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[struwberrii]

haikyuu!! at an american highschool ⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ

pt.1 here pt.3 here

these are just some of my silly headcannons on how i think hq characters would act and what stereotypes they would be at an american highschool (as an american highschooler ☝️🤓)

characters: kuroo, kenma, bokuto, akaashi, oikawa, iwaizumi

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

kuroo

literally the biggest nerd but sm girls crush on him

the type of guy you gotta hit your friends with the “hear me out” before you say he’s cute

kind of annoying and cocky about his intelligence but ppl still like him

gets real creative about his insults towards ugly people

wears cringey dad graphic tees bc he has no style

crunchy coughs in class a lil too often….

has the oldest most beat up car on the planet like it’s a safety hazard driving that thing

always smells really weird like cigarettes or something despite not smoking a day in his life

debate club.

his note books have like water stains and the covers are like torn apart and look like they were used as a shield during a war

offers all his friends rides but is such a scary driver

makes fun of ppl “lovingly” but he’s lowkey a bully

jokingly owns a minecraft hoodie he bought from the kids section and it’s SO TIGHT it’s a crime to wear that out with his big self

kenma

wears the same clothes multiple days in a row, he don’t gaf he probably slept in ts too 😭

probably doesn’t really smell bad, just kind of…. moist? marinated?

his hair is probably really greasy sometimes

always brings some type of gaming console to school and plays during lunch and during any free time he has

sneaks his phone when he isn’t supposed to and has never been caught

for some reason he sits with cool people despite NEVER talking during class and never going out of his way to make friends (kuroo forces him to hang out with his friends)

raged at his game super loud in class one time and got so embarrassed he begged his counselor to take him out of that class

his grades are ok for someone who never studies or even really pays attention

some of his teachers have gone entire school years without ever remembering his name

has the best comebacks to everyone, he is not afraid to clock you

bokuto

drives the biggest jeep or like ford bronco ever and is actually a decent driver

his parking is TERRIBLE though and he never bothers to fix it

probably would play football (i’m sorry guys) and is constantly at risk of getting kicked off the team for his grades

akaashi helps him study to stay on the team

genuinely the biggest himbo, a bunch of the girls think he’s adorable but he never gets the hint

posts silly gym selfies on his story

book bag has like 1 notebook in it, maybe a pencil if he’s lucky

teachers secretly love him (but not enough to pass him)

i feel like he’d also try and join the swim team for some reason

i feel like he’d eat burger king for lunch :,(

girls confide in him with their drama even though he gives no helpful feedback or advice and just occasionally gasps and goes “no way”

has the most cracked iphone screen on the planet

akaashi

probably taking like half honors classes or AP (idk how it works i’m not at a regular high school sorry guys </3)

gets school iced coffee for breakfast

takes super good and detailed notes and helps bokuto despite being a lower grade

wears the funkiest outfits but girls still think he’s cute

no girls talk to him though because he’s so quiet

always has at least 1 airpod in

sells pics of his notes

sometimes goes off campus for lunch with bokuto, but refuses to eat burger king

other days he probably has salad for lunch

probably in like orchestra but never carries his instrument in the halls bc he thinks it’s embarrassing

bokuto is loud af cheering him on when they have concerts

also sneaks his phone during class but got caught one time and now he’s kind of too scared to use it

iwaizumi

wears those tight work out shirts to show off his muscles

probably drinks like protein drinks in class

has the biggest water bottle ever like bro drinks a gallon of water every period

has a SUPER old iphone or like an android he refuses to upgrade because it gets the job done

always posting about his gains

probably crashed his car and his bumper is like hanging off his car

in like a weight lifting or body building club and is probably the leader of said club

he and oikawa are a very popular duo

occasionally skips class if he ever just doesn’t feel like going

his notes are so vague and short yet he understands and remembers everything he wrote

his grades are insanely good too

literally only wears sports clothing

uses really good smelling cologne but since he’s so active there’s always a hint of must from all the sweat :,(

oikawa

man hoe

he has been in just about every girls dms at some point

his grades are like, okay? he’s not failing

does stuff for female validation, like ik if he had a cat he’d be posting it on his story constantly and like flexing his hand veins

drives a bmw

if he’s actually in a relationship, he’s super loyal tho

his teachers kinda hate him

still uses snapchat and his snap score is like 500k

has decent fashion but dresses mildly gay at the same time

people constantly make jokes abt him and iwa being gay and he gets so mad (maybe he’s projecting idk)

smells a little like vanilla

he and iwa get in n out for lunch and eat in his car

[mshroom1e]

ೃ⁀➷ Baby My Phone

type: headcanons

listen to me yap about what phones i’d think twst characters would have.

2.2k words

Characters: NRC students

╰┈➤ Riddle

Uses a landline.

╰┈➤ Ace

He uses an iPhone but it’s one of those broken, screen protector hanging off, yellow clear case iPhone 8s.

He still thinks his phone is better than an Android and refuses to switch.

His wallpaper is one of those with a massive Nike tick and a “just do it” in a neon red camouflage pattern.

He hasn’t changed it since he was 12.

-2/10

╰┈➤ Deuce

He has a Samsung for sure.

It’s not one of the most expensive ones like an S24 Ultra but it’s reliable.

He’s got a pretty average phone case. It’s navy blue and heavy-duty, making his phone practically indestructible.

His wallpaper is probably yellow with a cartoonish picture of a chick breaking out of an egg.

Pretty simple.

Distinguished taste for an equally distinguished gentleman.

9/10

╰┈➤ Trey

He has a Samsung S10.

I don’t know why, but he just does.

I can also see him using one of those grandpa wallet cases where he carries everything inside.

His phone case doubles as a purse with the bits and bobs he puts in there.

It’s literally a fanny pack that just happens to have space to hold a phone.

Need a napkin? Hold on, let him get it from his phone case real quick.

It’s really handy but a little ridiculous with the amount of stuff he carries in there.

The battery life is hammered thanks to the hours of temple run his siblings play on it whenever he goes home for holidays.

His wallpaper is probably a picture of his siblings, which is cute.

4/10.

Would be higher if it wasn’t for the silly wallet case.

╰┈➤ Cater

We’ve already seen his phone multiple times in game, so I don’t think I have much to say.

His wallpaper is bold, like the phone case he uses.

It’s not exactly ugly, but it definitely suits him.

It’s just not something most people would want to put on their phones.

He’s 100% an iPhone user but he’s the type that gets the new model that comes out every year.

Either that or he’s using one of his sister’s hand-me-downs that’s an iPhone 13. (just like me fr).

6/10

If it wasn’t for that peculiar phone case, I’d rate it higher.

╰┈➤ Leona

I can see him using a Samsung S24 Ultra.

He barely uses it, though.

Most of the time, he tosses the phone at his nephew to keep him distracted when he sees him at home.

Because of that, he’s got a home screen full of kids' mobile games like Talking Tom and Subway Surfers.

The phone’s got a small crack in the screen from when Cheka dropped it but it wasn’t a big deal so Leona never bothered to get it fixed or replaced.

He’s got a leopard print phone case and his wallpaper is a selfie Reggie took with him sleeping and set it on his lock screen that he never bothered to change.

7/10

Again, the phone case is a no from me.

╰┈➤ Ruggie

He uses a Samsung too.

It’s an older model, like an S10+.

It’s a gift from Leona that he tossed at Ruggie one day.

Ruggie is pretty grateful for it since he was wondering how he’d contact his grandmother back at home without a phone since he wouldn’t be able to get a durable one until a while of saving up.

He takes pretty good care of it and there’s no scratches or cracks.

His wallpaper matches the selfie of himself and Leona that he set as the latter’s lock screen.

He got himself a heavy-duty phone case just to make sure it doesn’t get damaged.

10/10.

Totally not biased.

╰┈➤ Jack

He’s an iPhone user, probably sporting an iPhone 12 Pro Max. You can’t blame him for needing a large phone when he’s got pretty big hands.

He uses a clear case that’s somehow got no yellowing to it and his phone is green. It’s got a pretty wrecked battery life thanks to the younger sibling x phone syndrome.

His little sister killed the battery life with her 500 cumulative hours on Roblox and Among Us.

He doesn’t really mind since he doesn’t use his phone more than like 4 times a day.

8/10

Pretty cool.

╰┈➤ Azul

A tasteful Samsung user.

He’s one of those people who thinks iPhones are a scam and refuses to buy into it, like the classy businessman he is.

(he just has no idea how to use one).

Idk if Merfolk have waterproof phones or just communicate with echolocation but let’s pretend that the fish people have phones too.

He sports a Samsung Z Flip5 in lavender. He also has a baby blue phone case with a little seashell on it.

The twins tease him about his cutesy design choice but he shrugs it off since he knows it looks good.

It’s a shame he rarely uses the phone when he’s not going to send emails, do schoolwork and post on the lounge’s social media, though.

He also watches food ASMR videos. His wallpaper is a picture of the sea in the usual daytime lighting.

10/10

Very nice

╰┈➤ Jade

Another Android Avenger using a Samsung S22 in sage green.

His phone is in pretty good condition.

Though, he’s got a few spots of soil trapped between his screen protector and the end of his phone case.

There’s only like a single, tiny crack on his screen protector for dropping it on the floor face first when in the Botanical Garden talking to his little plants.

Can’t really blame him since he looks up tutorials when handling new spores. His phone case is transparent with (you guessed it) a pattern of little mushrooms littered on the back.

His wallpaper is a pic of him and Floyd when they were in their first year at NRC. It’s a strangely cute phone for someone as shady as Jade.

7/10

Nice, but the mushrooms r kinda overkill.

╰┈➤ Floyd

His phone doesn’t have a single crack on it.

He’s someone who takes really good care of his stuff and has a bunch of screen protectors since he knows how prone he is to dropping and accidentally throwing his phone.

His battery is fried tho since he’s notorious for playing a bunch of those silly mobile games like Fill the Fridge or Crowd City.

When he isn’t tormenting people with his deadly hugs, he’s sat perched in a corner gargoyle style with his eyes glazed over as he plays Block Blast with a score of 10,000.

