#i just need to get together with some coworkers so we can draft one large complaint bc umm. yea fuck this stupid bitch oh my god. ive had it

[avatar-aaang]

oh okay so she can send out an email about staff birthdays but not the fucking schedule. got it. Priorities.

[random-potat]

and they were roommates - kjs. - pt. 6

part 6. mission: don't burn the house down (wc. 459)

Walking into your shared room with Haneul and Siyoon, you take in the whole experience. The room was minimal, with large windows bringing in the natural light. There were three beds evenly spaced out with a small walk-in closet toward the left. 

“Ok! So who wants which bed?” Haneul asks. 

You shrug your shoulders. “Doesn’t matter to me; I just can’t wait to sleep.” 

“Oh my gosh, same,” Siyoon exclaims. 

“Rock, paper, scissors?” 

“Let’s go!”

After unpacking your clothes and makeup into the closet, the three of you guys sit on the ground in order to get to know one another.

“Let’s start with the basics,” Siyoon suggested. “Things like birthdays, or like favourite artists.” 

As you nod along, Siyoon speaks, “I’ll go first! My birthday is February 16th, and I really like IU and Lisa from Blackpink.” 

Haneul goes next. “I was born on May 25, and I’m a very big fan of Olivia Rodrigo.” 

Being the last one, you think about who your favourite artists are. “My birthday is ___, and I really enjoy SEVENTEEN, and my mom listened to a lot of 70’s/80’s music when I was growing up, so I really admire ABBA and Queen. 

Just as the conversations get more comfortable with jokes being made, a bell can be heard coming from the living room. 

The three of you all lock eyes. “Guess we have to go outside,” you state. 

Going out of the room, you see the three guys coming out of their room at the same time. Heading towards the living room, you can see what looks like a letter on the coffee table. 

With the six of you guys sitting on the sofas, Youngjae reaches out for the letter and reads it aloud. 

“Welcome to the first official mission of We Became Roommates! Every new home needs to hold a housewarming party, and a housewarming party is not the same with some food. This week’s mission is to come together as a group and make a homemade meal. You guys will be separating into two groups of three by picking sticks that have a colour and heading to the grocery store to get ingredients. The red team will be in charge of the main course, and the blue team will be in charge of the desserts. Happy cooking, and welcome to the new home!” 

You nervously make eye contact with Youngjae, knowing that cooking is not yours or his forte. Baking and cooking are definitely two different things in your head.

Picking out your sticks, you end up in the main course meal team, with Ni-ki and Jongseob. 

“Soo,” you start, “does anyone know how to cook?” 

Crickets. 

“Ok, let’s just try not to burn the house down,” you murmur.

a/n: let's hope they don't burn the food :) also i think u can easily lose a 6ft man at a grocery store but i digress 😌 also dont mind the typo that was on the 4th pic 😀 im actually a lil 🤏 bit behind at doing the drafts for this smau but it's ok 💪 gotta challenge my time management skills (ᴗ_ ᴗ。)╭ i have like a bunch of the storyline planned out just need to actually do the social media part of it and do all those pictures ദ്ദി (ᵒ̴̶̷᷄﹏ᵒ̴̶̷᷅)

synopsis: With long-time K-pop fans asking for another season of the infamous variety show We Got Married, MBC brings it back with a spin-off, We Became Roommates. As a way to bring K-pop fans together, the first season involves six idols born in 2005. With seeing each other every day, doing missions for every episode, making memories, and fans watching and shipping, blossoming friendships and a bubbling romance can't be helped. pairing: idol!jongseob x fem idol!reader genre: idol au, crack, fluff, humour, coworkers to friends to lovers

previous ✉︎ next ✉︎ masterlist

likes and reblogs are appreciated ⋆˙⟡♡

taglist; open 📌: @yoizhrs @sunoostripletriple @seobluv @sirenla @chuuswifereal @rkivegirlsblog @tkooooop @forever-atiny @i03jae @bludzk1llzyuzu @downmainstreet @astro-doll-the-star @rinaforstars @ssweetreveries @finnbbl @keropiimp3 ~ (send an ask or comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊)

[doodleferp]

Sorry if me and other anons are overloading you with these asks it's because you've got such good ideas, writing and drawing skills and your doing your AUs which are amazing and we don't want to add anymore pressure on you. Again sorry.

No, you guys are fine! All these asks have actually gotten me back into my Trigun fixation. It used to be just cleaning out my drafts and inbox, but now I’m actually having fun making stuff for it again! Even my Hellsing OC didn’t have this many people asking about her, and I’m so glad that you guys love Ari and my AUs so much! I’m working on putting together an illustration for some Ari lore that should drop soon, too!

I don’t have a problem with you all sending me asks — I just didn’t really vibe with the worm au for whatever reason. Maybe I’m already content with the naga au (which I’ve been sketching all day, lmao), I don’t know. I just didn’t vibe with it. PLEASE don't stop sending me asks about them. You guys are the reason I’m back and I don’t want you to leave.

If it’s more AU content you’d like to see, I’m happy to throw out other AUs I’ve got hidden away! I, oh...oh, god. I have so many. Alternate dimensions, alternate timelines, alternate futures...you name it. They're all shoved into a fun Google Doc because I'm VERY meticulous about how I log my stuff so I don't lose any of it. I'm happy to share the doc when I'm done updating it, but for now I'll list a few of my favorite AUs.

We got...

Gods Walk Among Us: Rather than being used as objects, the PLANTs are worshiped as deities and have more supernatural aspects to them. Because PLANTs are treated much better, they are able to flourish and create large, lush oases for humans to live in. As such, they must periodically withdraw into themselves to replenish their power. While Knives is worshiped, Vash is feared as a dark god, and has become so beaten down by humanity’s treatment of him that he’s almost suicidal. Thankfully, he has at least one person on his side -- his lovely wife Ari.

Kitty AU: Mostly everyone in the show is a cat. Vash and Knives are twin Maine Coons and Ari is a Havana brown owned by Rem, Milly and Meryl are a Turkish Angora and a Siamese who are owned by the sweet old Mr. Bernadelli, Wolfwood is is a black cat who's famous at the local orphanage, the list goes on.

Ocean Man AU: Rather than a desert planet, No Man’s Land is largely covered by water (a la Gargantia on the Verdurous Planet), and PLANTs are large mermaid-like entities called Hydrophytes, which keep the human settlements afloat or sustained underwater. Vash and Knives are more human-like Hydrophytes who can speak for their kind, but they're still BIG BOYS. Ari is now mutated by Hydrophyte DNA instead of PLANT DNA, which gives her Hydrophyte abilities such as speaking to the rest of the species, breathing underwater, etc. It's mainly Ari and Vash navigating everyday life with their spouse being radically different in size compared to them and trying to keep Vash from being hunted down by bounty hunters.

Modernity: A futuristic “modern” No Man’s Land in which PLANTs are used as a source of clean energy. Ari is an orphan unofficially adopted by her mother’s coworker Rem Saverem, and grows up alongside Rem’s officially-adopted children, a pair of Independent PLANTs named Vash and Nai. The children turn to each other after Rem’s death, and form a polycule for several decades. Eventually, Nai’s controlling nature and misanthropic attitude leads him to cripple Vash in an argument, and Ari takes Vash and flees. Nowadays, Vash and Ari are drifters living on the run with Ari taking freelance PLANT servicing jobs to help them get by, while Nai grows his business empire and endlessly searches for them. The couple are forced to flee their apartment after Nai oversteps his boundaries for the thousandth time, and take to living in a trailer while they raise their children.

Sinister Vash, of course. That boy needs no explanation.

Satyr AU, based on this awesome fanfic by @triplesilverstar. On a far-future Earth, humans have gone extinct, with the species of the future being gender-segregated satyrs and nymphs. Children are typically one or the other depending on their gender. Vash and Knives are exceptionally-powerful satyrs, while Ari is a nymph with satyr mutations. Vash and Ari live together on an orchard that they fixed up from scratch, and they are soon blessed with four beautiful hybrid children. Unfortunately, their happiness is shattered by Vash’s past coming back to haunt him, and they are soon targeted by some of the strongest satyrs that Ari has ever seen.

I have more. I have so many more. I have so many that it hurts. AaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

[seiyasabi]

The Scientist

(Hange (Hanji) can rearrange by guts tbh :P Lol, anyways, this is a Yandere Hanji x Female Reader story! It takes place in current time tho (same universe as Yelena). Also, idgaf how tall the creator says Hanji is. In this fic, even the tall girlies get to be shorter than Hanji. 

TW: kidnapping!, !drugging!, unwanted advances, stalking!, etc! 

Please proceed with caution! Also, I’m sorry if you can tell that this was in my drafts for a hot min. I started to write this when I first started this blog, and I just finished/revised it lol. ) 

“Hey, (Nickname!” Hearing the loud shout of a certain brunet, you jump about a foot in the air. As usual, Hanji decides to surprise you whilst you’re in the middle of something. 

Pulling away from the microscope you’re currently looking at, you put on a strained smile, “Yes?” 

Their one eye sparkles in a hopeful fashion from behind their glasses, one of her their fiddling with their eyepatch, “Sooo,” They draw out the o, seemingly trying to disarm you, “Are you free this weekend? There’s this suuuuper cool bar that’s just opening, and me and the others are thinking about going! It’s totally not a date or anything,” They pause to let out a loud laugh, “I think it’ll be fun! What D'ya say?” 

Forcing out a chuckle, you shake your head, “Ah, I’m sorry, Hanji, but I’m busy this weekend. I have a lot of samples I need to process for that upcoming court case,” You chew your bottom lip nervously, “I’m sorry. I hope you and the others have a good time, though!” 

A new voice is heard, butting into your conversation, “I can do those! I’ve been needing more hours, anyways,” Whipping your head in the direction of the voice, you silently curse. Fuck Armin for being so helpful! 

Hanji beams even brighter than before, clapping their hands together happily, “See! Armin can do that for you!” They lean in closer to you, their lab coat brushing against yours, “Come on, (Nickname), I’d be reaaaaally happy if you go!” 

An uneasy feeling pools in your gut, as an anxious sweat begins to bead at your brow, “I-uhm-I suppose I can go for an hour or two.”

“Great!” They grab your hands in theirs, squeezing them in a friendly manner, “The bar is called ‘Titan’s Wrath,’ and we’re meeting at eight on Saturday!” Releasing you, they pat you on the back, “See you later!” They run off, most likely back to the dry lab. 

After a moment of silence, you slowly turn towards the short haired blond man, “Armin, I’m going to kill you.”

He blanches at your blunt tone, flushing a bright red, “Wha-what?” 

You grit your teeth, tears starting to bead your eyes in frustration, “They’re the person I was telling you about! Hanji constantly harasses me, and you practically just tossed me into their arms! Why would you do that?” 

A look of pure terror and remorse appears of his face, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t realise that they were the person-oh my God, I’m so stupid. I-I really didn’t know! I’m so, so sorry!” You let out a quivering breath, hands clenched into fists to calm you down. 

“It-it’s alright. I never really told you who they were. Just never do that again, okay? If you need more hours, just tell me, and I’ll see what I can do,” The younger man sighs in relief, shoulders deflating. 

“I promise to never do that again!” You nod, blinking away your unshed tears, and smile at him. 

“Okay, then we don’t have any problems,” You laugh lightly, shaking your head, “Who would’ve thought our newest intern was the dry lab’s wing man?” He panics again, making you cackle good-naturedly, “Now, can you please grab the dilluter? I forgot to grab it from the fridge.”

-

Hanji, being the ever cheerful person that they are, set their sights on you the moment you were hired. 

But, if they came out with their feelings immediately, you’d just assume that they wanted to take advantage of you. 

So, they watched you. Writing down your likes and dislikes, your quirks, everything. Through their ‘research,’ they came to realise that you’re very good at your job. The wet-lab should be lucky that they have you… but they never give you the recognition you deserve! 

They bombard you with assignments, become upset when you don’t finish them in seconds (which is so unreasonable!), and hardly give you any time off! 

You don’t seem to mind, being the good girl you are, but Hanji sure does! 

So, they’d seek out the top graduates from the college nearby, and help them become employed at the lab. The newbies really helped get the load off of your shoulders, and once done, they decided to swoop in now that you had a decent amount of free time. 

It started at the vending machine- they’d asked you if you wanted to get coffee with them sometime. You said no, probably because you felt it wasn’t professional. After all, rumours would spread like wildfire if you went out with the lead lab tech of the dry lab! 

So, everytime they knew you had a weekend off, they’d approach you with new places to try. 

Be it a movie, a store, a concert- it didn’t matter. They just desperately wanted to have some time with you! 

But, you reacted the complete opposite of how you were supposed to. 

You’d pick up as many shifts as possible, most times going into over time, just to avoid the flamboyant lead. Whenever you saw them in the hall or by the break room, you’d turn in the complete opposite direction. If wet-lab needed to correspond with the dry-lab, you’d send your most qualified coworker to do so. 

It was saddening, to be honest. They love you so much, yet you refuse to even face them. 

But, thanks to that Armin kid, their plans can finally bloom into fruition. For once, you can’t escape the brunet’s advances! 

Because of that, Hanji made a note to the owner of the lab that Armin would make a good contribution to the lab after he gets all of his qualifications. 

-

Saturday night comes far too soon. 

Dressed in black skinny jeans and a cropped, white long sleeve, you stand in front of ‘Titans Wrath.’ Scoffing at how the bar sounds like a metal band, you make your way inside. 

Grabbing the door handle, you yank it open, immediately hearing loud rock music. Mentally patting yourself on the back for your observation, you step inside of the cool building. 

Looking inside, you see a large, double sided bar in the middle of the room, a stage and standing area just behind it. There are a few pool tables in the front area where you’re standing, along with double doors leading to a hidden kitchen. 

There’s also a lot of people inside. You can’t see Hanji or their friends, but seeing a band setting up on the stage tells you that they’re probably on the other side of the bar. 

Walking over to the steps leading down into the stage area, you try to ignore the leers of a few men around you. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn clothes that accentuate your beautiful figure. Peering around the corner, you see the scientist and their friends, an empty seat in between them and a large blond man, that you vaguely recall being the police chief of your city. 

Strolling towards them halfheartedly, you give yourself a small peptalk inside of your mind. Sure, Hanji has always been touchy-feely with you, sure, they’ve asked you out about one hundred times, sure, you run into them every time you leave the house, sure- 

“(Nickname)! You actually came!” The brunet’s voice is loud, loud enough to cut through the loud music and equally loud chatter. Forcing a smile onto your face, you give a small wave, suddenly uncomfortable with the line of strangers at the bar suddenly looking at you. 

“Yes, hello, Hanji,” When you’re close enough, you’re thrown into a tight embrace, their body practically molding into your own. They’re about a head taller than you, making it so your head is practically forced against their protruding collarbones. Hesitating slightly, you give them a soft pat on the back, trying to escape their suffocating embrace. 

“I’m so glad you came!” They release you just as suddenly as they grabbed you, putting a hand on the small of your back, and practically forcing you in between the blond man and themself, “(Nickname), this is Erwin. Erwin, this is (First Name).”

His blue eyes rake over your appearance, recognition appearing on his face, “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. (Last Name), especially under better circumstances.” 

You nod, thinking back on some high profile cases you met with him for, “Yes, it’s nice to see you again, Mr. Smith.” 

A loud scoff is heard from beside Erwin, the head of a short, dark haired man peeks around the broad chested man, “It’s about time you brought a respectful brat,” You have to stop yourself from flinching at his harsh tone, “I am Levi,” Opening your mouth to introduce yourself, he holds up a hand, halting you, “There’s no need for introductions, Shitty-glasses has gushed about the ‘pretty wet-lab scientist’ for months now.” 

“Oh, alright. It’s nice to meet you,” His lifts his whiskey on rocks in acknowledgement, before downing it with one swig. 

“Likewise,” After that, he turns towards a light brown haired woman, her high pitched voice is heard from where you’re sitting. 

“I’m sorry about that. The detective is very… unsociable.” 

“It’s alright, Mr. Smith. He kind of reminds me of one of my interns, Annie,” You say with a small smile, before your swiveling bar stool is forced around so you’re facing Hanji. 

“Sooo, you like the bar so far?” Their smile is somewhat pleading, and you can’t help but just go along with them. 

“Yes, this place is, um, cool. Very interesting choice,” They clasp their hands together with a pleased expression, as they somehow move closer to you than they already are. At this point, you’re worried that they’ll fall off their stool. 

“Right? Our residential emo boy found it, and we’ve been hooked ever since,” A loud ‘Shut up, Shitty-glasses,’ is heard from behind you, making the brunet laugh, “Let me order you a drink! I think there’s something that you’ll really like!” 

Opening your mouth to reject, it was seemingly too late, because the brunet has already waved over a punk-ed out bartender. You didn’t really hear what the drink is called, but the man sets to work immediately. 

It barely takes a minute for it to be finished, and the purple drink is suddenly in front of your motionless form. Looking up, the purple haired man winks at you, before turning his attention back to a speaking Hanji. 

“Anything she orders, put it on my tab,” He nods, before walking off to service another customer. 

Turning your attention back to Hanji, you try to persuade them to let you pay, “Thanks, Hanji, but it’s alright. I can pay for my own drinks-”

“Don’t worry about it; I asked you out, remember? And it’s the least I can do for harassing you for the past few months,” Startled by their uncharacteristically somber words, you nod in understanding. 

“Alright. Thank you,” They nod, before motioning towards your drink. 

“Try it! I’m sure you’ll like it!” Grabbing the cool glass cup, you bring it up to your lips, and take a small sip. It’s amazing. It tastes like (favourite flavour), and it goes down smooth. 

“You’re right, this is delicious!” They grin brightly, clapping their hands together in glee. 

“Great!” They motion towards the stage with their head, “The show’s about to start! Are you ready for a kickass night?” You laugh at their vigour, and nod. 

“You bet!” 

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all. 

-

You spoke too soon. 

It seems like you’ve drank too much, because you’re now feeling dizzy. Throughout the set, you’d ordered about five more drinks, and they seemingly hit you all at once. 

Hanji, who’s been watching you since your fourth drink, feigns shock at your unstable form. That Rohypnol they grabbed from work works quite well! Now they can see why it’s the choice drug for those awful, awful people. 

“Whoa there, (Nickname), it seems you’ve had too much to drink!” Hanji jokes, hands holding you steady on your bar stool. The only person from your group still at the bar is Erwin, but he knows they have it under control. As chief of police, he feels a bit of remorse, but he knows it's for the best. Hanji will take care of you, because, after all, you’re their only true obsession. 

“Wha-huh? Was’ happenin?” Hanji can all but coo at how cute you are. 

“Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll get you home safe,” Helping you to your boot clad feet, they send a knowing look to Erwin, who smiles in return. Wrapping an arm around your waist, they help you stumble out of the bar, and walk towards their car. Once at the passenger side, the brunet unlocks the door, and assists you inside. You flop onto their leather interior, eyes unfocused, and body movements random. Chuckling to themself, they buckle you in, not before pulling on gloves, and taking your phone, keys, and wallet off of you. 

Taking these items, they empty your wallet of its cash, and chuck everything into a nearby bush. Knowing that the cameras outside the building and the buildings surrounding the place are off, they feel at ease. If anything, they feel like your knight in shining armour. If they hadn’t taken you, someone else would’ve-you’re just too cute. 

Closing your door, and rounding the car, they slide into the driver’s side, before starting the car. Buckling themself in, they look at your out-of-it form, and smile. 

[justasparkwritings]

Troll In Love: Part 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers, Non-Idol AU

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: What happens when your work nemesis and your ultimate troll team up to flip your world upside down? 

Note: This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange! Look out for Part 2 later this week. 

This fic is dedicated to, written for the incomparable @xjoonchildx​, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it .... it’s trash okay? jk... kind of. 

Banner by me. 

Monday: Pitch Meeting

           “Everyone has an inherent archnemesis,” Claire began her presentation, eyes peering across the conference room, attempting to make thoughtful eye contact with her peers.

          Finally, a staff writer, this pitch marked her first foray into feature writing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, in her three years at the company as a freelance writer, it wasn’t that she didn’t draft proposals, complete preliminary research, no, she absolutely did. But there was always someone in front of her, someone who always came around the corner, nicking first place with seconds to spare. Claire hated you from the moment you arrived, bright eyed and excited, a recent college graduate gunning for a position at the magazine. While it took her years to pitch a cover story feature, years to move from an assistant to full-time staff writer, you had done so in a handful of years.

          Today, Claire decided, that would change.  She had prepped and planned for weeks, laid in wait for Marissa to give her the go ahead to pitch her idea to the team. Adjusting her Dior, she shifted from heel to heel before speaking again.

          “We all have that one person who no matter what we post, they find a way to demean it, turn it negative, make it about something completely unrelated. Whether that’s politics, or religion, or sex, there is that one troll we can’t help but root against. My proposal is to use a few members of staff to find their internet trolls, to engage with them over a period of time, and if they’re willing, interview them, both separately and together. I want to discover what it is that makes them keep commenting, why they always seem to gravitate towards certain posts, who their audience is and how it relates to our greater understandings of our enemies.” Claire sighed, the heavy lifting of her presentation just beginning.

           “I like it, who do you want to use?” Marissa asked.

           “Someone from each of our most high-profile teams, or the people in our office that have the largest social media followings. For a few that overlaps,”

           “Who are those people?”

           “Y/N, Jaxson, Hoseok, Emma and Bridgette,” Claire explained. “They have an average Instagram following of ten thousand, and on Twitter it’s twelve thousand.”

           “What do you post that gets you so many followers?” Gillian questioned.

           “My ass,” Jaxson laughed. “But really, it’s Drag Race content,”

           “Good, you have a list. I need written permission from each of you to interview you and your top internet harassers.”

           “I’d like to request that my name be off the list,” You asked, hand still raised.

           Hoseok asked, knowing the answer deep in his bones. “Why?”

           “I just, I don’t think it’d be a –

           “Nonsense, you have a large following, I’m sure there’s someone who pisses you off regularly,” Marissa interrupted.

           “Yes, there is! What’s his name? Jimin?” Claire pretended to scan her page, her cursory glance perfunctory instead of practical.

           You heard the gasp leave Hoseok’s mouth before you registered what was happening.

“Fuck you!” You snapped. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate, but the sentiment remains.”

           “It was, but it also sealed your fate.” Marissa stood. “Start assembling your team and listen to Claire, I’m sure she has a list of things she needs from you.”

           “I do!” Claire chimed.

           “Great, get me the contracts from legal and get it to each of the people you’ve listed before 5PM today, I want signed consent before you leave this building.”

           “What if I don’t want to?” You asked, your final plea.

           “You owe her for the debacle with your last interview,” Marissa reminded you.

           “It’s not my fault they were drunk both times! I got the article done and out. It was one of our biggest issues in the last year and was followed up by two other feature pieces by me that beat that record,” You countered, your success an unnecessary brag in a room full of people who feared and admired your work.

           “I don’t care, Y/N, handle it,” Marissa sauntered out, her assistants following close behind.

           Slouching in your chair, your eyes landed on Claire, glaring daggers into her perfectly straight midnight bob. She was everything you hated, a brown noser, a narcissist, a career driven monster who had been biting at your heels since you arrived. She was jealous, blinded by some lofty goal that she’d be an editor or editor in chief before 28, a feat rare in fashion, unless you were Elaine Welterwroth or Margaret Zhang, of course. They had become editors and editors in chief by ages 29 and 27 respectively. Though Zhang had begun her career blogging at 16, a fact that only infuriated Claire who was too busy popping pimples and trying to lose her virginity to her junior varsity boyfriend.

          Claire could spend days listing everything she hated about you. She hated your easy interactions with coworkers, the ability to have the entire room stop and listen when you spoke, the craft of your written work and relationships maintained with subjects years after interviewing them. She hated how you left work with Hoseok on your arm or went to drinks with the assistants and interns. How you achieved so many bylines, becoming an editor in your own right without so much as breaking a sweat, while she was scraping the barrel to be noticed. You seemingly had everything Claire wanted, and Claire was sick of it.

Monday: Your Office

           “Thank you, for your participation,” Claire said, sitting across from you in your office.

           “You aren’t welcome, I’m actually rather unimpressed with your ability to ambush not only me but the other people you’ve trapped into doing your article,” You crossed your legs, adjusting the waist band of your trousers and continued to scowl at her. Claire had only heard of your less than cheerful personality, though it remained largely rumored, she had never had it confirmed or dared to see it in person.

           “How, charming,” She rolled her eyes.

           “Look, you don’t want to be talking to me, I don’t want to be talking to you. Just tell me what you want so I can send you on your way.”

           Claire watched as you reached across your desk to grab your black and white planner, flipping open to the weeks page and holding your pen at the ready. The inside, covered in stickers and hand lettered phrases, fit the persona Claire so desperately wanted to mimic.

           “I need you to read and sign this,” Claire slid the agreement across your glass desk. “Then, I need you to identify the username of your troll, and I need to borrow an intern from your team.”  

           “You can’t have one,”

           “Marissa said I could have whatever I needed, and I need an intern to comb through your tweets.”

           “I can save you the trouble, I rarely tweet, when I do, it’s addressing the same ass hat,” You explained.

           “Well, I need their handle,”

           “Fine,”

           “And the intern,” Claire was firm.

           You rolled your eyes, before pressing the intercom. “Hey Alexis, can you send Erin to me?”

           “Sure thing,” Alexis replied.

           “Thank you,”

           Claire rolled her eyes.

           “Jealous?” You questioned.

           “Read the contract, sign it and send it back to me along with answering the Form that’s in your inbox,” Claire directed.

           “Great,”

           “I’ll be back on Friday to go over your tweets and exchanges before we decide on a tactic to reach out to them and ask them to come in for an interview,” Claire explained. It didn’t annoy you that she was prepared, but it did piss you off a little to know how much she had thought this through. Maybe you should give her a chance, professionally, not socially, Claire would remain a bottom feeder.

           “Who says they’re in the city?” You questioned.

           “If not, we’ll Zoom with them, okay?”

           “Excuse me, you wanted to see me?” Erin peered through the door; wavy bangs parted slightly to expose her forehead and freckled cheeks.

           “Yes, your projects are on hold. Claire here needs your help with her feature article, and as my intern, you are to report to her for the remainder of the project,” You explained.

           Erin’s eyes widened, never had she been reassigned to a special project, let alone with Claire who was notorious for running interns and assistants into the ground. “Who will take over my work?”

           “Can you make a list of where you’re at and send it to me? I will meet with the team tomorrow to talk about where we need to fill in the gaps,”

           “Okay,”

           “Claire, this is Erin, if you are a bitch to her, I will ensure you don’t ever write a feature piece or move past copy editor here or anywhere,”

           “I don’t know where you get off thinking you can speak to me like –

           “I am your superior, and you will respect my intern or face the consequences,”

           “Fine,” Claire turned and left, leaving Erin wondering what on earth she had been roped into.

Tuesday: Happy Hour

           “You gave the real handle?” Hoseok asked over drinks after work, a little happy hour to celebrate leaving the office before 7PM.

           “What was I going to do? She could easily look at my Twitter and Instagram and find out, why lie?”

           “What happened to preservation?” Hoseok mocked.

           “Either I give in and get Claire off my back, or I get called to Marissa’s and have consequences, like I’m a fucking child.”

           Hoseok eyed you suspiciously. “Did you give her his name?”

           “You saw in that meeting, she already knows. I blame you,”

           “Me?”

           “Yes you, always talking about dance classes with Jimin, the good old days of photographing him and styling him in college. He abandoned me to go to school with you, and you’ve taken it all in stride.” You explained. It wasn’t a new story, a new plea, a new exploration of your tempestuous non-relationship with Jimin. It was sad, really, listening to you express the hurt you’ve never let go of.

           “He didn’t abandon you to come to school with me,” Hoseok laughed.

           “Potato, Tomato,”

           “You should talk-

           “Nope, you made your once monthly ‘you should talk to Jimin’ comment a week ago over margheritas, you don’t get another for ten more days,” You scolded.

           “Fine, fine.”

           “I don’t even know where he is,” You muttered, pink liquid of your Paloma slipping down your throat.

           “That’s a lie,”

           “Can you stop calling me out and let me hate him?” You hadn’t meant to snap, but the constant chatter revolving around Jimin was too much to handle, it was too much in two days, too much in the years since you last saw him. Park Jimin was, and has remained, too much.  

           “Fine,” Hoseok resigned. “Have you looked at your tweets lately?”

           “No, I refuse to go back and read whatever horrors I wrote in 2019,”

           “You should,” He suggested.

           “I guarantee Claire will force me to read them. Probably aloud at some last-minute staff meeting she puts together on Friday to fucking fillet me,” You rolled your eyes again, the last dregs of grapefruit clumping together as they slid down the side of your glass.

           “Maybe if you weren’t so,” He starts.

           “Bitchy?”

           “Your words, then she would like you,”

           “She’s hated me since I got there, I’ve tried being nice. I’ve tried being cordial. Claire and I will never mix,” You explained.

           “He’s gone blonde you know,” Hoseok’s eyes have flittered past you, glancing down the street at the setting sun, glad he brought his latest Gucci jacket to keep him warm in the early spring evening.

           “Didn’t you hit your moratorium on how long you can talk about Jimin in a conversation?”

           “You said his name!” Hoseok argued.

           “He isn’t Trump, Hoseok. I can say his name, sometimes.”  

           Hoseok let the moment simmer, cooling gently before turning it up to a raucous boil. “I’m having a kick back next Wednesday, will you come?”

           “If he’s not there,” You answered.

           “I can’t promise that,”

           “Then I can’t promise either,” Chewing the ice from your glass, you let your mind wander to the possibilities of what might happen should you show up to Hoseok’s party and are greeted by Jimin. Blonde Jimin. Jimin with the sparkling eyes and winning smile. Jimin who harasses you on the internet weekly, Jimin who you haven’t spoken to since you were 22, Jimin whom you hated with every fiber of your being.

           Worst case scenario, you couldn’t avoid him and would be forced to speak words to him. Best case, you time it perfectly and he’s either just left or hasn’t arrived and you can doll out pleasantries before Irish-goodbying and never having to confront him.

           “Y/N, please, you haven’t seen my new place yet and it’s finally furnished,” Hoseok pleaded.

           “I’ll think about it,” You resigned.

           “Great!”

           “I fucking hate you and our friendship,” You scoffed, signaling the waiter to bring you the check. You should’ve ordered food, being buzzed and talking about Jimin was never a good idea.

           “I know you do.” Hoseok winked before picking up the tab for you both.

           “At least tell me you haven’t invited Seokjin,” You asked, slipping your coat over your shoulders.

           “Well-

           “You’re fucking with me, right?” You questioned. “You fucking invited both of my exes to a, I’m sorry, kick back? Hoseok, no.”

           “I love you, and I’m sorry, Seokjin helped me find some great pieces for the place, and you know he’s friends with Namjoon and Jungkook,” He tried to explain.

           “That doesn’t mean I want to stare at them over my tenth flute of champagne and my plate which will be piled high with cheese and crackers and pieces of salami.”

           “You and Seokjin are fine though, you ended-

           “Don’t say amicably,” You cut him off.

           “Well, close to it. Please,” He begged. Begging never looked good on Hoseok.

           Staring into his dark irises, a shade mimicking your own, you couldn’t hold the anger brewing. Being around Seokjin was always a better alternative than Jimin. Though the pity he often felt towards you, at your angered state which has never really subsided, was embarrassing. “I’ll think about it.”

           “I love you,” Hoseok pulled you into a hug.

           “Yeah, yeah, then why do you keep doing this to me?”

           “Because I love you,”

           “Tell Taehyung to call me,” You said, waving to him before stepping into the waiting Lyft you’d called at the bar.

           “I will, can’t make any promises,” Hoseok winked before turning towards the subway, where he’d pull out his head phones and scan through the photos he’d taken throughout the day, waiting to get home to Taehyung to analyze, edit and critique them.

Thursday: Claire’s Makeshift Office

           “Are you ready?” Claire asked, sifting through the papers on her desk.

           “You had me come to your office, after you scheduled a meeting to ask if I’m ready? Yes Claire, I’m fucking ready,” You snapped.

           “Erin,” Claire gestured towards your intern who tried to hold her eye roll.

           “So, I combed through your tweets, sifting through your interactions with Mochimin, which is a very creative username,” Erin began.

           “Yeah, his name and nickname combined,” You rolled your eyes.

           “And we read through them all, well mostly me… and I have to ask, are you sure these are your tweets?” Erin questioned.

           “Yes, and what should be his responses,” You answered reaching forward to grab the printed copies waiting for you. You scanned over the interactions, the subtweets, the blatant tags, the retweets and comments not just by Jimin, but a few of your friends too.

           “Why have you been telling us he’s the troll?” Erin asked.

           Her question caught you off guard, eyes wide, shock echoing in your bones.

           “What the fuck? What do you mean? Look at how he fucking responded!”

           “Y/N, you’re the troll!” Erin laughed. “It’s you, not him,”

           “I am not! This is a fucking joke! It’s not April Fools yet, way to put the cart before the horse!” Your voice radiated throughout the small conference room.

          Claire, not having an office of her own, had requested it to conduct most of her teams work. It was your least favorite of the conference rooms, colder both in décor and temperature than the others, it was situated on the corner leading to the kitchen. Glass on two walls, it was the definition of exposed. Everyone could see your outburst. Everyone could watch you fall to pieces. You guessed Claire had planned it this way, to demonstrate how focused her team was, how dedicated to the project they were, to show everyone her value as a staff writer instead of a freelancer. You also assumed she did this to ensure that whatever break down you were beginning to have, would have at least ten witnesses, ten people to side with her that your behavior was irresponsible and reckless.

           “Oh please, get over yourself,” Claire chuckled. The light in her eyes proved your assumptions, she was enjoying this. “Do you see how you interact with him?”

          “What do you mean how I interact with him? He started this!” You lowered your volume, side glances from colleagues passing by alerting you to the unprofessional decibels you’d began reaching.

          “In almost every interaction, you bait him, hook line and sinker. It’s you, Y/N,” Erin explained.

           “No!”

           “Yes, this poor man, just living his life while you’re purposefully harassing him!” Claire feigned shock, eyes widening, mouth slightly open. It was taking everything in you not to resort to physical violence.  

           “I would never,” You glowered.

           “You have! For years, it’s always you,” Erin said again.

          “I, no, that’s impossible. He started it!”

          “Admitting is the first step,” Claire’s placid smile was demanding to be smacked off.

          “Fuck you! This is ridiculous!”

          “July 10, 2020: Thinking of one man in particular, hoping the bleach in his locks burns in the summer heat.Followed by his comment: thinking of one woman in particular, hoping she knows I wear a hat and use purple shampoo.” Erin read.

          “I, I, no!”

          “October 13: Nothing makes me happier than not being invited to a birthday bash with all my friends. He responded: All you have to do is ask. On your birthday, he tweeted: Happy B-Day to the girl who … oh never mind she hates me. You responded: nobody asked for your half-hearted bullshit, next time I hope you choke on it.”

          “He started it!”

          “Why are you so awful to him?” Erin wanted to know.

          “I am not, he began harassing me first,” You tried to argue.

          “Does Hoseok know?” Claire chided.

          “Know what?”

          “About your vendetta,”

          “It’s not a vendetta!”

          “Then explain why you tweet or subtweet him at least twice a week, and then when he responds, tweet him again! You don’t even tag him, just vaguely mention discernable parts of his personality or appearance,” Erin explained.

          “I do not! How do you know what he looks like?” You tried to counter.

          “His profile picture, and a certain friend of yours doesn’t mind sharing-

          “You asked Jungkook? Or was it Taehyung? Or I’m sorry, both?” Your eyes were wide, breathing labored, anger boiling to inhumane levels.

          “Well, if we asked Hoseok you would’ve kno-

          “You called or texted or DM’ed Jungkook and Taehyung, and asked about Jimin?”

          “Yes,” Erin bowed her head, guilt written into the freckles her blush tried so desperately to hide.

          “I cannot believe you, Erin,” You spat.

          “I’m sorry Claire wanted me to,”

          You turned your gaze to Claire, who had begun to cower in her seat.

          “You did the one thing, the absolute one thing that you knew, you fucking knew, would set me off. You did this on purpose, you fucking bottom feeder, you fucking dillweed you crossed the fucking line, Claire,” You spat. Your volume had lowered into a low growl, far more deadly and intimidating than any yelling you had done.

          “We have the proof, Y/N, you can’t deny it, you attack Jimin regularly,” Claire unskillfully attempted to move the conversation away from Jungkook and Taehyung. Like you would balk at her intrusion.

          “You don’t get to violate my personal life, to violate the lives of the people I care deeply about, to expose sources and put them in danger should this article go south, poking and prodding into the lives of people who are dealing with their own bullshit to push your own fucking agenda, Claire,” You were seething, Te Fiti in Moana, Mrs. Weasley against Bellatrix, Kim Kardashian against the ocean searching for her diamond. Your wrath knows no bounds, and Claire had finally crossed the line into territory she could never come back from.

          “It’s for the job, nothing personal.” Claire shrugged. You could see it in her eyes, she wanted blood and was elated to be getting it.

          “This is entirely personal.”

          “Well, you can ask Jimin about it when we interview him,” She smiled, lips upturning revealing her veneers, red lipstick perfectly matte and shaped against her thin flesh.

          “No, absolutely not,” You shook your head.  

