#if he wants to pay his bills he can go work retail far from the public eye and influence like everyone else

[yharnamesque]

Obviously I'm not one to play any Hoyoverse games but seeing the way a chunk of the HSR players were welcoming Chris fucking Niosi as one of the VAs with open arms AND continuing to defend him now that he's rightfully stepped down is sickening

[thehaemanthus]

Someday, Today (Part 1/3)

A Helion/LoA fic for the ACOTAR Writing Circle! Thanks to @azrielshadowssing for organizing this event. It really is a bunch of fun :)

I've never actually written any Helion/LoA, but it's a juicy dynamic. I hope the characterizations in this short first installment  are accurate, exciting, and a good springboard for the next two writers.

Someday, Today is a Modern!AU with a newly divorced mom, a confused man, and seven sons lol. Can Helion and LoA move beyond their pasts into a better future together?

A sea of cells speckled with black and white characters swam before Corissa’s vision. The summer sun had set, but she had been too glued to her laptop and spreadsheets to turn on the light. The room was a dark cave, illuminated by the blue-white glow of her laptop screen.

She rubbed her weary eyes. Rest beckoned, but this was more important. School supplies, groceries, house payments, credit cards and more balanced against child support and alimony and a feeble salary.

Corissa had never felt ashamed to stay at home and raise her seven boys, but…well, it would have been nice to have an employable skill and work history besides the retail jobs she took on for fun in college.

The room brightened. She blinked rapidly, leaning away from her screen.

“It’s almost midnight.” Eris scowled by the light switch, like he was the parent and she was the child. But her seventeen year old son was too gangly, still too much arms-and-legs to act the adult.

God, seventeen. He’d be off to college next year. How much of the tuition would Beron take on? He was still paying for the boys’s private school, but college?

Eris walked over and put a hand over the laptop. “You should sleep.”

“Let me finish this,” she smiled, plastering on the face that said everything was all right. “First day of school tomorrow. We’ll all be busy this week.”

Eris frowned. “It’s not like you’re the one going to school.”

“Eris.” Corissa put her foot down. “You should be in bed.”

“I’m a teenager, we’re nocturnal,” Eris said. “But fine. Whatever. Just don’t make me the babysitter when you’re tired.”

She watched as he left the room. Her eyes ached when she looked back at her spreadsheet. Then she shut the laptop and went to bed.

Some days, the anxiety drove her to tears. She married at twenty and never had to pay big bills, do taxes without the assistance of an accountant, or buy a house on her own. But she had done it, had figured it all out with minimal help. She received custody of her children, she got their obnoxious mansion and then sold it. Now, Corissa and her sons lived in a more modest house in the suburbs. She had learned how to do it all and still continued to learn.

The anxiety she felt now would never compare to the feeling of living under the same roof as Beron. She would take this every day.

The morning was filled with chaos and uniforms and spilled milk until all of a sudden the boys were hopping out of her minivan in their neatly pressed uniforms, and she could breathe.

“Mommy, I wanna go to school.”

She smiled into the rearview mirror, carefully navigating out of the school drop-off. “We are going, buddy. You just go to a different school.”

Lucien scowled in his car seat. “No.”

“You don’t want to go to a different school?”

His little grumpy face was adorable— and too recognizable. It sent a pang through Corissa, reminded her of vastly different times. All of her children were precious, but Lucien…Lucien was unique.

It was Lucien who had given her the strength to leave Beron. As a baby, he passed for Beron’s son. But the more he grew into his features, she worried others would start to see what she knew. What she was sure Beron had suspected. Instead of waiting around to find out what would happen, she left.

Lucien had been the catalyst, but leaving Beron was the best choice for Corissa and all of her children. She wanted to give her sons a chance to grow into men without the influence of an abusive father hovering over them. So far, the only big sacrifices they had to make were some friends, their old house, and a mom that was a lot more busy with a new job.

Corissa was usually one of the first people in the little office. She had been a supporter of the nonprofit for childhood literacy for years, a little project that Beron allowed since it boosted their reputation. After the divorce, she was fortunate enough to transition from donor and occasional volunteer to employee. Corissa was immensely grateful. She didn’t have much work experience, but she did know how to coordinate schedules and plan parties.

Privately, she wondered if part of the reason they hired her was for networking— unfortunately, they would have very quickly realized that all of her “friends” were Beron’s friends, and she was very alone.

She was in the middle of scanning some documents when she heard the door open, calling out, “Be there in a moment!”

The papers almost fell out of her hands when she saw who was waiting in their tiny little lobby.

Time had been good to Helion. He was wearing a tan suit, no tie, top buttons on his white shirt undone. It only took a split second to catalog those broad shoulders and thick thighs. He looked the part of a man in control, and the brain behind those penetrating eyes proved it.

The first time Corissa spoke with Helion, they were paired in a college class for a quick discussion. Mandated group work in class became late night milkshakes and long study sessions during finals week. Back then, they had been young and full of ideas about the future. But she chose what her family wanted for her and he let her do that, and then love turned sour. Yet like a comet, he’d come blazing back into her life every few years demanding attention. Beauty that could not be ignored.

Now he was in front of her again, just as magnetic.

In the back of her mind, Corissa knew it wasn’t a coincidence he was here. He supported the nonprofit, which may or may not have been part of the reason she supported it too. But in the moment, all she could do was squeak, “hi!”

“Corissa.” At least he looked shocked too. But he recovered faster. “You look well.”

Now would be the moment to laugh and tell him that she got divorced and life had never looked sweeter.

“Yeah,” she said. “And you? I mean— how are you doing?”

He smiled, and she melted a bit. Oh, damn him. “Good. I, uh, wanted to see if I could pick up my tickets for the gala?”

“Oh, right!” It was kind of him. They would save a bit on postage. She opened a drawer and brought out a folder. She found his name, checked it off, and handed four tickets over.

“Thanks,” Helion said, but he didn’t leave. “You’re volunteering here now?”

She shook her head. “Working.”

“Oh. That’s great.”

She nodded with a smile. This would be when normal people would mention the big change in their life, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Corissa was raised to keep her personal business to herself. The outward picture always had to be rosy and perfect, and any problems were ignored in public.

It was how she lived her entire life. If there was anyone she should be able to shed her defenses with, it was Helion. But she just couldn’t.

“I’ll see you at the gala?” Helion asked.

“Yes.” He probably assumed she’d be a guest, in one of her designer dresses and red-soled heels. “I’ll be working, probably.”

He nodded. “I think it’s… great that you’re getting so involved.”

She couldn’t help her little laugh. “Yeah…” She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, wondering how to transition from that to “well, I’m working because I’m terrified of relying on my abusive ex’s alimony and child support payments”.

Helion cleared his throat, rocked back and forth on his heels. “Everything is all right with you?”

“Everything’s fine!” she said, a little too chipper. But at least it was true. “Busy with back to school and all that.”

“Right. How are your kids?”

She swallowed roughly. Another moment to say something… “Good, growing up fast. Eris is a senior already.”

“Wow,” Helion rubbed the back of his head. “Then you’ll only have what? Five at home? Practically an empty nester.”

“Six,” she corrected him. “Lucien is three, you might not have heard…”

That blushing feeling, the awkward heat in her chest of embarrassment and delight, turned a bit cold. Helion’s expression closed off, and she knew he was doing the math.

“Seven boys, that’s a lot.”

“They keep me on my toes,” Corissa said softly.

“Thanks for the tickets,” Helion said abruptly.

“You're welcome.” The words barely left her mouth before he was out the door.

Corissa sank into her chair and cursed. That could not have gone more wrong.

Helion considered himself a logical person, but so much of that logic seemed to fly out the window where Corissa Vanserra was concerned.

She had been out of his league, from a totally different world when they first met. It didn’t stop them from falling in love or dreaming of a future together.

No, the only roadblock had been her family. And for some reason, he had let her walk away. He had definitely been an idiot, but what 20 year old kid knew what to do when the girl he loved was demanding commitment and maturity that he didn’t know if he could give? In the end, he waited too long and she got impatient. And that was that.

But Corissa inspired all sorts of lapses in judgment. Whenever he stumbled upon her, he made an honest attempt to keep his distance. Then he had convinced himself that her smiles, her laughter, the way that her shell was thawing and the look in her eye when they were together really meant something. When they were twenty he wasn’t the man she needed him to be, but Helion was ready to take her and her kids, the whole package.

A mistake, obviously. Corissa didn’t want him like that, not when she had her rich successful asshole husband.

Or did she?

It wasn’t like Helion saw Corissa regularly, but he never saw her in public without her wedding ring. Except for earlier that day. Corissa was never anything but perfectly put together. Manicured nails, salon-worthy blow out, light natural makeup to cover any miniscule imperfection, and always a necklace and earrings at least. To leave her wedding ring off…

Helion went through the morning in a daze. There was someone he could call to do some snooping. It wouldn’t be that difficult to find out what was going on between the Vanserras, not with the way this town liked to gossip.

But Corissa hadn’t said anything. If she hadn’t said anything, she didn’t want him to know. And if she didn’t want him to know, why the hell would he start chasing after Corissa Vanserra again? It could only end in more heartbreak.

[lazuli-bloom]

Roses and Styx

Chapter 1 - An Inconvenient Attachment

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5365

Sure life wasn’t always easy, it had it’s ups and downs, but you were doing alright for yourself. Mostly. However when you find a strange sight while on your lunch break one autumn afternoon, your life gets all the more unusual.

Archive | Next Chapter

--=--=--

The sun beat down on you, unobstructed by a single cloud in the vibrant blue sky. A pleasant breeze wafted by, chilling the heat of the sun’s kiss. Summer was in its death throes, but stayed determined to linger as long as possible. It gave an odd contrast to the scenery. The blazing warmth of a summer sun illuminating the turning leaves and tombstones on that early October afternoon.

You sat on a stone bench enjoying your lunch in the quiet peace of the graveyard. Most people avoided visits to the cemetery, not wanting to keep the company of the dead. You, however, frequented it. With few visitors and lovely Gothic inspired architecture, the cemetery made a relaxing place for lunch breaks. Plus, it was only a short walk from your job.

While there were benches throughout the graveyard, your favorite spot was one off in the corner and closest to the gate. That day, however, there had been a funeral held in that corner of the cemetery. So as not to impose, you picked a different bench to occupy. You tried to not let your gaze stay fixed on the graveside service, but the task proved to be easier said than done. The funeral repeatedly pulled your attention back to it by partly virtue of being an event you’ve rarely seen.

Many people, dressed in black, all focused on one grave. Most of the figures standing there were adults, but among the crowd were children clinging onto parents. The group was too far to get a proper look at any of the mourners, but there was one that stuck out. A man, slightly broad in build, wore a peculiar striped suit with wide vertical bars in black and white. You noted the clothing choice as strange, but tried not to judge. Perhaps he wasn’t able to get a solid black suit on short notice.

The strange pattern of the suit made it easy to pick him out against the other mourners. He didn’t stay still. He moved around, seeming to want to get other’s attention only to be ignored. The man’s bizarre actions, coupled with the indifference of the crowd, were major reasons you kept glancing back to the funeral.

You shake your head and check your phone, almost two o’clock. Time to head back to work. You grab your trash and get up with a stretch. With one last glance back to the funeral, you find the striped suit man looking back your way. You pay him no mind and check your phone once more before heading to leave.

To wring the most time and relaxation out of your lunch, you amble back to the hardware store. You turn to the next street where brick shops sat side by side. On the corner was a shop with a rounded, sun-faded green awning stretched over most of the front facade. Your eye glanced over the printed “Rose Creek Hardware” in yellow letters for what must have been the millionth time.

The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside. To your left an older mustached man stood behind the front counter. He wore a light blue button down under a green apron, both tight around his rounder stomach. He gave you a warm smile that you returned.

“Back from lunch already, Cass?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice out today, I can hardly believe it’s October already.”

“Hopefully, when I get the Halloween decorations up, it’ll give things a more autumn feel.”

“Can’t wait to see it, Mr. Turner! Oh, and is Sam still here? Or have they left already?”

“They’re still around. Sam was helping the new hire.”

