys that’s just incredibly charismatic, super fun, really smart. We talked about everything that I had done before, what I was hoping to do in the future and it was just very, very natural–just casual conversation about what my experience was and then what the idea of Warby Parker was at that time.

Craig: And was the idea the same as it is now?

Mara: Yes, that’s one of the special things about Warby Parker is that from day one, they really spent a ton of time thinking through what the pillars were for the brand. They really wanted this company to be a lifestyle brand that was going to be here for the next hundred years. They wanted it to really revolutionize eyewear industry and they wanted to prove that for-profits could do good in the world. Those three main pillars are still the ones that really reign the company to this day.

Craig: Did he convince you with that in the beginning?

Mara: The pitch was really just that they’re four really smart friends with this great idea to sell glasses online, so many other companies were selling products online that never had before –you shouldn’t have to pay the price of an iPhone for glasses.

I started wearing glasses when I was maybe 12 years old and so I knew how expensive glasses were and how limited the options were. It just seemed to make a lot of sense plus, with my background of wanting to work somewhere that was going to do good in the world, it was just awesome to see how it wasn’t a marketing ploy. It was part of the brand and who they really wanted to be from day one.

Neil [Blumenthal], one of our co-founders (and current co-CEOs) was one of the first employees at Vision Spring before he went to business school and he had really set up the whole program and how that nonprofit worked. And we were just going to partner with them so that we could do work in a way that they knew how to do it best and we were just going to help them and achieve that in the best way. It just really felt very authentic, very natural so at that point, I was just like, “Okay, you guys need to hire me.”

Craig: [Laughter] Okay, so what happens next?

Mara: We were still just talking about it because they didn’t even have the glasses yet. They didn’t have a website. It was really just an idea at that point but they knew that they wanted help soon thereafter. And so we continued talking. And I think they received the glasses maybe at the end of December or January of 2009. They started doing some trunk shows with their friends and I came to a couple of them, got to see the glasses, got to meet the other co-founders, and actually did an interview call with Dave Gilboa who is currently my boss. They decided to launch in the beginning of February and I started February 1, 2010.

Craig: Did you move to NY at that point?

Mara: No. So they were still in school in Philly and school was going to go through June. So on February 1st, we were launching but not necessarily the website. It was more of launching the fulfillment process. So we were still doing trunk shows with their friends and I was helping process orders with our tech consultant, set up the whole process through NetSuite which is an ERP [Enterprise Resource Planning] that we were using at the time, and really just help set up the foundation. Then we fully launched on February 15th with the website and features in GQ and Vogue

For the first two weeks in February I was part-time, 15 hours a week, just helping with anything that came up. The launch of the website kind of kicked us into crazy mode. And that’s when my role turned into a hundred hours a week and basically that’s what it’s been since then.

From that point, it was just like, “Okay, this is really going to work. Let’s figure out how to make this work in the best way. I think it was April when we decided we were going to move to New York and started prepping for that move.

Craig: And so were you handling fulfillment in the beginning?

Mara: I was helping with a little bit of everything, right. At first it was just me but then we quickly hired four other people and also I helped train all of the founders’ families everyone we knew could help, because it got really crazy really fast. I was in charge of setting up all of the training materials, managing all of the folks, setting up the culture, working with inventory, supply chain and then helped with all of the talent on HR, setting up all of the assistants as well and office management. It was a startup, right? You do what’s needed.

Craig: Right, exactly. The job description doesn’t exactly match the job. So had you guys raised money at that point?

Mara: No. So it was all from the four founders’ savings at that point.

Craig: Ok. How many styles did you launch with?

Mara: That’s a good question. It was twenty-seven plus our monocle. At that time, a few very big, bold styles which were in at the moment and then a few toned-down frames. And then, of course, the monocle.

Craig: [Laughter] I didn’t even know that was a thing. Do people actually buy it?