          “Yes, that’s part of the deal you agreed to,”

          “I take it back. I revoke my consent!”

          “It’s non-negotiable,” Marissa said. She had sauntered in during your berating, watching as you tried and failed to continue believing that you weren’t the troll. “You have agreed to this, and you will sit through the interview and cordially answer Claire’s questions.”

          “Marissa, this is crossing a line,” You stated.

          “You have to be held accountable,” Claire said.

          “Fuck you, Claire. Believe it or not, there are somethings that are beyond your understanding and a few that are not appropriate for work,” You continued to scold her.

          “Y/N, why are you being so hostile?” Claire was mocking you, with Marissa by her side, she was invincible.

          “You picked me on purpose. What have you been working with Hoseok? Is this some larger plan to get me to talk to Jimin? I don’t want to talk with Jimin or talk to Jimin, isn’t it bad enough he’s being brought into my work? Oh and let’s not forget you using Erin and Hoseok to gain access to Jungkook and Taehyung, who are beyond off limits.” You listed each of her offenses, careful to leave out indiscretions that occurred before this project of hers began.  

          “You agreed to-

          “No, I was forced to do this by you, Marissa,” You began.

          It wasn’t hard to glower at Marissa, one of the most decorated editors in chief, beloved by Condé Nast, best friend of Anna Wintour… Everyone aspired to be her, but in the last year, through your promotion and growing turbulence within the magazine, her leadership had begun to falter. Her steady hand, guiding each staff writer and editor towards success and elevating everyone’s work, was crumbling at an alarming pace. Yet, no one knew why or if anything was being done to rectify the damage her wake was leaving.

          “I was coerced into this under some pretense that I owe Claire something for a so called fuck up that resulted in the biggest boon in our magazines readership in the last year, which was followed up by not one but two feature bylines and my promotion. I have done more than enough at this company, in this industry, to sit here and be forced to engage with a man who destroyed my world. I will not speak with him, or to him or listen to him. I will not, and if you force me, I will get legal involved. Should this bullshit continue, you can expect my letter of resignation next week.”

          Standing and shoving your chair in, you turned on the heels of your Oxfords and marched straight to your office. Closing your laptop and shoving your planner into your tote, you grabbed your phone.

          “Where are you going?” Hoseok asked. He moved in time with you, following down the many corridors of your office and towards the elevators.

          As you stepped in, you pressed lobby and waited for the doors to be closed before turning to him.

          “Did you tell Erin she could contact Jungkook and Taehyung?” You asked.

          “She did what?” Hoseok yelled, soundwaves bounding off the metal and plastic of the elevator, reverberating in your ears.

          “Did you?”

          “No, I can’t believe she, are you serious?” Hoseok couldn’t lie, a fundamental flaw in his design made it impossible for him to tell the smallest fib.

          “Did you work with Erin and Claire to get me involved in this feature? To get me to talk to Jimin?” You didn’t mince your words or pad your language to make him feel less attacked. You needed the answer, and you needed it now.

          “No, I didn’t know Claire was doing this until she pitched it. You think I would-

          “Hoseok, they called Jungkook and Taehyung. They want Jimin to come in to be interviewed, they won’t stop until I-

          “Until you what?”

          “Marissa has always supported me, championed me. But Claire has her number, she has her locked and loaded, aiming for me and I don’t know why,” You confided.

          “She has been slipping lately,” He agreed. “There’s only one way to stop this,”

          Together you stepped out of the elevator, moving past the turnstiles to the revolving door.

          “Am I crazy?” You asked, the insecurity beginning to overtake your bravery.

          “No, something weird is going on,”

          You clarified, “No, I mean, am I crazy for… for doing this to Jimin?”

          “I don’t know if you’re crazy, but you’ve definitely not been your best self,” Hoseok answered.

          “He makes me so-

“You still love him,” Hoseok interrupted.

          “I-

          “Go talk to him,” Hoseok encouraged. “Call me after, we can get drinks and wallow or pick out an outfit for your hot date.”

          “What if he-

          “Just, talk to him, okay?” Hoseok requested.

          “Okay,”

          “I’ll check in with Jungkookie and Taehyungie,” He assured.

          “Thank you,”

          “I’ll also scope out open positions, we can’t stay here,”

          “I love you, Hobi,” You confided, a statement that flowed so easily past your lips, you didn’t have to think or parse through the emotions that went along with it. You’ve always loved him, always will.

          “I love you too, Y/N,” Hoseok draped his arm around your shoulders before placing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle embrace, a squeeze of confidence, a gesture of love. He moved swiftly from you back into the building, and as you watched him walk away, you took a deep breath.

          Taking your phone out of your pocket, you dialed a number you had tried to forget.

          “To what do I owe this unexpected delight of a call?” He asked. His voice was the same, chipper and cunning in the same breath.

          “I need to speak with you, ASAP,” You told him.

          “Okay, I’m working from home today, come over whenever,” He invited you without hesitation.

          “You still live at the same place?”

          “No, moved up. I’ll send you the address,”

          “You know who this is?” You asked, uncertainty back in your bones.

          “What, Y/N, you thought I deleted your number?” Jimin laughed, one of only a few sounds that shot right to your knees, making any posture unstable in the docile sounds of his joy.

          “I, I don’t know, I guess. Look I’m going to hail a cab, I’ll be there in 20,”

          “I look forward to it, just tell the doorman you’re here for me and he’ll let you up,” Jimin said.

          “Okay, see you soon, I guess,”

          “I can’t wait,” Jimin was smiling, you couldn’t see it, but the lilt in his voice was all the assurance you needed. Bracing yourself for the impact of him, of his voice, of his laugh, of the way he looked at you, you hailed one of the last remaining cabs in the city and prayed for courage.  

Next: Troll in Luv Pt. 2

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

Business AU - Working Late, Part 1

Just a quick idea to test more and play around this AU I’m trying to build. For the sake of taking it easy, I’ll use my OC Vee 😊

Vee didn’t realize how late it was starting to get until she finally glanced away from her computer screen and towards the large windows the building had to offer. The sky was turning to a dark blue, the city’s lights creating a halo around the various skyscrapers. Many coworkers had already left the place and most of the main lights were off, leaving only some bulbs on towards the main hallways here and there for the cleaning team. Well, at least those hours will give me a better pay..., thought Vee as she stretched her arms, trying to ease the stiffness in her shoulders and at the base of her neck. ... All she could think about was getting home and enjoying a nice warm drink to ease her into a better sleep. Or she could always enjoy a nice glass of red wine - the latter much more enticing. Collecting her handbag and coat, her feet instinctively proceeded towards the large room’s exit, until her eyes caught on a glow that wasn’t usually there. It was coming from the nook of a small hallway that led to a room not usually used by any employee. Vee’s reasoning first led her to believe that someone forgot to turn off a switch, but her curiosity actually wondered if another soul was still occupied in this building. She approached the source calmly, taking a peek while still standing by the doorframe of the small space. At first she noticed many tables and shelves, a plethora of paper rolls, books and drawing equipment decorating the room in an organized chaos. Then she noticed him. She had seen the turtle brothers many times ever since she’d been employed barely a month ago. At first it had been a surprise, but now it was simply pure fascination. Vee recognized this one to be Donatello, the tallest of the bunch. His shell was facing her, his attention all on a large sheet of paper laid on a drafting board. The woman couldn’t help watching him for a moment, his movements ever so precise with his scale ruler and his pencil. As he paused to admire his work, Vee studied his form. Even with his white shirt, with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, she could still decipher the subtle shape of his muscles - all thanks to his trainings. He wasn’t as built as his brothers, but he was toned enough to bring a blush on the woman’s cheeks... “You can come forward, I won’t mind.” His voice broke her thoughts. He didn’t even turn around as he had said that, probably feeling observed anyway. Vee suddenly felt embarassed, her audible gasp finally grasping the turtle’s attention. “Oh, uhm, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb your work. ... I saw some lights in the distance and was wondering if someone forgot to turn off something...”

His golden eyes made her trail off her last words, internally melting as she saw the sweet smile on his lips.

“No worries, I know it’s late,” he added. “I’m mostly surprised someone was still working as well.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen whenever I’m too focused,” shyly answered back the woman with a smile.

“What were you working on?”

Vee was silent for some seconds. Am I really having a casual conversation with one of my bosses? she thought with a slight frown. Donatello’s soft chuckle made her realize she was probably taking too much time to answer.

“Please, I won’t bite,” he said. “I’m actually enjoying this break from my work. If you have a minute or two to spare before leaving, I don’t mind having a little conversation!”

The woman conceeded, finally entering the room and taking seat on a chair that was nearby the mutant’s desk. In the process she did not notice the other taking a good look at her, most presumably enjoying her presence. Vee first straightened her back once seated, extending a hand for a shake.

“Well, first of all, hi. I’m Véronique, but you may call me Vee. I’m the newest project manager overseeing the creative team. Everything regarding the company’s outer image has to go through me first.”

“Color me impressed, that’s quite the title,” replied Donatello, shaking her hand. “I do recall seeing and hearing your name a couple of times for the past weeks. You’re our newest addition coming from Montréal, if I stand correct?”

“Indeed! It’s been a dream of mine to come work in New York City, so I am extremely grateful for this job.”

Her hand felt so small in his. Gosh, she could feel her cheeks warm up...

“But I’m blabbering now,” she added, freeing herself from his hold. “I was trying to get through the upcoming evaluations I’ll have to give to the team and revise some designs that are supposed to come out by the end of this month. So it’s crunch time much.”

“Oh I do get that,” smiled the other. “Deadlines can be such a curse. ... I’ve been working late myself as well for a Lower East Side project.”

“What would that be, if it’s okay to ask?”

The turtle gave a better view to his board, revealing some intricate structure designs laid down on paper.

“The Lowline,” he started. “I can quickly summarize it as an underground park that allows sunlight in and vegetation all around. It’s been years since the city had this under work, and I’m trying to push it into completion. ... But there’s a lot of structure issues that needs to be addressed.”

Vee stood up, taking a better look to the drawings. Some calculations could be seen on the sides, but the trickiest parts were clearly the solar collection disks and underground domes that would distribute light. The whole idea in its whole was great, but in the long run it would prove to be a challenge in terms of weather changes and various issues - may they be of human nature or not.

“I’ve heard about it,” added the woman. “And I do hope it’ll come into fruition. It sounds like a great idea overall.”

“Indeed, but I feel like my lines are not organic enough for this line of work,” sighed the mutant. “I’m used to buildings, mechanics, and more ‘structured’ work. ... The city has more of a round and nature-friendly image in mind, so I’m trying to keep that in mind for my designs. Alas my drawings are resembling a prescholer trying to learn how to draw a circle.”

Vee couldn’t help a small laugh at that last remark, smiling as she looked back to the male.

“Don’t be so harsh with yourself, it’s already better compared to some employees around here.” She then pointed some lines. “I could definitely see an improvement here and there if you were to use a compass and smooth the lines, rather than guessing with a ruler and free-handing it. I understand the calculations, but you’ll have to trust the papers’ measure lines for it to truly work and give better measurements for whichever company would handle the creation of those structures.”

“... Have you worked in architecture before?” asked Donatello with a small smile.

“No, but I’ve done plenty of illustration works before and I can recognize the different needs for when you’re drawing buildings, compared to ‘organic’ structures or just plain vegetation.”

Their eyes met, Vee noticing the other’s amusement. She promptly moved away from the drawing, moving away a stray strand of teal colored hair from her face.

“... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tell you what to do...”

“Oh no, no, I appreciate the insight!” reassured Donatello. “I should ask more of it in the future, in fact. ... Would you mind surpervising my work once this hellish end of the month has gone by? I could even help you, if you accept.”

Did she hear that right? Her slight astonishement made her feel like everything was a dream.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” she answered. “I’d look forward to it, in fact.”

“Excellent!” added the turtle with a small clasp of his hands. “Then I guess I’m done for tonight and I can rest easy for now.”

He backed his chair a bit, allowing him enough space to stand up afterward. Vee could feel this knot forming in her stomach and throat, truly noticing their differences in size as the top of her head only came up to the height of his shoulders.

“If you don’t mind, we can head towards the exit together? I wouldn’t want you to get attracted to another light source and get lost once more,” he joked lightly.

Vee did a small snort in amusement, suddenly blushing after such display. She did nod through her shyness:

“Yes, that would be fine!”

She tried not to think too much about his smile, his presence such a nice feeling overall... After a small detour to his office so he could collect some of his belongings, they next headed to the building’s exit, and all Vee could feel was as if she was floating on a cloud...

((PART 2))

[maevemarethyu]

Unexpected (5/?)

(Not my GIF)

(This is my shitty border though. First try and all.)

You weren’t expecting it. Neither of you were.

That didn’t mean you weren’t happy with how it ended.

Bucky Barnes x Reader Fic.

Warnings: I don’t think there are any in this one? Sad Boi Hours, Firearms?

“That went well.”

Before the last word can leave your mouth, the newly familiar feeling of being wrapped in Bucky envelopes your senses. Your arms wind themselves around his large torso and relief seeps into your veins as you hold each other. It was really over. You and Patrick, he and Claire. It was done and you should be relived.

You weren’t. You felt sick and in pain. It hurts. Its terrifying. And James…

He was shaking in your grip. Or was that you?

Claire’s vicious words rise in your mind and you instinctively grip Bucky’s shirt tightly.

“It’s not true.” His voice reverberates in your ear and you pull your head away from his chest to look into his ice-blue eyes. “What he said. I don’t believe a word of it.”

Instead of trying to find words, you barrel back into his chest, nearly knocking the both of you onto the floor. After silently standing there for a few moments, your mouth opens on its own accord.

“They’re wrong about the both of us. They’re bitter and scared.” As they should be. There was no mercy for them in New York.

A chuckle rumbles around you and you finally peel yourself away from the giant of a man. “Frank.” He says after a moment. “Frank Castle. So you’re?”

“Y/N Castle. I’m sorry for not telling you before. Frankie made me promise to not make it known for my own safety. Started going by Patrick’s last name when Frank was drafted into special ops and, after the trial, we kept it even more on the down low.”

You had to assume the Avengers were briefed on your brother. It didn’t seem apparent that a mass murdering anti-hero wouldn’t be on their radar.

“Nat’s gonna lose it. she used to have an interest in your brother if you know what I mean.”

You do. You do know what he means and the mental image of your brother and the Black Widow together sent a shiver down your spine. The world would never be ready for that.

The words please god no are cut off by the sound of your phone ringing followed closely by Bucky’s and, with a simultaneous sigh, you both pull out your respectful devices.

“Barnes.”

“Dr. Castle.”

Matt mumbles something incoherently from his end of the line before the familiar voice of Karen tells him to shut up. “Hey Y/N. Not to worry you or anything but, Frank just called and he’s fully intent of going to prison so if you could-“

“How’d it go?!” Foggy yells, drowning out Karen’s plea and you rub your forehead with your free hand. They know how much you hate when they talk over each other. It always resulted in an instant headache.

A gentle hand on your shoulder draws your eyes back to Bucky who appears to be getting his own array of questions. He keeps his voice low to prevent any eavesdropping.

“You okay?” The warmth in his eyes offset their icy color and you feel the tension slip from your body before nodding.

“Don’t like to me Doll.” With a grumble, he takes the phone from your hand and turns on the speaker, then doing the same with his phone. A cacophony of your friend’s voices echo through your home and overwhelm you. You loved them, really, but right now all you want to do is curl up on the couch with Laysa (who somehow managed to sleep through the entire ordeal) and maybe drink yourself into a stupor.

As if reading your mind Bucky clears his throat loudly and the voices fall silent.

“We appreciate you all but, I think Y/N and I agree when we say we need some time to-“

“Unwind.” You supply when he falters and he gives you a bright smile. “Things got a bit heated and we want the time to process everything before we tell you guys what happened.”

“And maybe get you some ice for your hand.” James adds under his breath and you nearly snort from trying to hold back a laugh.

“We get it. Just call us when you’re ready.” A man says from Bucky’s phone and you let out a breath.

“Thanks Stevie. We’ll talk to you soon.”

“Let’s just hope its before your brother goes on another spree. I won’t be able to keep him out of prison this time.” Matt mumbles before ending the call.

James doesn’t give the Avengers time to question, quickly hitting the end button and turning off his phone.

You both let out a collective sigh of relief at the sweet silence.

“I’m glad Matt didn’t dial in Fr-“

A loud bang on your door causes a shriek to erupt from your throat and, before you can fully process what’s going on, a metal arm grips your arm gently and moves you away from the noise. Bucky tucks you behind him and draws a pistol from the waistband of his jeans. His movements are so fluid that you’re almost at a loss for words.

Almost.

“James Buchannan Barnes you brought a gun into my home?!” You keep your voice low despite your anger and he throws an apologetic look over his shoulder. You open your mouth to berate him some more when the door is thrown open, the lock doing nothing to prevent the force behind it.

A rain of dust from the sheetrock causes you to cough uncontrollably and cover your eyes but, the sound of an angry growl forces them open again. You knew that noise.

“Frankie?!” You sputter, walking out from behind the wall that was Bucky Barnes.

Lo and behold, there he was, your brother in all of his furious glory. You’d only seen it yourself maybe once or twice and, for some twisted reason, you found it comforting.

To your relief, James drops his weapon instantly and moves out of the way as Frank storms into your home. You had to admire your brother’s one-track mind as he completely ignores the other man and focuses on you.

“Where is he?” He was seething, red in the face, and breathing heavily.

“You broke my door.” You deadpan, crossing your arms across your chest. Sure, he was set on murdering your now ex-husband but, that didn’t excuse property damage. “You have a fucking key.”

“Y/N.”

You know he means business when he uses your full name instead of the various nicknames he had given you throughout your childhood.

“Long gone. Took his shit and ran when I called yoU!” Before you can finish your sentence, he pulls you into a tight hug and fresh tears spring to your eyes at the familiarity of it. It hadn’t been long since the last time he held you like this, barely a week, but the circumstances couldn’t be more different. You couldn’t be more different.

Last week you had been happily married and wanting to start a real family. Now you were divorced and seriously needing your brother to come cheer you up.

A tiny squeak breaks you from your thoughts causing your eyes to fly open and lock on Bucky’s ocean blue orbs as he bends down to pick up a whining Laysa. He nods towards the hall with the nursery and coddles her into his chest before leaving the living room quietly. The way it became second nature for James to care for the little cub leaves you with a fuzzy feeling in your chest.

Frank placing a kiss on your temple brings your focus back to him and he eyes you curiously.

“Is there a reason the Winter Soldier is in my baby sister’s house minutes after I get a call about her scumbag husband?” He questions lightly.

You scoff at the thought. You know your brother and you know his question is anything but innocent as his eyes watch the hallway like a hawk.

“The woman Pat was…” You can’t finish the sentence, not in front of him. “James’ wife. He caught them on camera. Ran all the way here when he found out Patrick was married. We wanted to confront them together.”