You nod and make your way behind the counter to retrieve your apron. After you get the strings tied, you do a sweep of the store. You found Sam in the back corner pulling merchandise forward. They didn’t notice you straight away, so you softened your footsteps for your approach. You stayed at their back until they turned enough one way that you could slip around to their side and not get caught in Sam’s peripheral. Once close enough to the shelving yourself, you slap your hands down on a bare spot- “-Missed a spot!”

Sam seized up, grabbing the shelf for support. “Geez, dude! You trying to kill me?” A wide grin breaks across your face. You chuckle to yourself as Sam regained some composure. They took a breath, shot you a glare, and got back to work.

“Heard you were training the new guy.”

“Yeah, he left already.”

“What’s he like?”

“Eh. Kinda boring? White bread personified, if you ask me. Dude came in with a dress shirt and tie.”

You shrug and start helping pull forward items. While turning products to have labels front-facing you continue on with your conversation. “Sounds like all I’ll have left to talk to will be Mr. Turner.”

There was a pause in that moment, and a sting of sorrow poked at your heart. You do your best to smother the feeling and focus on your work. It’s better to cherish the moment. You force yourself to smile and keep your chat going.

“So, there was a funeral today-”

Sam groaned and rolled their eyes at you. “You went to that creepy graveyard again? How are you not haunted?”

“Hey! I told you, it’s close by and usually quiet. I enjoy taking my lunches there. Anyway, there was a funeral and one guy there was in a weird suit with black and white stripes. Kinda like the Hamburglar.”

“I swear. You’re a magnet for the weirdest shit. It’s all those shitty movies you watch that seep into your head. How the hell do you not get nightmares?”

You stay silent and look over the product in your hand as your mind wandered back to your most recent nightmare. Piercing blue dots masked in shadow, watching every move you made. You shake your head to dismiss the thought.

You huff out a small laugh. “Guess that stuff just doesn’t get to me.”

“Whatever. Just don’t let any of your weirdness rub off on my cat.”

You press your lips into a tight line and tap your finger against the pliers in hand. “You sure there isn’t anywhere else he can go?”

“Cassie, I already told you I checked.”

“I’m just worried. I don’t think this is a good idea. My apartment doesn’t allow pets.”

“It’s just for two weeks. I’ll pick him up on the sixteenth. Hell, that’s not even a full two weeks, just thirteen days. You’ll be fine.” Sam finished with their side of the aisle and took a step back. “When do you want me to drop him off?”

You breathe out through your nose and make a noise somewhere between a hum and a groan. “Seven should be alright. Donna’s always heads out to the bars on Saturdays, so it should be clear by then.”

“You need to lighten up and not worry so much. Maybe a cute roommate is exactly what you need.”

You don’t give a reply and go back to work. The two of you split off and start tackling other sections of the store. Time marched on, and all too soon, Sam’s last shift ended. Mr. Turner bid them a farewell with a handshake and handed Sam their last paycheck. You give them a small wave and focus back on your task. You knew full well you were going to see them later that night, so you didn’t see the point of having a drawn out goodbye right then.

Once Sam left, the rest of the day dragged on slower than a sloth on crutches. When there weren’t any customers needing help, you talked with Mr. Turner. It gave you something to do, sure, but time still crawled.

That day was one of the worst kinds you can have in retail. The kind that’s just slow enough you bored out of your mind, and peppered with enough customers that you couldn’t slack off and dick around on the store’s desktop. It’s like they coordinated to space themselves out to be the most annoying.

As grueling as it took to get there, five-thirty eventually rolled around. You and the boss took the last half hour to close the store. Sweep, wipe down the counters, count the till, all that good stuff. You were in the middle of dusting when Mr. Turner handed you an envelope. You thanked him and opened it to count the bills inside. Five whole Benjamins. With another thanks, you move the bills into your wallet and get back to dusting.

Once all finished, you headed out, followed by your boss. He locked the front door and walked with you around the side to the small parking lot. He hopped into his old pickup while you climbed into your little junker. The bucket of rust masquerading as a car was on its way out, but you planned on getting every mile out of it you could. Mr. Turner had driven off by the time you coaxed your car into starting. The car sputtered and hissed, but you got the clunker going.

The drive to your apartment complex was as mundane and silent as ever. Your only option for music was to sing it yourself, since the previous owner had beaten the hell out of the radio. CDs weren’t an option either as the owner before the last had stuffed the disc slot full of cookies. For what reason remained a mystery.

You drum your fingers on the steering wheel as you drove, watching familiar sites go by as you neared your apartment. Nicer well-kept buildings and streets slowly turned to the more rundown variety. The street grew more broken and in increasingly desperate need of repairs as you went.

Building after building, you passed by until finally it was time to turn off. You pull up to your complex’s parking lot, just as run down as the roads leading to it. Two buildings sat facing each other, both in contest for which one can be the most rundown. Your building nudged ahead of its twin with the recent addition of graffiti marring the exterior.

You park in your designated spot, managing to not bump up against the two cars encroaching on your space. You worm your way out without adding anymore dents to the black sedan, and head to the complex’s front door. Standing near the door with a cigarette between clawed yellowed fingers was a scrawny older woman with a perpetual sneer on her wrinkled face. Cold steel eyes narrowed at you as you dared to approach the harpy.

“Hi Donna. How are you?”

“Parker! Where’s the rest of your rent?”

You force a smile to mask the spike of irritation. This harpy is going to be the death of you. You clear your throat to help prevent your ire from bleeding out into your tone.

“Right here, Donna. I get my pay on Saturdays.”

“Not my problem. Rent is due in full on the first. Today is the third.”

“I tried paying you last Saturday, but you-”

“The first, you stupid child. Not Before. Not after.”

“Yes Donna, I know. I’m sorry, I needed to replace a flat tire an-.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just pay the rest of your rent and get out of my sight. You worthless leech, can’t even follow basic instructions.”

You press your lips into a tighter line to keep yourself from screaming at the horrid bat. It was best to bite your tongue and get the interaction over and done with as quick as you could. You pull out your wallet and hand over four bills. It was nice while it lasted.

Donna snatched the money from you and promptly counted it. Once satisfied, she took a long drag off her cigarette. She ordered you to leave while smoke seeped out of her mouth like a dragon.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You hurried off to your apartment, climbing the stairs to the second floor and making a beeline for your door at the end of the hall.

You shut the door, leaning against it and breathed out a deep breath. After calming yourself some, you set your keys on the counter by the door and step further into your little abode.

You make your way back to the small living room and crash on the dingy brown love-seat, tossing your phone onto the stained coffee table. You lean back and stare at the ceiling. A boring white painted over heavy popcorn texture, collecting all kinds of dust. You close your eyes and let your mind wander, wanting to squeeze some relaxation time out of the rest of the day. Too bad your phone rang.

Sam called to tell you they were on their way with the cat. You told them to be careful and not let Donna see them on the off chance that she hadn’t left for the bar yet. Sam, however, brushed aside your concerns and told you not to be so worried. You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned at that. Sam wasn’t the one that had to deal with Donna and hopefully never will.

It wasn’t until a long while later that there was a knock at your front door. A quick check through the peephole showed you Sam was on the other side with a backpack and pet carrier. You open the door and hurry them inside. Sam stepped in, stopping in the space between the kitchen and living area, and looked over the place.

“Wow. This place is shitty.”

“Thanks, hadn’t noticed.”

Sam set the carrier down on your couch, and the cat inside growled in a low tone. Sam took off their backpack next and handed that one over to you.

“Here’s all of Rigel’s things; food, bowls, litter box, toys. I’ll be back in town to get the last of my stuff on the sixteenth, and I’ll pay you then.”

“I thought we agreed half now and half when you got back?”

“It’ll be easier to just pay you all at once.”

You drum your fingers on your thigh and let out a sigh. “Alright, fine. It will be nice to get two hundred dollars all at once.”

“See! You fuss over the smallest things.”

You change the topic by offering Sam something to drink but they declined. Sam still needed to pack up a few more boxes before the end of the night. You nod and give a small wave goodbye, only for Sam to pull you into a hug. Your muscles tense up, but you did your best to return Sam’s sudden hug.

There was a unique funk around Sam that made the hug even more challenging to bear. An overly strong lavender tried and failed to cover some mix of sweat and burnt coffee. Sam left shortly after, telling you to just call them should you need anything. You nodded and waved them off.

Once they left, you turn to Rigel stuck in his carrier. His hissing got louder the closer you got to the carrier, and was full on slashing at the front when you reached down to open it.

You recoil and let him be for the moment, choosing to set up his things in the bathroom instead. While your bathroom was on the smaller side, it seemed big enough for one cat to stay in. You pack up all the various toiletries that a bored cat might knock down and set out Rigel’s things. Litter box in the corner across from the shower stall, while his food and water were against the opposite wall between the door and the sink.

With that set up you go get the carrier. You did your best not to jostle it too much, but Rigel wasn’t pleased and let you know. He let out some of the most chilling demonic screeches as he knocked against the fabric carrier, desperate to break loose and slaughter you. You set the carrier down in the closet, closing one of the bi-fold doors so he had a dark corner to hide in. You braced yourself with a few steadying breaths before swiftly unzipping the front. Once open, you pull your hand back and leave the bathroom completely, making sure the door shut behind you.

You did your best to salvage the rest of your night, enjoying your cup of noodles while watching a movie. It was a B-Movie slasher about a supernatural being going on a killing spree in Las Vegas. And this somehow led to the being going to space in the next film. Overall, it was pretty cheesy, but got a few laughs from you.

Soon you had to wrap things up and head to bed. You sneak into the bathroom to swipe your toothbrush and clean them at the kitchen sink that night, and probably for the next two weeks. With a yawn and a stretch you change into sleepwear and crawl into your bed.

Sleep didn’t come to you easily, but it wasn’t a night full of endless tossing and turning, either. The rest you got didn’t feel like enough, as the buzzing of your alarm woke you too early for your liking.

You sat up rubbing your eyes and checked your phone for the time. The small screen on the back of the thin flip phone showed the time was seven o’ two. You heave out a sigh and pull the warm covers off.

While your body went through the motions of your morning routine, your mind wandered back to the images you saw in your dream. An island floated in the middle of a dark ocean with storm clouds rumbling high above. The cold wet sand pricked against your bare feet like needles, yet you kept on walking. You had found yourself on a rickety dock at least fifteen feet above the violent waves below. There was nothing around you, but you knew you weren’t alone. Down below, lurking beneath the water, two hungry orbs of blue glared up at you, waiting. Expecting. When you didn’t move from your perch, the beast thrashed at the pillars of the dock. You lost your footing and tumbled down to the abyss.

You shook your head, forcing your thoughts to jump back to the present. Chills ran down your spine as the nightmare crawled around in the back of your mind, clawing its way forward. You stuffed it as far back as possible and carried on with your morning.

You soon were out the door and on your way to work. You grip the toilet paper wrapped over your forearm, letting the lines of blood soak into it so it can better rest on your arm. Rigel had given you a few nasty scratches when you got him fresh water, the ungrateful bastard. At least there’s a first aid kit at work.

The bell above the door chimed as you looked at the time on your phone. The damn cat almost made you late for work. You make your way to the back room to grab your apron, only to bump into a man turning the corner. It took a second to get your bearings and notice you ran right into Mr. Turner.

“Oh shit. Sorry, sir.”

He laughed and waved you off. “Morning Cass, see you’re in a hurry.”

“Ah- no, well, kinda. I hit every red light getting here and-”

“You’re fine, don’t worry. No need to rush. Just get your apron and I’ll introduce you to the new guy.”

You nod and scurry back to grab the green apron. It hung by itself on the hooks, speckled in paint and smudges. By that point the thing was overdue to get tossed and replaced, but the same thing would end up happening to the next apron.

You throw it on and tie it behind yourself before going out to the sales floor. Mr. Turner stood next to a man younger than himself but older than you. The boss was the first to notice you and gave another wave. “There they are.”

The new guy turned and flashed you a wide smile, showing off straight white teeth in a hollow smile. Tamping down the disquiet, you force yourself to offer a smile in return. The man strode up to you and held out a hand. “Great to meet you, I’m Brandon! Mr. Turner was just telling me how great of a worker you are-” He squinted at your apron before going back to that fake smile- “Art. Interesting name.”