Mara: We do get a lot of orders for groomsmen. But, I mean, it’s not our bestseller. [Laughter]

Craig: [Laughter] I figured. Ok, so you moved to New York and then what? Had you lived in New York before?

Mara: I had not, no. I feel like everybody has a dream of living in New York so it was very exciting to move here. So we moved to New York. We worked out of Neil’s wife’s back office. She had a jewelry line that she ran out of the garment district. So it was this tiny inventory room which became one of our first showrooms. Our first showroom was actually Neil’s apartment. [Laughter]

So we moved to her back office and then from there, we moved in August to our first real office in Union Square. At that point I think we had maybe 10 employees or so on our team.

Craig: At that time were you able to get a sense if it would last or if it was just this crazy startup thing that might implode?

Mara: No, we were definitely filling a need in the market for sure. Just from customer conversations I could tell it was a thing. We always wanted to make sure that every employee (and our founders) were interacting with customers. We had phone and email initially and we responded to each and every person individually even when we got the crazy spike in March. We were all working from 7:00 to 4:00 a.m. really responding to every customer. People would reply to the 4:00 a.m. emails being like, “I get it. You’re a startup. That’s totally fine. Take your time, but would love your glasses. This is amazing. This is such a great idea. Don’t know why nobody has tried this before.”

So it definitely felt like we were filling a need in the market and that we just had to figure out the kinks of growing pains to make sure that we had enough inventory for everyone.

Craig: I imagine the actual manufacturing process is pretty time intensive–learning how it all works and figuring it all out, especially in the beginning.

Mara: Yeah, definitely. So Neil did have some experience in manufacturing glasses through Vision Spring, the nonprofit where he had worked. He knew some of it.

The way our manufacturing process works is we get the materials from either Italy or Japan. We manufacture the glasses in China and then we ship them to the US. Now we have six labs across the US. They then cut each lens specifically to each customer and then ship those glasses, the completed glasses, to the customer directly from our labs.

It is a pretty complicated process and, honestly, none of us had worked in retail before, including the four founders. Setting up the technology that was necessary to track all of that inventory, to manage our customer orders in the best way, wasn’t easy. Do you know about the Home Try-On?

Craig: Yeah, but you should explain it anyway.

Mara: Cool. So the Home Try-On program, the way it works is you select five pairs and we ship them to you to try on and then you return them and can purchase your favorite on the site. So the first lab that we ever partnered with was in New York and they used to do not only do fulfillment of the glasses but our Home Try-On program as well. The way that it would work is that they would send out the Home Try-On glasses from their lab and then everything would get returned to Neil’s apartment in Philly.

Initially, it was just me going through everything and double-checking, making sure everything was good, cleaning everything and then putting it all in boxes and just carrying it over to a UPS to send it over to our lab so that they could start the whole process again.

Craig: [Laughter] That’s insane.

Mara: [Laughter] Yeah, it was pretty insane.

Craig: Were there other bottlenecks? How established were the labs and the manufacturers that you were working with?

Mara: The way that labs usually work is that they partner with an optician at a company like LensCrafters and they fulfill the glasses but then send it to that storefront who then dispenses the glasses in person to a customer. Our process was completely new to them. They had never gone through the fulfillment process of quality checking everything and making sure it was the way we wanted it to before sending it to the customer directly. We were definitely establishing that through our company and teaching all of our labs how to do this.

Craig: Were you ever involved in those conversations? Convincing the lab, “Hey, now you do this, too.”

Mara: So the lucky thing about that is there was one person at the first lab that we partnered with that really believed in our idea. It took some convincing with him but then he was really the one that was able to get all of his lab on board. Of course, it took us a lot of work to establish all of the partnerships to set up all the processes in a way we wanted.

Craig: Cool. So back to the story, you moved to New York and things are ramping up. What happens after the summer? How does it go?