You can’t be sure but, an almost appreciative look enters your brother’s dark eyes and a warm feeling floods your body. For some reason the idea of Frank and Bucky not hating each other hadn’t crossed your mind. You assumed that they would instantly butt heads as most Alpha males did when in the same room.

Your thought may sound primitive to others but, reducing people down to their most basic forms came with the territory when you spent all your time studying the animal kingdom.

What you had in front of you was incredibly rare and you watch with wide eyes when Bucky emerges from the nursery and Frank releases his hold on you to properly greet him with a firm shake that probably would have broken Patrick’s hand.

Two Alpha males who’re not related coexisting peacefully. Your coworker Whitney wouldn’t believe you.

“Your sister has a mean right hook.” Bucky’s soft as velvet voice forces an embarrassed snort from you despite your brother’s proud look and when Frank looks between you and Bucky with a single raised brow, you cave.

“Okay! I may have hit her but, she deserved it.” You defend and, for the first time since he entered your home, Frank cracks a smirk. “And Bucky threw Patrick!”

“It was more of a toss really.” The world renowned and feared Winter Soldier shuffles his feet shyly, refusing to meet your eyes and Frank’s smirk widens into a full blow grin.

You shake your head with a laugh before your mind wanders to the little cub in the nursery. “How is she?”

James perks up instantly. “She’s good, fell asleep as soon as I put her in the crib.”

You can feel your brother’s eyes on you but, you ignore it in favor of wiping the residual tears from your eyes. “That’s good. It’s a wonder she can fall back asleep after being so rudely awoken.”

Frank has the decency to look properly admonished and you have to mentally take a step back. You currently had two of the most dangerous people in New York in your house and yet you had both of them shuffling their feet. You were definitely telling Sam about this.

“Sorry sis. I’ll fix it later.” Frank mutters, shaking the dust off of his jacket before turning towards the door. “Right now. I’m going to go hunt down your piece of shit ex and do much more than toss him around.”

With a fearsome grin, he flashes the two firearms on his belt and you huff in exasperation. “I told you I don’t want any guns in my house! Now, there’s four.”

Both men stare at you in confusion and you roll your eyes. “Buck you have another strapped to your right ankle. You’ve been favoring that foot since you walked in. I’m not dumb.”

The blue-eyed man’s face reddens when he realizes he’s been caught and Frank barks out a harsh laugh.

“There she is.” He smiles proudly. “I’m serious about the door though. I’ll fix it later. I’ve been waiting too long to put Patrick in his place.”

“No! You’ll fix it no-“

He’s out the broken door before you can finish your sentence and a frustrated growl erupts from your throat. Once again, your brother’s one-track mind ceases to amaze you and Bucky barely manages to catch the heavy oak door before it completely falls off of its hinges.

“I’m going to beat some sense into him next time I see him.” You vow, causing Bucky to grin sheepishly as he sets the door against the wall.

“So that was Frank Castle?” James laughs lightly.

“Yeah.” You hum. “That was Frank Castle.”

Chapter shorter than I hoped but, It was necessary for the story to flow better

Tags: @luthien-t​ @vicmc624

[system76]

System76 Spotlight with Adam Balla

Welcome to the first of an ongoing series where we get to know some of the amazing people behind System76! This week, we kick things off with one of our newest members, Adam Balla (AKA chzbacon), who has just joined the Marketing Team as our Content Producer. Learn what makes his content creation heart go pitter-patter, and why his electric smoker is his must-have cooking appliance.

When did you first become interested in Linux computer systems?

When my roommate introduced me to Slackware in 1999, he was working as a Linux system admin and he really got me interested in Linux. I was going to the Art Institute of Houston at the time for a Multimedia Design degree, and the thought that you could create your own desktop operating system really appealed to me. I didn’t need to stare at the same old tacky operating system I’d used for years.

I found myself, like many nerds of the era, at a Micro Center in the early 2000s rummaging through the discount software bins, trying to snag up multi-CD Linux distributions. This journey exposed me to several of today’s most popular Linux distros. One of those was SUSE Linux 5.3, of which I still keep the tattered book on a bookshelf as a reminder. I did however finally find my place in the world of Debian, which is where I essentially live today. Honestly not much has really changed other than using Pop!_OS as my main distribution—though like any Linux diehard, I still love to download, test, and sometimes install all the Linux.

When did you start becoming a champion for open source hardware and software?

It was a few years after that. Once I got back from the Art Institute and I was working in the area, we needed a server for the screen printing shop that I worked at. Knowing about Linux at that point, I was able to set up a server using consumer-grade gear that we could store all of our artwork and assets on. Moving forward, I set up a server for the newspaper that I worked at for a decade, which I know is still running to this day. After using Linux in that sort of environment and knowing it was good enough for a business, I knew it was good enough for me and my needs.

How did you get involved in content creation as a career?

My father was an engineer. When I was young I was always, like most kids, into drawing cars and doodles and cartoons, but I was used to having a drafting table at the house. Computing came around, and my father bought an IBM 486 and one of the original digitizing tablets, and so I got to play around with that. Eventually, he got upset because I was on the computer more than he was, so he bought me an IBM 386 to use.

Around 1995, my dad learned from a coworker about Photoshop. I begged him to get me a copy, and he finally did for Christmas. That’s when I started playing around in Photoshop and really fell into wanting to create for a living. Similar to what my father does, but maybe not as stringent in the decision that I make—no building is going to fall down from my creative process.

And that’s how I got into the whole content creation piece. I created a cover for the album of my high school bands and then started doing work for more local bands. Back then, there were no digital art courses, so I learned a lot by doing and trial/error.

What is your favorite part of the creative process?

Working together as a team during the initial brainstorming process. Going through all of the ideas and details, sometimes writing them down, sometimes not, and even laughing at myself at how ridiculous an idea may sound. I love the process of the very first step. I love to set the vision for the project work from there to turn that vision into reality.

How did you first learn about System76?

I first learned about System76 through Chris Fisher and Jupiter Broadcasting. I believe they were reviewing the Leopard Extreme in 2012, on what at that time was the Linux Action Show. That’s when I started to look at System 76 and their offerings and wondered if it would be better for me to build my own Linux desktop, or adopt something and support the open source community. It’s been a little while since then, and I’ve always kept my eye on System76. Then with the release of Thelio, that really pushed me to the point of, “Wow, these guys are creating their own beautiful custom chassis and they’re incorporating different materials together. What a beautiful machine.”

I was speaking to my wife (financial advisor) about purchasing one in 2019, and I spoke to Emma and some other people at System76 about my desire for one, and I don’t know how, but Emma encouraged me not to buy one! And then I was given the opportunity to come to System76 for the Superfan event, where I was fortunate enough to be one of a dozen people who were gifted a Thelio desktop. It sits on my desk to this day; I even bought a larger desk just so I could put it up there and see it every day. I really appreciate the humble beginnings of System76, and I’m so glad to finally be a part of this amazing team.

Let's get into that creative brain. What is your favorite viral video and/or ad, and why do you love it so much?

I have a few ads that I like. I’ve always liked Honda’s messaging and their ads.

I like these ads because of the way in which they go through their history and lineage and the way that Honda itself has marketed its products as “People First” products—very similar to when they introduced their motorcycles to the US with their “You meet the nicest people on a Honda,” campaign. I think that was in 1962, so this was during the height of the motorcycle gang craze. Then comes this little Japanese motorcycle company and markets their products in a completely opposite image from the rest of the industry. They dared to be different and it paid off for them. Selling over 100 million Honda Cubs since 1958. Being given the title of most produced motor vehicle in the world.

This may come as a surprise to some, but I also really love the original Orwellian-inspired Macintosh commercial, which only aired once during the 1984 Super Bowl. Created by Steve Hayden, Brent Thomas and Lee Clow. In my opinion, these guys really created disruptive advertising, so much so that the ad still resonates today as much as it did then. While I don’t think you need to incite fear to sell a product, it showed that Apple dared to be different.

I’m not sure what constitutes a viral video these days. I’m not sure if it’s having a billion trillion views or just simply infecting one person who saw your video. One that always gives me a chuckle has to be “News Anchor Laughs At Worst Police Sketch Fail”. The honesty on the anchor's face makes me lose it every time.

When you’re not helping to lead the Open Source revolution, what do you like to do with your free time?

I really like going on walks and taking photos. Photography to me is one of the last honest art forms. What you see really is what you get. I love to tinker and make things, I have a 3D printer that my wife and I purchased as a joint valentine’s gift to each other last year. We started using it right when COVID broke out, so we made around 900 face shields which we distributed to schools, day cares, dentist's offices, anyone who needed one. That’s what we did for about the first 6 months when we first got it. Now, my wife loves to print earrings, for example, and I like to build different fun electronics projects.

I also love to cook, especially for large groups. I just got done with an Easter Weekend + Birthday celebration where we cooked 100 lbs of crawfish, 10 lbs of pork shoulder, sausage, and boudin (which is basically rice and pieces of pork that have been mixed together with seasonings and then put into a casing like sausage). One of my main requirements actually for a place in Denver is somewhere I can bring my electric smoker. It’s a must-have for any Texan.

What are you most excited about with your new role here at System76? To help change the computing landscape as we know it today. Into a future where technology is free and open. A world where you're encouraged to break things, fix things, and learn how they work. Aside from changing the world and stuff, I'm really excited to have a chance to work with such an insanely talented group of people.

[svubabes]

Best Decision, Ever. - Mike Dodds

Pairing: Mike Dodds x Reader

Summary: I requested this a while ago and I'm not sure if you never got around to it or just never received it? it's okay if you didn't, so here it is: Could I request a Mike Dodds imagine for your wedding & it's obviously huge because he's the chief's son and police royalty (and reader's dad is chief Dodds' Lieutenant) and it's a really incredible ceremony, and then there's the wedding night sex later on on the honeymoon? (: thank you

I just want to apologize for how long it took me to write this!! I saw this request and thought I had one in my drafts but I didn’t! I hope this is everything you wanted to read!

Today was the day that everyone had been waiting for. No ones excitement could beat yours. After five long years of ups and downs, nearly losing Mike, all the craziness in between it was here. Today you would be marrying the love of your life Mike Dodds. The wedding would be held in one of the biggest churches Manhattan had, of course you had never imagined having such a large wedding. When you were just a child, you imagined your wedding would be small, only close friends and family. However, William Dodds had other plans. He paid for the wedding, the church, the food, the flowers and even your dress. William loved you and couldn’t imagined his son marrying any other woman. 

You looked in the mirror, still in disbelief at the dress you had on. It was the perfect dress, the veil went along with it perfectly. You took a deep breath and smiled, today you would officially become Mrs. Dodds. You heard a knock at the door, your mother came in. She immediately felt tears flow down her face.

“You look beautiful honey. I’m so proud of you. Mike is an amazing man, you deserve everything and more. Come on, your father is waiting on you.” You were mentally preparing yourself to see your father. You knew as soon as he would saw you, he wouldn’t be able to contain his emotion. Giving his only child away. Once he saw you turn the corner, his tears flowed. 

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I’m giving you away.” He said, wiping his tears on the tissue he had stashed in his pocket for this moment. 

“Dad, you know I’m not leaving forever right? We only live forty minutes away.” He smiled.

“I know baby, you will understand one day the love me and your mother have for you.”

“I already do dad.” He smiled, hugging you tight and kissing your head.

He took your arm, walking you down the isle. Everyone stood, some people you didn't even know. You saw your family and friends, some of Mikes coworkers, and his family that you knew of. When Mike saw you, he immediately began to feel overwhelmed. The beautiful woman he had always dreamed of marrying was infront of him. He couldn’t hold his tears back. You looked incredibly stunning. You finally reached the end of the isle, your father giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“And who gives this bride away?” 

“I do, her father.” You hugged him tightly and whispered an ‘I love you’ before stepping infront of Mike. He wiped his tears away quickly and mouthed a wow to you.

“Ladies and gentleman, we are gathered here today to celebrate the love between these two, Mike Dodds and (Y/F/N). Before we begin the two would like to read their vows. Mike, would like to go first.” He didn’t even need a piece of paper to write his on, he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

“(Y/N), I love you. I knew I loved you from the moment I saw you in that coffee shop. Wild hair from a 20 hour shift at the hospital, colorful scrubs, you looked so tired but you were still so beautiful. I never thought one day we would be here. You have made my life worthwhile. You deal with my nonsense, the late nights at work, the people trying to kill me. You’ve been there for me through all of the good times, the bad times and the scary times. Not many people would deal with their lover out on the front lines of horrors, they wouldn’t deal with the PTSD that comes from this job, they wouldn’t put up with the nightmares, but you do. You do all of these things for me, things I never thought I deserved. So I want to end this with thank you. I may slip sometimes but I will never stop trying to give you the life you deserve. I love you.” You knew your mascara was running everywhere now, but you didn’t care. The love of your life poured his heart and soul out to you infront of God and everyone. It was worth the future picture with runny makeup.

“Mike, I don’t know how I can top that one.” You said, sniffling and trying to pull yourself back together. “You are my best friend, my soul mate, no one in this world could give me the feeling you do. Life with you is amazing, I feel like I’m dreaming most days because there’s no way no woman snatched you up already. Thank you, you make me feel warm and safe. I have break down after break down when I come home from work. Sometimes, we may take that pain and frustration of our difficult but needed jobs out on each other but at the end of the day we know how to forgive and forget. We know how to talk about anything and everything. You are the other half of me I needed, now that you’re here I feel whole. You’re everything I needed and wanted. I can’t wait to see where life takes us.” Now, Mike was the one in tears, again. 

The pastor recited the classic wedding sayings, you couldn’t help but continue thanking God that you had found someone who loves you more than anyone ever could.

“Mrs (Y/L/N) do you take Mike Dodds to be your husband?”

“I do.”

“Mike Dodds do you take (Y/N) to be your wife?”

“You know it. I do.”

“You may now kiss the bride.” Mike laid his lips on yours, you had never felt this before. Each kiss the two of you had was special. The first was a nervous peck, which you cherished. Each kiss after a long day at work, the kiss you shared when he was shot and lived and now this one could be added to the list.

As the night winded down, you began ready to leave. Of course you loved seeing everyone have such a good time together, but you were ready to be with Mike, alone. Begin the much needed week and a half honeymoon in the Bahamas. The DJ finally announced that you two were leaving. Everyone cheered and clapped as you two walked down the stairs, hand in hand, husband and wife, finally. Once you were in the car Mike looked at you, so much love in his eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re officially my wife. Now, lets get this honeymoon started.” He said, kissing you on the lips and driving back to the house to get your luggage, As soon as you two walked in the door, Mike swept you off  your feet, leading you to the bedroom. Covered in roses and pictures of you two. 

“Mike, you didn’t have to do this.” You whispered, he laid you down on the bed, kissing your neck softly, then your lips.

“I know, but I’d do anything for you.” You grabbed him and forced his lips back onto yours. He quickly unzipped your dress, both of you struggling to get it off. When it was finally thrown in the floor, his suit followed after. You laid him back and stripped off the panties you had on. When you were both fully naked, you grabbed his cock and placed it in your mouth,

“Fuck.” He moaned, making you even hotter. After a few pumps in your mouth, he wanted more. He removed your mouth from his cock and stood up, bending you over the bed and shoving himself in you. He tightly grabbed your hips, beginning to pump himself in and out of you.

“Mike, oh my god.” He reach his hand into your hair, tanging it into his fingers.

“You like that? Just think, you get this for the rest of your life.” You smiled and moaned loudly. He turned you back on your back. Thrusting himself into you, rubbing his fingers on your clit, you let out a moan that made him crazy. He wrapped his hand around your neck, not too hard and not too gentle, just how you liked it. He began to pump faster.

“Mike, I-” You couldn't even finish your sentence, you were in too much pleasure.

“Cum all over me baby, I want to do it together.” This done the trick for you, as you sent your nails flying down Mike’s back, he began to cum as well. He laid back, sweating and heavily breathing along with you.

“Wow, sex number one as a married couple, awesome.” You laughed and high fived him.

“Just think, we can have sex with the ocean breeze coming in on us just in a few hours.” Mike wrapped you tightly in his arms, kissing you on the forehead.

“Best decision I ever made, was marrying you.”

[pufflyhallows]

Picks & Pens (I)

Hi! This is a brand new series for our boy Sirius Black. It’s a rockstar!au in modern days. I really hope you like it, I had the idea over a year ago and had a little something in my drafts but only now got to write it the way it deserves. Enjoy!

Chapter One: Press

Warnings: language

Word count: 1,7k

a/n: I know nothing about press or the music industry, so forgive me for any mistakes lol

Sirius Black. What a perfect name for the typical arrogant and condescending rockstar who had just been declared artist of the decade by the magazine you worked for. Unfortunately for you, he also happened to be your ex-boyfriend.

You two had met in high school, way before he got famous. He already wrote music back then, you being one of the very first people to ever listen to it. Some of those songs were quite big hits today and you genuinely liked them, but that didn’t mean you liked him. At least, not anymore. Your relationship had ceased to exist seven years ago. What is it that people say about fame? Oh yes, it changes you.

As you walked past the countless desks in that white-walled office with tall windows, the latest edition of the magazine in hands, you thought about your boss’ proposition. She wanted you to interview the “artist of the decade” for the February issue – it was coming out on Valentine’s Day and she wanted an article about Sirius Black’s muse and writing process. According to her, it was impossible that there wasn’t a girl behind the lyrics of his songs, even though the man had been single for years now. You had told her you’d think about it and answer the next day. Well, today was the next day.

Brenda, your boss’ assistant, was on the phone when you approached her desk. She raised a finger at you as if to say “hold on” and kept talking to the person at the other end of that call. You knew better than to interrupt her, so you patiently waited.

“No freaking way, Rebecca! I told you he was going to the party regardless of what Charlie said! Now, don’t get me wrong, I think you’re much smarter than Mackenzie, but she’s got a point.”

You inhaled deeply, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Was it naive of you to assume that people only took business calls during business hours?

“I’m wheezing! Literally dying! Oh God...” Brenda giggled. “Well, I gotta go. I’m at work. What? Bitch, you called.”

You watched as she hung up the phone and gathered some loose sheets of paper from her desk, organizing them in a pile.

“Brenda?” you said, catching her attention. “I’m here to see Mrs. Lennox. Could you announce me?”

“She’s busy.”

“Uhh… She asked me to come by her office at ten and it’s… ten.”

Brenda sighed and picked up the phone again, pressing the interphone button. “Mrs. Lennox? Sorry to bother, but Y/N says she’s here to see you. Yes. Not a problem. Okay.”

She hung up and went back to putting her sheets into piles. You raised an eyebrow at her before she finally looked at you and spoke as if it was obvious. “Go in!”

Was it unprofessional to flip off a coworker?