“Thanks,” you said, and hesitated a moment before taking his hand for a brief shake. On contact that strange buzz of discomfort shot from your palm through the rest of your arm. Once your hand was free, you fight the urge to rub off the non-existent traces of him. There wasn’t anything there, nothing real, and you knew that, but more than anything you wanted that feeling gone and the only way for it to leave was to brush it off. Why did people have to insist on handshakes, just needless physical contact with strangers? It’s stupid, and you hated it.

For the first half of your shift the boss had you go over the day-to-day tasks with Brandon. There were few customers in the store that Sunday morning, so you mostly had the guy pull forward merchandise and clean some shelves. Brandon did the tasks, but they all came with questions. Most of the questions were mundane things about the products stocked, store hours, and what times saw the most customers. The problem came when Brandon veered his questions towards you personally.

“So, is Art short for anything?”

“Artemis.”

Your answer was short and pointed. You already didn’t like that he was the type to read name tags over asking for someone’s name.

“Interesting. So you from around here?”

A shiver shot through you, and you’re quick to stop that line of questions. You ignore the question entirely, instead cutting in to tell him to finish front-facing the aisle while you go check on Mr. Turner.

The day dragged on until finally getting to your lunch break. Brandon, thankfully, caught on that you weren’t one to disclose much about yourself to a new face. However, that didn’t make the morning smooth sailing. You grab your lunch and speed off to the cemetery, eager to get a break from Brandon.

Your usual bench was free, and you took your place to enjoy lunch. Munching on your meal, you take in the sights, finding a serenity in the quiet. The sun shined brightly, causing some of the glossier headstones to reflect the rays. You hum to yourself and scan over the graveyard. To your surprise, you spotted someone in the far corner opposite you. Your brows furrowed, perplexed by the other. You watched the figure, curious of what they’re doing.

They wandered from gravestone to gravestone, kicking at the earth with hands stuffed into pockets. The build of the figure suggested a man, and one dressed in monochrome. You squint your eyes at them making sure you weren’t mistaken; but no, that was the same bizarre suit you saw a man wearing the day prior.

You keep your gaze fixed on him, wanting to figure out why he might be here a second day in a row visiting completely different graves. Did the man simply like to visit graveyards and have a limited wardrobe? If so, you didn’t want to comment on the matter out of fear of shattering the glass house.

You ate lunch with glances at the man. You wanted to piece together why he might be there. He wasn’t mourning; he moved from one grave to the next as if searching for something. The man in the weird suit went down one row of graves, heading away from you, only to hit the end and turn back for the next row.

You forced yourself to not look at him for fear of getting caught. But your curiosity burned, and you chanced a look up. He didn’t notice you, too engrossed in whatever he was doing. Embolden by that, you continue to munch away at your food and sneak glances at him. That is, until you swallowed wrong and went into a coughing fit.

You got your breathing under control a minute later and checked to see if he noticed. And oh boy, did he notice. The man was staring straight at you. It was awkward enough to get caught looking, but you noticed the man closing the gap between you two. He was still at the far end with well over two hundred feet between you, but you didn’t want to stick around and have that plummet to single digits.

Nope. You scoop up your belongings and speed-walk straight back to the store. You didn’t even chance a look behind you. Eyes forward and keep moving. You weren’t sure if he was actually still following; you didn’t hear any footsteps behind you. So that seemed like a good sign.

You blew past the door, bell violently chiming, and you made a beeline for the back. Your heart pounded against your ribs, wanting to break free and make a run for it. You take quick breaths, forcing the next to be longer than the last to get yourself to calm down. In the middle of collecting yourself, Mr. Turner walked into the back area with worry knitted on his brow.

“Cass, you alright? What’s wrong?”

“Is there a man in a striped suit in the store?”

He gave you a puzzled look, but left to do a sweep of the store. He came back half a minute later, shaking his head. “No, no one’s in the store dressed like that. What happened?”

“Nothing really. I just saw him in the cemetery and it looked like he was starting to follow me.”

He frowned. “Well, you just come to me if any creep is giving you a hard time. I’ll knock his teeth out for you.”

You manage a smile and nod. You take a few more breaths to calm down before you grab your apron. Things were going to be okay. The guy might not have even seen what store you went into. Heck, that guy probably didn’t even leave the cemetery. And even if he did, Mr. Turner was there to help you out of a tight spot. You smile a little brighter and step out onto the sales floor where you see the stripe suit guy looking at paint chips.

A strangled scream catches in your throat. You step back, dipping back into the employee’s only area of the store before he could see you. What the Hell were you going to do now? You couldn’t hide back there all day.

You push aside the fabric curtain dividing the sales floor from the back, and get a look at the man. With him much closer, you could see his green hair and the distressed look of his suit. He leaned forward, looking over the paint colors. Maybe he didn’t know you were back there. If so, you could wait in the back for a few minutes for him to just leave.

You close the curtain and slip your hands into your apron pockets. Your fingers brush over cool metal, and your thumb flicks up the slider on the side. It wasn’t much, but it was certainly better than nothing. Box cutter in hand, you look back out.

The stranger stayed put in front of the paint colors. You take a shallow breath, prepping yourself to go out. In the middle of psyching yourself up, you see Brandon wander over to the paint section. Hope bubbles up in you. The new guy can take care of him for you.

Brandon scanned over the section. He pushed down some color chips, looked over the desk before looking your way.

“Art! There you are.”

Brandon’s voice bellowed in the small store, not only earning a squeak from you but also causing the stranger to turn and look. You yank the curtain closed, hoping the man in the monochrome stripes didn’t get a good look at you.

Brandon parted the curtain a moment later and looked you over with knit brows and lips in a thin line. “Art, what are you doing back here? I don’t think it looks very professional for an employee to skulk around in the back all day.”

“The guy over at paint followed me from the cemetery.”

Brandon raised a brow at you. “There aren’t any customers in the store, and certainly not in paint, I would have seen them.” He pulled open the curtain with a flourish to reveal the man standing just on the other side. “See, no one’s there.”

Your eyes dart between the idiot holding back the curtain and the green-haired man tilting his head some with a grin plastered on his face. Thought processing came to a crawl as you tried making sense of what you were seeing. Your gaze lands on Brandon in the end.

“You don’t see anyone there?”

He rolled his eyes and looked back out to the sales floor. He then looked back at you with brows knitted further. “No, there’s no one there, Artemis. Perhaps you should stop taking your lunches in the cemetery if they’re just going to put scary thoughts in your head.”

Brandon frowned at you before stepping out onto the sales floor, going right through the man in the striped suit. He stopped to shiver, only to keep walking a second later. Once he left, your wide eyes landed on the man still standing there, still grinning and showing off sharp yellowed teeth.

“Hi there!”

Nope. Nope nope nope. You grab your box cutter and pull it out to point at the guy. And without a word you push aside the curtain more and go around the man. The man whined at your action and followed you.

“Come on babes! Don’t ignore me, I know you can see me!”

You keep walking, heading straight for Mr. Turner. He turns to you at your approach and the small smile fades from his face. “Cass? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The gravelly laugh behind you sent shivers down your spine. You did your best to shake off the feeling and forced a smile.

“I’m not feeling too good. I was hoping I could go home early today.”

His lips sink further into a frown, but he gave you a nod. “It’s fine by me. But what about that man you were talking about that followed you from the cemetery? Are you going to be okay?”

The man behind you continued to laugh. You tighten your hands into fists, the metal of the box cutter pressing hard into the flesh of your hand.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay Mr. Turner. See you tomorrow.”

He nodded, and you handed over your apron while keeping the box cutter in hand. You offer one last quick goodbye and head out the door, the bell only chiming once. You march down the sidewalk and hear the strange man continuing to talk.

“So, babes, where are we heading?”

You pause at your car door. You take a few quick breaths and finally respond to this... person. “I’m going home. I’m obviously not feeling well and seeing things that aren’t there.”

You slip into your car and promptly lock all the doors. You heave a sigh and lean against the steering wheel as your brain sorts through all this nonsense. A groan rumbles in your throat and you lean back in your seat. In your peripheral, the man in the striped suit sat in your passenger seat sporting a sharp grin. Well shit.

[collecting-stories]

A Year Later - ep. 07 - JJ Maybank

A/N: I wanted to do an epilogue of sorts for The S’week and @d-reamingoutloud suggested looking into their lives a year after the story so that’s what I decided to do. Basically this is kind of where the reader’s relationship with them all is at. 

The S’week Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

John B. Routledge - 

John B’s Hand slipped out of yours, both of you forming a fist to side bump in a variation of the secret pogue handshake that you’d somehow come to adopt as your own in the last year. You were standing on the edge of the jetty, cooler in your other hand. 

“You ready to go?” John B asked, taking the cooler from you and setting it down below the seat before he held his hand out for you to climb aboard. It was early enough in the morning that it was still dark outside but the light on the boat cast a glow across the marsh, a rather calming effect on you as you prepared to spend the morning fishing with John B. An odd sort of tradition that had come about last year and had just stuck. A time and place that neither of you had to worry about other obligations or other people’s opinions of your friendship.  

“Yeah. New boat?” You asked, taking a look at the boat as you stepped on. John B stepped back to give you some room, nodding his head. 

“Got it last month, finally saved enough between rent and bills.” He replied, “being an adult sucks.”

“I hardly think 19 qualifies as being an adult.” You laughed, taking a seat as he pulled away from the jetty. It was still cold out for now, one of JJ’s hoodies keeping you warm as the light rush of air chilled your bare legs.  

“It does when I’ve got bills to fucking pay.” John B replied.  

“Touché.” You glanced back at him, “I thought you were doing the Winnebago thing with Kie? Surfing all the coasts or something?” 

Kiara was leaving at the end of the week to spend the summer in a Winnebago with a few friends from college. The last you had heard about the trip John B was tagging along too, eager, apparently, to get out of the obx. But here he was, spending his money on a new boat and seemingly unprepared to leave the island.  

“Nah, I thought about it but...I don’t know. She’s talking about it being a fresh start and how I’m in a slump but I know if I go with her-”  

You nodded, “not exactly a fresh start if you’re just tagging along with Kie wherever she goes.”  

You loved Kiara but you knew that she had a constant want to fix her friends problems, always the mom of the group in a way it killed her that things had never gone back to normal after the s’week debacle. The Week that Must Not Be Named, according to JJ.  

“Yeah, and listening to her try and fix things between everyone. I love her to death but the ‘we should put aside our differences’ spiel has yet to work on any of us.” John B replied, “except maybe you and Sarah.” 

“Me and Sarah are in it for life, she’s my like platonic soulmate best friend. I’d have to cut a part of myself out to not be friends with her anymore.” You admitted. Sarah could stab you in the back, and figuratively she had, and you would still be rooting for her in the end. You loved JJ and you cared about John B but Sarah was your ride or die.  

“That’s really touching.”  

“Oh shut up,” You laughed, tossing a flip-flop at him. “I love you too John B.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I was gonna say, I’ll take you up on your offer...if it still stands?” 

You’d came home almost every weekend because of your schedule but it was during spring break, on a day when JJ had work and you had gone over to the Chateau to hang out with John B, that you had mentioned your family’s vacation home in Hawaii. You usually went around Christmas and had that year, taking JJ with you for his first plane ride ever (which had been hilarious in itself). John B had mentioned wanting to get away from the obx and you suggested your family’s vacation home, free to him if he wanted to move out there for a little while.  

“Yeah of course, whatever you need.” 

“A serious change of scenery.” John B replied. The Outer Banks had always been his home but it was feeling more and more like a prison the longer he stayed there. Especially when he felt like he was running into JJ everywhere he went.  

“I’m guessing, if you’re aversion to Kie is that strong, you and JJ still aren’t talking?” You asked. It was an unspoken agreement between you and JJ that you never talked about his former best friend.  

“I got nothing to say to him.” He shrugged, “I’ve tried, I swear...it’s just, every time I see him I think about it and I feel like I wanna drown him in the ocean.” 