Floyd’s pretty diverse with his phone case and he changes it depending on how he feels that day. Most of the time, he goes for his pale green one with an eel drawing on it, like the bag he used during the Camp Vargas event.

His wallpaper is either matching with Jade’s or a random photo of the sea he took a few days ago.

10/10

Very cool

╰┈➤ Kalim

Gets the newly released iPhone every year.

He’s not that bad though, since he gives his old one to his sibling and they pass it on to the next sibling like One For All.

His phone has no cracks on it too. He makes sure to take good care of it since he knows it’s gonna be his younger sibling’s phone in about a year and he doesn’t want them to have to use a broken phone.

He’s just nice like that. His phone case is orange with little peach circles dotted all around the back.

He’s another notorious mobile gamer with his number 1 game being Where’s My Water. His lock screen is a particularly nice-looking spread from one of the many parties he’s had over at his dorm.

10/10

Kalim is the best

╰┈➤ Jamil

Humble Samsung S21 user.

He may or may have not opted for this brand out of spite after Kalim suggested he get an iPhone so they could easily AirDrop stuff to each other.

(Quick Share is better anyway)

Isn’t much of a mobile gamer but he’s found a second home on AITA communities on Reddit.

I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them.

Jamil’s wallpaper is either something pretty like the sunset at his dorm or something silly like a selfie he took doing face masks with his sister.

As per sibling rules, however, he always makes sure to change his second lock screen any time he goes home.

She can’t know that he cares that much.

1000/10

Jamil favouritism.

╰┈➤ Vil

iPhone 15 pro max ultra mega sigma plus plus premium user.

Sometimes he has to record videos on his phone, so he needs one with the best camera and screen refresh rate possible.

It’s scary how he has no games on his phone except Wordscapes.

Believes screen time is terrible for your skin (is it?) and refuses to spend more than an hour on it outside of updating his different social media accounts.

His phone has no cracks and he hates greasy screens so best believe he’s got a glass cleaner wipe tucked into his pocket everywhere he goes.

His phone case is purple with a pop socket in the shape of a gold crown. His wallpaper is a picture of himself (ofc it is) from his favourite photoshoot.

6/10

Vil

╰┈➤ Rook

Samsung Soldier.

Rook uses a hefty Samsung Fold5.

Sometimes he needs a phone to do phone stuff and sometimes he needs a tablet to view a proper sized map of NRC for various uses I will not elaborate on for legal reasons.

When Vil takes away Epel’s phone, I imagine Rook allows Epel to use his phone to play Subway Surfers or Roblox.

Lives risky life and doesn’t use a case or a screen protector.

His phone somehow isn’t shattered especially after the billion times it’s fallen to the ground at the speed of light when he watches people from trees.

His lock screen is a Pinterest collage of Vil. 5/10

Vil

I refuse to elaborate

╰┈➤ Epel

Cracked Samsung S9.

Been using the same phone since he was 12 and refuses to let it go.

Anytime he falls, the phone disassembles and his battery goes flying.

He has to do a walk of shame each time to pick up his battery and put it back inside his phone.

Sometimes he stays up until 3 am playing COD mobile with Deuce and hides his phone under his pillow every time Vil opens his door to make sure the first years are asleep.

His wallpaper is a really cute selfie with him and the rest of the first year group. No phone case.

9/10

The battery thing is sadly relatable

╰┈➤ Idia

He uses a Samsung S24 Ultra.

Perfect mix of amazing performance as well as free rein to go into developer mode or download any 3rd party apps and modded games as much as he wishes.

Strongly believes Android is better.

When he isn’t raging at kids on Fortnite, he’s hidden in a corner of his room reading fanfic on AO3.

He will not tell a soul why his screen time shows that he has 6 hours every day on Samsung internet.

His phone case, I imagine would be a basic black with a little doodle of a cat on the back.

His wallpaper would be a pic of his PC setup when he thought it looked particularly cool.

10/10

Super techy.

╰┈➤ Ortho

He is the phone.

╰┈➤ Malleus

Uses a landline.

╰┈➤ Lilia

He has an iPhone 14 and no one can tell me it isn’t Kuromi-themed.

I’m talking lock screen, phone case, home screen, widgets, and icons.

It’s the black and pink/purple pallette that they both sport that makes my brain associate the two.

He’s got a few cracks and scratches from when he hangs upside down and his phone crashes to the ground like a missile.

One of his other lock screens is a pic of Silver when he was a baby and walking for the first time.

Don’t tell Silver, though.

8/10

Super cute.

╰┈➤ Silver

Lilia got him an iPhone 14 too so they could AirDrop things to each other and FaceTime every day for the year Lilia was at NRC without Silver.

Other than that, Silver rarely uses his phone.

His sleep timer is through the roof since he hibernates for most of the day.

He’s got a plain black phone case and everything on his phone is at default settings.

Including home and lock screens.

6/10

Very normal

╰┈➤ Sebek

Wanted to be cool like Malleus and have no phone since he does not wish to partake in the use of technology of human invention.

Instantly takes back that statement once he was out with the Diasomnia dorm and got lost in a marketplace.

Lilia and co had spent hours looking for him. After that, Lilia got him one of those “my first phone” gadgets for kids where the only contact numbers are emergency services and parents and the “parents” can easily access his location.

That way, they can prevent any accidents that creates their very own “Finding Sebek” franchise.

5/10

Very silly.

[princessbrunette]

i need a longer blurb of jj teaching reader how to smoke 🙏🏻 possible shotgunning

i was hoping someone would ask teehee ♡

suggestive themes down below, mentions of weed etc

jj cringes at himself as he taps the cracked screen of his iphone, hitting play on the spotify playlist titled simply with the leaf emoji — a subtle and yet juvenile nod to it being his smoking playlist. what kind of nerd actually has a playlist made and ready to hit play when hanging out with a pretty girl, he thinks — cheeks a little red under the dim light. his shitty speaker hiccups and splutters before playing the music smoothly, just as he comes to drop down beside you on the comfy old couch.

“anyway, fuck uh— i don’t remember. it doesn’t matter.” he waves a hand, pushing his heels into the ground to lift up his hips so he can pull the rolled J out his back pocket.

“your concentration is terrible.” you tease with a giggle, legs tucked beneath you. he recalls you looking particularly adorable in that moment, and his brain malfunctions for a second as he looks at you before he forces out a response.

“uh… yeah — i got that letter thing.”

“adhd?”

“thats the one.” he presses his fingers tightly around the compact J before patting his front pockets for a lighter. “you smoke?”

it was the first time you’d had the privilege of hanging out with just JJ alone. you were sarah’s friend, and had tagged along with her to a few pogue hangouts when she’d started dating john b. you all seemed to get on well as a group, and you were pretty meek and shy most of the time — which they found pretty endearing, so they kept you around. you were harmless, and brought an oddly charming sense of innocence to their reckless and vulgar world. you’d started harbouring a little crush on JJ since you’d met, all smiles and doe eyes whenever he was up to his usual nonsense. he was loud and untameable, but always made an effort to behave around you. the special attention made you melt.

“JJ you’re yelling.” pope would accuse and the blonde would hold his hands up.

“sorry.” he’d apologise before turning specifically to you. “sorry. those pretty ears. shouldn’t be hearing that.” he waves it off and continues with whatever rant he was on, but your smile doesn’t go away for like 2 minutes.

his effort didn’t go unnoticed by the pogues, and since you weren’t technically a pogue yourself — and it wouldn’t be breaking any pogue rules, john b and sarah specifically had encouraged the two of you to hang out alone, leaving JJ the keys to the chateau. it made total sense to them, john b desperately wanted jj to be happy (and to get some, from a nice girl.) and sarah was enthralled by the idea of double dates based off ideas she’d tucked into a pinterest board. whilst the blonde was infamous for making bad decisions, he wouldn’t let turning down alone time with a pretty girl be another on his extensive track record.

you eye him where he sits beside you on the small cushy couch, shifting a little — springs clinking beneath you suggesting it may have been a pull out bed. “i’ve never… i haven’t done it before.” you shrug, embarrassed. you envied the pogues in that way, whilst you’d been sheltered your whole life up into adulthood, they’d been able to explore themselves and figure out what they like.

his eyes widen a little and his mouth forms a surprised little ‘o’ shape, before nodding quickly and stuffing the J back into his pocket.

“what are you doing?” your brows furrow.

“don’t wanna make you feel weird, if i smoke ‘n stuff.” he waves a hand dismissively and you shake your head with wide eyes, sitting up a little in your seat.

“oh, no i don’t mind! don’t let me stop you.” you smile as reassuringly as you can. he looks at you for a moment, fixing his hat on his head before pausing a little and turning more toward you.

“totally shoot me down if you don’t wanna but…” he pulls the J back out, slowly and cautiously like it’ll scare you if he moves too fast. “you down to learn? heard i’m quite the teacher.” he smirks, but there’s a friendly twinkle behind his eyes that just makes him so approachable and non-intimidating that you feel completely safe.

“m’kay, yeah, i’ve always wanted to know what it feels like.” your voice is soft behind your wide smile and he wants to slap himself for staring at you for so long.

“alright, that’s the spirit.” he mirrors your grin, tossing his lighter in the air and catching it.

“i didn’t know smoking was something that needed to be taught.” you comment, shuffling a little downward so you can lean against the couch more— getting as comfortable as you can in your sweet little sundress. you were sat so close now you could feel his body heat radiating onto you, and it was doing something crazy to your stomach. that, and the way he looked, manspreading casually on the couch, white tee and black sweatpants, frowning in concentration as he presses the joint between his lips, holding a flame to the end of it until it glows and then shaking out the flame.

registering your words, he sends you a little face of mock offence that makes you giggle. he inhales deep and holds the smoke in his lungs, voice strained when he responds. “nah, this shit is an art form. ‘course it can be taught.” exhale. you find you’re holding your breath too.

“yeah this’ll be good for your first time, asked my guy for somethin’ weaker cos’ i didn’t want you to think i was bein’ a weirdo or whatever, smoking you out with the strong stuff so i can be creepy. i know some guys do that.” he rambles before taking another shorter toke, brows creased as he concentrates on his mini review.

“you bought weed especially for hanging out with me?” you smile kindly and he gapes for a millisecond, holding the J between his fingers and he blinks, caught out.