Mara: I mean, so we went through the period of just crazy explosive growth in February, March, April. Then we were moving to New York and, of course, in any startup in the beginning you have step function growth, right. With us, we didn’t do any marketing in that first full year. We really grew most through word of mouth, We were really just focused on “How can we learn as much as we can from the experiences that we are providing to our customers? What can we be doing differently?” And that’s what we were really focusing on: so building all of the technology, how to build out and manage all of our inventory, how to make sure that we were running the company in the best way. We were hiring a few more people at that point. We hired our first tech employee.

Craig: Wait, what?

Mara: Yeah, so we were only working with a consultant until the end of 2010.

Craig: [Laughter] So the whole first year was on some consultant guy’s website? That’s amazing.

Mara: Yeah, so it was on NetSuite. Our contact there made it all work. But at that point we were still answering all of our phone calls through Google Voice to our cell phones. Everybody was in one inbox in Gmail.

Craig: [Laughter]

Mara: It was pretty insane. You know the labels that you use in Gmail? We would use labels with our names. Just put a label and say, “Okay. Royce, Brian, Lee, Colleen, Mara.” And you would just assign the top 10, middle 10, things like that. And we would just make it work.

Craig: And so now are you becoming more of a manager?

Mara: In March of 2010, I was already a manager but still very much a doer because I was managing the operations team but still doing office management and talent and inventory and all of that kind of stuff as well. I think it wasn’t until much later on that I was fully able to hire for all of those different roles. It was very much just managing all of our folks within the operations team to make sure that we were just fulfilling orders and managing our customer’s experiences as best as possible.

Craig: You’ve been there for six years at this point. How’s your role changed?

Mara: A lot. I mean, it’s been an awesome journey, lots of learnings along the way. I think what’s been most exciting about Warby Parker is that we continue to grow at this crazy pace and we’re just always going through growing pains and trying to figure out what’s the next big step and how do you deal with that next big step. Going from startup mode and being very reactive to everything that gets thrown your way because you don’t really know when to expect that next big push, that next big craze. It’s been awesome to be able to have more processes in place, better systems that we can count on. We’re not just on one inbox anymore and we have a real phone system with lots of hard data which is awesome.

Craig: Okay, and how many people are you now?

Mara: So companywide, we’re over 900 people and that includes our employees from our 40 retail stores that we now have.

We started thinking we were only going to sell online but then through lots of different experiments with the showrooms we found that our customers did really like getting access to all of the glasses and getting that assistance in person and that we could also learn a lot from those interactions in person with those customers. So we started experimenting with a few stores. We launched our first store in 2013 and then have been expanding since then.

Craig: So what did you learn from customers trying on in a store vs the Home Try-On data?

Mara: First, observing them and what glasses they’re gravitating towards, how they shop. So usually, people in the past have gone through face shape but a lot of people don’t even know what their face shape is. It is a little hard for people to understand that. So do you organize by bolder and more classics? By different color styles? So we were able to see how customers interacted with those glasses and how we were setting them up in person allowed us to further understand how to couple those glasses together and how to talk about them, how to create better stories around those types of glasses.

Craig: Do you have thoughts on what your personal future ambitions are?

Mara: To be honest, I never thought I would stick around at a company for more than two years, right? Everybody jumps around every two years, nowadays especially. So it’s been six and a half years and I continue loving it as much as I did in day one. It’s just a combination of continued learning and growing and the amazing culture. That just keeps me coming back for more and I know that we do have a lot of really exciting plans for the future (we’re opening our own lab in upstate New York soon) plus this continued expansion into retail. We opened our first store in Canada this year.

There’s just so much more that we can do. Our brand awareness in New York, in California, is pretty high but throughout the rest of the country and potentially rest of the world, there’s a huge opportunity there. It really feels like we’re still just getting started. And there are so many more opportunities for the company and so many more opportunities for me to continue to learn and develop myself and continue to add value to the growing organization. So that keeps me around.

Craig: What does that mean? How do you want to continue to develop yourself?