“I guess you won’t be coming to the boneyard on Friday then?” 

“Nah. I’ve got you and Kie and I don’t really wanna see anyone else. I’ve tried hanging out with other people we just don’t vibe ya know? I miss feeling like I had that group...I’m not gonna have that feeling here anymore.”  

“Hey I get that. When Rafe and I broke up I lost a lot of friends I thought I had.” You replied, “people can’t help feeling loyal to certain people.” 

“Maybe.” John B shrugged; it didn’t matter. Or he was trying to accept that he couldn’t change it. “But you’re here on the boat with me and we get along fine. You don’t try and bullshit me about JJ or tell me we should all be best friends again.” 

“It’s not my place. Besides, JJ and I have come to the agreement that we don’t talk about it.” You replied. It kept you both happy.

“Well it’s shit when you and Kie are in school cause then it’s just me and JJ on the cut.” John B admitted. He hadn’t complained too much about it during the school year but you knew that was just for your benefit. “What about you? I know you guys are cool but how is rooming with Sarah?”

“It’s good, feels like old times again ya know...JJ doesn’t come around, but...it what it is.” You shrugged.  

✰ ✰

Sarah Cameron -  

“I’m going to fail all my classes.” Sarah groaned, resting her chin on her forearms. She’d pushed her books away from her, forcing you to pick up your coffee when her textbooks threatened to knock it over.  

Finals were in a week and both of you had been studying like crazy, meeting up in the dorm or in the library for cram sessions between classes. Sarah was already planning on going to Nassau the first week of summer vacation with Topper and some college friends. Even if nobody actually knew what happened last summer it still felt different being in the Outer Banks now.  

“You are not, you’re literally one of the smartest people I know.” You replied, attempting to be encouraging as you texted Kiara about Pope’s birthday party coming up. Your books mirrored Sarah’s but you were taking a supposed break from studying for the five minutes your timer allotted.  

“But not the smartest?” She asked, lifting her head and narrowing her eyes at you. She grabbed her own cup of coffee off the table and took a sip as she looked over the books again. Nothing had changed.  

“I mean, I know Topper so...”  

“Oh my god, shut up, I just fucking spit out my coffee.” Sarah laughed, covering her mouth with her hand and reached for a napkin. “For real though, why couldn’t my dad have pulled a Lori Laughlin and like, paid off my college?”

You slipped your phone back on the table face down, clicking the side when it rang and pulling one of your books closer to distract you from it. “Because then he would’ve gotten caught and you would’ve been kicked out and probably blacklisted and everyone would be like ‘that girl is so dumb her dad paid off the college to pass her.’ And you’d have to move in with me and work retail.” 

“Stop it. What a fucking nightmare.” 

“The living with me or the working retail?” You asked, laughing at the annoyed face she made.  

“I’m gonna hire a new best friend who’s just like ‘yeah Sarah you’re so smart’, ‘your dad should pay for you to ace tests, you don’t need college’ and whatever other shit I pay them for.” She replied.  

“You could pay me, I’ll be your yes man.” You offered, silencing your phone when it rang again.  

“Who’s calling you?” Sarah asked, her attention drawn away from studying and Lori Laughlin to the phone that rang for a third time.  

“What?” You looked up, “no one.” You’d told JJ that you would call him when you were finished studying and that you were busy but that didn’t stop the incessant calling once he decided he felt like talking to you. Normally you wouldn’t care but you did your best to separate JJ from your life at school because Sarah was here and you didn’t feel like it was fair to flaunt that in front of her, even if it was accidental.  

“Seriously, I can see you clicking off your phone every couple minutes.” She replied, “Is it JJ?”

“Uh-” You bit your lip as you looked over at the offending electronic. It was no use pretending like he wasn’t the person on the other end of the call. You’d gone two semesters and a spring break without incident, surely, she wouldn’t care if you took one phone call. But you still felt guilty, you weren’t sure if that would ever go away. “It’s no big deal, I can talk to him later.”

“I’m fine!” Sarah insisted, “seriously I’ve got like a real date on Friday.” 

“I just wanna call him back real quick.” You replied, “I think it’s about going home for the weekend.”

“For Pope’s birthday?”  

“Yeah.” You’d been staying on campus with finals so close but it you knew Pope was going to be home for the weekend for his birthday and Kiara would be there and you didn’t want to miss spending time with them. Especially since you wouldn’t see them again until hell week was over and you were moving out of your dorm.  

“Kie mentioned it to me last week.” Sarah explained, “Are you guys doing anything special?”

“As far as I know it’s just the four of us.” You replied. John B hadn’t been hanging around either of his former friends. He still saw Kiara when she was home and you whenever you came home for the weekend, but that was sans JJ or Pope. If either of them was around than John B kept his distance.  

“Go, go. Seriously, I’m fine.” 

You pushed your chair back as your phone rang one more time, finally answering it. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

✰ ✰

JJ Maybank -

“I’ve been thinking,” JJ started to say, sitting on a chair in The Wreck with you on his lap. Before he could continue you raised an eyebrow at him, running your fingers through his hair to get him to look up at you.  

“That’s never good.”

JJ stuck his tongue out but kept talking, undeterred by your comment, “...you should drop out.” He announced.  

You laughed, knowing that JJ wasn’t serious at all. He’d been making the same suggestion to you since September. “No way in hell! Why would I do that?”

“So I don’t have to go weeks without seeing you.” He shrugged, fingers slipping beneath your shirt as he laid a kiss against your neck.  

“A more tempting offer than I expected...what’ll we do on all these weeks spent actually seeing each other?” You asked, smiling. You couldn’t help but play along whenever he asked you to leave school. It was all just for fun, if anything JJ had the most supportive person you had in your life during school.  

“I can think of a few things.” JJ replied, squeezing your side and brushing his nose against your collar and neck.  

“Oh god.” You laughed, “stop we’re in public. There are families with children here.”

“How do you think they got the kids?” He shrugged.  

“You’re a terrible person.” You replied, “come on, Kie and Pope will be here soon.” 

“You’ve been home for like an hour and you’re already dying to see our friends instead of me.” JJ whined.  

“An hour? Babe, I got in this morning...we spent the whole morning ‘unpacking’ in my room.” You pointed out. You’d taken the earliest ferry over that you could and met JJ on the docks. It didn’t matter that you’d just seen him two weeks ago or that you facetimed him every night, seeing him in person gave you the best feeling in the world. It was undeniable.  

“Okay, I know I did not come all the way here just to watch you guys mack on each other.” Kiara announced as she came over to the table.  

“Came all the way over? You fucking work here Kie.” JJ replied, rolling his eyes as you got up to give her a hug. He frowned at the loss of attention, even if he did know that going out with everyone meant not getting you all to himself.  

“I had to go pick up Pope and then drive back.” Kiara said, as if that was a viable excuse.

“I’m like five minutes away...walking.” Pope pointed out, giving you a hug before grabbing a seat next to JJ.  

“No, move.”

“I’m not moving!” Pope exclaimed, “dude, don’t push my chair.”

“He’s being a brat cause I’m apparently more excited to see you guys than I was to see him.” You replied, laughing as Pope smacked JJ’s hands away from his chair. You sat across from your boyfriend, sticking your tongue out at him.  

“You are.”

“I am not!”  

“She is.” Kiara said, grinning at you, “it’s okay I know you only date JJ so you can hang out with us.”

“Hey!”

“I know, what am I gonna do while you’re away?”

“It’s okay,” Pope said, reaching across the table and putting his hand over yours, “I’ll still be here.”

“Thank god.”

“Okay, seriously, the three of you are the worst.” Despite his words when you looked over at JJ he was smiling, eyes brighter than they’d been when you met him almost a year ago. Things weren’t perfect but they were good.  

-

Taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla@poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee@linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @balletandyuzu @oh-annaa@aiifandomsunite  @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan  @allie-mcginn@pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts@copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @jolomez @timotaychalabae  @pixelated-pogues @booksandshish  @ponyboys-sunsets @prettyyboyspence @obxlife @downbytheouterbanks @pancakefancake @danicarosaline @sspidermanss @k-k0129 @apoguecalledjj @annedub @mendesmaybank @httpstarkey 

[cloveroctobers]

• JENIFER “JEN” MARLOWE •

IG Info/bio: @/justjenw1n | 220k followers | Fashion | just a LUVer who owns a lovely blog that you’re more than welcome to check out here... astoldbyjenmarlowe.co.uk 🪞🛍🪄

22 (24) (25 in 2021) years of age

From London, England

Her family has French origins

Tends to visit once a year mainly with her family

For her 18th bday, her parents also sent her to Paris with her bf that she’s been dating since she was 14

they broke up since he wanted to stay in Paris to pursue his dreams and she felt like she needed to be back home...which she felt Paris was not

Extremely close to her parents, some may say a little TOO close...

See, I feel like jen comes from a family that spoils her where her parents did everything and took care of everything for her. She had the privilege and didn’t have to work too hard to get things she wanted so that made her a little bit different than a few of her friends, hell—even her bf

Didn’t have to work until she reached her twenties

She also didn’t have too many friends because her parents felt like her cousins and/or her sibs were really only allowed to hold that title

However her parents had some sort of a soft spot for her when they allowed her to date her bf at 14 since he came from a nice background...

And to have at least 1-2 best friends...

I can’t decide if I see her having 3 other sibs with her being the second eldest, or her being the eldest with a younger sister? I can also see her being a only child too? Idk y’all can decide

Because her family is a tight knit one, she values everything they say and do...which is canon/evident

She got her thigh tattoo in Paris and even thought about asking her parents permission but her bf talked her out of it

she later showed them that night while he was in the shower. Her mother openly disapproved saying it was, “unladylike or unclean” while her father was more lenient towards it 

Her mother even scheduled her for laser appointments but this was one of the things jen was sure of, she loved her tattoo and she didn’t want to erase it from her body which led to her mother not speaking to her for about a month—even tho they live in the same household

I feel like she looks more like her dad with her mom’s hair and smile

Got into fashion due to her maternal grandmother who seemed to live a extravagant life as a old time actress, she always had and owned the finest of things

Jen loved having sleepovers there, it felt like she had her own personal Liz Taylor inside of her nan...but better!

Definitely found inspiration through Liz Taylor, Kate Moss, Victoria Beckham, and Naomi Campbell

she had no clue what she wanted to do in life (she never had to think too hard about it until now, it’s true what they say about your twenties) and she made the choice not to continue thru with uni & I’m not going to make her out to be the stereotypical “dumb blonde” I think she did well in school—so she kinda just chilled after it was all over

Her first job at 20 was probably working in retail where she learned all about the bs you put up with but she loved clothes! That never changed

So she decided 6 months into her job that she was going to make a fashion blog

she made one separate from her tumblr but kept it under construction since she needed to brain storm what exactly this blog would entail

It didn’t take too long to her to figure it out by how she wanted the blog to look then discussing pieces from celebs/models then slowly discussing her own wardrobe + advice

She didn’t immediately gain success for it —altho she did have a good 1k people follow her thru her tumblr where she also provided the link to her separate blog... but she worked/works hard at it, hoping one day it’ll get her somewhere and that maybe she can get paid for it too?

Retail fucking sucks and people are horrible twats so when she was approaching 21 she deff quit with her parents still hammering...more so her dad on what she needs to do with her life but she found happiness in her blog and no one was going to take that away from her —not even her parents

‘What’s the use of working if it doesn’t make you happy?’ She thinks but again! she has the privilege of living under her parents roof and not having to pay bills so she didn’t have to worry too much rn she knows they’d never kick her out right?

she has two bunnies named “bugsy” and “Lola”—u know the reference right?

I feel like she values the flinstones & jetsons because it was something her dad loved watching as a kid and still does , probably has the dvds showcased in her room that she watches when she feels sad

Seems like a smiley person but when she’s sad? It kinda sucks to see cause she turns into a whole different person and she always seems happy with a smile so wide that turns her eyes squinty

If she disagrees with something, she’s 100% giving her opinion whether you like it or not? Wrong is wrong. But when the shoe is on the other foot? She hates being wrong LOL or doesn’t view herself being wrong. Doesn’t take accountability well...at all!