You opened the door slowly and found Mrs. Lennox sitting by her desk with her eyes focused on her computer screen. She looked at you and smiled, gesturing for you to come see what she was working on.

“These photos just came in. Look at him! Isn’t he just so handsome?!”

And there he was. His signature guitar lazily laying between his legs as he had one hand resting on it and the other supporting his weight. He was sitting on a white… box-shaped stool? The background was also white, contrasting to his all-black outfit.

“I think I want these in black and white, what do you think?”

“There isn’t much color in them anyways,” you though out loud.

“Oh…” Mrs. Lennox eyed the entire picture. “You’re right. Black and white it is,” she wrote it down on her notepad.

You kept looking at the photo displayed across the large computer screen. The little shit was handsome, there was no denying that. The problem was what was behind that smirk – arrogance, selfishness and a big big sense of self-importance.

“So?!” your boss’ voice snapped you out of your memories. “Have you thought about our conversation yesterday?”

“I have,” you walked around the desk and sat in front of the older woman as she took off her red cat-eye glasses. “But I need to ask you something first.”

“Go ahead.”

“Will it bring attention to the fact that I am his ex-girlfriend?”

“What do you mean, sweetie? Everyone already knows.”

“I know, but… will it be focused on that? Yesterday you mentioned that it’d be great to have some sort of reunion and that the public would love it. Your idea is an intimate interview, just the two of us in the room and all.”

“Yes...”

“I understand it. I agree that the conversation flows better that way, because the interviewees usually feel more comfortable with less people around and no cameras. However, this is my job. Just my job. I don’t want it to be publicized as a reunion with my ex-boyfriend. This is me, a journalist, interviewing him, a musician.”

Mrs. Lennox looked at you for a while, as if she was trying to read your thoughts. She placed her hands together on the desk and took a deep breath.

“Listen, Y/N. I’ve got to be honest with you. The subject that will be discussed in this interview is interesting, yes. A lot of people are curious about his lyrics. Myself included. But frankly? Anyone can ask him questions about that and put it on a website or a magazine. Anyone. Would it sell? Of course! He’s the artist of the decade, everyone adores him. Now, imagine if the person interviewing him is actually a former girlfriend. And not any girlfriend, but his high school sweetheart. The girlfriend from the very beginning of his career. The person who was there when some of the biggest songs of this entire decade were being written. It will sell like water in the desert, Y/N! This is really good for press.”

“So this is why you picked me, of all people. Press,” you looked down and bit your inner cheek. “I’m a journalist, Mrs. Lennox.” You looked back at her, “I am part of the press. And I know how they will eat me alive after this interview. They will chase me around, paps will hunt me everywhere. The whole nightmare will start all over again. Even after seven years, I still get the occasional question about him. After this interview, though? There will be no peace. And, as a matter of fact, I’m not quite sure if I like the idea of having my personal life used as marketing. God, I’m not even sure if I do want to ‘reunite’ with him.”

“I see,” Mrs. Lennox leaned back on her chair. “What is your answer, then?”

You looked in her eyes, thinking about the last three years you worked for her magazine. She was by far the best boss you’ve ever had. She took you under her wing and gave you enough space to explore your full potential and truly shine. She bent backwards for you several times in the past, helping you build your name in journalism. There was nothing in this world that she could ask that would make you think twice before attending. Nothing, except this.

However, there was a side of you that wanted to see him again. To speak to him again. Hear him talk again. A very curious side of you, that needed to see how he would act around you after so many years of no contact. Would he treat you like every other interviewer? Would he be as self-absorbed and pompous? Would he answer to your questions truthfully? That side of you would die to find out.

And that side won. Along with all the respect you had for your boss and the extra payment she offered the day before, of course.

“My answer is yes. I will interview him.”

Mrs. Lennox smiled widely, but before she could say anything, you added. “Under one condition.”

“Oh, Y/N. What is it?”

“It won’t get publicized as a reunion. Please, Mrs. Lennox, don’t publish it with something like ‘Sirius Black interviewed by former girlfriend’. Just put my name in there and let the press do their thing around it. That’s all I ask. Please.”

Mrs. Lennox eyed you for a while, just like before. She always seemed to crave the power to read minds, maybe even control them. She bit her lower lip and adjusted her wedding ring, looking down at her notepad now.

“Well, it does look good to treat it like it’s so casual. Like you’re still friends and it’s no big deal. You did end things amicably, after all.”

Right…

“Okay, Y/N,” she nodded. “It will be just your name, no mentions of the relationship.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lennox.”

“Right. Look, Y/N, this interview is very important for us. Please, keep that in mind. I expect a really good show of professionalism on your part. The subject might be delicate to deal with, given your past, but I trust that you won’t leave out any details pertinent to the writing of this article.”

“You have nothing to worry about. The subject won’t be delicate at all.”

You hoped you didn’t sound insulted, because you did feel your ears burn slightly with the insinuation that you might care if he wrote songs about some other girl. You absolutely did not. It’s been seven fucking years.

“Great. That settles it, then. I will look into scheduling this interview now,” she clicked on her mouse and put her red cat-eye glasses back on. “I am predicting it will take place within two weeks from now, so no trips out of town during this time!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You can go back to work now, sweetie. If anything comes up, I’ll e-mail you.”

“Okay,” you stood up and grabbed your latest edition of the magazine, remembering why you had brought it in the first place. “Oh! By the way, there’s a typo on page forty-five of the January issue. Printing started this morning, so I think there’s still time to fix it before we lose too much material.”

“Y/N! What would I do without you?! Page forty-five, you say?” she immediately wrote it down on her notepad. “I knew I couldn’t trust Henry on this.”

“He’s a good kid,” you shrugged. “He’ll get the hang of it.”

“Right, right… Ask Brenda to call him on your way out, will you?”

“Of course,” you nodded, already feeling bad for Henry’s ears.

The next couple of weeks were going to be interesting, though.

********

[myhauntedsalem]

10 Terrifying True Ouija Board Stories

1. Ask Zander

Oh Lord. I was about twelve when a friend and I were playing Ask Zandar (a board game with an electronic wizard that makes sounds and talks) when the batteries died. I tried to find replacements but with no luck.

So my amazing friend says “hey that Ouija board could be fun! Let us play and become possessed by demonic entities for all time”…or something along those lines.

We’re going along and asking questions, pushing the little eye around and having a grand old time. Until I say “if something is there, prove yourself”. THE MOTHERFUCKING NO BATTERY ASK ZANDAR WIZARD SAYS “Dun dun dun, you win!”. I flipped that board, tossed it in the trash, and absolutely refuse to have one in my house again.

2. Obviously Possessed

We were goofing off in a neighbor’s house playing with the Ouija board, and we asked a “demon” to talk to us (shut up, I know.) Five minutes into our “conversation”, the girl next to me vomited then fell off her stool and bashed her head on the counter. We called her mom and she took her to the doctor. She came to school the next day (with a huge knot and bruise on her head) and said the doctor said he didn’t know what caused it but she was fine, although she said she still felt a little funny. It was most likely unrelated, but I haven’t touched a Ouija board since, nor have I hung out with that girl since she is obviously possessed by a demon.

3. Night Time Visitor

The night we played, something came through and was calling me horrible names – I thought it was my friend doing it so I made my younger brother try it with me and it was most def not her, my brother was 7 and didn’t know about those words or how to spell them. I asked it to do something to prove it was real and nothing happened… fast forward to next morning, we were all sitting in the family room, watching TV when our fireplace (which we were not using), literally exploded into flames. We were all freaked out and swore we’d never use the Ouija again but, it didn’t matter, the door was opened.

After that, I had many episodes of sleep paralysis, things in my room would move on their own, something would come in my room and sit on my bed while I slept, I could feel it and see the depression in the bed.

4. The Gun Shot

Yeah. Went to this house that burned down with a whole family inside with 2 of my friends at 1 am. It was a still night, no wind or anything. We were in my truck doing the Ouija and it started to get mean, so we stopped, then it sounded like someone shot a large gun outside the truck window, and it felt like a huge gust of wind blew over us because the truck rocked, and then we all started freaking out. I tried to start the truck, and it wouldn’t go.

Then, we did it again at a friend’s house, one of the 2 people there with me the first time, and we were in the basement. Shit started getting weird again so we went to turn the lights on, and they wouldn’t turn on, and the basement door locked. None of us ever did it again.

I don’t even believe in that kind of stuff, but it was really creepy.

5. KILL!

I’ll never forget. I was 13 and my three friends and I wanted to try the Ouija board. It was the middle of the day, so we went into my friend’s walk-in closet where it was dark and we brought flashlights. We were just playing around. Eventually this “spirit” named Michael came on and we starting talking to it. Of course each of us starts joking that someone is making it move. But the more we started talking to Michael, the more it was apparent that none of us were pushing the navigator around. It was really creepy, but fascinating, too. One of my friends asked the spirit where it was in the present moment. It started to spell C-L-O-S when one friend hit the navigator off the board, started freaking out and screamed, “Closet! He was spelling closet!!” We were spooked, but in a fun way. The friend who freaked out wanted to stop, but we insisted that we keep on talking to Michael as we at least had to say goodbye and close out the session. We got the navigator back on the board and said we were sorry for interrupting him. He was not happy. He said to not do it again. Then for some stupid reason I asked Michael what was he going to do in the closet with us. It started to spell K-I-L and then the same friend threw the navigator off the board again and started screaming, “KILL! He’s going to kill us!!” and ran out of the closet. We all got really freaked out and ran out too. We didn’t close out the session so there was an argument between those of us who felt we needed to go back in and say goodbye so Michael would be sent away, and those of us who refused to ever touch the Ouija board again. We ended up not going back in and I had nightmares about Michael following me around and wanting me dead.

6. Look In The Shower

In seventh grade, my friends and I went over to “Mary’s” house intent on playing with her mom’s Ouija board that night. None of us had played with one before. Mary’s mom was an extremely spiritual person who believed in energies, witchcraft, stuff like that. Before we used the board, Mary warned us that her mom would be really pissed if she found out that we were playing with it because Ouija boards can attract bad spirits into the home. With full knowledge of this, we decided to proceed anyway. This Ouija board was not like the average Ouija board you had ever seen. Along with the usual characteristics (the alphabet, “yes”, “no”, “goodbye”), there was an entire array of symbols and signs that were all arranged in a circle. This was some seriously intricate stuff.

We started just goofing around and “communicating” with random spirits here and there until we finally met one that had us in tears the entire sleepless night. First, we asked the spirit if it was a man or a woman, to which he replied “M-A-N”. Then we asked how he was killed: “M-U-R-D-E-R”. That freaked us out only a little bit but we were mostly excited. All of a sudden, before we even asked another question, the glass goes to the eyeball symbol, then spells out “I-N”, and goes to the water symbol. We didn’t have a clue what that meant. It wasn’t too scary until the spirit spelled out “S-H-O-W-E-R” and my best friend realized that the spirit was trying to get us to look into the shower.

We froze.

I’ve never been so scared in my entire life, especially sitting directly in front of the bathroom with the shower curtain all the way closed, faced in my direction. We all screamed and promised on our friendships that we had not moved it ourselves (very important promise). I felt like I was being watched and my friends thought so too. It was only 4 of us and I believe with all my heart that none of them had moved it because we were all too nervous to do anything.

I’ll never use a Ouija board again because of how crazy and intense that night was. I understand that people say Ouija boards are controlled by your subconscious but f**k that. I know I felt something in that room with us. I know it was dangerous.

7. Get The Boy!

My friend had mentioned that she had one, so I asked her to pull the board out so I could check it out. At first she said no, but then agreed to do it as long as she didn’t have to participate. After she had the board set up I asked “Is there anyone in here”…. Nothing. So, being a dumb teenager I said “If anything is in here and not talking, you’re a coward”. The board was put away after that.

Fast forward about a week later and have me sleeping upstairs on my couch. I wake up on a stereotypical “Stormy Night”. Thunder and lightning, wind and rain..the works. I look around to see why I woke up and couldn’t see a thing, and decide to try and fall back asleep. After laying there for about 30s I hear from downstairs “Get the boy” in a very raspy, wispy voice. I open my eyes and listen… Nothing. Start to go back to sleep…”GET THE BOY”, it was MUCH louder this time. Then my downstairs door SLAMS shut. I freak the F*ck out because nobody slept down there and we had no drafts.

Nothing really happened after that… I learned my lesson.

8. Are You For Real?

A lady I worked with brought one in to play around with one day. We messed with it and didn’t really think it was doing anything weird or moving on its own. So my coworker goes to lunch and leaves me all alone at the store. I didn’t have any customers so I went to the back where the board was. I put just my index finger on it very lightly and said, “are you for real?” That thing moved straight up to yes on its own! I ran out of the back room freaking out. Never touched one since.

9. Answers

A few friends and I mucked around with ouija boards a lot as teenagers. It had always been harmless fun. One night we were “speaking” with a young boy called Niall who had told us he had been murdered by his father. We “spoke” with him for a while and then got bored of the conversation, “left”, and eventually tried again. We started to speak with someone we assumed was an elderly lady, when actually it turned out it was Niall again. Someone must have asked “what do you want?” because the ouija pointer spelt out “Satisfy my requests” and then continuously spelt “answers” over and over again until we freaked out and just abandoned everything: the board, the house, the street.

I have never touched a Ouija board since. Early last year, a few of us got together again (having all gone our separate ways since high school) and we brought that night up – and everyone swore again that they hadn’t moved anything on purpose that night. Of course, someone could still be lying, or we could have inadvertently been moving the pointer without realizing, but just remembering the force of the pointer moving so rapidly – and what it spelt out – freaked me out enough not to want to mess with it again… just in case.

10. The Eagle

One of my best experiences involved talking with a spirit of air, which happened back when I believed only in the mental aspect of magic, and thought that the ‘spirits’ I was talking to were were just parts of my psyche. To test this I asked the spirit to show some kind of sign of its existence, which I did not expect to manifest. When I asked this a huge eagle (birds being part of an air spirit’s domain) landed right outside my window, stared at me, like, really stared into my eyes, looked down at the board and flew away. Maybe it was coincidence, but I closed down the communication, did a Rose Cross Banishing ritual and noped the fuck away from magic for a while. Good Times.

[theshinsun]

here we fuckin GO: The Soliloquy of Aomine Daiki’s So-Called Love Life, they say the line is thin, aokaga lifeguard au, domestic FTM aokaga because fuck yeah, Pro Bono, 'a mere shadow' in aokuro, skater AND garage band aokagakuro AUs, and also Eskimo Brothers,,,

SOASCLL

it was just supposed to be an AoKaga oneshot about the boys being awkward and getting together and Aomine having an internal crisis the entire time, but it fizzled out about halfway through bc I didn’t really have a direction to take it in I was mostly just riffing.

Excerpt:

Bottom line, there was something about a guy saying “I hate you,” with his mouth and “you're beautiful,” with his eyes that created a category that probably shouldn't exist between “bitter rival” and “um... crush?” and pulled a word of strangled acceptance unbidden and immediately  from Aomine's throat.  And in the days following that massive moment, and the tiny spell of relief and mutual agreement that had come after... absolutely nothing of note happened. 

He felt like something... kind of should've happened. Like in one of those shoujo romance novels where new lovers fall into each other’s arms amid a swirling pink flurry of hearts and roses. That kind of thing. But no, after that earth-shattering split-second that had thrilled and terrified them both, and probably rearranged the fucking cosmos in its wake, life... just seemed to go on as normal. The sun still came up in the morning, and went down at night; the world kept on turning, none the wiser to the extraordinary phenomenon that should have shaken it to its core.

they say the line is thin

I straight-up wanted to write something twisted, it’s been such a long time since I’ve tortured these boys... so I started a oneshot in which Aomine chokes Kagami during sex... and not in the kinky way.

Excerpt: (cw: implied choking)

Something twists in Aomine’s chest, seeing him like that, some desperately childish ache that’s so strong and pure it’s almost hideous. His eyes begin to sting as it clenches thick and toxic in his guts, tightening like a noose as he shudders for breath. He can barely see straight. 

His hands are shockingly dark on Kagami’s skin, and they’re even darker on his neck, large enough to fit perfectly around it, the tips of his thumbs kissing over the slope of his trachea. His fingers are folded snug against the curve of his spine, just cradling him, just feeling the weight of his head as it lifts away from the mattress. His glistening chest rises and falls at irregular intervals, his eyes are closed, and he’s so fucking beautiful that it can’t be real. It shouldn’t be.

lifeguard AU

I’ve wanted to write a silly, tropey AoKaga lifeguard oneshot for ages... they say write what you know, right? 

the only content I’ve ever seen for this AU is one person pining for the hot lifeguard, or being rescued by them, I’ve never seen anyone write rival lifeguards, and as an ex-lifeguard I can attest that this was definitely a thing that existed. at my job people would mark X’s on their visors for every save they made, and that was something that could get really competitive, which explains this dialogue snippet I have drafted.

Excerpt:

“Fuck you, chain riding doesn’t count.”

Kagami’s glaring at Aomine’s face, at his downcast eyes beneath the soaking wet fringe of his hair, instead of the Sharpie he’s holding in one hand, but he knows he’s not about to correct his mistake.

“It so does count,” Aomine says, putting his visor firmly back on his head, two new X’s added bold and black to the fading, ever-lengthening row along the brim. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“It was one save.”

“It was two people!”

domestic FTM AoKaga

idk I need more FTM Kagami in my life... I only have the beginning bit of this one written out, and I probably need to rework it, it’s pretty old and it’s pure fluff.

Excerpt:

“I get that it was urgent and all, but next time can you try not to break my face? I like my face.”

Kagami came willingly enough, and planted a light, apologetic kiss on his temple, “I like your face, too.”

On rare occasions, he got to watch Aomine totally melt. His shoulders would drop, his frown would soften, and even his eyes would seem to simply relax and brighten up… and then he would ruin it by opening his mouth, every time.

“Hmm... that’s pretty gay, man.”

“Both of your hands are on my ass right now,” Kagami pointed out.

Pro Bono

ok but just think about Aomine and Kagami as rival lawyers... angry snarky boys in suits... inadvisable after-hours courtroom sex with ties still on... come on.