“yeah.” he shrugs. “s’like buying you flowers. but better.” he shuffles closer to you on the seat. before you have time to overthink the flowers comment, he’s carefully holding the joint to your lips, his own eyes wide and already a little glossy.

“i’m nervous.” you giggle, briefly holding his hovering wrist to stabilise you both.

“hey, you’re in good hands i swear, i’ll look after you.” he promises, free hand cupping your cheek with a teasing but far from unkind expression. “you’re my little baby tonight.” it was made to be a joke but your stomach does a little somersault.

“‘kay.” your lips brush the tip of the J and he has to force himself not to think something inappropriate.

“what i want you to do is breathe in and then hold it, ‘kay?” he instructs and you do so, eyes looking to him for guidance. it burns and tickles your throat at the same time but it’s not awful, you don’t even cough. maybe this is rare, because he grins when you squint— holding it in your chest. “atta girl! see, you’re born for this. breathe out for me.” his voice is closer, and therefore quieter, more intimate. you’re a lightweight by nature, so by your second toke the delay starts to unwind and you start feeling a buzz.

sativa by jhené aiko starts to play through the cheap speaker by the time you’re really feeling it. he’s talking to you the whole time, talking you through it, praising you. your whole body feels hot and you revel in the euphoria of feeling so safe and comfortable in someone’s presence. you lean against his shoulder a little, giggling over a little anecdote he told you about his day with pope.

he’s grinning with pretty pink eyes, turning to look down at you, really look at you close up. his heart stammers because you’re so damn beautiful and he nearly chokes on smoke. that would have been embarrassing.

“you’re cute.” he lifts his cap for a second, running a hand through his hair and you tilt your head, joint still clasped between your fingers.

“really?”

“totally. i’d complain about anyone else getting lipgloss on the joint, but you’re cute so you’re allowed.” he jokes and you’re off again, leaning more into him as you chortle. his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer until your head rests against him. he looks down at you, a warm smile bordering on chuckle spreading across his face at the way you’re gazing up at him like he hung the moon and stars for you. “y’wanna learn something else?” he offers and you’re slow, but eager— eyes widening hazily and nodding clumsily.

“alright. y’trust me, yeah?” he adjusts his position a little.

“mhm, yeah i do JJ.” you’re all dazed and openly crushing. he seems pretty into it and you’re glad, because someone a little meaner might find it pathetic.

he takes your hand holding the joint and brings your fingers that clasp it to his lips, where he then takes a hit. his palms encase your jaw, pulling your face to his. he pulls ever so slightly, so your mouth gapes before he’s breathing the smoke slowly into your mouth. your heart hammers, and your hands are frozen but you get the hint and inhale, feeling the second hand burn. you open your eyes, not remembering having closed them and he’s staring at you— and you don’t get the chance to pull away because he’s closing the gap again and pressing his lips fully to yours.

you let out a quiet moan at the surprise, the sound from your throat a lot more vulgar than intended and he pulls back after a moment, eyes flickering between yours.

“sorry.”

“dont be. i wanna do it again. can we?”

“the smoking thing or the…” he trails off as you lean in slowly, a curious and sweet expression tainted with a glossy haze of intoxication and lust. you’d never been like this before with anyone, hell— you’d never felt like this.

you press your lips to his, kissing him simply before pulling back. your brows pinch together and be bites back a smile, thumbing at your cheekbone.

“wh’sthe matter?” he whispers.

“there’s more you need to teach me.” you bat your eyelashes at him and he feels himself wake up from the waist down, subtly adjusting himself.

“well we got all night.” he teases before leaning in, this time his mouth taking the lead. the joint is put out and forgotten about as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your swollen lips. “didn’t i say i was a good teacher?”

[from-vuka]

So... this is a drabble (do ppl still use that word?) for a future idea i have of Ghoap x reader.... lol (i think reader is gender neutral but i could be wrong ;;) not all of it is planned out so there may be gaps but imma rewrite into a whole piece maybe????

Listen idk im still getting used to putting myself out there LMAO

cw: implied cheating towards the end, neglectful relationship (not simon), married! reader, "the one that got away" mentality (idk if this is a cw but i put here)

‧₊*: ⋅ଳ⋅˚₊‧𖦹₊⊹⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When they parked, the first question was where to go.

The mission has been a bust. Intel was incorrect or outright wrong, gaps missing in reports that they knew would be a problem later--and they were always right. When shit hit the fan, they knew exactly what to do: collect their people and dip before Laswell had anything to say about shooting at Russian military.

The little SUV they stole was hot, the AC blasting but doing little to quelch the need for water or how sweaty they had gotten running despite the possibility of snow. Price had long since left the car, pacing back and forth as he tried to call Kate. Gaz tinkered on the laptop, seeing if any of the files they were able to download or code ripped from its program could indicate a next step, a lead in the right direction.

Soap and Ghost sat in the trunk; its overhead door open to let in the late autumn breeze.

“Fuck, another night on the fuckin’ ground,” Soap moaned, leaning back against the inner side of the SUV. “Gonna be a rough fu--”

“I know a place,” Simon said quickly, almost too quick. His thumbs, looking too big for the little cracked screen of the iPhone 8 the military gave him (since he refused a smartphone for as long as possible) hit the virtual keyboard. He sent two messages before the machine was buzzing and flashing. He got up, rolled his shoulders, and answered.

Johnny whistled, pulling Gaz from the blue light of his laptop to Simon. His feet paced like John’s but quicker; too much energy for such a short call. His eyes didn’t seem so harsh as he explained the situation, describing his irritation at the whole thing. When he hung up, his body relaxed only a fraction before turning to the car.

“Got us a place to lay low,” He murmured. “Don’t see us getting a hotel from Laswell,” He commented as John cursed and gripped his phone, containing the growing rage for another short while. “Reception out here isn’t gonna happen ‘til the clouds fuck off.”

“The fuck you mean you know a place?” Soap asked, and Simon tugged his arm to pull him out of the trunk.

He closed the trunk door and shoved Soap into the back seat, he himself taking the driver’s seat. John didn’t question their new set-up, sitting in the passenger’s side and pointing the vents at his sweaty skin.

“We’re stayin’ with a friend. Lives remote, no neighbors, little to no internet,” Ghost hummed, pulling off the side of the road and heading to where his GPS blinked in retaliation for the lack of connection.

The team didn’t ask any more questions, too tired from the run to get this shitty little SUV, and instead reflected on the mission and their faults, as if they could have done anything to change the outcome. Bad intel is bad intel—there isn’t a way to fix it or better training to prepare for it. Still, the loss burned their skin like fire ant bites.

At a certain point, the phone stopped giving directions. Gaz questioned it, and Simon’s response made sense: when you live as remote as his friend did, GPS could only take you so far. The rest was muscle memory.

Soap asked him how often he came here. Simon said every time he had to leave the base, get away from the shitty flat he rents only for when he’s off deployments. Most of his possessions, he said, live here. There wasn’t anyone he trusted more than this person.

As they pulled down a dirt road, the first they saw was you.

You stood outside the two-floor cabin, standing on a wrap-around porch, your hands on your hips as you watched the shitty, sad SUV park on the dirt driveway. Simon was the first to pop out despite being the driver, taking big steps up to you and the front door. His body was tense only for a moment before you hugged him hello, silent otherwise, and let him trail mud, dirt, and blood into your home.

The rest watched from the car until you waved them up, turning and heading inside. On edge, they headed into the cabin and found it homey. It wasn’t what they were imagining from previous safe houses: dirty floors with stains and dust; broken or bare furniture, maybe none at all; thick spider webs and old cooking pots.

No, it was homey-homey. The furniture was worn but comfortable, soft blankets and thick pillows over any cushioned surface available. Rugs lined the wooden floors, making pathways for your socked feet. The windows had stained glass art pieces hanging to let the light shine in rainbows, and the few lights that were on at this point in the evening were small table lamps and a candle burning in the renovated and cozy kitchen. They could smell stew cooking on the stovetop and bread baking in the fire oven.

Simon didn’t seem to feel any of the intrusion that they did. His shoes were left by the door, a couple pairs that looked eerily similar lined up on a shoe rack. The coat rack had a mix of grey, Simon-sized hoodies and jackets with fluffy, colorful, graphic jackets that seemed to fit you.

Even as Simon wandered into the kitchen, checking on the stew and bread, he looked like he fit in the small space. He opened the fridge and pulled out a case of ale and a little bottle of wine while you grabbed beer mugs and a few wine glasses. You handed him the bottle openers as he handed you oven mitts for the bread. It was synchronized—Simon had been here enough before to know how you lived and worked.

“Who’s this?” Price asked, breaking the spell between you two. Simon glances at you then at Price.

Simon explained, grinning a little as he did, that you were his best friend of nearly 10 years; that you were the person on his emergency contact and his address when he was deployed. He watched as you started serving the stew and he said that you gave him permission to keep a low profile in your home until Laswell could tell them what to do next. There weren’t any other options available that wouldn’t bring attention to them, unless they wanted to sleep in the woods. Until then, Simon saw no reason to leave this place.

Price wanted to be the one to speak the truth—that Laswell would probably get back to them by morning—but as he watched Simon place full bowls on the kitchen table in the next room over while he mumbled to you about grabbing spoons and butter knives, he couldn’t. Instead, he nodded and led the rest to the table, enjoying the quiet moments of delicious and hot food that were far better than any MRE they had in their backpacks.

The rest of the night was calm. Johhny was eager to ask questions (and John and Kyle ready to listen), but the time never came. After dinner, you showed them where the two bathrooms were and where the guest shower was located. You took them into the basement where several couches and chairs sat around a stove heating the space and a flatscreen with VHS and DVD players. A few retro gaming consoles sat displayed on the TV stand. Pointing out the blankets, comforters, and pillows on one of the couches, you said that the laundry room was in the little space off to the side in case they wanted fresh clothes. Afterwards, you thanked them for keeping the place clean and headed up to the master bedroom.

It didn’t shock any of them when Simon trailed behind you.

Clean, fed, and exhausted, the interrogations began the next morning when you wandered downstairs in one of Simon’s shirts, putting sausage in a cast iron skillet for breakfast. Johnny, now awake and ready to annoy, sat in the kitchen and asked you question after question as you answered honestly.