She’s also showed her ass by being a gossiper and fake as hell with Allegra about mc with the whole, “let’s pretend like we’re there for her” if you’re not fucking with somebody just say that or SHOW it sis cause that snakey shit will come back to bite you in the ass (I forgot about this lol as I’m replaying)

she’s all “mega resting bitch face” until she breaks out into a large smile

Libra sun? + Virgo moon? + Gemini rising?

I feel like she only knows what she wants when it comes to relationships but not with the rest of life?

Lol she was very determined with levi in the beginning, explored shit with jake, (I can’t remember if that was after you/mc showed a interest in him or not in that route? I’m doing a talia/Rohan route rn But that’s kinda foul if she’s smiling in ur face and then boom goes and does what she wants but hey that’s the game right? Fck that tho) and then stood by Tim after only some time?

She wasn’t feeling him in the beginning either cause he thought she was too posh for him and snakey which he’s right to some degree but she’s also right if she finds him too immature for her liking

To you jim? Ten? Stans— Idk what their ship name is but it probably wouldn’t have worked out in the long run either because I don’t see both of them wanting to change themselves completely to satisfy the other. (Tim tried) Sure if you’re showing unhealthy behaviors and are open to diminishing that for yourself then trying to work on your relationship then that’s great! But they already started from the jump not liking each other’s personalities/characteristics....

And hey! Ofc I know people grow to like things they might have disliked about you in the beginning but you can also find yourself not fully accepting it in a relationship and that doesn’t mean you didn’t try

+ it’s been hinted at that they’re not endgame & if you love yourself some Tim not platonically then this works in ur favor. if not? Then you can keep them endgame by all means! For me? That endgame shit is a no! For those that don’t gaf about either of them that’s fine too lmao

YES I feel like they were both hurt over the breakup and it probably happened right around the holidays or either a couple of months after Christmas/New Years 2019

Jen is probably the type to keep checking up on her ex, not necessarily talking to them but finding out who they’re with now

and if it’s Tim with mc she’s definitely gossiping about the shit with erikah and Allegra or making shady tweets or posts on IG for sure

“5 outfits to wear when you run into your ex” type posts on her blog looool

She hopes if she runs into Tim, she’s looking her best and she would 80% go up to him & mc/his new girl if not mc and be all huggy with him and holding conversation before she even thinks to acknowledge mc/new girl and when she does it’s a shady convo with fake smiles

Absolutely loves watching housewives so she was prepared for that moment if it ever does come

Her parents openly didn’t like Tim which made him feel like shit since it seemed like jen never defended him in front of them but again, she values her parents opinion and always wants their stamp of approval that’s just the way the girl is/ was brought up

She owes them everything but deep down knows that in her relationship with Tim she could have been a little more understanding of his needs like he was with her love for her parents...but she’ll never admit that

Doesn’t get over breakups as easily as it may seem like her exes do in her opinion.

It sure didn’t take long with Tim to date mc/new girl months after they broke up! Which was like a slap in the face

The ex bf she spent time w in Paris who looks like Matthew Noszka is now engaged, lives in AMERICA—& of all places??? California to be exact, and just released his debut album!! She knows which songs are probably about her, it’s a nice album she screamed about it for hours into her pillow and cried for what felt like weeks

Lost her voice over that breakdown too

Her mother even went as far as sending a nasty letter to this ex bf’s new address...since ya know? jen’s dad is a private investigator & all!!! but dad had no knowledge of this being done

She’s still fond of Levi and jake but not like in love with them? Like she thought/felt she was with Tim but she still considers them her mates

Maybe in 2021 she’ll be open to dating again and hopes erikah and Allegra will be her wingwomen when the time comes BUT she’s focusing on her blog rn and it’s the best it’s ever been!

She had the show to thank for that now that she has a manager and is getting paid for running her blog now! That’s right this girl is officially employed!

“At least one good thing came from the show ;) 🧽🥐🥂” type of tweets

There’s never not a moment where she’s not connecting her posts whether thru ig or Twitter to her blog: astoldbyjenmarlowe.co.uk!!!

Both erikah and Allegra talk a little shit about that together...WHEN they DO talk, the pair only really socialize when jen initiates it but if one pisses the other off?? they’re going to gossip about it with the other forsure

She doesn’t look that tall to me? Taller than erikah? 5’2-5’5 the 5 is pushing it for me? Maybe? lol I’m still deciding between her and Allegra far as height and I’m too lazy to go back and see what I put for her

Hates straightening her hair, that pin straight look is not cute to her. She loves having waves and body to her hair

Get her eyebrows micro bladed since she doesn’t have much hair up there to begin with

Adores French cuisine, always has since she was a little girl. Bisque used to be her fav back then and all that she would eat

Loves spring season especially pastel colors when it comes to her wardrobe

The type to say one thing and do the complete opposite

I feel like she probably has a little bit of lisp and it’s not really noticeable until she says some words, she’s insecure about it and thought it had something to do with the structure of her teeth and begged her parents to get them fixed but it literally had nothing to do with them

Yet she still got colorful braces in middle school even tho her teeth were pretty straight. She didn’t have to wear them for a whole year, thank goodness

Went to speech therapy to help

Has stacks of fashion magazines even from the early 90s all over her room: her night stand, her vanity, her closet, underneath her bed etc...

Adores the Hadid sisters, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, & Georgia May Jagger

Makes the best white chocolate chip (that’s right, white not just regular chocolate) banana bread but cooking/baking? Isn’t really her thing

Early riser

Loves yellow: yellow phone case, yellow laptop, yellow room, yellow tulips, yellow shades, etc...

Getting Prada shades was probably one of the best things that happened to her, s/o to her nan for granting her this wish

Words of affirmation is her love lanaguage, this girl is a talker and a bit of a thinker too I mean duh? She runs a blog

Likes bright colors on her toes but nude and clear polish on her hands?

Loves a good mascara but she also loves magnetic lashes but is trying her best to grow her lashes out rn! Thanks to erikah for sending her some good ol’ coconut oil!

Smokey eyes? Set her up

Gets a belly ring, and two more tatts one in between her boobs and the last on her ankle & that one she shed a tear over!

Maybe she’ll start changing her physical attributes more so than the way she carries her life at first? (Or ever) She’ll cut her hair below her collarbone to the top of her chest, and maybe she’ll try a light light LIGHT brunette (she loves being a natural blonde) with blonde highlights? Who knows

loves espadrilles and wedge sandals

Loves going wine tasting and visiting vineyards, if she’s vacationing? You can bet ur ass she’s looking for a vineyard to visit

Deff a lightweight

Here’s her unpopular opinions on s2: Thought Felix was a wannabe Tim and hates the fact that he follows her, thought graham was unattractive and said so to Allegra who snickered, thought marisol’s clothing choices were rather boring,

didn’t feel 100% bad for Hannah but disagrees with the way Gary and noah spoke about her + the way Gary tried to slide back over to Hannah on her comeback episode

but doesn’t feel like Lottie is wrong for choosing Gary after Hannah left

isn’t a fan of priya but is glad she’s doing fashion since jen strongly believes in if something isn’t making u happy then u need to let it go

Thinks Hope should have won and cannot tolerate Bobby. Feels he’s WORSE than Felix,

would be open to dating Ibrahim or Carl from that szn

has spoken to Harry from s3 due to his drunkenness and actually made a friend out of him? But low key wants to get to know seb? Take that info as u will 👀

Her anthem: Michelle — SUNRISE

[lambourngb]

This Hard Choice

Fic prompt: “I don’t want you to go.” set before THIS HARD LIFE and THIS HARD JOURNEY - an AU after the shed, set sometime after the moment in 2x05. Alex doesn’t join the Air Force. I’m writing these each day- so thankfully I didn’t have to work today because this “ficlet” is 3,600 words. This is finished on Ao3 here.

****

The careful crunch of loose gravel and abrasive echo of a skateboard stopping on the rough pavement let Michael know that his attempt to avoid Alex had failed. 

Parking down by Spring River, not far from where the concrete shelter of the Atkinson Ave overpass sported some of the late Rosa Ortecho’s graffiti murals, would have been an excellent place to hide from everyone in his life but Alex. It was insane to think that in such a short time, Michael had basically shared all of his favorite spots with him, from the private desert escape on a cut back gravel road not far from the crash site to the places in town when Michael couldn’t spare the fuel to drive far, like Loveless Park or the back acres of wrecked and salvaged cars at Sander’s Auto.

He would care more about his failure in evading Alex if he wasn’t so currently high.

Old man Sanders had let him crash on the couch last night with Rusty, his dog, and then left him the next morning with scrambled eggs and a small paying job of cleaning out the machinery tools used for alignment repairs. “Gotta use that MEK shit on it, it smells awful, so it’s a perfect job for you, kid, only need the one hand to clean the threads,” Sanders had instructed nodding to his bandaged hand as he handed over a pair of twenty dollar bills with a metal canister of solvent.

The money put gas in the truck and the leftover solvent was carefully hoarded for an experiment. Even with Michael’s careful handling of his make-shift cast while he worked on the task, he still finished having jarred the break one too many times.

Blue, cloudless sky stretched above him, keeping him warm and comfortable with a rare full stomach of breakfast. It was the perfect time, with his hand pulsing in unceasing agony, to test his theories about the effects other solvents had on his body outside of pain killing effects of acetone. There wasn’t much to lose, he reasoned darkly as he drank two quick swallows of MEK and laid back on his sleeping bag waiting for the effects to kick in, for better or worse.

Acetone reduced pain to a soft buzz in the background, like a gnat circling on the edges of his periphery. This solvent made him feel like the gnat, flying wildly through the negative space. 

Negative space, he mused with his eyes closed. That fit with close-tailored accuracy to his future prospects.

“Guerin, hey, Guerin!”

Right. Alex was here. Alex had found him. He was trying to avoid Alex for some reason. He couldn’t remember why at the moment as he opened his eyes to Alex’s handsome worried face. Christ, he was beautiful. Those eyebrows were bridged together though, closing the distance. Michael wanted to be that in the moment. A bridge, not a chasm. Not the negative space.

A warm, soft hand caressed Michael’s face, bringing his fluttering attention back to Alex’s. Sometime in between his thoughts, Alex had clambered up into the truck bed to sit next to him. The hint of amusement in his dark eyes won out over concern, “Are you just really high right now?”

“Yeah, super high,” Michael breathed, smiling broadly before moving to make room for Alex next to him.

Alex pursed his lips together, taking in a deep inhale of the surrounding air, “I don’t smell pot-”

“Not pot, something better.”

The concern and alarm was back as Alex started to pull away from Michael’s clumsy hold and look around the truck bed. “Like what, like, meth or OXY?”

“‘S fine, don’t worry, ‘kay?” Michael wrinkled his nose at the movements, and patted the space on his chest with his right hand. “Come lay back down, okay?”

“No, not okay, you need to tell me what you took so if you start to O.D. I can tell the hospital how to treat you-” 

The talk of a hospital cut through the fog. Michael pushed himself up with his good hand, before reaching to still Alex’s searching through the discarded blankets around him. Thankfully the discarded canister of MEK was in the cab of the truck with the contents of his pharmacy robbery, the box of nail polish remover and clean bandages. “No hospitals ever, okay? I’m fine, I promise. It was just… um, OXY like you said.” 

Staring in Michael’s eyes, Alex paused, still concerned and wary. “How much did you take?”

“Like two pills, and um, it wasn’t even off label, okay?” Michael raised his left hand, the dirty ragged cast punctuating the need. Like it had every time before, the reminder of that night in the shed sent a wave of shame and regret over Alex’s face. An effective subject killer, but it still pained Michael to use it. “Before you ask, I got the pills from Isobel. Her mom had dental surgery so they were left over. I didn’t rob the pharmacy for drugs.”

“I know.”

“You know?” While the rock-solid belief was nice, that wasn’t a part of his experience. 

Dropping his gaze down to Michael’s sloppy cast, Alex shrugged. “I overheard Jim Valenti telling my dad about the robbery, no drugs or money were stolen. Just beauty supplies and first aid stuff. It’s getting dismissed as kid type vandalism, not evidence of a drug cartel in Roswell.”