I bounced this idea off my friend Sam and we thought it’d be hilarious if the firm is owned by Kagami’s dad, and at some point Aomine grabs the wrong ass on accident. Then later comments that Kagami has the same ass as his dad and Kagami’s like “how the fuck do you know that??” “mistakes were made, that’s how.” 

the main thing holding me back from writing this AU is I have no idea how courts work or what the daily lives of attorneys are like, I need to binge-watch some SVU for research purposes or something.

a mere shadow

I was inspired by Smokey310’s What are we drinking anyway for this idea. basically a oneshot in which Aomine is at a party and pining over Kuroko/regretting things gone wrong between them. he runs into Mayuzumi there, and is just drunk and miserable enough to decide he’s an acceptable substitute for the time being. Mayuzumi’s working through issues of his own (Akashi-related) and decides to humor him; they make out and possibly do other things that are not a good idea for people dealing with a recent heartache.

heavy aesthetic skater AU

this is a recent idea so it doesn’t have an outline or anything yet, but... I just wanna write more AoKagaKuro getting up to shenanigans, I’ve been bombarded with a lot of skater content on my dash lately, and I wanna write more short, atmospheric fics that have a specific tone and “feel” to them, ya know? this one would be like... pure 90′s urban grunge and skate park aesthetic, flannels and Vans and crowding on railings together to watch the streetlights come on as the sun sets... that kinda thing.

garage band AU

on the subject of AoKagaKuro shenanigans... I’ve seen professional band AU done (usually with the entire GoM) but imagine for a moment if you will my friends... indie startup Soundcloud band with three members, only one of whom can actually sing (it’s Kuroko), the other two are super competitive guitar players who get in each other’s faces and throw in the occasional backup vocals when they aren’t throwing things at each other. imagine the late-night recording sessions, crashing on each other’s couches and sharing headphones. imagine one of the two resident dumbasses trying to download an mp3 file and it turns out all choppy and corrupted, and they all argue about whether it sounds better that way. imagine the “found sound” percussion (most definitely involving Aomine slapping Kagami’s ass like a tambourine) I just want this concept to exist okay it’s self-indulgent af but it gives me so much joy.

Eskimo Brothers

okay so... here’s my urban dictionary entry for the day, courtesy of my ex-coworker and very own Eskimo brother Moon.

Eskimo brothers (n.) two or more people who have, separately and/or coincidentally, had a sexual encounter with the same individual.

this trope could honestly feature in any of my AoKagaKuro concepts, or it could get a separate fic of its own, and I’m a little undecided on the combination (most likely Aomine and Kagami both slept with Kuroko, but I could also see it going another way). I don’t have an actual... plot? of any kind for this idea but I just love the thought of it existing and would love to write it someday.

[bandrlodge]

Just My Type

Bucky x Plus Size Original Female Character: Briar Hawthorne

Chapter Summary: Briar experiences 6° of separation

Chapter warnings: general buffoonery, recreational drug usage (marijuana)

Chapter One: Design Client Anonymous

Briar smirked, pulling her coffee cup from the cabinet. Another night, another Natasha one nighter. Of course, she'd hurried them out as she heard her roommate stirring. She pulled Nat's comically small mug from the cabinet as well and prepped both of their drinks. One sugar for Nat. Five sugars and a heavy splash of Coldstone's Sweet Cream Creamer, for her cup. Briar heard the patter of her footsteps down the steps as she was topping off her mug.

"Morning, Nat." She smiled, sliding the mug over. She grumbled, ruffling a hand through her thick, red hair. Briar settled back against the counter, adjusting the neck of her oversized Manson shirt before grabbing the coffee.

"So...how was last night?" Briar asked. She sipped the coffee, relishing the warm hug now rushing through her bones. Natasha chuckled and downed her mug full in one gulp.

"Let's leave it with, slimy yet...satisfying." Briar gagged.

"Fuck you, you nasty bitch."

Natasha laughed, "I've offered, several times."

Briar shook her head, "I don't fuck where I sleep."

"That doesn't make a whole lot of sense." They heard a voice call. Briar's head snapped over to our balcony door, which was now closing on a very disheveled Clint Barton. His hoodie hung off his frame, obviously torn in a fight. Clint, was a character; the only one of Natasha's group that was ever allowed to meet her. She loved him and couldn't count the number of times he'd shown up, carrying pizza and begging to rewatch Avatar. One time, he'd even brought a dog, Lucky. From that moment on, he'd had a permanent invitation and open door to their place. Other than him, no one had ever been allowed inside the apartment and in the four years she had known Natasha, she'd never met a single friend other than Clint.

For good reason though; living with a semi retired Avenger was dangerous. She never wanted to try and draw more attention to our friendship and home by bringing home extras. Well, high profile extras, according to her.

"No one asked you, bird brain." Brisr smiled. Clint perched himself beside me on the counter, snatching the half full coffee pot from its machine and taking a swig straight from it.

She rolled her eyes and simply took another drink of her own, having learned long ago any war involving coffee was a war that would never be won with Clint.

"Oh yeah, Nat, uhm...Boss wants to talk to you. Says you should probably call him, like...an hour ago."

"So, we arent gonna address the bloodied knuckles and tattered clothes?" Briar cocked an eyebrow and glanced between the two. Nat shook her head, "Probably not. I'm gonna go make this call." A moment later she was gone, leaving poor Briar at the mercy of the blonde coffee fiend.

Clint finished off the remainder of the coffee sitting in the pot and scooted closer to me, bumping his shoulder against my own.

"So, how's work going?" He wiggled his eyebrows, flashing his side cocked smile. laughed, raking a hand through my hair. Her finger snagged into a blue tendril and pulling at it absently while she answered,

"Honestly? It's fine. That's it. I expected a bit more from a high profile firm. I took two cases from the lead designer and one from a coworker at their behest, but, there isn't too much to go around." Briar had switched from a solo home design firm almost eight months before. While being her own boss was pretty much heaven, she needed health insurance and there was no way she could afford those payments on my own. So, she took the newest Senior Designer spot at Legendary Interiors and the rest was history. Even with the small work load currently, Briar was pretty lucky with them. The base pay was substantial and there was always a fifteen percent commission for Senior levels. She had her health insurance and not once had she been asked to remove her piercings, change her hair color, or cover her tattoos.

"But, I'm lucky. So, I don't wanna complain too much. Plus...you should see the room I'm working on now. The case came nameless to me, but, the space is amazing. From what I can tell, I actually have the space to do all of the projects I've come up with. The proposal is being sent in on Monday afternoon. Hopefully..." Briar took a large breath, "its accepted." Clint nudged her,

"You're fantastic, Briar. It will be" He hopped off the counter, putting the now empty pot back into it's holder and held out his hand.

"Show it to me, Smurfette."

Briar laughed at him and abandoned her coffee cup to drag Clint down the hall to the design room. She flipped the light switch and pulled him over to the light table. Rough sketches of a modern penthouse with multiple greenery patches throughout the floorplan lay upon the table, littered with various colored ink marks. Clint sat on the stool and studied them for a few moments, chiding the blue haired woman for biting on her nails whilst he was doing so.

"This is great, B. The greenery you've used is so...oddly placed but, it works."

She squealed, "That's what I was going for. The client is a war veteran with severe PTSD. I wanted him to have the modern space he requested, but...he originally just asked for a little spot in the house to retreat to. But, I put a bunch of spaces around the house. Triggers arent confined to one space. So, why should his self care depend on getting to one specific area?"

Clint nodded along with her rambling, something obviously ticking away in that big brain of his.

She smacked his shoulder softly to get his attention, "Whatcha thinking, bird brain?"

He turned to look at his friend, a shit eating smirk plastered on his face.

"I know whose space you're designing."

________<_________<________<________<_____

Bucky had sent the proposal for a new design over to Legendary six weeks ago. By now, he had hoped to see at least a rough sketch. Except for a few short email exchanges between himself and the Vice President of Design, he had no information on who had taken his project nor, what they were doing with it.

He pulled out his phone and shot a text to Tony,

'You said that design place was the best, right?'

Not a moment later: 'Yes, tin man. Who got your project? Katherine? Jonas?'

'I don't know, Tony. I haven't heard from anyone other than Camille. She didn't give my name to the designer like I asked, which I appreciate, but I don't know whose working on it.'

Bucky managed to fix himself a hot cup of lavender tea before Tony responded with a name and a phone number.

'Her name is Briar Hawthorne. She's been with them eight months and is their newest Senior Designer. Camille gave it to her specially. That's her cell phone number. I had to schmooze for that. Use it wisely, old man.'

Bucky laughed, Tony schmoozing on his behalf was still jarring. But, thankfully, the past decided to stay in the past after the Thanos affair. There was too much to rebuild and too much to cherish now, there wasn't time for wallowing in past mistakes. He sat on his bed, pulling a sleeping Alpine tightly to his side and shot a message over to Briar.

Hopefully, he could get some information on his damn apartment design.

______<________<________<_______<______<__

Briar sat on the balcony, weary eyed, and staring at the text message on her phone. She took another inhale of her joint and leaned her head back against the egg shaped hanging chair she was in. An exhale later she was typing her fifth attempt at a response to him.

She took another drag of the joint and recalled finding out the identity of her client.

Clint had laughed for a good five minutes. Chuckling at the absolute fucking serendipity he was watching unfold. Natasha had come in as he was dying down and as soon as he told her - in a hushed whisper between two very best friends - she had also spent a full five dying from laughter.

Turns out, the client was none other than Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. A.k.a. the Winter Soldier. Natasha had complemented the decision on the multiple greenery spaces for relaxtion and meditation, saying that the Sergeant would like that idea. Clint had teased Natasha about how she couldn't hog their Smurfette anymore, knowing that the team would likely attach themselves to Briar quickly.

She reread the text for the hundredth time.

'Hi, Ms. Hawthrone.

My name is James Barnes, and I am the client whose penthouse you are designing currently. I know originally I asked to remain anonymous but, I wanted to check the progress on the design. I've not recieved any sort of update.

Thank you, again. '

He seemed so formal. Briar was stuck on how to respond, wondering if she should mention Natasha or if she should just be professional.

'Mr. Barnes,

Thank you for reaching out. I apologize that you have not been provided with regular updates but, I can tell you that the draft proposal and cost summary will be available to you on your account dashboard on Monday. I submitted my idea to Camille yesterday afternoon. Please don't hesitate to reach out with any other questions or concerns.

- Briar Hawthorne'

Professional, succinct.

Boring.

She hit send and stuffed the phone down beside her thigh in hopes that the cushion on the chair would muffle the vibrations so she could ignore it should he respond. Briar finished out her joint and pulled another from her cigarette case and lit it up.

She felt the dooming buzz of an incoming message on her thigh and groaned.

It was James.

'Could we maybe meet tomorrow and go over the plans together? I would feel better going over the plans with the actual designer. Not her boss.

And call me Bucky. All my friends do.'

So, they were friends now? She chuckled and settled back into the chair again.

Meeting a client off the clock could go wrong, there was no telling if she'd face repercussions on Monday.

But, the opportunity to present her project on her terms in her words...

'Yeah, sure. I can do a full layout set up on my design wall here at the house. Just text Natasha for the address. She doesn't let me give it out. She's a weird roommate.

And call me, Briar.'

There. She threw it in.

The frustrated groan yell from inside the house a moment later meant that Bucky was quicker on the draw than she would have thought.

_______<_________<___________<_________<__

JMT tag: @sea040561 @heli0s-writes @suz-123

Thank you to you, reading this. Yeah, you. You're awesome.

[mss4msu]

Call Me Doctor. (Chapter 15)

Summary: Fresh out of graduate school, you had somehow landed a spot in the faculty of a prestigious university. The small anthropology department has too many faculty and too few offices; sharing an office does not go as you expected.

Pairing: Professor!Steve x Professor!Reader

Words: 3166

Warnings: Feelings

A/N: I have a lot of feelings from seeing Endgame, so there’s a lot of goofiness in this chapter and some ties to the Avengers because I need that. The chapter is real long because I have a lot of feelings and it’s been awhile. This chapter was supposed to happen in October, but then life happened. I started drafting it at Christmas and then wrote more on Mardi Gras, and then planned to release it before Easter, but here we are. Happy almost Free Comic Book Day and May the Fourth. (Please just pretend it’s Halloween bbs)

Catch Up On the Story Here

You spent the rest of the afternoon in a daze. Every time you tried to concentrate on something work-related, your mind went to Steve; the sweetness of his smile, the warmth of his hands, the passion in his kisses. You shook your head, trying to get Steve out of it.

“Order and organization, that’s what I need,” You said to yourself, pulling out your planner and a pen.

You hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out what to put. You thought of writing “Brunch with Steve,” but that didn’t seem to capture the emotions you were sure both of you had felt.

First Date with Steve - you wrote. You wanted to dot the “i” with a heart, but talked yourself out of it in fear of anyone ever finding and reading your planner.

You looked back through the previous weeks. It had been almost 2 months since you had been at the university. Almost 2 months since you had met Steve. It felt like much longer, which you attributed to the academic bubble; regardless of how much time passed in the “real world” the stress of academia always made it feel 10x longer. Of course Steve’s mood changes had also made time drag on. You flipped to the week to come and your heart began to beat rapidly.

“Oh shit!” you yelled to yourself.

Saturday, October 31st - It was written in black and orange on the page and you had even doodled a witch’s hat and ghost next to it.

“How could I forget my favorite holiday???” you scolded yourself.

You frantically got up and rushed to the closet in your hallway. You found your tub of decorations and carried it into the living room. You pulled out cobwebs and witches’ hats and little skeletons. You unwrapped jack-o-lantern lights and laid them on the floor next to the tub. You went back to the closet and moved all the coats around until you found it; the piece de resistancé, a Mummy scarecrow. You frantically ran around your apartment hanging everything up, taking it down, and hanging it again in a different spot because it looked better. It took two hours for you to finally accept the placement of everything. You sat on the couch and admired your decorations. Although the apartment had already begun to feel like home, having all of your decorations up solidified the feeling.

You pulled your computer out of your bag and opened your email. You typed all of your colleagues names into the “To:” section and made the subject for the email “Sorry for the Late Notice: Halloween Party!”

Dear All,

Sorry for the late notice, I’ve been so focused on the museum project that it completely slipped my mind that Halloween is a week from today. You are all welcome to my humble abode on Saturday to celebrate all things spooky. Haunted happenings will begin at 7:00pm. Costumes are encouraged! Plus ones are of course welcome too!

See you Monday,

(Y/N)

Your finger was still pushed down from clicking send when your computer dinged with a new email notification. Your heart pounded as you looked at the sender and opened the response.

I look forward to attending.

--Steve

You reread his email a few times, your heart sinking slightly, as you figured Steve would show more emotion after your date, at least what you thought had been a date. But looking at the time stamp of his email bolstered you back up. Steve was notorious for never responding to emails, so to have a response immediately after sending you knew was special.  

You spent the rest of the weekend going through your cookbooks to find the perfect spooky snacks, perfecting your Halloween playlist, and going through your tub of costumes to find the perfect choice for the weekend. You put on a few scary movies as you worked to set the mood.

Monday morning, you were in a fantastic mood. You had in your candy corn earrings and were wearing your pumpkin socks under your dress pants. You got to your office to find it unlocked. You walked in to see Steve and James intently staring at Steve’s computer screen.

“What are you two up to?” you asked as you sat down at your desk and pulled your computer from your bag to review your powerpoint before class.

“Nothing,” Steve grunted, his cheeks turning red.

“Just prepping for this weekend,” James smiled slyly at you.

You grinned, “Doing some costume shopping?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” James winked at you, “Alright, place the order Stevie, I’ve got to go to class. I’ll leave you two to have some alone time.” He raised his eyebrows at you as he stood to leave the room. “Oh, and I almost forgot!” He put his hand in his bag and pulled out a picture frame, “I got you both a new office decoration!” He turned the frame around and you saw the zoomed in photo he had taken of you and Steve in the coffee shop.

“Buck,” Steve growled, getting up and going towards his friend.

“See you later!” James put the frame on the table and quickly ran out of the office.

Steve went to the table and picked up the picture frame, “It’s actually not a bad picture,” he said, his voice softening now that you two were alone.

“May I see it?” you asked, walking over to him.

He handed it to you, and you felt a shiver as your hands brushed each other. It actually was a cute picture, the two of you cuddled up on the couch together.

“Do you want it?” Steve asked you.

“Oh, um, I mean…” you were caught off guard, unsure of what the right answer was. “Yes?”

“Was that a question?”

“I mean, of course I want it! But I only want it if you don’t. James is your friend first, so if you want it you should have it, but of course I would love to take it if you don’t.”

“You should take it, (Y/N). I can just have him print me another.”

You smiled up at Steve, “Thanks.”

The rest of the week seemed to drag on, which you knew was because you were so looking forward to the weekend to celebrate the most glorious of all holidays. Friday night came and you began to prep food for the party. You peeled grapes and put them in the freezer to serve as eyeballs in the witches’ brew punch. You made little witch hats out of Oreos and Hershey’s Kisses that you then encircled with little bands of colorful frosting. Saturday morning you got up and began to bake. You dyed breadstick dough green and shaped it into fingers, placing an almond in as a fingernail. You then got out hot dogs and crescent roll dough and cut arms and legs into the hot dogs before wrapping them in strips of dough to make mummies. Once the baking was complete, you did all the dishes so the counters wouldn’t be cluttered.

You looked at the clock and realized you only had 3 hours before everyone was set to arrive and you were a mess of dough and dishwater. You hopped in the shower, got out, and dried your hair. You did your makeup and curled your hair into big waves. You decided you’d wait until right when people arrived to put your costume on, as you didn’t want to be sitting around in it for longer than you had to. It was a great looking costume, but it wasn’t the most comfortable.

You saw that there was just an hour left until everyone arrived, so you went back into the kitchen to begin setting everything out. You set the table with all of the food and were impressed with yourself with how it had all turned out. With just a half hour until people arrived, you decided to mix up the witches’ brew. You put lime sherbert, sprite, lime-flavored vodka, and some sparkling grape juice into a large plastic cauldron on your table. You then added in the frozen grapes and some gummy worms.

With just 10 minutes to go until 7pm, you decided it was time to get into costume. You made sure the corset was laced properly and used the side-zipper to get your top on. You were hesitant about the hot-pants of your costume, but figured you could just have a blanket around you if you felt embarrassed. You put on your bracelets and secured the crown onto your head. Just as you were putting on your boots, you heard the buzz of the intercom.

“Hello?”

“Hi, (Y/N). It’s getting very crowded down here!” you heard Natasha’s voice and the clamoring of other voices around her.

“Then you all better come in,” you laughed, buzzing them in.

Moments later, there was a knock on the door. You swung it open and saw a very full hallway filled with your costumed coworkers.

“Welcome!”

“Thanks, (Y/N)! Ooh, James is going to be pissed,” she laughed as she looked at your costume, but she quickly changed the subject before you could ask why, “I brought some wine that had a spooky looking label, where would you like it?” Natasha asked as she walked in. She was dressed as Indiana Jones and you saw Bruce behind her, dressed as Lara Croft.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Bruce said without making eye contact as he followed Natasha into the apartment. He looked slightly embarrassed of his costume, as he kept tugging the shorts down, so you knew Natasha had convinced him to wear it.

“Ahhh, (Y/N), you look hot af,” Wanda said hugging you, “I’m so happy to have another person with such an affinity for the supernatural.”

“Did you just finish The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina?” you asked her, seeing her platinum curled wig and the black dress with a white collar.

“Yes and it was amazing!”