“Why do you live out here?”

“It’s private.”

“Do you like it here?”

“Yes. Otherwise, I would move.”

“Where do you work?”

“Don’t need to.”

“Why don’t you need to work?”

“I have money.”

“How’d you get it?”

“...Si, usually.”

Johnny smirked like a fox when he thought he caught you, but you just giggle at his obsessive nature and finish up cooking. Simon comes down nearly 30 minutes later, settling beside you in the kitchen as he brews tea and coffee. His hands wandered every now and again to your arms, your side, a hand on your lower back as he moves around the kitchen—which makes Johnny’s eyes boggle. How could Simon be keeping such a sweet thing so hidden? Why is he lying by saying a ‘friend’?

It wasn’t until later, when the morning blurred into afternoon, that they understood why.

When he arrived, Simon’s mood soured while yours grew sweeter, if only for a moment. You kissed the mystery man at the door and told him the situation, to which he didn’t seem to mind. He headed upstairs, practically ignoring your silent requests for tender affection to shower. You sulked a little, trying to put on a brave face as you started on lunch. Simon was there, then, chatting with you more than he did anyone as you prepared subs and fries. They could hear your angelic rings of laughter as he calmed you into your previously happy self.

When the man came back down, he ordered you to grab him a beer, and you did so without a second thought. He demanded you grab the remote, whined when it wasn’t working (“As always,” Simon later grumbled), and took out his frustration on you. He berated your meal with backhanded compliments. He ignored your requests for napkins or salt to finish his food and leave for the shed outside, dirty plate and crumbs left on the table.

You sighed as he left, frowning and watching him disappear into the wooden shed. Then Simon was there again, taking up his seat beside you and set up to finish eating there. His eyes glanced at you, cracking piss-poor dad jokes to get your little voice to chuckle as you finished eating—maybe not as much as Simon thought you should, as he later shoved cut-up plum and cheese squares into your face while the two of you sat on the wrap-around porch and caught up over tea.

John wasn’t sure what to do; Gaz and Soap were even more lost. It was so clear, then it was so confusing. It wasn’t until dinner was over and the team was sitting by a little bonfire, you and your apparent husband off to bed for the night, that they asked Simon.

“Who is that, really?” John asked.

“...I dunno. Thought we were somethin’, then we weren’t. I knew the world wouldn’t wait for me forever. Now... now I have this.”

“You give ‘em money?” Johnny, now, asked.

“Have to. Stupid fucker blows it all at casinos or fucking hides it. He’ll make it a problem if things aren’t paid on time when he’s the jackass ruining the credit score. Don’t know for sure, but I think the fucker might get close to physical when I’m not here. Thinkin’ bought putting cameras around just to make sure.”

“So... what? Is this just how you’ll spend the rest of your life? Don’t think you’ll need to do much convincing, that bastard doesn’t care,” Kyle said, leaning back in his seat.

“He doesn’t. Our jobs are similar, he’s just in construction. Leave for a while, come back for a little bit, and then leave again. The only difference between that bloke and me is that I like being here. But...”

He thinks to you: how happy you were to date the jackass, playing with your hair nervously; how you glowed with something primal and sensual after he showed you “the best night of your life,” even if you’d go back on your words later when the love-bomb spell wore off; how he proposed so sloppily yet you ate it up like candy because no one had ever treated you so sweetly. It didn’t matter that he got so drunk at the wedding he puked on your dress or that Simon swore he saw the moron kissing another girl at a party but couldn’t be the one to ruin you by telling the truth. Your husband was romantic, you said, but all Simon saw were red flags and a growing need to rearrange the fucker’s teeth.

“But I can’t destroy happiness I don’t understand.”

“I don’t think what’s going on is ‘happiness’...” Johnny said, opening another bottle. “More like... I dunno, a lack of respect? Not knowing what happiness really is?” He bit his lip before clicking his tongue in triumph. “No, no, it’s complacency. Nothing bad can happen if nothin’ changes.”

Simon hums, smoking a cigarette and watching the flames of the fire.

Kyle glanced at Price, who cleared his throat for a second. “Simon, I’m not usually one for this kind of thing, but--”

“I know, need to get over it,” Simon snapped, smoking down the cigarette into a nub before throwing it into the firepit.

Price frowned. “I think it might be the opposite.”

“I’m not destroying a family.”

“There isn’t a family, Ghost, just two people who are married and don’t do shit together,” Johnny said. “He doesn’t seem to be in the picture. How often is this place empty? There’re no photos of them on the wall. He didn’t seem happy to see his own partner. They don’t even have kids.”

Simon frowns. “I know. It’s the main complaint... lyin’ ‘bout what he wants.”

“So then... take ‘em,” Johnny said, Kyle rolling his eyes. “It doesn’t seem like anyone’s holding on too tight.”

Simon didn’t speak again that night. He headed upstairs when the rest departed for the basement. The next day, the man was kissing you good-bye as the team came upstairs. You looked sad, miserable even, and followed him outside. The two of you spoke, but he snapped at you before heading to the car, ignoring your whines for a last kiss. He drove off and you came back inside, starting breakfast in silence again.

When Simon came down, he knew. He pushed John, Kyle, and Johnny to the basement so he could hold you and comfort you. You cried hard into his chest, hiccupping and sobbing as you whined about his disregard for your comfort—that he didn’t care enough to kiss you goodbye again when you asked him if this was the last time he’d leave you.

Simon hated it because himself in your lover. He imagined it before: leaving for a deployment and seeing your round teary eyes as he packed. He’d stop, instead picking you up to kiss you and lay you on the bed, proving that he loved you so much more than you knew. Maybe he wouldn’t even be able to leave if you cried like you had in the past.

No, he wouldn’t. He’d see your face and feel the fear you have of losing him. He’d leave his bags in the bedroom to pull you close to the couch, feeling over your skin like he’s been dying to do since he met you in that dirty dive bar when you both were in your early 20s. He’d ignore phone calls from Price or Laswell or any other CO to take you out for dinner and fuck you in the back of his truck like you always giggled about. He’d shower with you when you came home, wash your hair and realize your scent is all around him, not just the quick perfume he gets every time you pass by.

Would he mourn the death of his career? Probably not—not if you were pressed to his side, lips kissing his jaw and chin as he held your legs in his lap. (If he was lucky, maybe even pregnant.) Every metal, award, trophy... it’d dull the moment you stood beside it, the moment his brain conjured up your image in lieu of polished gold. He’d put on his crisp, shiny-adorned uniform one last time for your wedding. You always said the fabric made him look so regal.

It wasn’t a surprise when the next morning you seemed gloomy. You tried to play it off, smiling when talking to someone before retreating back into yourself, and John could tell how much it hurt Simon. He trailed behind you like a kitten, watching from doorways to make sure the waterworks hadn’t started. When they did, he tugged you to the master bedroom and let you curl up into the blankets and sob. Simon rubbed your back, a silent yet strong barrier between you and loneliness.

You asked him what you should do—how could you keep loving a man who won’t treat you like a person? Who won’t see you as anything but a hole to fuck when he comes home before leaving again? He wasn’t soft like Simon, you said, and Simon felt conflicted.

He wasn’t soft. No one else got to see the affection he rarely used, felt his hands doing anything other than breaking and taking. He towered over men far weaker than him. He didn’t feel remorseful for the pain he caused to those who deserved it and maybe even the ones who didn’t. He made himself built for war, yet you cried into his lap and called him a softie.

Maybe he was—but only for you. You were just an exception.

He couldn’t tell if it was the conversation from the previous night or your red cheeks and puffy eyes that did it for him. He couldn’t bare letting you fall apart over an ugly motherfucker like your husband. He calmed you, pulling your limp body into his lap. His arms around you felt more like a strait jacket than a hug, but you took it readily. Your fingers gripped his shirt, and he truly realized the effect you had on him. Tilting your chin up, he hummed a soft apology before pressing his lips to yours, keeping his hand on your jaw.

Maybe, after that, it was a good thing the bedroom door was locked. Maybe it took a few days for you to completely move forward, legal papers signed and delivered at the little post office in town, 25 minutes from your cabin. Maybe Simon was there, his hands and lips unable to leave your skin for longer than a minute. Maybe, as he left with Laswell’s next instructions, he took you upstairs one last time and promised to be back later, when he was done—that he’d come back and take you to the courthouse that same evening, paying a stranger to watch you exchange vows if Johnny didn’t tag along like he figured he would, and you’d never feel lonely again.

Imagine your surprise when he showed up three months later and he kept his word—with a certain loud Scot in tow, too.

[modawg]

random headcannons abt if the seven could infact have phones

simply what i think their phones would look like/be used for if they could have them as demigods

percy: bro would have a flip phone this is just fact i think he’d also have an iphone but he uses that more like you would an ipad he normally leaves it home unless he knows he’s going somewhere where he’s gonna wanna take pics or notes or smth

id say he and sally had matching flip phones for a while since their cheap sally prob got herself one pre gabe then scavenged her money together to get percy one before he went to his first boarding school and that’s what he’s grown up using

for one of his teen birthdays 14-16 sally got him a newer phone but he’s gotten so used to his trusty flip that he only uses the newer one for games and shit

his wall paper is probably a picture of a dinner with sally paul estelle annabeth and grover it’s very cute

annabeth: she didn’t have a phone for a long while and only ended up getting one from her dad when she started hanging out with them again he got it for her as a way to probably buy her affection he probably got it in like red or something thinking it was her fav color (maybe it was when she was like 5 but be fr) it’s prob like an iphone 8 or smth it was new at the time but old asf now

her phones decked out in camp crafts home made stickers etc etc and she changes her wall paper pretty often depending on her fav pictures she has abt 100000 .5 pics of percy it’s like her fav thing

she mostly just uses it to take pictures set reminders/timer and to look things up + keep in contact with sally and paul

she’s broken it like 6 times at this point but the hephaestus cabin keeps fixing it for her

piper: new new new girlies got the newest phone only bc her dad bought it for her she probably had a phase where she continuously shattered/broke her phone to get her dads attention and was forced to have a flip phone for a while but now that everything’s cooled down her phones the most pristine out of all the seven