“That’s good.” Finally, news that brought relief to Michael, instead of increasing the heavy weight of dread in his chest. He started to lay back down on his sleeping bag and this time Alex followed, removing his keys and wallet from his jean pockets. Resting his face against Michael’s chest, his warm breath cutting easily through the thin cotton t-shirt, the argument was now forgotten between them as they took comfort in the closeness.

The high from the MEK was slowly fading, tiptoeing from his veins like a thief in the night. The echoing ache of his hand started up, the footfalls of sensation, getting closer and louder as the afternoon wore on until it was time for another bottle of acetone to chase it away. At least he knew the other solvent wouldn’t kill him, whatever that was worth.

“I looked it up, Roswell has a free clinic on Main if it’s about money-”

Not this fight again. It was his least favorite one, after the scholarship to UNM. Michael kept his voice soft, even though a surge of impatience tightened his throat.  “Alex, I can’t, okay? I can’t go to the free clinic because people are going to ask questions.”

“My dad deserves to get punished for what he did-” Alex lifted his eyes up to Michael’s from where he was tucked against Michael’s side.

“Not just about what happened. First question they ask is about ID, okay? And the address on my ID is two foster dicks ago. I can’t risk it. Attention from the authorities has never brought me anythin’ good.” Michael reached to stroke his fingertip over the renewed worried line on Alex’s face, “I know you think it should just be easy, like seeing a doctor, or going to UNM even though my scholarship only covers tuition and housing, not food, or gas, or school supplies outside of books.”

Alex frowned in response, “I’m not naive, Michael, I know all of that.”

“Yeah? Do you know how expensive it is to be homeless?” Pride nearly stopped that admission to Alex, but he was tired of fighting with the one person that seemed to care about him. “It’s ironic, but it’s true. No address, no bank account, but at least I’m finally eighteen with a high school diploma, so I can have a fighting chance at taking a cheap retail job to serve the tourists. ‘Cause right now my budget covers gas for my truck, food, and paying to use the truck stop showers out by Cowboy Ruckus twice a week, so I’m not shown the door as soon as I show up somewhere.” Michael had to shut his eyes to keep from seeing pity on Alex’s face. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t understand the ins and outs of how well the system protected everyone who worked within it but no one that stood on the outside.

It reminded him why he was avoiding Alex today in the first place. 

Last night Alex had seen him at the Wild Pony. At Ranchero Night. While Alex was there to help Maria and her mother, the assistant manager of the bar and restaurant to host the outreach night, Michael had no other reason for showing except for the obvious one. He was hungry and the grudgingly offered program by Old Fred that Mimi Deluca spearheaded meant he was going to get a full belly of hot warm food with no questions asked.

The stories behind his favorite parking spots in downtown Roswell weren’t romantic discoveries to share with Alex, they all revolved around proximity to safety and soup kitchens. Even showing up too many times at a particular food bank carried risk, from other men who lived rough. The fights that happened between prime sleeping spots, between two people comparing their nothing with less than nothing, spun up quickly. It was ugly, dangerous and Michael’s telekinesis could only keep him safe up to a point.

“And sometimes I go places where there’s free food and no questions. Like Ranchero night.” There was no disguising how hard his heart was pounding under Alex’s ear, but Michael could concentrate on keeping his breathing steady as he waited fearfully for his response. Finally, unable to stay quiet, Michael ventured, “still want to be with me?”

Alex lifted his head, biting his lip briefly. Slowly, with a mindful eye on Michael’s cast, he shifted closer to kiss Michael’s mouth gently. “I didn’t realize how hard things were, um, I’m glad you told me. I wish it didn’t take me seeing you at the Wild Pony for you to tell me.”

“You’ve got your own shit with your dad at home. At least I know my truck is safe, you don’t have that luxury.” It was something that Michael couldn’t help but worry about every night since the shed when he wasn’t worrying about Isobel. The level of violence and the comfort that Jesse Manes had in using that against his own son, while it shouldn’t have shocked a veteran of Child and Family Services, it did. Every night Alex went home to that. 

“It hasn’t been bad since that night, but I’m dodging my dad as much as I can. He’s probably just waiting until I’m 18.”

“Waiting for what?”

It was Alex’s turn to evade as he laid soft, suckling kisses down Michael’s throat. Michael chased at Alex’s lips, threading his fingers through the fading evidence of the black hair dye warring with the summer bleaching. They traded long, deep kisses, the heat of arousal building layers over the question until it slipped from view unanswered.

*** 

Michael walked confidently down the halls of the Roswell Travellodge toward the back stairs. The key to trespassing was to act as naturally as possible and hope he didn’t run into someone who knew him. Using the free ice machine in the various motels around town to stock up his small cooler was just one of the many life hacks he picked up since striking out on his own at sixteen.

His face was still throbbing from the lucky hit that jackass got in earlier after Michael had picked up dinner at the Ministries of Light community event. Someone felt like Michael needed to pay the unofficial cover to partake in the meal, and Michael had flipped off the guy, because every year on this planet had taught him how to treat a bully. A bully always has friends, and walking back late at night with a full stomach meant he hadn’t noticed his crowd of ‘admirers’ until they had him surrounded just a block from his truck. 

Thankfully between rolling a dumpster with his telekinesis and his fast retreat, he made it to safety with only the slowly swelling eye as a souvenir.

It had been at least three days since he had last crashed at Sanders, long enough to impose again on the old man’s couch. Michael finished filling his cooler with ice, wrapping a cold chunk in a discarded t-shirt to press against his face, and drove toward the auto yard with a plan in mind. Maybe the old man needed Michael to fix something. His left hand had improved enough now to move from awkward plaster to a drug-store brace, leaving some of his fingers free for more dexterous work. 

His headlights picked up a vague flash of movement just outside the office of the auto yard. Mindful of Rusty the dog, Michael slowed his approach to a crawl until he realized the movement wasn’t the yard dog, but Alex.

Michael swung out of the truck quickly, dropping the wrapped ice on the seat. Alex being here, unannounced, could only be trouble related to Jesse. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Straightening up from his seat in front of the office, whatever Alex was going to say originally abruptly vanished as he caught sight of Michael’s face under the wavering beam of the security lights. “What the hell happened to your eye?” 

Belated he reached up to touch his face, and joked, “A fight, but you should see the other guy. Or guys. I think it was at least four on one. But I’m okay.”

The bruise must have been more impressive than Michael realized because Alex just paled in response. Agitated Alex crossed his arms in front, turning half away as he rubbed his hands bare of jewelry against his forearms. “What the hell am I doing?” he asked himself quietly. 

“Alex?” Michael stepped closer, fear dropping his stomach downward in nausea. It was a dark survivor’s thought, but it would be a shameful waste to get sick now after a good meal. “Are you okay? Is it your dad?”

“I’m turning 18 tomorrow,” Alex replied in a non sequitur quietly. 

It didn’t sound like a joyous thing to reach the age of legal adulthood for Alex. “Happy birthday?” 

“My dad- listen, it’s never really been a choice okay? I’ve known it for as long as I can remember. I mean, fuck, I have to sign on my own, he can’t do it for me, but he might as well hold the pen in my hand.”

Michael wasn’t stupid. He knew enough about Alex’s family, his brothers, that the expectation of military service was less of a question and more of an accepted fact. He also knew Alex, who Alex was, and that was not a soldier of any kind. All of his reasoned arguments against this action jumbled in Michael’s throat, until the only thing that burst forward was inane words, “but you’re gay though, you can’t enlist!”

Huffing a tired sigh, Alex smiled sadly, “there are gay people every branch of the services, Michael. They just have to hide. My dad… my dad expects this of me. To join, to hide, to be...to be a Manes Man finally.”

“You can’t, you just can’t-” he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, breathing through his nose as he fought the nausea again. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go either.” Alex reached for Michael’s face, keeping his touch light over the hot swelling bruise. The mark on Michael’s face seemed to deepen the grief in Alex’s eyes. “It’s never been a choice for me.”

“It can be. It can be a choice, if you just tell him no.”

“He would kill me.”

“The Air Force is just as capable of killing you too.” Michael reached up to guide Alex’s hand down to press against his chest, letting the wild beat of his pulse thrum against Alex’s palm. This boy, this kind and beautiful boy, brought the spark of life to all of the lost and deliberately discarded opportunities in Michael’s life. The thought of Alex being shuffled off to that same, colorless existence that he was stuck in after lighting Rosa Ortecho’s car on fire, threatened to break something in him. “Cutting yourself off from who you are, it changes you, and it’s not a good change. Please don’t do this to yourself.” 

Instead of responding, Alex looked back at the dark office of Sanders Auto behind them. “I don’t have to be home tonight, Sarge is letting me have one last night of freedom, so is it okay if I stay with you?”

“It’s an ancient couch I share with the dog,” Michael warned, licking his dry lips in response. At Alex’s nod, he led Alex over by the hand to the customer keys drop box and mailbox. After a moment he fished the key out from the hideaway safe and unlocked the office door. 

One last night together as innocent kids before the hard choices had to be made.

***

The next day, Michael ignored his schedule, the scratched out decisions that kept him functioning and moving with one foot in front of the other. Instead of partaking the truck stop shower or heading for laundry day the Evanes, as Ann and Bob always did a late brunch at their club, he instead decided to join Max for his thrice weekly coffee stalking of Arturo Ortecho. 

The scent of Alex was still all over him after he slept soundly on top of Michael, the only way to share that narrow couch. Rusty the dog had to settle with wedging his way between their legs and the less said of the amused look on old man Sanders face when he discovered them that morning, the better. 

Alex’s probably finished signing his life away at this point, Michael reminded himself.

“Jeez, he looks like such a tool,” Max commented, breaking into the cycle of Alex-related thoughts abruptly. Michael turned to look out the window of the Crashdown to see Kyle Valenti beaming and gesticulating excitedly in front of a new red Camaro. Both his parents, in uniform already for work, were watching their son proudly, arm in arm. “I don’t know how the Valentis raised a jerk like Kyle.”

Nice parents, nice car, nice life ahead of him for school as rumor had it that Kyle was headed to Michigan, and it was clear from Michael’s eyes the guy had no appreciation of the privileged ease of his life. All of that love and support in his life, only for Kyle Valenti to use it to bully people. Bully Alex. 

Anger was never far behind these days for Michael, his ever-present cellmate as he served his time for Isobel’s crimes. It swelled inside him, as the sun sparkled off the hubcaps and dazzled the eyes of onlookers from that deep cherry red car. Red like Rosa’s lipstick. Red like Liz’s prom dress. Red like the blood after the hammer dropped.

“Yeah, Jim Valenti deserves better.” That was Alex’s voice. 

Michael jerked his head away from the window to find Alex standing next to their booth. He had to be dreaming. Alex was supposed to be at a recruiter’s office, losing his freedom and all evidence of his personality right now, probably getting the remnants of that emo black hair dye job buzzed off at the barber. 

Except he wasn’t. Alex’s hair was still long and shaggy, brown sun-lightened locks spilling over his warm dark eyes. His earring and septum plug were back in, along with his jewelry. A lot of jewelry actually. Like maybe all of the jewelry Alex owned. Resting at his feet was a heavy duffle bag, the seams straining under the force of clothing packed inside. 

“Alex.” 

Shyly, Alex looked over at Max back to him, “Michael. It’s good to see you guys hanging out together again.”

“Alex.” Stupidly Michael kept staring at Alex, as if he was going to disappear if he blinked. “You’re here. You’re- you’re actually here, you didn’t-?”

Max creased his forehead, watching Michael completely unravel before him. “I kinda feel like I’m missing something here?”

“Alex Manes,” Alex held out his hand to Max jokingly, a small smile on his lips. He took a deep, audible breath and continued more seriously, “the disowned son of Master Sergeant Manes, currently homeless, and um, also Michael’s boyfriend.”

“Disowned?” 

“I had a choice, joining the Air Force or getting kicked out of the family. And um, so I’m going to be crashing on Maria’s couch for a while, just until I can save up-” Alex’s explanation was abruptly silenced as Michael launched himself from the booth toward him. His bag hit the ground as Alex wrapped both arms around Michael tightly. 