Mara: I mean… I have about a 150 people on my team. I’ve never managed a 150 people before. Actually, Warby Parker was the first experience that I had managing anyone. So continuing to grow my team and scale my team, making sure that we’re investing in our employees in the best way while we continue to learn how to scale the organization in the best way, and the way that I do that is making sure that I’m a better leader every day.

I just continue to expose myself to other companies that have gone through this growth before, have done what we have done before, continue to read a lot of books, just developing myself in any way possible.

Craig: Most people in the world have not managed 150 people. And, I mean, you’re easy to have a conversation with but I imagine there are other things that aren’t your strong suit, right? So what did you have to learn along the way?

Mara: Everything.

Craig: [Laughter] Okay. How about–what was counterintuitive for you?

Mara: I don’t know. Let’s see. That’s a really good question. So I am very much a planner and I like to be very organized in everything that I do. I think in the beginning it was a lot more stressful to not be able to have everything planned out. You just have to roll with the punches and you just have to figure things out as they get thrown at you. And so eventually you then get used to that culture and then you have to break out of that and go into process mode and make sure that you have really great processes in place so everybody in the organization is empowered to take action in a way that’s consistent throughout the entire organization.

A lot of what I learned is around lean, Six Sigma thinking and how to implement it into daily practices. You have to realize that everything isn’t going to be exactly the way you want it and how you would do it. But if you are able to have enough processes in place and enough structure in place with enough guiding posts like strategic objectives and milestone metrics and core values, then you empower everyone to take action, to make decisions and learn on their own. Then you can then help them learn through the great decisions or bad ones and, of course, correct from there.

That’s been more of the learning challenge. As you grow into a leader and, of course, as the team continues to grow, making sure that those ideas seep through to all of the layers of the organization.

Craig: Yeah, each person on a hundred-person team is not as effective or easy to evaluate as each person on a ten person team, right? So you’re not 10X more productive and managing that process does make a lot of sense. As your ambitions scale, do you feel that you have founder-type ambitions in you at some point?

Mara: Potentially? I mean, I’ve learned so much here and I feel like if I did want to, that I would be able to start a company myself. Nothing planned for the moment but potentially, one day.

Craig: Anyway, so the founders were all dudes, right?

Mara: Yep.

Craig: So you were obviously the first female hire. What’s that dynamic like?

Mara: I don’t know. I think it’s just hard to really put myself in those shoes just because in every experience I have had even before Warby, I haven’t had that much of an issue with being the only woman in the workplace and having to just work that much harder to speak up or to assert myself or something like that. Once we moved to New York, the two other guys became board members and stepped out of day to day operations and it was really only the two co-CEOs that stayed on board. And so maybe that’s why it didn’t feel very daunting.

Craig: Interesting. Ok, let’s move on then. What books are you reading right now? Are you a business book person?

Mara: Yes, most recently I’ve been reading a couple of HBRs business books which are compilations of great articles – HBR’s 10 Must Reads on Managing Yourself and HBR’s 10 Must Reads on Managing People – and my personal favorite which I’m having my entire team read right now is How to Win Friends and Influence People.

Craig: Cool. So we usually ask people about lessons learned. Maybe you could break that up into first employee learnings and general learnings?

Mara: Sure. So learnings from early days, first. I think that the most successful people that I’ve seen in startup settings are people that have no ego. They just know that shit needs to get done. You really just need to put your head down and figure things out and just make it work. So hauling boxes to UPS or cleaning glasses or when we got a batch of bad glasses, going through them and realizing that they were all bad and counting them up and then sending them back. So you just need to make the time and you just need to do it and you need to figure out how to do it in the best way. But working at a startup is really hard and it’s more than a hundred hours a week. It’s all consuming and you just have to be ready for it.

I think that those are sort of just my general learnings from startup life. It’s not for everyone. And I guess in terms of growing into the position that I am today and moving forward, I think part of the learnings that I’ve taken away from the last six and a half years in terms of hiring for your team, is that you need to focus more on the behaviors that you’re hiring for.