“Yes, Sabrina was absolutely fantastic,” Vis said sarcastically, stepping forward from behind her. He was dressed as a black cat, complete with a little tail.

“Salem?” you asked with a laugh.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Vis replied.

“Oh, shut up!” Wanda pushed him into the apartment. “Also, I brought some ghost-shaped cookies!” she yelled as she walked away.

“I have come stag!” Thor proclaimed as he walked through the doorway.

“And dressed as the god of thunder!” you proclaimed right back. You were relieved he hadn’t brought Loki, as you hadn’t spoken to his brother since your date with Steve.

“I’ve had this costume for years. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” Thor grinned as he went to the living room.

“Pepper! Long time no see!” you said as Tony and Pepper entered the apartment.

“Which one of us are you talking to?” Tony asked. He and Pepper were dressed in salt and pepper suits, and Tony was dressed as pepper.

“Tony thought it would be funny to be me for Halloween,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s amazing,” you laughed.

“Thank you,” Tony grinned.

“Please, don’t validate him,” Pepper sighed as she and Tony went to the living room.

“(Y/N), hi,” Clint said as he walked in, “This is my wife, Laura.”

“Hi, Laura, so nice to meet you! I hope everything is going well with the new baby.”

“It is a lot,” Laura smiled, “So thank you for this opportunity to get out of the house.”

“I see you’re both dressed in the appropriate costumes for it though!” you replied, seeing they were dressed as Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl.

“We decided this year’s family costume would be Incredibles themed since there are five of us now,” Clint grinned.

“That is truly amazing. Please, come on in.”

You looked out into the hallway, but saw that it was empty. Your heart started to race in anticipation, but given that they were so late last time you hosted a party, you tried to calm yourself down. As you closed the door, the intercom buzzed.

“Hello?” you thought your heart was going to pound out of your chest.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Steve’s voice came through the intercom.

You buzzed them in before he could say anything else and what felt like an eternity later you heard a knock on your door.

You yanked the door open and saw Steve and James standing in the hallway. Steve was dressed as Superman, his blonde hair slicked back except for a small curl on his forehead. James stood next to him, dressed as Batman.

“What the hell (Y/N)!” James exclaimed, looking you up and down, “We were trying to do a couple’s costume and you made it weird by having us look like a throuple now!”

You smoothed the Wonder Woman corset over your stomach and anxiously adjusted your crown, “I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were planning to do a couple’s costume together.”

“It’s FINE,” James huffed as he stormed past you.

“We do a couple’s costume every year,” Steve shrugged his shoulders. He looked you up and down, “You look amazing, (Y/N).”

You blushed, “Thanks, Steve. So do you.”

Steve walked into your apartment and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before going into the living room.

You waited a second for your heart rate to decrease before joining the group. You could hear James grumbling about his ruined costume plans.

“(Y/N), this food is fantastic!” Thor rumbled from the couch.

“And this punch is disgusting and I love it!” Wanda beamed.

“The decorations are amazing,” Natasha said, looking around. “This apartment isn’t that big, where did you store them?”

“I prioritize holiday decorations over all else. I think I own more costumes than I do regular clothes.”

“Then why don’t you go change,” you heard James grumble under his breath.

Steve came and sat next to you with a full plate of food, “Just ignore him,” he whispered to you.

You gave Steve a half smile in reply.

The night continued to be eventful. Wanda shared spooky stories she had encountered in her research. Steve educated everyone about the history of using superhero outfits as costumes for Halloween. Thor choked on a grape. And when “Thriller” came on the playlist, everyone tried their best to do the original dance. James eventually forgave you and decided documentation of you, Steve, and himself in your superhero costumes was necessary and subsequently forced everyone into a photoshoot. Bruce and Vis were not happy with him.

“Well, I think it’s time for us to relieve the sitter,” Clint said, taking a final drink of punch as Laura yawned and stood up.

“Mind if we hitch a ride back home with you?” Natasha asked, pulling Bruce up off the couch.

“We drove you here, it’s not like we would just leave you,” Clint replied, groaning as he stood.

“Didn’t stop you from leaving me that time in Budapest,” Natasha snarked back.

“You and I remember Budapest very differently,” Clint laughed.

“Pepper, are you ready to go home?” Pepper asked Tony.

“Yes, dear. And thank you for FINALLY accepting the costume,” Tony grinned.

“We should probably go as well,” Wanda said, “I have some...things...to attend to at home.”

“Wait, she isn’t actually a witch is she?” you couldn’t help but ask Vis.

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that question,” Vis sighed.

“Well, Steve, should we go too?” James asked.

“Um...yes...I guess we should? Unless (Y/N) needs help cleaning up?” Steve directed the questions at you.

“I think I can manage it,” you replied, your heart fluttering.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, looking deep into your eyes.

James realized what was happening, “Steve, you know what, maybe you should stay behind and help (Y/N) clean up. I’ll see you tomorrow buddy.”

You said goodbye to everyone and shut the door with a sigh.

“What can I help you with?” Steve asked from behind you, startling you, as you had forgotten he was still there.

“Um, I really just have to put the leftover food in tupperwares and then clean out the punch cauldron. You really don’t have to stay if you have other things to do.”

“You want to break apart the two strongest members of the Justice League?” Steve asked, stepping closer to you.

“I mean, Wonder Woman is definitely the strongest, but I think Batman is actually….”

Steve stopped your words with a kiss, pushing you against the front door. You tried to put your arms around him, but your hands got tangled in his cape and you couldn’t help but start laughing.

“Let’s clean up first, Superman,” you walked into the kitchen, grabbed tupperware containers, and filled them before putting the leftovers in the fridge. Steve poured out the dregs of the cauldron and began to wash it. You filled the dishwasher with plates and cups and straightened up the pillows on the couch.

Steve dried his hands off on a towel and joined you in the living room, “You know, last time I was here you said I could take a look around. Is it possible to get a personal tour?”

“I’d be happy to,” you smiled, “Let’s start at the front door?” You took his hand and led him to the door. “So this is the hallway, it leads everywhere. To the right is the kitchen, straight ahead is the living room/dining room combo, and up there to the left are the bathroom and bedroom.”

“How practical.”

You pulled him to the right, “Here is the kitchen, I believe you’ve been in here before. And if we walk forward we have the dining room and the living room, which are actually just one big room.”

“What a lovely set-up you have here. Brilliantly decorated.”

You blushed, “Then if we go around this way,” you walked him to the hallway again, “We go down a smaller hallway and we have the bathroom on the left,” you opened the bathroom door and flicked on the light, “complete with a Halloween pumpkin soap and all your regular bathroom furnishings. And on the right,” your breath hitched, “Is the bedroom.”

You hesitated for a second before opening the door to the bedroom. You took a deep breath, opened the door, and turned on the light.

“Here in the bedroom, we have the closet, and a dresser, and the,” you gulped, “bed.”

You watched Steve’s eyes roam around the room, and you were thankful you had thought to clean it this morning while the mummies were baking. Steve cleared his throat and you saw he was staring at the picture frame on your nightstand.

“Oh, um, I can explain that,” your heart was racing and you had no idea how you were actually going to explain it.

Steve’s hand tightened around yours and he gently pulled you onto the bed with him, “You don’t have to,” he whispered in your ear before kissing you passionately.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Call Me Doctor. Tag List:

@ashislost​ @wantingtobekorra​ @zlixlle​ @arlenesrose​ @crazy--me​ @grey-raven​ @queenkitten95​ @chook007​ @tequila1984​ @yallneedtrek​ @ssweet-empowerment​ @guera31​ @justmesadgirl​ ​ @sofipatey​ @fourtyninekirbygamzeegirl @rainbowkisses31 @writing-for-a-chance @sp2900 @notkikibear @itzmegaaaaaaan @partiallyinthecloset @moonstruckhargrove @ishipmybed @chrisevansisdaddy13 @straybattie @angryteapot @fandom-addict-aesthetics @hazellnut94 @abschaffer2 @hadesgirl1015

Steve Rogers/Chris Evans Tag List:

@patzammit​

Permanent Tag List:

@sophiealiice​​ @mrsdeanwinchester19​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @ailynalonso15​ @221bshrlocked​ @hazellnut94 @libbymouse @nerdypinupcrystal @hufflepuffchloe

[comicteaparty]

June 13th-June 19th, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from June 13th, 2020 to June 19th, 2020.  The chat focused on the following question:

What is your physical and digital workspace like when you’re working on your story?

🌈ERROR404 🌈

LOL it really depends on what stage I'm in of the process - My storyboarding space is at home, as comfortable as I can be, a beer and some food at the ready and pure silence. The cats have to be freshly fed, otherwise I'll be harassed and lose my headspace entirely LOL. I usually work on my story boards digitally, just at a very small scale, with my script/outline on my computer and working on my ipad! The double screen helps a LOT, although i would just print out the script if I had access to a printer, haha. When I'm working on the actual page itself, it's a very different story. I usually just try and work on it in tiny little batches during the day when I'm stuck at home, and usually work around the animals as best i can, lmao. Truthfully, I really prefer to be in a coffee shop when I'm working on finishing pages, it makes me so much more productive than i am in this house with so many things to take care of right in front of me, but, obviously, that's a bit difficult to do these days. ;; I usually reserve food and drink until after I pass a milestone in inking/sketching to help motivate me to keep going for as much as I can before taking a break, and I need some kind of music or video playing in the background to keep myself from being absolutely bored out of my mind. My shading process, since it's in black and white, is very easy and i can finish it in one setting, easy, no matter what I'm working with. I also work digitally for my pages, of course, although I don't need more than my ipad and clip studio for it!

DaeofthePast

freshly fed cats

🌈ERROR404 🌈

They are BEASTS when hungry, the little bastards (love them)

I may only work in peace when they're post-food napping lmao

DaeofthePast

we only have one, but same

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I work almost entirely in the corner of my IKEA couch at home I used to work at a proper desk with a Cintiq, but when I switched to Procreate on an iPad, I migrated to the couch and surrounded myself with a nest of clothes and blankets and books and... here I am, bein' cozy. With terrible posture But when I was between jobs last year, I did rent a little coworking space down the street so I could get out of my pajamas and go get comic stuff done there. It was a godsend. I like drawing at my favorite coffee shop every so often too, but I tend to hide my work while I draw, and there, everyone can look over my shoulder The coworking space had a tall artist desk that was rarely used, so I often grabbed that one. Not cheap, but to stave off cabin fever, heck yes, worth it.

🌈ERROR404 🌈

Ahhh I've been really thinking about getting a studio space one of these days I really shouldn't rn, with my finances as they are, but I could REALLY make use of one recently

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I loved the space I used last year. They recently had to close for... current-event reasons... and are going to reopen with all sorts of plexiglass barriers between the desks I feel so bad for them. Good studio spaces are wonderful, I would support them again if I ever was out of a job!

🌈ERROR404 🌈

it's good they've found ways to make it safer, though!

carcarchu

My old workspace was in the basement of my home in canada and it was always perpetually freezing even in the summer and i was frequently visited by spiders so my current workspace is a huge improvement in that regard. I do miss my old ergonomic desk chair though. I'm definitely not the kind of person who can draw in bed or on the couch. I need to be in workmode and having a designated space just for that is necessary for me to get in the right headspace for that.

DaeofthePast

my workspace rn is just my desk with my laptop and my drawing tablet. my laptop is stacked on top of a pile of books so i can see the screen (otherwise my tablet blocks my line of sight). it's kinda simple

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

Depends. I have a Cintiq Mobile Studio, so I can draw pretty much every where and sometimes in the oddest position, but most of the time I am on my desk with the cintiq hooked up to a second monitor so I don't have to look down so much.(edited)

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

For Wayfinders: Thumbnails are somewhere cozy and the only physical work. Me and Q sit and plan them out together. The rest of wayfinders are made on Photoshop, and flat colors in clip paint studio. In the world I would love a nice studio place in an office with others. During corentine I have been working from home, and I am not that good at it, being quite the extrovert. Before corentine I was in a artist residency where I worked on Wayfinders which had a workstation and all the programs we could need. It is so nice and me and Q are going to return there when it opens up again!

Miranda

I have an iPad so usually on the couch, cozied up with coffee and pillows and blankets. But sometimes at the table. But usually on the couch like the gremlin I am

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

I have a large drafting table, a mini drafting table, and a lapdesk in my papasan when we ink/draw! Toning and letters are all done on the desktop in its own space

Miranda

I need to get a good lap desk. But that sounds like a grand setup!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

My first time hearing about a lapdesk

Omg I need one

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

They are the best things ever Mine has just the pencil holder !(some come with cup holders and its a waste of space imo)

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Wow I like your setup of the drafting tables

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

I wanna show pics of them....if im allowed in this chat?

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

I hope so, I'm not sure which channel we can post studio photos at? I did see some did before?

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

Ill post in shop talk since creator babble gets archived

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

my current space is uh.... a bit better than my last one. I used to work on an old writers desk for a decade and I did most of my comic work sitting there cramped up with my desktop taking most of the space. Now I have an L shaped desk where I have my desktop on the shorter end. The longer end it's my pen, pencils, and watercolor stuff. my display tablet occupy the space at times so switching from digital and traditional without worrying about setup hassle is a lot better than what I dealt with before lol.

I'm glad the days I had to curl up and draw with no privacy are long gone now

kayotics

I’ve got a little drafting table where I draw all my comic pages. I’m messy with my pens so they’re kind of strewn about until I start to lose them. Then I put them back. I’m not particularly neat. I spend most of the comic process off the computer, so most of my digital work is just on an iPad where I can sit anywhere. I try to keep good lighting around my drafting table and there’s always loose eraser shavings all over.

Natasha Berlin (Pot of Gold)

I got myself a lil corner desk by the dining table. Not as well-lit as I'd like, but it's decently ergonomic and I started putting posters on my wall Plus I can leave work mindset easily by turning off my computer and forgetting about the dark corner in the dining room XD(edited)

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

My desk is really sloppy and covered in all kinds of junk. I have a harmonica, a ball of yarn, a bunch of ink bottles, etc on my desk. I have my sketchbook under my tablet and usually a notebook somewhere for writing. My tablet sits to the right of my laptop (on top of sketchbook) while I'm not using it and when I'm using it it goes over my computer keyboard. I sometimes have a glass of water or some food sitting to the lefthand side

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

The only thing I wanna share about my workspace is this

once i spent over three hours looking for that damned pen

never again

🌈ERROR404 🌈

Ajkdhfkjs the models for hte magazine im crying

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh my God

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

mad giggling

Deo101 [Millennium]

youre gonna manage to lose the string

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

omg

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

i know in my heart deo is right but still i hope

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

You should weld a metal chain to it

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Watch me lose the whole tablet

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh nooo

I believe in you!

TaliePlume

My workspace is a black table with a white, yellow, blue and green tablecloth with 3 black chairs. It's next to the kitchen. On it, is my laptop and the left side is my clipboard, 3 blue folders full of writing. Then above it, is 3 sketchbooks and another blue folder from a class that I took in community college.

June 16, 2020

sagaholmgaard

I have one long desk at almost three meters. On the left side is all my coffee and tea supplies, in the middle is my work space and on the right is my dining table xD I get everything done from there, despite having a mobilestudio so I COULD sit anywhere and work, lol. It's a blessing during holiday seasons to be able to bring it everywhere, but at some I like my designated working space. Although I am moving in a few weeks, so who knows what my new workspace will be

Moral_Gutpunch

My workspace is anywhere I can draw or write. It's more of a "Will I be interrupted over something petty or stupid" issue than space. Not that I don't want more space.

Mitzi (Trophallaxis)

My workspace is a big, broken corner desk I managed to lug out of an old apartment when it was gonna be trashed. Before then, I'd just draw in bed. I don't remember, but I'm pretty sure the folding chair I sit at is a similar affair. It's got a Dollar General throw pillow on it so I can at least say I'm trying to save my back. The top of the desk is a mess of mostly old bottles and cans, pencils, incense ash, and my old tarot deck. I love this setup dearly. This is the first time I've ever had my own desk space, much less a space I can decorate or leave as messy as I want. Got my own art up on the walls with sticky tack and all! Also the cat's scratching post is directly behind me, because we've learned the cat won't use it unless it's as in the way as possible. What can ya do, lol.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh cats...

Desnik

I got spoiled with an adjustable desk. It is six feet long, and has a whiteboard top for noodling with dry erase markers

my main computer is set up on an adjustable stand so it floats over the desk, and then I have my cintiq, which we tried to mount on a similar stand but then it was just too heavy

I keep my dice collection nearby because fidgeting helps think things through sometimes

and rolling to make odd decisions never hurts

lately during the quarantine I've been sharing the office with my spouse so we've had to establish rules over when it's okay to bug each other(edited)

oh yeah and we also have a whiteboard installed in the office, and it rules!(edited)

Shizamura 🌟 O Sarilho

Mine is pretty simple: I have a laptop that's long stopped being portable and is now mostly just sitting at my desk at all times and a 19 inch Ugee as my display. I usually keep a lot of stuff on top of my desk, but it's mostly just a mess because I have been using it for work too for a while now

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

I suppose I'll talk about my setup too :) My main setup is where I do digital art. I share an office with my SO, so we both have workspaces on opposite walls from each other. I work on a corner desk that holds my beefy computer, two monitors, and a Huion Kamvas GT-191. That's where I draw my comic and pretty much everything else done digitally. Ngl, it's a mess right now. I have comic notes and location floor plans in sketchbooks and DnD character sheets spread out all over the surface, and random pens and sticky notes. In the corner of the room, we have a nice large-format printer where I produce prints for conventions. I actually sketch my pages on an iPad pro in Procreate, so during the sketch phase, sometimes I'll just bundle up on my couch and do it, or before quarantine, sometimes I'd sketch on the go. My other workspace (which hasn't gotten much love as of late tbh) is a drafting table in the corner of our living room. I keep a tabletop easel on it and my Copic markers, as well as whatever I'm working on at the moment. (RN it's some ink washes.) The drawers hold all my ink, pencils, erasers, etc. Next to the drafting table is where I keep all my large charcoal, graphite, and oil pastel drawings (mostly school projects), and my large paintings. Other than that, I have a nifty little cart where I keep painting supplies :) I will say, this setup is by far an enormous improvement from my previous setups.

[hopeisour4letteredword]

Coffee Break

Summary: Flynn gets his chat over coffee, but he and Yuri still can’t help catching on each others’ rough edges.

Part of the Feeling Pretty Good About the Trouble That I’m In series. Link to AO3 in the notes.

The coffee shop is one of Flynn’s favorites. Not his absolute favorite, because Yuri got weird about it and shot him down when he suggested that one. But this place is still up near the top of the list. Not too expensive, either. Hopefully some good food will ease a little bit of the tension from this meet up.