her phone is fully decked out with a polaroid of her trio in the case stickers bangles the works it’s probably the best looking phone you could have and she loves it but she only started doing that post chb when she first came to camp her phone was default everything bc she kept getting it replaced

leo: leo either built his own version of a phone or somehow got one like 6 years ago and keeps adding stuff to it/changing things on it to keep it alive bc that thing is holding on for dear LIFE

the most JACKED phone out of everyone like you wouldn’t know he’s a son of hephaestus bc that bitch is wrecked it’s got a cracked screen is disgusting but works probably the smoothest out of everyone’s

he mostly uses it as an extension of his work to take pics of what he’s working on write notes and maybe use the calculator if he was a mortal the police would’ve been at his door like every other day bc of the shit he looks up

jason: he had a cj mandated pager lets be fr he didn’t get a phone until piper took him and hazel to get them ones and when he did get one it was a flip phone it’s sturdy low-key and gets the job done he also just gives me the vibe that he’s feel guilty if you spent more then 50$ on him

his phone also has some stickers including a little bangle of superman that piper made him get it also has a peice of tape on there with his name on it like you would the inside of a kids shirt incase he looses it

frank: he’s got a pretty new phone it was a gift from his gma but it’s locked up in a big fat otter case and he kinda hates using it so it’s default everything until hazel gets her own phone and he starts using it more

i feel like phones aren’t things many ppl have in camp jupiter so he kept that shit under his pillow so he didn’t draw more attention to himself

once he lets himself use it more his wallpapers probably a picture of hazel and percy making goofy faces and he probably has at least one sticker or bangle that matches hazels

hazel: hazel def has an ipod touch she probably traded in a chunk of gold for some cash and bought the cheapest thing but piper got her to at least get something with a screen

her phone case is probably just a white phone case with a bunch of pictures of horses on there and her wallpaper for like a year was just the first selfie she took with jason and piper post buying the phone

once she learns how to change her wall paper she changes it every other week to different random pics she takes

she has a really bad habit of butt dialling people

nico: bro doesn’t have a phone he just seems like the type to not give af abt that and only gets one when will forces him to but it’s forever the most default shit ever he maybe changes the wallpaper to a pic of will but that’s abt it prior to getting his own he was the kid who’d show up and immediately ask if you had games on ur phone for him to play

SPOILER: he does get jason’s flip phone when he dies and uses that for a while but he refuses to change anything about the phone and only uses it for emergencies

when he’s really sad he listens to jason’s voicemail on repeat “hello! you’ve reached jason grace im not available rn but i’ll call you back when i can thanks!..uh piper is it still recording-“

[mobilerepairsandservices]

How Mobile Phone Repair Stores Can Help Retrieve Data from Damaged Devices

Leave a commen

Mobile phones have become an integral part of our daily lives, storing important data such as contacts, messages, photos, and documents. However, accidents can happen, leading to damaged devices and potential data loss. In such situations, mobile phone repair stores play a crucial role in retrieving data from damaged devices.

Your Data Recovery Experts

Mobile phone repair stores are equipped with the expertise and tools necessary to retrieve data from damaged devices. Whether your phone has suffered water damage, a mobile cracked screen, or a malfunctioning hardware component, these stores can help recover your valuable data.

Data Recovery Process

Diagnosis: The first step is to diagnose the extent of the damage to your device. Technicians at mobile phone repair stores will assess the condition of your phone and determine the best course of action for data recovery.

Repair: Once the damage has been assessed, the repair process begins. This may involve fixing the physical damage to your phone, such as replacing a cracked screen or repairing a faulty component.

Data Extraction: After the repair is complete, technicians will use specialized software to extract data from your device. This process requires technical expertise to ensure that all data is safely retrieved without further damaging the device.

Data Transfer: Once the data has been extracted, it is transferred to a secure location, such as a computer or external storage device. Technicians will ensure that your data is transferred safely and securely.

Data Backup: To prevent future data loss, technicians may recommend setting up a backup system for your mobile phone. This can include cloud storage or regular backups to a computer.

Benefits of Using Mobile Phone Repair Stores for Data Recovery

Expertise: Mobile phone repair stores have trained technicians who are skilled in data recovery techniques. They can handle a wide range of devices and data loss scenarios.

Specialized Tools: These stores have access to specialized tools and software that are specifically designed for data recovery from mobile devices. This allows them to retrieve data safely and efficiently.

Data Security: Mobile phone repair stores prioritize data security and ensure that your data is handled with the utmost confidentiality. They use secure methods for data extraction and transfer to protect your information.

Cost-Effective: Compared to other methods of data recovery, such as sending your device to the manufacturer, using a mobile phone repair store is often more cost-effective. These stores offer competitive pricing for their services.

Conclusion

Mobile phone repair stores are your go-to solution for data recovery from damaged devices. With their expertise, specialized tools, and commitment to data security, they can help retrieve your valuable data safely and efficiently. If you find yourself in a situation where your mobile phone is damaged and you need to recover data, don’t hesitate to contact a iphone repair store for assistance.

FAQs

Q: How long does the data recovery process take?

A: The time taken for data recovery can vary depending on the extent of the damage to the device and the complexity of the data recovery process. In some cases, data can be recovered within a few hours, while in more severe cases, it may take several days.

Q: Is there a chance of data loss during the recovery process?

A: While mobile phone repair stores take every precaution to ensure data safety, there is always a small risk of data loss during the recovery process. It is important to back up your data regularly to prevent loss.

Q: Can all types of data be recovered from a damaged device?

A: Mobile phone repair stores can recover a wide range of data, including contacts, messages, photos, and documents. However, the success of data recovery depends on the extent of the damage to the device.

[petalsthefish]

Genius

Summary:

After Lily breaks her iPhone, she finds herself at the Genius Bar on Valentines Day, and an old flame is there to help her in all things technology and romance.

read on A03

Marlene McKitten: babes you're missing out on blackberry margs!!

Lily Evans: I’m sorry! It was the only time I could schedule a time for my phone to get fixed!

Marlene McKitten: you just hate me, its okay, you can say it

Lily Evans: you’re a drama queen, Marlene McKinnon 

Marlene McKitten: you love me anyways…find me a hot date at the apple store so I can get discounts!!

Lily Evans: if I find a hot guy he’s mine for the night

Marlene McKitten: further proof that you hate me 

Lily Evans: I’m here. … Pray this doesn’t take five hours and I can come meet you for drinks. 

Marlene McKitten: how hard will it be to replace a screen? … I bet I could do it myself with youtube and a little superglue

Lily did not reply back to her friend, she didn’t have the heart to tell Marlene that superglue and youtube weren’t the answer for everything. Even if superglue had proven effective at keeping Lily’s favorite mug together after it broke in the dishwasher. 

Lily just couldn’t believe she was spending her free time at the Apple Store because she'd somehow cracked her phone screen. In all her years of owning a phone, of course it would be the most expensive phone she’d ever had that broke. Even her flimsy flip phone had been more sturdy than her iphone. 

“Hi, are you here for an appointment?” A scrawny kid about her age asked, holding the iPad too close to his face as he approached her near the front doors.

Lily nodded quickly. “Yeah, Lily Evans, for a screen repair.”

“Gotcha.” The kid's nametag read ‘Peter,’ and he barely looked up at her as he typed away on his screen. “I checked you in; just go wait at the Genius Bar.”

“Thanks.”

Lily maneuvered around the cramped store, sighing all the while as she made her way to the Genius Bar. It was rather depressing to be alone on Valentine's Day, but it was almost extra disappointing that she’d had to skip lunch with her girlfriends to come here. Lily couldn’t believe she was missing out on the tacos at Casa Grande, a tradition that went all the way back to Uni. She nervously picked at the crack on her screen, most annoyed that she’d somehow forgotten to add the screen protector when she got her new case two months ago. Another sigh escaped her lips before she finally took a look at her surroundings.

There were three boys at the counter, each of them so different from the other. The first, on Lily’s left, was a bloke with a leather jacket, emitting a touch of emo metal head from his persona. The one on the right definitely looked like he belonged at the Genius Bar in the Apple Store, thanks to his perfectly pressed sweater vest and nicely combed hair. The man leaning against the table opposite Lily, typing into his iPad, was a sporty-looking bloke wearing slacks with a rumpled button-down shirt.

She thought to herself, Actually, no, that sporty bloke looks really familiar… Oh. 

It hit her like a freight train. 

She couldn’t remember his name for the life of her, but he’d somehow gotten hotter in the year since they graduated from college. It’d been almost that much time since they’d danced at a party, stumbled up the stairs to his bedroom, and he’d fucked her on his bed. Not even a quick go. No, she had woken up in his bed to find his arms around her, her clothes all over the room, and her phone dead from going all night without a charger. 

He’d been such a gentleman when he woke up. He had practically stumbled over his words when he realized she was there, in his bed, naked with him. They had both been drunk, so even he admitted it had probably been a bad idea. They’d parted ways an hour later, Lily promising that she’d be okay to walk back to her dorm, and he had let her go so she assumed he really hadn’t wanted anything more than a once go in the sheets. 

More than once, she'd thought about this bloke, wondering what happened to him. 

His black hair was in a mess of waves around his head, and he didn't look up from his iPad as she stared in shock. She didn’t know what she’d say to him if they did make eye contact. The last thing she’d said to him was ‘thanks for the sex’ which somehow grew more and more embarrassing the longer she sat here and recalled it. She kept picturing his naked body in that bed in the morning. What would she say if he looked up right now and she was there remembering the contours of his body? 

Hi, I almost didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.  

She’d save that gem for later. 

Probably never. 

Lily felt disappointed as he walked away without looking up, disappearing through a door that likely led to the back. Her heart slowed in her chest, just slightly, but she felt like her throat was drier than the desert. She cleared it twice, earning a look from the guy in the sweater-vest, but he just went back to his task at hand.