We really believe in hiring passionate, curious, proactive people rather than people that have the specific skills or experience that maybe you’re hoping to get because in the end, if the person doesn’t fit into at least those three behaviors at Warby Parker, they’re just not going to be successful. And we are a company that moves quickly and we want to be able to depend on everyone to be a problem solver and to think in a proactive manner. You can always teach the other things. I can always give somebody exposure to going to a conference or sitting down with somebody from a different company that has done these specific roles before. But you really do need to hire for behaviors and if you make a mistake, it’s better to call it quits sooner rather than later.

Craig: And what about hiring people that aren’t like you?

Mara: It’s also a very much of a learning process and you have to learn how to manage to everyone’s personality. You have to understand what you’re hiring that person for and then how to manage them in the best way to use those skills that you really hired them for and then supplement what they don’t have.

Craig: Last question. Would you consider yourself a good manipulator of people?

Mara: That is a really bad way of putting it.

Craig: [Laughter]

Mara: You mean like influencing people?

Craig: No. I mean, you can call it whatever you want but I think “manipulation” is unfairly cast in a negative light and is different. I think it’s actually one of the strongest skill sets someone can have. I think “influence” might work toward a similar output but the input is different . Anyway, I look around and there are certain people that are obviously good at it and certain people that aren’t great and certain people where you’re like, “I don’t know if you’re really good or terrible.”

Mara: So, honestly, I’ve learned how to be better in the last six years. I know initially the whole political games in an organization killed me. It really killed me to think you had to speak in a way or you had to manipulate people to get your job done. But through the advice of a colleague I read “How to Win Friends and Influence People” by Dale Carnegie and learned that it’s not necessarily about manipulating people to get your job done, but how to influence others in a way that everyone wins in the end.

It’s hard, but a lot of practice has helped me get better. I think I can still get better, but I’ve definitely made a lot of strides in the last few years. I feel like it’s something that people just have to continue working on…

Craig: Well, I mean, perhaps this is obvious but these things, these interviews, are like therapy sessions for me as I’m figuring shit out.

Mara: [Laughter]

Craig: [Laughter] But really, that challenge of figuring out how steer a group of people that you may not completely vibe with is fascinating to me. Anyway, this has been super fun. Thanks so much for your time.

Mara: This was a lot of fun.

Craig: Totally. Thanks Mara!

[thefairefolk-rp]

Hey, Nic! Your second character app for Preston Reed has been accepted!

Name/Nickname: Nic

Age: 27

Preferred Pronouns: She/her

Timezone: Central (US)

Activity and Availability (Please answer in words as well as rating your availability from 1-10): 7 I’m on pretty regularly, but will be moving (again) likely fairly soon and starting a new job.

Have you read the rules and FAQ? Yes

IC INFORMATION:

Desired Character: Preston Reed

Second Choice Character: Billie Spruce

What made you choose this character?: Preston is quirky and interesting, new to the fae world and wildly curious, which I find fascinating, as well as his need to research and learn everything he can about faeries.

Are there any changes you would like to make?: None that I can think of.

Questions/Comments: I’m not sure if my description of Preston’s experience being a Gifted human and having the Sight is completely accurate; please let me know if any of it is incorrect so I can write it more accurately in the future.

Writing Sample (Must be 300 words or more, third person limited, in the character you’re auditioning for’s point of view):

“This won’t do, this won’t do,” Preston mumbled under his breath, shifting through papers in such a hurry he knocked them from his desk onto the floor. “Drompits,” he said a bit louder, the closest he ever came to cursing being his own made-up words. He found cursing to be crude, especially in polite company, but he wasn’t above making up his own ways of expressing his frustration.

“Doctor?” A woman’s voice called from upstairs.

“Yes, I’m coming, I’m coming,” Preston called back, forgetting the paperwork and rushing for the stairs. He only stumbled twice in his rush up the stairs, smiling brightly despite his disheveled appearance when he appeared at the top of the stairs, into the small clinic he had set up.