Flynn tries not to fidget as he waits out front. Is his outfit alright? He didn’t know what to wear for this. When he meets his coworkers and classmates, he usually shoots for business casual. But this isn’t a coworker or a classmate, it’s Yuri, and that makes everything paradoxically more and less important. Flynn erred on the casual side, one of his favorite worn t-shirts and a light, comfortable over-shirt, and he’s still irrationally afraid Yuri’s going to show up and call it pretentious.

He’s a little early. He has no right to be anxious that Yuri is a no-show just because he isn’t here yet. Besides, Yuri’s run late for everything before and after they were on the fencing team together in high school, so—

“Hey,” Yuri says, at precisely eleven o’ clock, giving Flynn a goddamn heart attack. Flynn whips around to stare at him. He’s got his hands shoved into his pockets, an untucked button-down shirt and jeans on, and a leash on one wrist that trails down to a panting but cheerful Repede. He looks just as uncomfortable as he did at the veterinary clinic. “Hope you don’t mind a third wheel. I don’t like to leave him home alone if I’ve got a choice, but I can take him b—“

“No!” Flynn says, hastily. As though he would ever be unhappy with Repede. He mentally ushers himself away from thoughts of intimate situations where he actually might prefer Repede’s absence. Those were only ever pipe dreams even at their relationship’s closest, and Yuri barely wants to talk to him right now. “No, you don’t have to do that. I’ll order for you while you grab one of the patio tables for us. Do you know what you want?”

“Just, like.” Yuri scrubs at his face. He seems exhausted. “A black coffee. And a plain croissant, or whatever they have that’s closest. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Flynn frowns, considering his appearance. He has dark bags under his eyes, and he looks a little pale. “Do...you want to take a rain check? Because if—“

“No,” Yuri snaps, then visibly takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I worked late. There’s not really going to be a good time to meet up when that won’t be true.”

“Okay,” Flynn says, carefully. “Coffee and a black croissant—oh, hell, I mean—“

He’s already made a fool of himself. It’s worth it, though, because a solid 75 percent of the tension leaks out of Yuri’s shoulders as he muffles laughter into his hand, a twinkle in his eye for the first time Flynn’s seen in years.

“A croissant and black coffee,” Flynn corrects himself. It’s hard not to smile in return when Yuri grins like that. God, Flynn had almost forgotten how beautiful he is. Pictures have never done Yuri justice. They can’t capture his vibrancy. “Do you want the receipt?”

“Yeah, I’ll pay you back.”

Flynn thinks about announcing it’s his treat, then remembers Yuri’s fight with Schwann at the clinic. “Sure thing.”

He leaves Yuri to pick a table and goes inside to order. Croissant, black coffee—Flynn almost orders him a large, because he looks like he needs it, but then feels guilty about making that call when Yuri’s going to be the one shelling out the extra money—and for Flynn, soup in a bread bowl and an iced tea. He loiters until the order is ready, watching Yuri through the glass shopfront. He’s slumped bonelessly into his chair, head lifted off the table just enough to look at something on his phone. Repede lounges in the shade under the table at his feet. Now that Flynn’s looking at both of them together, it’s a little disconcerting how healthy Repede is in direct contrast with how wrecked Yuri seems. Flynn shakes himself out of his thoughts long enough to collect the tray with their food and take it outside.

“So,” he says. Yuri grabs his coffee off the tray without looking before Flynn can even put it down all the way. His phone stays out until Flynn is all the way into his seat. “What’s new with you?”

Yuri shrugs. His gaze flickers up to meet Flynn’s, then back down to his croissant. “I told you, not a lot. Same routine as usual.”

“What about your new roommates?” Flynn presses.

“I don’t know what to tell you about them.”

That’s fine. Flynn works out enough to carry this conversation for a long while. Yuri will probably loosen up once Flynn can get him going. “Well, what are their names? What do they do?”

“Judy and Estelle, they’re the ones with jobs. Judy bartends and waitresses. She’s a real livewire. She does kickboxing and capoeira on the side. Estelle’s got a part time at the local library, and Hanks is a little soft on her, so he’s been giving her a little money for helping with tutoring at the community center. She’s pretty good at it, he’s been trying to get her to start her own gig. Made her draft some flyers and everything.”

“They sound fun,” Flynn says, a little wistfully. He wonders if Judy gets to spar with Yuri. He misses being able to do that. He wouldn’t mind meeting this Estelle, either—ever since Miss Estellise went missing, he hasn’t had anyone to discuss fine literature with. For a fleeting second he wonders if maybe, possibly Estelle is Estellise. Surely, though, someone would have said something to the police by now if that were true? Flynn had a meeting with Alexei just last week, and he said she was still missing. “How’d you meet them?”

“Judy and I used to work together. We both got fired for not putting up with a customer’s bullshit.” Of course they did. That’s Yuri all over. “We stayed friends after that, and she moved in a while ago after... stuff. Her business, not mine to tell. Estelle and I met at the community center. She needed a place to stay so I’m putting her up until she sorts herself out.”

“That’s very kind of you.” And just as typically Yuri as the way he got fired. He never could look away while somebody needed help and he might be able to provide it. Yuri shrugs off the praise. “You said there are others?”

“Karol and Rita,” Yuri says. He knocks back a long swig of coffee. “School kids. Twelve and fifteen. Babies, really. Technically, legally speaking, Judy and I are fostering them.”

“Didn’t Schwann—I mean, Dr. Oltorain, he said you’re in a two-bedroom apartment. They let you foster with five people in a two-bedroom apartment? How old is Judy, to be their second guardian?”

Yuri opens his mouth, starts to say something, and then closes it. This process repeats another couple times. Flynn remembers, with the beginnings of dread, that this is Yuri’s usual response to inquiries where the answer is possibly illegal, definitely not great, and sure to disappoint Flynn.

“Yuri...”

“I don’t want to lie to you, but...”

“Yuri, honestly.”

“You asked for it. Rav—Doctor... man, what the fuck is his name? All-terrain?”

“Repede has had the same vet for his entire life. How do you not know his name?”

“I know his name, just not that one.” Yuri gives him a deeply aggrieved look, like Flynn is the unreasonable one here. “He let us pretend we were living with him for the inspection.”

“He what?!”

“I didn’t want to tell you because you obviously respect him, but you asked.”

“That’s—God, that’s not even fair to the kids!”

“You’re right,” Yuri says, visibly losing patience by the second. “It’s so fucked up of me to let the kids—who chose this, I’ll point out—decide that they’d rather live with young adults they trust in temporarily less-than-ideal circumstances instead of, you know, going back to  abusive households or a fucking orphanage or something.”

“Children don’t always know what’s best for them—“

“And adults don’t always listen enough to know what’s best for them, either.”

“Other people in their lives can help make that call!”

“Yeah, they did. Do you think Raven helped us get custody because we’re inept guardians?” Yuri slams a hand against the table top. His coffee sloshes dangerously in its cup. “Do you think Hanks would let me do this if he thought it was an unlivable situation? Do you think I haven’t looked at the apartment and wondered if this is really fucking okay? I don’t want them to have to live like this, Flynn! But if Karol isn’t with us, he’ll be with someone who hits him! I’m not alright with that! If Rita isn’t with us, she’ll be self-isolating and self-destructing with some stranger she hates who doesn’t care as long as she’s not actively causing them trouble and they still get a paycheck! I’m not just going to sit on my ass and watch that happen because my apartment is small right now!”

His volume gets higher and higher as he talks, until he’s almost shouting at the end. He’s on the edge of his chair, hackles raised, hands clenching the edge of the table. Flynn watches him, frozen in place. Yuri’s chest heaves for breath for a moment, until he collapses backwards into his chair, throat working with a hard swallow. When he talks again, it’s quieter.

“We’re... we’re working on it, alright? We’re trying to find a new place. Between me and Judy and Estelle, we should be able to upgrade to a three-bedroom, if we find a cheap one that isn’t also, like, filled with asbestos or some shit.”

“I had no idea,” Flynn says, softly. “I shouldn’t have—I had no idea.”

“Of course not,” Yuri says, wearily. “Yell at Yuri first, ask questions later. Standard procedure.”

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Do I?”

“I’m not—you know I’ve always respected your ability to follow through in hard situations, but sometimes it’s just... I worry about you.”

“You have a weird way of showing it,” Yuri mutters.

“You never listen to me when I try to be more subtle about it!”

“When the hell have you tried to be subtle about it?!” Yuri props an elbow on the edge of the table so he can sink his face into his palm. “You never ask questions before you flip out on me, you never go ‘hey, maybe that’s not a great idea, could you explain why you’re doing it that way?’ You just jump straight down my damn throat to chew me out! Sometimes shit isn’t so clear cut, alright? I know it’s my own fault for putting myself in these situations in the first place, but sometimes you have to make a hard call.”

“I—“ Flynn rubs his hands over his own face, breathing through gritted teeth. Only Yuri has ever been this infuriating. “Why does it always have to be you? You’re always the one making the hard calls. Why can’t you let somebody else take the heat for once? Why can’t you ever give yourself a break?”

“How am I supposed to know anybody else will follow through? I can’t leave that to chance.”

“Of course you can’t.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not trying to! How are you so determined to defend the value of human compassion and so cynical about other people at the same time? It makes no sense.”

“Are you seriously asking me why I’m cynical about the foster system?”

Flynn winces.

“Look, a lot of people are good. Karol and Rita and Judy and Estelle, they’re good. The people who would have power over them if I backed down and let things happen, they’re shit-tier, awful people. This isn’t, like, commentary on humanity. These specific people suck.”

“So get some good people with power involved.”

“Like who?”

“Like—I don’t know, like Schwann. Why couldn’t you live with him for real?”

Yuri laughs, but it sounds a little hysterical. “Flynn, Schwann Oltorain is an alcoholic.”

“What? No.”

“I told you, Judy and I see him a lot at our bartending jobs. Too much.”

“That’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not. If it was, I’d let him take Karol. Karol likes Raven. But I think nihilistic drunk and childcare don’t really mix. So Karol stays with me until Judy can bully Raven into attending some AA meetings.”

“He never acts drunk or hungover at the clinic.”

“So what? A high-functioning alcoholic is still an alcoholic.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as—“

“Raven agrees with me.”

...There wasn’t really a way to argue with that.

“Can I... I just want to try to explain myself.”

“By all means.” Yuri crosses his arms.

“You’re... I know it’s been a long time since we talked, but you’re still my best friend, you know that? I get it if you don’t feel that way about me anymore, but... It just feels like you’re always taking the risky moves to protect everyone else and it keeps blowing up in your face, over and over again. And I do worry about you, I really, really do. And I respect that you want to help people, and I respect that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself in the process, but it feels like you take bigger risks than you need to, sometimes, and that freaks me out.”

Yuri sighs. “What’s the smaller risk I could be taking, here?”

“I’m not even talking about this specific problem, it’s just. In general. I’m more worried about the pattern. I don’t know, get the bigger apartment first before you adopt the kids?”

“If I left the kids where they were, they’d still be getting abused while I got my shit together,” Yuri says. The fight has gone out of him again, and he just looks tired. “Besides, they’re the ones who kept showing up. The whole reason we bothered to put the paperwork through was so we wouldn’t get charged with kidnapping.”

“Jesus, Yuri.”

“I’m flattered, but no, I’m still regular old Yuri Lowell.”

Flynn snorts despite himself. “There’s nothing regular about you.”

“I’m gonna pretend that’s a compliment.”

“Good, that’s how I meant it.”

“Uh-huh. Can we change the subject now?”

“Yeah, okay.” Flynn stirs his soup a little, eating a spoonful while he thinks. It’s gone lukewarm in the time he and Yuri were arguing. “New roommates, apartment shopping... Is anything else new with you?”

“Well,” Yuri says. He’s staring down into his coffee. “Estelle had me do some tests, and it turns out I’m dyslexic. Probably. So that’s something.”

Flynn feels his face fall as he processes the news. How many years did they go to school together? Twelve? Thirteen? And he never once guessed, none of the times Yuri complained that reading was just a confusing jumble of words, none of the times Flynn watched him sit down and force himself to read something two, three times before he could glean enough information from it to answer whatever questions he needed to.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” he says. He starts to reach across the table, then hesitates, then makes himself finish the action. His fingertips glance over Yuri’s wrist, just above his bracelet. Yuri’s eyes flick to his hand and stay there. “For—for not noticing, and for how hard that must—“

Yuri snorts. “Hard? It’s not like it’s doing me any harm now. I’m a dropout. You don’t exactly read all that much in the service industry.”

“Are you joking?” Flynn asks, incredulously. “Do you really think this had nothing to do with you dropping out?”

Yuri finally looks up at that, his mouth set in a grim mockery of a smile. “I mean, speaking as the one who dropped out, I’m pretty sure it was just because I blew my chance, man.”

“You’re impossible.”

Yuri shrugs. He’s done it so many times during this conversation that Flynn is starting to hate it a little bit. “Sure.”

“Can you take this seriously? Please, Yuri.”

“You used up all of my emotional honesty tokens on the last topic.”

“I really hate it when you do this.”

“Do what?”

“You get so flippant whenever you get fucked over. This is exactly why I worry about you. Would it kill you to let yourself be mad about it for once? To let me be mad for you for once?”

“If we get mad about the injustice of fate or the universe or whatever, we’ll never stop being mad. We’ll just burn out.”

“You’re already always mad.”

“Yeah, but sustainably.”

“...Elaborate.”

“I’m mad at societal systems, not the universe. We can do something to change societal systems. It’s productive anger.”

Flynn sighs, taking his hand away from Yuri’s arm to run it through his hair. As though societal systems have nothing to do with Yuri’s learning disorder and academic issues? Of course, Yuri never applies these things to himself. Somehow it only counts for other people. Flynn doesn’t know why it surprises him anymore. “Okay. Sure. Productive anger, I guess that makes sense.”

“I’m done with talking about myself,” Yuri says, abruptly. “What about you? What’s new with you? How’s vet school?”

“It’s good,” Flynn says, reflexively. It’s just Yuri. Flynn doesn’t need to persuade him that he deserves his place there. “Hard,” he admits after another beat. “It’s a lot to keep up with.”

“Yeah, it’s like... med school lite, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think that’s a very good way to describe it, but I haven’t been to med school, so I guess I don’t know. You would hate it, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s not really breaks, on a day-to-day level. And you start by covering anatomy with a lot of dissections.”

“...Ouch.” Yuri’s face twists into an uncomfortable moue. He always did hate dissections in high school. It’s cute, in a way, knowing that his big heart is behind it. Flynn doesn’t miss the discrete way he shifts in his seat, either, presumably bumping his legs against Repede to reassure himself. Repede makes a sleepy whuffling sound. “How about friends? Roommates? Hot dates?”

“No roommates,” Flynn says, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve got some study buddies from my classes, but we don’t do much together aside from classwork. It’s hard to have any kind of social life outside academia in vet school. Classes and labs and studying take up so much of my time... and now the clinic, too.”

Yuri flicks a piece of croissant at him. It lands in Flynn’s soup. This is the asshole Flynn is too hung up on to date other people. “If you’re that busy, you shouldn’t—“

“Don’t you dare tell me I shouldn’t be spending time with you,” Flynn warns him. It comes out a lot sharper than he means it to; Yuri’s eyes go wide. He won’t take it back, though, not when he can see in Yuri’s face that he guessed correctly. “Working with Schwann, and getting to see you again—it reminds me why I’m doing all this work, you know? And I have to know what you’re up to if I’m supposed to keep up.”

“You, keeping up with me?” Yuri snorts. “I think you’ve got that backwards.”

“You’re already helping people in the real world,” Flynn says. “I’m still in training.”

“You don’t exactly ignore people in need either, dude.”

“Take the damn compliment.”

“Oh my God, fine. Stop trying to kick me, you’re going to hit Repede.”

“You’re such a pain.”

“I’m a fucking delight,” Yuri says, solemnly, then breaks into a proud grin when Flynn throws his head back and laughs.  “Come on. You really haven’t made any friends at vet school? None?”

“The first year of vet school is hard!”

“Wow. That’s just sad.”

“I’m hoping to join some student organizations or sports clubs next semester, when I’ve got my feet under me.”

“...You think you’d go back to fencing?”

Flynn chews on his lip. “...I don’t know. It might feel wrong, without you and Coach Niren and the rest of the team.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you...”

“Still miss him?”

“Yeah.”

Yuri wordlessly holds up his wrist. Flynn doesn’t need further elaboration on the worn-down bracelet. He remembers just as well as Yuri when Niren passed the leather cords out to the team on the bus to a tournament. Hisca and Chastel taught them all how to do the braiding so that the bracelet size was adjustable. Yuri’s didn’t turn out half bad, but Flynn’s is lumpy and misshapen. It doesn’t adjust as much as it’s supposed to.

“I’ve still got mine, too,” Flynn says. He fishes it out of his pocket. His keys are connected to it. “We can’t have accessories during labs and I wouldn’t want to get all that junk on it anyway, so...”

Yuri smiles crookedly. “Yours will last longer than mine, then.”

“Maybe.” It’s already in better shape than Yuri’s. “You’ve got Repede, though.”

“Repede isn’t just a reminder of Coach and Lambert,” Yuri says, defensively. Repede stirs at their feet at the mention of his name. Flynn reaches over to pat Yuri’s arm in placation.

“I know, I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“...You ended up with any pets of your own yet?”

“My current apartment doesn’t allow it... my lease is up soon, though. I’m hoping to move somewhere that lets me have a dog.” It would be hard, taking care of a dog and keeping up with vet school, but maybe it would help him with his work-life balance.

“Ha. We could do play-dates with your dog and Repede.”

Flynn feels his eyes crinkle up with his grin. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

They just smile at each other for a second. It’s still a little awkward, not quite as smooth as their conversations used to be, but Flynn already feels lighter than he has in months. Yuri looks a hundred times better than he did when he showed up. He nibbles at his croissant instead of just poking at it, and he’s relinquished his death grip on the coffee cup. Flynn opens his mouth to say something disgustingly sentimental—

And a loud beep makes them both jump about a foot in the air. Flynn forces himself to relax while Yuri curses and scrambles for his phone. Repede lurches into motion below the table, hackles raised. “Shit, sorry, I set a timer—goddamn, have we really been talking that long? I’m supposed to pick Rita up—“

“Oh, no, are you late?”

“Not yet, that’s what the timer’s for. Hey, do you need a ride anywhere? I can drop you off—”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to delay you—“

“You’ll delay me more by being wishy-washy. Yes or no, Flynn?”

“Yes,” Flynn says, firmly. “If you could drop me off at the clinic, that would be great. Where are you parked? I’ll bus our table while you get the car warmed up.”

Yuri waves a hand vaguely to the east and sprints off with Repede before Flynn can ask him to elaborate. Flynn rolls his eyes, but he still can’t wipe the silly grin off his face. Classic Yuri. They haven’t solved any of their problems yet, not for real, but maybe... maybe this time around, they’ve got a shot at it.