The patrons of the café faded into the background as Michael pressed his suddenly wet eyes into Alex’s neck. “Oh, thank god, you didn’t go.”

“I never wanted to go, okay?” Slowly Alex drew away a few inches, keeping his gaze on Michael’s face. His eyes narrowed at the bruise still blackening Michael’s eye, “and the choice wasn’t hard, when I realized it was you I was choosing. You gotta pick me too, okay? No more fights or robbing drug stores, I can deal with a lot, I know this won’t be easy being together but I can’t deal with violence. You gotta try, Michael.”

“Yes, yes, deal.” Aware of Max’s growing distrustful gaze, Michael ignored it. That could be their next fight with his brother after the subject of Isobel had been worn out, whether being close to someone human constituted a threat to their safety. Right now, the hard choice between their secret and Alex, didn’t have to be made yet. 

[mindofharry]

Wave G.D

in which you move to california for the summer and grayson is the life guard.

based in the 80s !!!

smut and fluff !!! feedback is welcome as always <3

The sun beamed through your window, blinding you when you opened your eyes. you sighed placing a hand over your poor watered eyes, reminding yourself to buy curtains. California was good - better than your old town. but waking up blind every morning for the last week was not something you enjoyed. but you’d take that over madonna being blared at 6am by your 14 year old sister, tanya. God, sometimes you even missed it. missed the loud, chaotic energy of your small hometown, and your weird little family. but as you said, california is good. you reminded yourself, change is good. growth is good. sometimes you forgot that you have to grow to be better, and that change isn’t some evil thing. you need change to move on and become better.

Your aunt had been kind enough to let you stay in her home for the summer - she was off doing god knows what, and needed someone to cat and house sit. You were the first one to offer. Lord only know, that if you didn’t take this offer, you would’ve stayed in that town for the rest of your life. like you, your aunt escaped the town of houston. all your family grew up in houston. a town in a town, you called it. it was small, only a population of 2,000 people. not many people left either - so when you did, it comes as a surprise.

you wanted to travel, see the world. and california was just one stop on your trip.

Today was day of looking for jobs, you had put it off too many times this week. you told your mother you would get a job on the first day here - it’s been 7 days. And your mother was starting to call more than twice a day. You wanted to become a writer or a journalist - that was the dream. but that had to be put on hold for now. even though thought your aunt was paying the bills etc, you still wanted to find a job to make friends and have some cash. you saw a nice dinner about 10 minutes away from here, so maybe you’d have dinner there once you had some cash. beats having microwave dinners every night.

so with that in mind, you got up and made your way to the bathroom. it was small and quaint. exactly like the house. it was nothing special - which is what you loved. a small little home, with small little bathrooms. that’s sounded quite nice to you. After looking around your small bathroom, you turned on the shower, hissing a bit as the hot water hit your skin.

you walked out of the bathroom, leaving the water run for a minute. Opening the dresser pressed against the wall, you decided on a white crop top and denim shorts. Your mother would kill you if she saw how small the shorts were, but she wasn’t here. You grabbed a bra and underwear from the top drawer before walking back into the bathroom. you stripped down, leaving your huge t-shirt on the floor.

When you stepped in the shower, you thought about how good this summer could be. Even if you ended up not making any friends, it still could be the best summer of your life.

so you had to make the best of it.

After your shower - that you spent way too long in, you got dressed into the clothes you grabbed earlier. your hair was still soaking wet, but the towel and the Californian air would dry it. You brushed your teeth, and attached your septum piercing onto your nice. “does this look like i’m cool, or i’m going to rob you?” you asked yourself in the mirror. your mother, hated everything about the piercings and tattoos. She said quote “i feel scared looking at you, y/n”. Tattoos especially made you feel so creative and free, something about them made you feel so happy.

Running down the stairs, you grabbed your converse slipping them on. slipping you mean - pulling them on. God, they were hard to get on. you looked into the drawer and found your purse with, 20 dollars in it. “great” you sighed walking out the door and locking it.

your aunt lived in a nice neighbourhood, small houses, small families. usually people that just had kids or older people that didn’t want to be a put in an old persons home. it was nice and relaxing. different from houston, you’d admit. but nice and needed.

The walk to the centre of town was fine. You got a few looks, considering the town was so small and everyone knew everyone. You were basically the new kid at school. But so far no ones said anything bad - that you know of. The town was full of stores. Retail stores, smaller family stores like toy stores etc.

you spotted the diner straight away, running across the street quickly. Luckily spotted a sign saying they were looking for more staff - you knew diners were quite popular, so you really got your but in there. A tall woman, with brown hair and warm smile greeted you at the till. “hey, darling. what can i do for you” she asked, you looked at her name badge, lisa. A nice name for a nice lady. “i’m actually looking for jobs, saw that you were looking for staff! maybe we can schedule an interview or something?” you asked picking at your nails. lisa looked you up and down and then sighed. “well, if i’m being honest, you’re the only one in weeks that’s offered to do some work around here” she confessed, it made your heart shatter when she looked down - it looked like she was about to cry.

she sighed once again to herself “you good with people?” she asked, placing a napkin down on the counter. you nodded, messing with your hands. “i know first aid too. real good with kids, i was going to study to be a teacher” you confess, trying to butter yourself up.

lisa nodded “what’s your name?” she asked and you put your hand out to shake hers “y/n l/n. i’m looking after my aunts house for the summer” you say and she smiled. “well good. you’re hired” she grinned pulling you into a hug.

“welcome to the team, honey”

After that and a celebratory milkshake, you decided to go the beach that was a 5 minute walk from the diner. lisa said her daughter works just around the corner from her and her sons surf and do lifeguarding down at the beach. Maybe you’d run into them. they had to be maybe 16? You didn’t know anyone older than that, that wanted to be a lifeguard willingly.

You took over your converse and socks as the sand because harder to walk in. there wasn’t much wind and it was really hot so of course it was packed full of families and teenagers. Most were locals, but others travelled hours to come this beach - and you weren’t sure why, until now.

A man probably 20 or 21, was running towards you, topless. It was hard to look away, his abs were just staring at you. His red shorts clung to his thighs - he reminded you of show that had aired in september, something like bay watch. He looked like he belonged on that show. You wouldn’t mind getting to see that everyday. You now understand why there was probably more teens than families.

Grayson had spotted you the minute you stepped foot on the beach. god, were you beautiful. Your simple outfit was like the sexiest outfit he’d ever seen, because you were wearing it. Your piercings and tattoos were so incredibly hot, he’d never seen anyone like you if he was being honest. He came from a town where not many people expressed themselves, everyone except him and his twin that is - and now apparently you. Ethan, graysons twin, spotted you too. He knew grayson was already head over heels for you.

“she’s definitely new” ethan voiced climbing out of the water, pulling his shorts up. grayson nodded agreeing “yeah, might go, uh see how she is” grayson said making ethan chuckle. “sure, whatever you say bro” Ethan laughed before walking off the his chair.

Grayson began running up to you, he could see you checking him out. Good, he liked that.

finally after what felt like ages he arrived at where you decided to sit down. You looked up at him smirking cocking your head to the side.

“grayson dolan” he smiled sticking his hand out, you shook it still with a smirk on your face. “y/n l/n” you say as he sat down beside you. “you’re new to town right?” he asked putting a hand through his hair. you just nod putting your hand on the sand.

“met your mom earlier. said she had two handsome boys at the beach. she must have meant the other one” you tease making grayson raise an eyebrow, smirking. “oh yeah?” he asked resting on his elbow.

“hmm” you hummed looking down on him. “i have to say, never gotten that one” grayson said, you just shrugged “maybe you just need some humbling grayson dolan” you said standing and wiping your shorts to get the sand off.

“i’m working in the diner tomorrow. maybe you can come and i’ll humble you some more”

“i think i like the sound of that y/n l/n” grayson smirked getting up himself. “see you then, grayson” you smile walking away.

fuck, he thought. He was going to make y/n l/n his.

you arrived home smiling like crazy. you’re not even 24 hours here and you’re already head over heels for a man you know hardly anything about.

you pulled off your shoes again and through them on the floor. when you skipped into the kitchen and put on the radio, girls just want to have fun came on. You grabbed a spoon and danced around the kitchen waiting for cyndi lauper to sing. “i come home, in the morning light” you sing jumping up and down.

“girls they wanna have fun”

after dinner and another shower you watch a movie and then head to bed, waiting to see that lifeguard again tomorrow.

You woke up early on your own body clock. that has never happened before, but seen as you’re meeting a boy and having your first day of work it seems to make sense to you. you shower and use all the good stuff. you also shave - just in case, you never know.

you leave all your peircings and change into skinny black jeans and a fleetwood mac shirt. lisa said she’d give you the uniform in your locker and that you could change in the bathroom if you’d like, you agreed with that. it meant that you didn’t have to wear the uniform home. you wore your converse and placed your hair in a loose ponytail.

you walked to the kitchen and grabbed a water and apple, and ate it quickly chugging the water down afterwards. you quickly ran back to the bathroom and brushed your teeth, before running to the door and making your way to the dinner - you really didn’t want to be late on your first day.

“y/n!” lisa smiled pulling you into a hug. “good to see you again” she said pausing “go get changed and then i’ll teach you some bits” she grinned placing a hand on my shoulder and pulling me along into the locker room. “here your locker, your uniform is in there. you can change in here or the bathroom just down the hall” she said, making you nod with a smile.

lisa left and you got dress into the blue top and skirt, the collar was lined with red and there was a white apron placed around your waist. your white converse actually went perfectly with the uniform, so you gave yourself a pat on the back for that.

once you walked out the place look a bit more lively, which made you happy and eager. You wanted to get on the locals good side. “oh good! you’re ready, this is lily. she’s a little bit older than you, working here part time” lisa said introducing you guys. you smiled and shook her hand “y/n” you say and she smiled “so nice to meet you” she replied taking the pen out of her hair.

“so all you have to do in take people’s orders. then tell the chef” lisa said giving you pen and paper “i won’t put you on the till yet, but i will teach you tomorrow” she said and you smiled nodding. “be nice, smile and make small talk” she listed and then placed a hand on your back “you’ve got this. now table two needs a waitress” she said pushing you off. you walked down around the counter and to table two. “hi, what can i do for you” you say smiling.

“huh, y/n” grayson said making you look up from you paper. you smirk at him dropping you arms down to your waist. “grayson dolan, knew you couldn’t resist me” you tease making him laugh. “seducing costumers on your first day? y/n seriously?” grayson said making you shake your head.

“shut up. what can i get for you” you say and grayson smiled. “are you on the menu?” he asked leaning back. you bite your lip, trying to hide your blush. “maybe. what’s the offer?” you asked rocking back and forth on your feet. “a dinner. me and you. maybe some kissing, never know” he said placing his hands on the table.

you shrug smirking again, you tear a piece of paper out and begin to right down your address “pick me up at 7.” you say and give him the sheet.

“now what can i get for you?”

the day went by rather fast after grayson asking on you a date. you loved the job, lisa and lily so much already and knew this summer was going to be one to remember.

“y/n you did so good today” lily complimented taking off her apron. you smiled “thank you. it was actually a lot of fun” you say taking out your clothes out. “saw you talking to gray” lily said with a teasing smile.

“oh shut up! it’s only one date”

“grayson dolan does not do dates. consider yourself lucky, than man looks like wants to marry you” lily said making you roll your eyes. “now i have to go home to my husband and baby while you are out enjoying your life” lily said dramatically making you roll your eyes.

“enjoy” you say waving and walk off out of the locker room.

you say goodbye to lisa before pratically running home to get ready for your special night with grayson.

once you got home you ran to your room and placed your clothes in the wash basket, after a quick shower you pull out the one dress you packed, a white off the shoulder dress. it was nothing special, but it was comfortable and you felt pretty damn good in it - and of course your signature converse. you put your hair into a half up half down sort of look and only put on some mascara and blush. you wanted to look simple, yet cute. but the piercings and tattoos kind of cancelled out the cute.

you look at yourself in the mirror and nod at yourself. “you can do this. you can have fun” you say and place a hand on your hip. “you look good.” you say and smile and then just on time, grayson knocked on the door with flowers in his hands.

you walked down to the door and took a breath in before opening it. grayson stood before you, in a white shirt and dress pants. the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up so you could see the vains, God he looked good.