It really was a nice set up. When the Queen had offered him room and board, he hadn’t known it would be quite to this extent. Perhaps he should have, when he was shown through Olia, where his office was to be set up. He had worried as he passed high-end shops and more than one fae clearly of high status, that the less well-off occupants of the area either wouldn’t know to come there, or that they wouldn’t be comfortable coming there to visit a doctor. His fears were allayed though, when he was given a house just on the edge of Olia. Easy access from just about anywhere, and still close enough that he could make trips to the castle when his services were needed there. That was a stipulation of this agreement, and not one he was unhappy with, that he be available should the Queen or anyone of her Court in the castle need him. The castle was quite spectacular, and he was more than willing to visit as often as needed.

His home though, was far nicer than he’d expected, and with ample space for what he needed and more. There was a large sitting room and office just off the side of it in the front of the house, which Preston used to meet his patients, taking them back into the office where he had set up various supplies to check over and treat his patients. The rest of the house was a dedicated living space, which was considerably too large for Preston by himself.

The downstairs of the house, though— Oh, that was his playground.

The basement had been a dingy, blank slate when he moved in, not nearly as nice as the rest of the house, but he had been ecstatic about it from day one. For the first week, he didn’t open his clinic, instead focusing on getting everything set up. The first two days had been dedicated to the space upstairs for the patients, while the remainder of the week he hardly slept, too focused on turning the basement into any scientist’s dream laboratory. Of course, he didn’t have most of the ingredients for medicines that he was accustomed to, but he had a wonderful time searching through an alchemy shop to see what he could find to work with. He wasn’t to the point of being able to truly do much research and experiments, not until he acquired more background information on the available plants and herbs in Wisteria, but he couldn’t be happier with his lab. The Queen had ensured he had everything he needed, only the best new equipment available.

When he found his way upstairs and into the large sitting room, a young boy that looked no older than twenty— though Preston knew he must be far older— was leaning against the wall watching him with an amused smile.

"Hello,” he said, slightly confused. He scanned the room before looking back to ask if this was his patient, but the boy was walking towards him, a look of interest on his face.

“So it’s true then, you have the Sight,” the boy said. It wasn’t a term Preston was unfamiliar with, at least not since he’d arrived in Wisteria a few weeks ago, though it did make him feel a bit like a petting zoo animal, the way people stared. But then, he stared in fascination at them in much the same way, so perhaps he couldn’t be too cross.

Despite them not saying it, he always knew what people meant when they made the observation. They had been trying to hide. Preston couldn’t tell when someone was trying to use a glamour or not, or trying to be invisible; he just always saw them, exactly as they were. It had made it rather difficult, on his way here when his escort from the castle had commented on some piece of decoration at a home, which he apparently thought was very impressive, but it had evidently been a deception, and Preston had only been able to nod and hum his agreement about some glamoured object he couldn’t see.

“Are you my patient?“ he asked the boy, deciding to ignore the observation. "I’m terribly sorry, I thought I heard a woman’s voice— how rude of me, I’m Dr.—“

“Preston Reed, I know,” the boy said, reaching out to shake his hand. Preston’s bright smile faltered slightly as he continued. “And no, I’m not your patient. I just chased her out, actually.

“You what?” Preston asked in disbelief. He dropped the boy’s hand and rushed to the window to look out, seeing a young red-haired woman retreating down the street. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because she wasn’t sick,” the boy answered. He waved dismissively. “Everyone’s curious, you know. She was as well. How the town’s new human doctor could cure illnesses of faeries. I expect that’s why most of your patients have come, haven’t they?” He asked. Preston just stared at him, uncertain how to answer.

Of course, it seemed that a majority of his patients (alright, probably all of them, with a few being incredibly good liars) that he’d had since he’d been open for the last two weeks really had no maladies for him to tend to. They seemed more curious and skeptical of a human doctor showing up to treat the illnesses of fairies. Which was probably a fair skepticism.