Since the other two men at the Genius Bar were preoccupied, she took that to mean she was going to have to wait for help. She checked her Tumblr, finding nothing of consequence, just some idiots in her ask box telling her to eat dirt and choke on it. A usual occurrence on her blog thanks to internet trolls with nothing better to do than hate strong women like Taylor Swift and Captain Marvel. Lily was fully convinced people just liked to find something to complain about. She tried really hard not to complain or take anything a bunch of internet ghosts said to heart. She scrolled through her favorite Taylor Swift blog and saw there had been a new song mashup released. She wished she had brought her headphones so she could at least listen to the music while she waited.

London Boy crossed with This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things would be absolutely disastrous and she was here for it. She reblogged it for later, then exited out of the app, settling for people watching instead. 

Around her, couples were looking over new computers, AirPods, and various other electronics. All the girls wore really pretty dresses, and all the partners kept one firm arm around each other's waists. Lily’s dress was pretty too, and she played with the edges of the corset cut as she stared at the door through which the fit bloke had disappeared.

Had he spotted her and run? Did he remember her? Did he forget her? She wasn’t sure what would hurt her more, if he walked away because he saw her and remembered her, or if he walked away because he forgot about her.

Lily wasn’t a bragger, but she knew for a fact he had fun with her a year ago. She remembered enough of that night to know that he’d been really, really enjoying it. Not many men would get between her legs for her, and very few actually made her scream. No, he’d been one of two, and he’d been the best of all. 

Lily crossed her legs, trying to ignore the heat gathering on her face (and in other places) as she recounted that night. Sadly, her body wasn’t listening to her imploring thoughts. She felt like a damn animal in heat, the way her entire body was strung up, waiting for his reappearance. 

Beside her, the emo guy helping the old Lady change her voicemail sent her a sidelong glance randomly, and Lily felt a blush raise on her cheeks when his eyes grazed up and down her body as if he were checking her out. She didn’t drop his gaze, and instead offered him a smile. His gray eyes snapped back to the old lady and spoke to her in a smooth tone that didn’t seem the least bit flustered. 

She looked down at her candy-colored nails, the pink already chipping from scrubbing her hands too much at work. The phone on the table in front of her buzzed with a text from her girls' chat. Marlene sent a photo of a plate of tacos in the shape of a heart. Lily smiled and opened her phone, hearting the photo. As she did so, the grandmother finished her session and walked away, leaving the emo kid free. Lily looked up from her phone quickly, expecting him to turn to her, but instead, he had his back turned to her as he talked into his headset.

“No, I won’t stall for you—Prongs! Don’t argue with me.” He sounded stressed, as if whoever was on the other end was ruining his life. “Then get out here, you idiot.”

Whoever was on the other end was clearly addressing the whole store through that headset, as Lily witnessed the sweater vest-wearing, scrawny boy, and the long-haired brunette nearby all turning to send looks in Emo’s direction with raised brows. Lily couldn’t help but feel as if they were all looking at her too, despite her not being privy to the conversation happening.

“Hi,” someone touched Lily’s shoulder from behind, making her turn in surprise.

A baby-faced woman with bubblegum-pink hair smiled kindly. “Have you been checked in?”

“Oh,” Lily blinked owlishly, feeling stupid for thinking everyone was looking at her. “Uhm, yes, Lily Evans? Screen repair?”

“Our screen repair guy is stuck on the phone with a customer in the back,” she said cheerily, “but he should be out soon.”

“Oh, there’s a guy?” Lily said in surprise. “I thought screen replacements were kinda a universal genius bar thing.”

“Oh, we can all do it,” The girl’s name tag told Lily her name was Tonks, “but someone called dibs already.”

“Dibs?” Lily didn’t miss that Emo kid was cackling as he typed something into his iPad.

“Did I say dibs?” Tonks put a finger on her lips. “I meant he was assigned to you by the boss.”

“Who’s the boss?”

“He is.”

Suddenly, the door behind them slammed open, and a body stumbled out quite dramatically. Lily perked up at the sight of the familiar form. Sporty boy was back! His black hair was even more wild around his head, as if he’d been running his fingers through it non-stop since he’d disappeared. His glasses were skewed too, but it only made him so much more attractive, to see how flustered he was.

Tonks peered around Lily’s shoulder, her pink hair falling into her eyes. “Smooth entrance, Potter.”

“Thanks for holding down the fort, Nymphadora,” Potter said. “I can take her from here.”

Lily’s eyes traced his tall form, realizing it had been a long time since she’d been able to admire it. When her gaze returned to his face, her eyes met brown orbs that looked delighted to know she’d been openly checking him out. Lily’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She brushed nervously at her red curls, biting her lip as James waltzed over to her at the bar, leaning against it so he was only a foot or so away from her.

“Hi,” his voice was smooth, like an ASMR streamer. “I’m James Potter.”

“Hi,” she almost choked on her own spit. “Hi.” 

James’ fingers trailed along the edge of the bar, casual yet deliberate, as he said, “I heard you rang for a genius?”

Lily’s mouth quivered when she heard Tonks sigh loudly. The emo guy slammed his palm against his head, as if James had embarrassed them all. Sweater vest physically gagged. James just kept smiling at her though, as if he could tell she was attracted to him regardless of his cheesy pickup lines. And it was true, she was. 

“I heard you are the only one in this store who can help me,” Lily flirted, watching his eyes light up at the challenge. “I had no idea you were so important.”

“Me either, to be honest.” He placed his chin on his hand, supported by his elbow against the bar. “What was your name again?”

Lily tucked her hair behind her ear. “Lily Evans? We met about a year ago at a party.”

His eyes seemed to sparkle as he replied smoothly, “Oh, I remember how we met, it was just your name that escaped me last year.”

The blush was uncontrollable now as she reached out a hand for him to shake. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You have no idea how nice it is to see you again.” James’ grin grew wider. “And on Valentine's Day, no less.”

"I know how to make an entrance." She managed weakly. 

James' eyes were molten gold mixed with green flecks, "you sure do, especially in that dress." 

“Get a room,” the guy in the sweater vest muttered.

“How about yours, Remus?” James shot back, a bite in his tone.

Remus pretended to be interested in his customer's macbook in response. When Lily looked back at James, she felt a punch to the gut as she saw nothing but pure lust in his eyes. She could practically pinpoint where his mind had dropped, thanks to his eyes staring at her breasts, which were practically popping out of the corset cut top of her dress. 

“Like what you see?” She asked boldly. 

"Yes." He cleared his throat, and her eyes dropped to his mouth when he licked his lip and then curled the edges up to smile confidently.

Hazel eyes.

His eyes were hazel, and she’d forgotten that, so now all her memories were being replayed with coy hazel eyes that undressed her without even trying. He wasn't even trying to hide it, especially not right now. 

“Well, what can I help you with today?” James asked, breaking her concentration on his eyes. 

Dinner. She thought desperately. A quick go in the back of the storage room. Instead she offered, “I think I cracked my phone screen.”

James looked down at the phone in question. Lily picked it up, popping off the blue protective case in one fluid motion, before handing it to him. She fiddled with the case as he turned the phone over in his hands once. 

“And you’re sure it’s not just the screen protector?”

Lily shook her head no, “I tried to pull it off, twice, but couldn't get it, so I’m pretty sure I forgot to put the protection screen thing on when I got my new case.”

“Oh Lily,” James clucked his tongue, “always use protection.”

Oh, that was the wrong thing to say. 

Her brain immediately fluttered into the pit of her stomach with ideas of all the things they could do with protection. God, she hadn’t been so turned on since the last time he’d gotten her into bed with him…only this time it was daylight and she hadn’t had a single thing to drink. 

Pure thoughts, Lily Evans. She thought. He’s just a guy. A hot, cool, incredibly charming guy. Fuck it, I’m screwed.   

James casually picked at her phone screen, seemingly ignoring the desire flickering in her eyes as he remarked, “The glass shouldn’t stick up like that; I think it’s just a screen protector.”

“I really don’t think–”

Watching in mortification, Lily winced as he used his thumbnail to pry at the glass. Suddenly, a sound of unsticking reached her ears as he removed a screen case from her phone's actual glass. Redness flooded her face for an entirely different reason. She’d been a total, utter, helpless idiot for bringing her phone here.

It hadn’t been broken at all. 

“Oh my god,” she whispered, “Oh, no, no, no, no!! I am such an idiot.”

“No!” He quickly reassured her, “You’re not an idiot!”

Lily felt herself spiraling with embarrassment, realizing she just hadn’t pulled hard enough to separate the sticky tape from the glass. “I swear—I tried so hard—I thought it was the screen.”

His thumb brushed the side of her wrist in comfort, but instead of soothing her, it sent a wave of shame coursing through her stomach. “It’s an honest mistake; it was securely fastened.”

“Yeah,” she squeaked, noticing he had leaned closer over the counter, now mere inches from her face.

“Seriously,” he seemed so amused, and that only humiliated her further, “it’s fine, I won't even charge you.” 

She didn’t know if she’d ever felt more stupid, and in front of the hottest guy she knew, too. “I’m really sorry for wasting your time.” He searched her face as if seeking something within it. Lily withdrew her hand from his shyly and then grabbed her phone. “I’ll just go, thank you, um, bye.”

Trying to escape the awkward situation, she hurried out, acutely aware of the stares from those around them who had witnessed the embarrassing exchange. She slipped her unprotected phone under the strap of her dress and brushed her hair behind her ears as she rushed to her car in the parking lot.

“Dumb, stupid, idiot.” she muttered over and over to herself, repeating the whole scene in her head. “How did you graduate college with a science degree, but you can’t even pull a fucking phone condom off.” 

She reached her car in record time, the lingering sense of humiliation mingling with a cocktail of other emotions churning in her gut. Her plan now was simple: she would rendezvous with her friends at the taco place and immerse herself in a flight of margaritas. Maybe if she got intoxicated enough, she could erase this entire fiasco from her memory. As she finished flinging her bag onto the console of the passenger seat, she heard footsteps approaching from behind.

Turning abruptly, she was startled to find James from the Genius Bar standing there, a friendly smile gracing his features. “Hey, Lily.” 

“Hi,” she managed, her voice high-pitched from her embarrassment. 

HIs eyes dropped to the phone, precariously held between her pale skin and tiny spaghetti thick dress strap. “Why do girls stuff everything right there?”