Preston still wasn’t entirely sure how he was to do his job, though he was having a wonderful and exciting time figuring it out. So far he had seen several people for headaches, most of whom miraculously felt better after only sitting and talking with Preston for a short time, usually dismissing his questions about their health in favor of asking him questions about his experience. He had bandaged a few scrapes and cuts though, so that was something.

“How many of your patients have you found to actually be ill, Dr. Reed?” The boy continued.

“One did have a rather bad cough,” Preston answered, a bit defensively. “Why are you here, Mr….?”

The boy smiled, more politely this time. “Sindri Burke, Dr. Reed. And I’m here because I found these,” he held out a handful of neatly stacked papers, which Preston recognized immediately. He took the stack and flipped through. A dozen posters all the same.

“You took down every one of them?” He asked, looking up at Sindri.

“You don’t need them any more,” he answered. “I expected that the first job of your new assistant would be to take down the advertisements of your need for an assistant, so I just jumped ahead a bit.”

Preston smiled, not bothering trying to tamper down his excitement at someone answering his posters. And a faerie no less! Of course, he shouldn’t be all that surprised, given where he was. But it still was all quite new, seeing and speaking to the fae that he’d seen in the woods for so long, always just out of reach. Now he had the opportunity to work with one!

“Your qualifications?” Preston asked, raising his eyebrows at the boy as he tried to put on a more professional air.

“I’m a quick study, my mother was a healer during the war, and I learned a lot from her. I’m also incredibly organized, and I’m good at telling when people are lying about being sick,” he added with a small smirk. “Saves you the trouble of bothering with idiots just trying to get a look at the town’s shiny new toy.”

Preston hummed thoughtfully, looking over the posters as though they held the decision that he already knew he was going to make. It did sound quite wonderful. He hoped the ‘shiny new toy’ visits would calm down after a week or two, once people got used to him being there, but until then, it would certainly be helpful to have someone to weed out those people. It saved Preston the trouble of having to dash up from his lab every few minutes to assess another faerie without an illness, only a curiosity.

“Alright, we’ll give it a shot,” Preston said, looking up at Sindri with a bright smile. “Can you start today?” He asked, reaching out to shake the fae’s hand again.

“Absolutely,” Sindri said, finally showing a level of excitement that Preston hoped for. He paused for a moment, suddenly a bit awkward as his eyes fell back to the posters. “Is there a— The poster said, room and board would be provided?”

“Oh, yes, of course, I’d nearly forgotten,” Preston laughed. Sindri relaxed with a soft smile, and Preston wondered if that was really the reason he’d come for the job. It wasn’t his business to ask, but perhaps he’d get to know the boy as time went on, so he didn’t press, but just gestured down the hallway. “Down there, kitchen’s on the left. The last room on the right is mine. There’s three other bedrooms, you can pick any one that you like. I’m thinking of turning one of the rooms into an overnight patient room, if anyone needs it, what do you think?”

Sindri looked surprised at being asked for his opinion already, but he looked down the hall thoughtfully. “Think it’d come in handy. Is this one of the rooms here?” He walked down the hall and pulled open the first door on the right, just across from the kitchen. “Yes, it’s closest to the rest of the medical supplies, I think this would be the best room for overnight patients. I’ll take one of the rooms further down.”

“Excellent!” Preston bounced up on his toes excitedly. Finally, he had someone else to share this place with, and his research. “Right, well, I’ll let you get settled in. We’ll work on turning this into a patient’s room later this week. If you need me, or if any patients need me, I’ll be in my lab downstairs. Feel free to come and see it as well, if you’d like. I rather like it. It’s not much, but it will be! Oh, it will be magnificent, Sindri!” He bounced away, back towards the stairs, not minding the soft chuckle that he heard from the boy behind him. Things here in this strange new land just seemed to get more and more exciting by the day.