Lily looked down at her phone and then back up to him, feigning tucking her hands into the folds of her dress skirt, “most girls clothes don’t have pockets–so we improvise.” 

“Interesting.” He then asked promptly, “Did you know that I worked here?”

“No,” she swore, as the wind made her skirts gather around her legs, “I swear, I had no idea.”

A light flickered in his eyes, “that’s a shame.”

“Why a shame?”

“I was hoping you made up that entire thing about the glass cracking just to talk to me.” He grinned. “But you genuinely thought it was broken, didn’t you?”

“You were hoping I was lying?” Lily blinked owlishly at him, “really?”

He lifted a lunchbox in his hand, smiling awkwardly. “I only have an hour for lunch; why don’t we catch up, and we can talk about what I was hoping for.”

“What?” Lily asked, not comprehending anything because her hormones were cheering excitedly.

“Sorry,” he tucked the lunchbox behind his back again, “did you not want to eat with me? I think I may have gotten mixed signals from you back in the store…”

“Eat with you?” she repeated. “ With you?”

“I know it’s been a while,” he was rambling, “I know we aren’t even like–friends–but you showed up and I–I nearly had a heart attack seeing you again. A heart attack in the good way–not a bad way. You are definitely good. All good. So good.”

Lily still had one hand on her car door, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to find the words. “I–I’m an idiot who can’t tell the difference between a screen cover and a phone screen…and you want to have lunch with me?”

James shrugged, “despite working at the genius bar–” Lily offered him a snort of amusement, “--I prefer idiots, don’t you?”

“You're not an idiot,” Lily said, motioning to all of him, “you’re–you’re that .”

“Eloquent,” his smile was so wide, his eyes crinkled at the edges. “But I’m 100% just as much an idiot as you.”

“How so?”

“I was an idiot for ever letting you go without a number to text you at.” 

She felt her stomach erupt with pleasant butterflies. “What?”

James looked down at her body, then back up at her eyes with a coy wink. “Truthfully, I've been wondering where you disappeared to for a year now and would really like to catch up. I’d also really love your number, for your working phone, just in case you ever need a genius to fix it again. Is that okay?”

Lily felt like she might be dreaming. She pinched her arm. It hurt. Thank god. “This isn’t a joke, right?”

“No,” James walked forward, almost flush with her person now. “I do love a good joke, though.”

“Really?” He was so close, she could count the tiny freckles dotting his tan nose. 

James' hand brushed her arm, sending shivers racing up it. “What’s the best book to read while eating breakfast?”

Lily felt a smile replacing her confused expression as she leaned up on her tiptoes, allowing his free hand to cup her chin. “What book?”

“Much Ado About Muffin.”

"You're right, you are an idiot." She rolled her eyes, but her tone was flirtatious, "a really, really cute idiot."

"They'll hire just about anyone to work the Genius Bar these days." 

Lily didn’t wait anymore; she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him down, letting her lips muffle his laughter.

She could still feel his smile through the kiss though, even when he opened his mouth to taste her with an eager fever she had forgotten about. She kissed him back harder, especially when she heard his lunch bag fall to the ground near their feet, and both his hands grabbed hold of her long hair to keep her firmly attached. He tasted like mint gum, like he'd just been chewing it before coming to find her. Like he'd planned for this exact scenario to happen. 

She almost swooned at the thought. 

Finally, what felt like only a second later, he broke off the kiss. When her eyes opened, she saw nothing but him, and that only made her smile grow wider. His hands remained in her hair, but he tugged them forward to cup her cheeks, bringing the red strands with him. 

“So,” he said somewhat breathlessly, “lunch date?”

"What'd you have in mind?"

"Calling out of work, taking you home, and ordering pizza for a long movie we won't watch." 

Lily stepped forward, about to kiss him again for suggesting it, but then she felt her chunky heel step on something, and a resounding crack filled the air. Lily thought it might be the lunch bag he’d dropped, and for just a second she hoped, but whatever was under her foot was smaller. She looked down, face white, and all she saw were broken bits of glass under her heel. Her heart plummeted from its high as she stared down at her broken phone. 

“I broke my phone,” she realized, lifting her foot to show a screen in tiny bits and pieces. “Oh my god, I really broke it this time.”

James untangled himself from her and leaned down, picking it up carefully, and they watched as it disintegrated into multiple pieces in his hand. His eyes lifted from the phone to her. She stared back at him. Lily fell against her car, pressing her hands into her hair as she processed her disbelief. James' mouth was partially open, like she'd just stunned him to silence. 

“I can’t believe this!” she half laugh, half cried, while wiping her eyes. "I can't fucking believe this!"

Then, James doubled over with laughter, weeping from the irony of it all. Lily crossed one leg over the other as she laughed too, her head rolling back against her car. Passerby in the parking lot shared attempts like they were lunatics for laughing so hard. It only made them laugh harder.

"What am I going to do?" Lily cried, her side in stitches. "Oh god, I haven't even paid that phone off yet!"

"I can't believe you broke it!" James wiped the tears from his eyes, "oh my god, your luck!"

"Oh fuck," Lily pressed a hand to her forehead, "I don't know why I'm laughing, this is actually so bad, I need my phone for work."

James walked forward to plant a firm kiss on her mouth before reminding her, “Don’t worry, you know a genius who can fix it.”

~~~

+44 7123 456789: Lily??? Are you Alive??? Your bedroom doors been shut since yesterday?? have you even been home???

Lily Evans: holy shit I am so sorry, who is this? I have a new phone and forgot to switch my contacts over from the cloud

+44 7123 456789: ....Marlene....HOW BROKEN WAS YOUR PHONE??? It was a scratch the last time I saw it??

Lily Evans: funny story...

Marlene McKitten: where are you?!

Lily Evans: do you remember that one time I got super drunk at a party and woke up in a hot guys bed?

Marlene McKitten: ya...why?

Lily Evans: I'm currently in his bed right now 

Marlene McKitten: ??? get home right now or so help me god I'm tracking your phone and coming to you 

Lily Evans: save yourself a drive and meet us at the Genius Bar, he's taking me over there to fix my old computer I thought was broken. 

Marlene McKitten: ?????????????

[raamitsu]

hello, everyone 👋🏼 I have a very important question to ask here so I’m going to do a mini poll. hopefully you don’t mind hehe 🙃

here’s the issue :

a few days ago, I replaced my iPhone 7p battery (if u follow my personal side blog you’d know what im talking about) and everything except the rear camera and the cracked screen was totally in a great condition.

while I don’t mind the cracked screen, what should I do to fix the rear camera? every time I open the camera app, it goes blank and jammed. sometimes there were glitches too.

side note: I was aware that there were multiple ways to examine and fix the problem but unfortunately none of them worked except ‘reset the phone.’ I saved it as my last resort.

[solarpunkbusiness]

Surera Ward, CEO and founder of Girls Fix It, LLC

Girls Fix It, LLC, which she calls a technology solutions company specializing in cell phones, tablets, smartwatches, game consoles and computers. 

Surera (pronounced “Shore-ah”) is part of the fastest-moving technology industry trend: consumer electronic repair and maintenance. Before starting Girls Fix It, she spent 20 years in the corporate sector, leading software development teams for Fortune 500 companies as an IT business analyst\project manager.

Ward taught herself to program in the 1990s when she worked in software development. 

“Growing up,” she said, “I always liked to take things apart and fix them, like when a tape got stuck in the VCR machine. I got good at fixing.”  At 19, Ward started a software development company in Delaware, Infinity Software Systems. After four years, she transitioned to teaching in schools in Wilmington and New Castle. Currently, Girls Fix It offers training to senior citizens, and Ward also does business consulting for Cellbotics, an electronic device repair training firm based in Atlanta.

But a major problem for Ward and others like her is the planned obsolescence that one also finds in the auto industry. After all, if a product works perfectly for many years, why buy a new one?

Ward is finding, for example, that once she and her two assistants have conducted a repair on a customer's phone, the device will “often throw up error messages hard-coded in by manufacturers to discourage users from going to third-party experts.”

And a practice known as “parts pairing,” which ties individual parts to the devices they're shipped with using unique serial numbers, has made it harder to repair them.

But consumers and small independent repair experts like Ward are fighting back. According to a recent WHYY report, a “Right to Repair” movement is gaining traction around the country. “Four states have passed laws that require manufacturers to make it easier for consumers to repair their devices – a cracked screen, broken phone camera or broken laptop,” according to the story. “There’s legislation in New Jersey, Delaware and a bill in the Pennsylvania Senate, and another in the House. Advocates of these laws say they will save consumers money, save the planet from tons of e-waste and will support small local businesses.” 

Ward insists, “The 'Right to Repair' movement is for consumers and small businesses to have access to parts and schematics that they need. The manufacturers deliberately make the products hard to repair. Parts are often unavailable; schematics are often not accessible, and they create error messages. It's getting harder and harder to repair different devices. Any Apple iPhone 10 phone or better is very hard to repair. Legislation could help, but it would not fully resolve the issue.”

[witchersmistress]

The Damned and The Damage

Hello Darlings!! can anyone else here this gif or is it just me?? anyway shall we progress with Harper and August?

Trigger warnings: angry, masturbation, rage, lots of it, absolute mindnumbingness. fustration, lack of self love

Word count: 3.8 K

as per usual you do not have permission to use my work, translate my work or copy it, if you do i'll find you a haunt you for the rest of your days

Harper’s POV

I don’t count the days. I know there’s something wrong with me, that this isn’t normal, but I can’t muster enough fucks to do anything about it. When the Phantom hands me a box with a brand-new iPhone, the latest model, and tells me to text whoever, I don't. No one is looking for me. I didn't bother telling him I had a third-hand phone that shut itself off for no reason, couldn’t hold a charge, and had so many cracks in the screen I could barely read an email. It makes no difference what phone I have, if I have one at all. I don’t use it except when he tells me to check in with him while he is gone. Days go by, then weeks. I know work is coming to an end, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

 Mr. D will have pulled my sponsorship, and I wouldn’t be able to face the Walkers and their friends who came back for me that night. work seems trivial and pointless like everything else. It would take effort I can’t give, and so, I don’t. One night, when I wake up mewling like some pathetic, drowning kitten, crying that they’re coming back for me, the Phantom holds me against his warm chest and tells me he’ll keep me safe, that no one will find me here if I don’t go outside. He thinks I’m scared, that I’m hiding like he is, but I’m not. I just don’t have the fight in me to leave. So, I stay. He doesn’t lock me in or even try to convince me not to go. I’m not a prisoner. I could walk out. I even went to the clinic when he told me, the pharmacy where they sent me. I took the antibiotics he handed me each day. But there’s no reason to leave again. I can exist in this neat, orderly space as well as anywhere else. Better. No one demands answers for what’s wrong with me. No one asks for things I can’t give, for me to make impossible choices. The Phantom asks so little in return for this haven in which I can exist in the bubble he’s created, not taking up any space in the world. Maybe we’re both phantoms. He feeds me, putting my food before me and taking it away when he’s done eating, never commenting on how much or little I’ve eaten. After dinner, we go onto the roof where he trims and waters flowers, sprays plants, and admires his garden. Sprouts have grown into plants, and the older ones come alive as if to show them the way—the saw-like leaves of one produce a stalk with clusters of white flowers that hang like bells; orange blossoms like curling starfish emerge from another. I won't go to the edge again. I don’t care enough to jump. I sit in the chair where he tells me to sit, like the good girl he tells me I am. When it’s time to go inside, he brings me back in. He measures me one day, touching my body with possessive thoroughness, detached and entitled, as if I’m a doll and not a human.

He runs his thumb over the silky burn scar on my hip, checks my healed hand, sets my birth control pill on the bedside table each morning. I am another plant to him, a fixture, something to tend. He cuts my fingernails, paints my toenails. He dyes my hair a richer, dark-chocolate brown, irons it straight, and brushes it in front of the only mirror in the house, on the inside of his closet door, while watching a tutorial on how to fix it in different styles. He puts a ring through my belly button and buys me makeup and a bag to keep it in. He calls me his good girl. Soon, among his usual deliveries, more clothes for me arrive—a padded bra with heavy gel inserts that make me more evenly proportioned, skirts and dresses that hug and accentuate my curves without looking trashy. I know they must be expensive, and I’ve never had clothes made for my body that fit me so well. The style is nothing I’d choose for myself, though. They’re rich girl clothes. But then I realize I don’t know what I’d choose anymore. I’m not the girl who liked tiny cut-offs that showed her thigh tattoos, who wore combat boots and hoodies. I don’t know who I am. So I try on this girl the Phantom wants me to be.

He watches with arrogant indulgence, picking out the things he doesn’t like to send back. I look at the straight-haired girl in the mirror with tits that balance her hips, with a tiny waist and red-soled shoes. I wonder if she’ll ever be me again. Every morning and evening, he fucks me quickly and efficiently as I lay there not moving, letting him extract his payment. I’m the whore August always said I was. Once, he slides up on the bed next to me when he’s done. “Want me to finish you off?” he asks. “This isn’t the kind of relationship where I’ll eat you out, but I have a vibrator and a couple clit stimulators.” My stomach clenches with revulsion, almost panic, at a memory I won’t let form. I shake my head quickly. I don’t want or need pleasure. I’d rather just lie here, my body hollow except for what he puts inside me.

August POV

She’s not fucking here. I stand at the base of what I’m pretty sure is the tree where we left her. It’s hard to tell. It’s rained since then, and the water is higher, and judging by the rumbles in the distance, it’s about to get even higher. I bought a pair of thick waders that make me look like I belong on a whaling ship, and I spend the weekends mucking through a fucking swamp, shooting snakes and being drained dry by mosquitos. There is no sign of anyone in the swamp but me. Fuck Harper. She doesn’t fucking matter. She doesn’t deserve this much attention. I should be at the bridge, where someone important died. I should be mourning Crystal, thinking of Crystal. Fuck this shit. I wade out of the swamp, tear off the waders, and hurl them in the back of the Range Rover, not caring if swamp sludge splatters on the back of my seat. I see the blanket there, the one I fucked Harper on so many times. The one I wrapped around her body to keep her warm all through winter. A picture of it hugging her curves rises to my mind, the way it slipped off her thick thighs, showing that fucking tattoo… I climb into the driver’s seat and slam the door, banging my head down on the top of the steering wheel. I’m fucking hard just thinking about her. What the fuck is wrong with me? I peel out, turn around at the next exit, and drive back toward home under the bruise-black sky. Harper doesn’t deserve a place in my memory. What she did goes so far past betrayal, a cut so deep it could never heal. She found a way, and broke the last pieces of my sanity. All along, I thought I was biding my time until I broke her. But she broke me first. I pull up behind a shitty little sedan in her driveway and glance up at the gathering storm clouds.

 Her neighbors are outside, the girl with dingy blue hair and the little kid, who’s prancing around in a hula hoop, wearing shorts and a bikini top that hangs oddly on her flat chest. The doors to their car stand open, and a song that I can only hope the kid doesn’t understand is spilling out from the crackly speakers. I imagine what my mother would say, and I smile at them as I circle my car to grab the box of Harper’s things I bought, as if this were a normal breakup. The blue-haired girl gives me a dirty look, an unlit cigarette drooping from the corner of her mouth. The little kid stops dancing, the hoop clattering to the cracked walkway at her feet. “She ain’t here,” she calls. “So you can go on back home!” The blue-haired girl cuts her eyes at her sister, but she doesn’t say anything. She watches me with sullen eyes and fishes a lighter from her pocket to light up. The low clouds have started spitting rain, and the air is thick and heavy with moisture. The little girl is standing on the roof of the car, dancing in the rain to another song no kid should be listening to. “Yeah, you go on and go home!” Her high voice cuts through the splattering rain. “You ain’t welcome here, on account of you broke Harper’s heart.” Ignoring her, I hurry to get into my Range Rover and climb inside, slamming the door to shut out the rain and the girl and the feeling of that house that clings to me like the skin-crawling sensation of dirt and grime and sweat after a football game. Trash, all of them. Just like Harper. I try to keep that thought in mind instead of feeling like the piece of shit I am, running from them like a guilty conscience. I take a few deep breaths, telling myself I’m imagining the stench of her life lingering around me. Then I shift into drive and take off, back toward the side of town where the rottenness makes sense to me. I don’t go home, though. I keep going, toward old man Darling’s house, the one where we went after I disowned Crystal but before she died.

I pull off at the bridge. This is where I belong. Honoring the memory of a girl who deserves my remorse. The first girl I killed, two and a half years ago. Grey drizzle splatters down on the windshield. It’s not the kind of rain that fell on the night the river took Crystal. It’s the kind that was falling the night Harper came to our house the first time, thinking she’d spy. She was good at finding my hiding spots, the places I go to remember, to prove they don’t hurt me. I have mastered this place the way I mastered Devlin’s balcony. His house is gone now, and Harper can’t haunt his balcony, but she haunts the river. I left her in the swamp, but her ghost is here. It’s in the rain on the windshield, the blanket in the trunk. It’s under the bridge, where we lay and talked and fucked. It’s on the far side of the bridge, where we fought the Darlings, and where I pushed her down and fucked her ass the first time. It’s in the back seat of this car, where I plowed into her and made her scream for me while her cunt choked my cock in its grip. I lean the seat back and slide my hand into my pants. My cock is stiff, my balls ready to dump their contents into her thirsty core. I pull out my phone and thumb it on. I think of what her mother said. I scroll down to her name and read our last OnlyWords messages. 

August: meet u at ur locker after work 

BadApple: c u then 

It’s so normal. So ordinary. I press the button and shut off my screen. I should delete the whole thread, erase any evidence I ever knew her. Instead, I opened the regular texting app that uses our phone numbers, the one we hardly used. It only takes a minute to scroll back all those months, to the first text she sent. It’s a picture of her in my leather jacket, the pic I asked for over Thanksgiving. My dick jerks in my hand, and I close my eyes and take a breath, as if I can coax the smell of her from these leather seats where she lay so many times. But no. That was a different car. She’s only been in this one once—her last night. When I open my eyes, though, she’s still there. She’s not showing a lot of skin. She never sent nudes. That only makes me want to see more, to peel open the jacket and see her tight little tits with the pale pink nipples poking out at me. She’s not wearing anything under it, but only an inch of skin shows between the buttons of the jacket. An inch of flat stomach, the little dip of her bellybutton like a tease. Below the jacket, she’s wearing tiny athletic shorts, knee socks. Her hair is messy around her shoulders, and she’s smiling into the camera, a sassy smirk that tugs at one corner of her lips. But it’s her eyes that seduced me then, her eyes that entice me now. I stroke myself, but it’s not enough. I need her, need to crush her little body under mine, to pin it and penetrate her and hear her gasping for mercy. I look at her picture, and I scroll through the others, tugging at my dick until my skin is rubbed raw, but I can’t find relief. My balls are so full they ache. I just need one little push, but I can’t close the deal. Finally, I throw my phone across the car and slam my head back against the seat. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I came here as a remembrance of Crystal, not to masturbate to pictures of a girl who used me in her little games, told her sick old man how big my dick was, how I performed, how I licked her cunt until she gushed all over my face, her soft cries a siren song to my ears. I turn on the car and wrench the wheel around, heading back through the colorless, waterlogged evening. Just when I thought I couldn’t sink any lower, I found a new way to surprise myself. Like a fucking serial killer, I just jerked off while looking at pictures of the girl I murdered.

[zezacle]

I had a dream I was in THE FINALS (shooter videogame about a virtual bloodsport gameshow) and having won the match, I went thru a cutscene where I, a winner, gave advice to a contestant on how to win. I told Snoop Dogg that he needed something to give him an edge so that his team could win.

Then as I'm leaving, the game starts and suddenly the lights go out. Immediately, I have to fix it before people find out it was me who gave Snoop Dogg the idea to hack the games. I sneak into the automated game controller booth. The games are controlled by a computer that's supposed to be so old that it is impossible to put malicious code on.

Its an iPhone 3. The screen is cracked. If you unplug it, it will die and never power back on. The game directors don't actually know how to use the software, they just ask Siri to do things and sometimes it works, otherwise the whole program is automated.

I'm the only one who knows how to fix it.