“wow. you look beautiful” grayson breathed out handing you the flowers, you blushed and smiled. “thank you, come on in” you say walking to the kitchen.

you walk back down and see grayson leaning against the table his hands in pocket. “hmm. you look so good” grayson said standing up. you just held out your hand “why don’t we skip dinner and go the beach instead?” you asked and grayson raised an eyebrow.

“sounds great”

so you both walked down to the beach hand in hand. laughing at the most stupidest of things.

“i thought you were from bay watch the first time i saw” you laugh and grayson pushed you away pouting. “so sexy” you giggle making him shake your head. “well i for one heard wedding bells seeing you” grayson teased pulling you into him. you hummed and looked up him. “you’re definitely husband material” you say walking down to the beach.

“sure” he said rolling his eyes and pulling you down. none of you had towers or spare clothes, but this. this moment is what you both needed. the cold air, the waves crashing and the birds talking. all you could hear was the water, the birds and your giggles.

you pulled off your dress rather quickly, leaving you in a black lace bra and panties. grayson was gawking, he pratically had to close his mouth with his hand. your body, was perfection. it was beautiful. Once grayson was ready he picked you up making you squeal and ran to the water.

“grayson” you giggle and hit his back lightly.

“oh shit, it’s cold” you say wrapping yourself around grayson. “oh is it?” he teased placing his hands on your thighs. you smirk knowing exactly what he was doing.

“yeah, it’s cold” you say putting a hand in his hair. you look down to his lip and bit your lip making him groan. “fuck it” he said placing his lips on yours. you moan and he lets his tongue make its way into your mouth.

“fuck me” grayson hummed into your mouth making you giggle and push his head into the water.

“try and catch me!”

You both come out of the water soaked and giddy. “put my shirt on” grayson said throwing his shirt at you.

you pull it over your head and place your hand in graysons after he put his pants back on. “you wanna come back to mine?” you asked and he nodded “no ones home. for the whole summer” you say walking backwards.

“so we can fuck anywhere” you say smirking, grayson groans and picks you up making you laugh. he pratically carried you the whole way home, only putting you down to unlock the door.

once you guys reached your bedroom he kissed you again, picking you and throwing you on your bed. you lay there looking up at him with teasing eyes. “take of the shirt” he demanded, making you sit up and throw the shirt on the ground, leaving you in a wet bra and more than wet panties.

“so beautiful” grayson said as he climbed out of his pants, leaving him only in his boxers.

grayson grabbed your face in his hands and your lips finally meet once again. his fingers tighten around your face as he begins to kiss you roughly. one hands drifts from your face to your bare thigh, his fingers glide up and down your thigh making you shiver.

“you like that, baby?” he asked and you nodded “more” you begged and he pecked your lips. “soon” he said his fingers making their way between your clit, placing his lips back on yours.

you moan into his mouth as he begins to get faster, his fingers going to your slit, him playing around with it.

“don’t stop” you moan into his mouth, he looked at your teasingly. “don’t want my cock then?” he asked cocking his head to the side. you nodded quickly, “yes gray, i do, want it so bad” you moan bucking your hips.

“cum, and then i’ll make you so full”

you cummed quickly, your hips going in all different directions. he waited for you to come down from your high before taking over your panties and bra. he sighed in content, “so beautiful” he repeated kissing your breasts and down your stomach.

“please” you begged again, making him smirk. “one second, honey” he said kissing your thighs. he pulled down his boxers and you moaned at the sight, his cock was huge and the tip was full of pre-cum. you wanted his cock in you, now.

after putting on the condom he had in his pocket grayson finally pushes into you, making you moan out. “oh fuck” you moan holding onto graysons shoulder. grayson gets slower and slower. “come on grayson. fuck me like the bad girl i am” you whispered into his ear. he groaned and placed a hand on your neck, before pounding into you. you bed begins to creak loudly banging against the wall. he wraps his hand around your neck tighter making you scream out.

“keep going, gray” you say bucking your hips.“i’m gonna cum” you cry and graysons nods going faster. “me too. come on, cum for be princess” he said pounding into you.

you both cum and grayson stays in you a little longer, when he takes his cock out you feel empty, but he just pulls you closer to him.

“who knew you could fuck like that” you tease placing your head on his chest. grayson just chuckled and kissed your head, pulling you closer to him.

“another round?”

“how could i say no, lifeguard”

[spencerreidshortstories]

Daddy Issues?

Description:  this is a continuation from the last part. She opens up a lot due to the fact that she's on pain medicine. The college graduation part of this actually happened to me and I just thought I'd add it in.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None really.  She’s on medicine, but she is in the hospital, so . . . there is that.  Talk of negligent parenting and trust issues because of it.

Also, for those interested I have a Stranger Things fan fiction in the works - Steve Harrington - and an American Horror Story fan fiction - Michael Langdon.  They are not one-shots but multi-chapter connected things.  Anyway, onto this one . . .

Spencer stayed with her during visiting hours and through the night. She was allowed one person to stay with her and she had chosen him. His friends had come by to see her, Garcia bringing a teddy bear and flowers, and then her friends had come by as well. None of them had stayed too long, mostly because she had started to become overwhelmed but also because she'd gotten a headache and started to feel nauseated from the head wound. It was normal for someone with a concussion to experience those things, so he wasn't that worried.

Spencer hated hospitals – germs, the weird lights, just everything about them was unsettling to him – but he'd found that he couldn't say no when she'd asked him to stay. Knowing she would need a ride home tomorrow he'd even offered to take a personal day.

"You shouldn't take a personal day just for that. There are probably other things you'd like to do."

"You're gonna be in a lot of pain tomorrow," he said. "I mean, you're not going to be able to use your arm really, and you're still going to have a headache – you might have that for a while. You need someone to take you home and I really don't mind taking a personal day and spending it with you."

"I . . . Okay."

Her cheeks took on a pink tint, which really showed up since her face was otherwise pale due to blood loss and shock – even though she claimed she was fine.

He hadn't really left her side since he'd gotten there even when she had drifted in and out of sleep between other people visiting. He'd gotten up to go get food and coffee and that was it.

"Spencer?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you for everything. For coming when I called and staying because I asked you to. I'm – I'm really not used to that."

"What? Someone being a good friend?"

"No. A guy being nice to me without wanting something in return. I mean, even my dad doesn't really talk to me unless he needs something from me."

"I'm sorry. I, uh . . . never really knew my dad. He left when I was young and what I do remember isn't great. I think he wanted a more normal family."

"Oh. Well, that's on him. Not you."

Spencer still hadn't talked to her about his mother and all he'd gone through with that and he honestly didn't know when he should bring it up. He knew if he really wanted to be with her that he would have to be honest about it so that she wouldn't possibly be going into something blind, but now definitely wasn't the time to bring it up. He did know that.

"I think . . . I think the reason I like you so much is because you're, like, the exact opposite of my dad."

"Uh-oh. Latent daddy issues?" he teased.

She shook her head and laughed a little. "No. And don't make me laugh. It's not helping my head at all."

"Sorry, sorry." He smiled. "What did you mean then?"

"Well, just little things mostly, but you're already different in that the last time I was in the hospital my dad never even came to see me and he kind of got annoyed at me when I called him. I was still living with my grandmother at the time so he wasn't even that far away and he didn't come see me. Didn't ask how I was when I talked to him."

"I would never not come see you if you were in the hospital. And I'm never annoyed when you call me. I like hearing from you."

She went on as though he hadn't spoken, but he knew she'd heard him.

"He's always late. If he says he's going to be somewhere at a certain time, you can bet he's going to be at least an hour later than that. He has no time management skills at all. You've never kept me waiting – ever."

Spencer noticed that her voice was getting softer and he was sure she was going to talk herself to sleep. It was getting darker and the nurse had given her medicine to relax her, so it wouldn't be abnormal for her to fall asleep from it.

"You know, he even almost missed my college graduation. He knew the ceremony was at 11:00 and he waited until the morning of to go to the laundromat – the washer at his house was broken, and don't even get me started on how long it took him to get a new one. But anyway, it fits his pattern. He's late for everything – bills, insurance, even getting the tags on his car renewed, which meant I chauffeured him around a lot when I lived near him. He knew I would do it, so why bother?"

Now her voice was soft because she had tears in her eyes and was about to cry. Spencer realized the medicine must've made her thoughts and mouth a little looser. She'd never really talked about her dad before.

"I used to be afraid of him. He could get so angry, and I've never seen you angry. I mean, yeah, you've been upset, but you never shout or hit things or throw things."

Spencer's back stiffened as tension filled him. For one, he hoped she wasn't implying what he thought she was, and two . . . he hoped she didn't regret telling him this when the medicine wore off.

"He was angry a lot when I was a kid. But the worst was that you could do something one time and he'd be fine with it. The next time you do it, he would pitch a fit. I would walk on egg shells around him a lot of the time. I'm glad I didn't actually live with him. I mean, he never hurt me or anyone else, but he would still hit the wall or something, still scare us sometimes."

Spencer had no clue what to say to any of that and sometimes the best thing to do was just listen and not say a word, so that was what he did. He did, however, let himself process that she'd been through a form of mental abuse as a child – she probably didn't even consider it that. Victims of abuse sometimes didn't think of what they went through as abuse. Some even came to think of it as normal.

"He was really hard to get close to. I mean, you couldn't even have a conversation with the guy. He would stop talking to you if you didn't agree with what he said."

"I love talking with you," he said. "I wouldn't stop talking to you just because we don't agree on something."

Her not liking loud or sudden noises made sense now – not that sensory overload didn't make sense, but this could be another reason for it. She'd grown up around yelling and anger.

"And, to be honest, you're not someone I can imagine being mad at or not enough to shout at you. I don't get that type of angry. I don't want you to ever be afraid of me."

"I never have been," she said. "Despite you being a profiler, you're pretty open emotionally . . . or at least you have been with me.

"I have," he agreed. It was almost disconcerting to him. "Anything else I need to clarify?"

"I don't know. I – he never physically left my mom, but sometimes it was like he did. He would go years without a job and she'd have to make do on a minimum wage job – retail or something like that and sometimes she'd have to not pay a bill just so they would have food on the table. And he was there. That's the thing. He was physically there, he just wouldn't be working or providing for his family, for my mom and my brother. It used to make me so mad and I wasn't even living with them."

Her dad sounded like he had a classic case of the Peter Pan Syndrome and had never wanted to grow up. He imagined her dad had never had to answer for anything he'd done as a child and so didn't know how to take responsibility for anything.

"I don't mind taking care of you," he said softly, "if you'll let me."

She didn't respond vocally, but she did let a small smile grace her lips even as a few more tears fell down her cheeks.

"I think you should sleep," he said. "I think the medicine is making you say things you might not have."

"Probably. But I'm glad I'm saying it to you and not someone else."

She calmed herself down and closed her eyes, but she still didn't sleep. He knew because a few minutes later she was looking to him again.

"Can I hold you hand again?" Her voice was quiet and a little hoarse even. "I know you don't, you know, really do that, but you let me earlier."

He pressed his lips together to keep from grinning and offered up his hand.

"Apparently I don't mind with you."

"Hm." She slipped her hand over his and slid her fingers between his. "I will consider myself special then."

"Very special.

It didn't take long for her to go to sleep once she decided to stay quiet for more than a few minutes. He stayed there in the chair beside her that night. Not that he'd been planning on leaving, but after her confessing all of the things she had he would've stayed with her anyway. He would not have left her to feel vulnerable when she woke up the next morning.

In a way, he was glad she'd opened up to him. In a completely different way, he wasn't, because he now felt he really had to open up to her too – especially since he was feeling a certain type of way about her. There were parts of his past he was scared to share with her – things that had nothing to do with his mom at all and more to do with his job and things that had come about because of his job.

She would have to know about them before he let her know how he felt about her because it seemed she felt for him at least some of what he was feeling for her.

He would have to be honest with her.

[theblackbirdsgemimagines]

May I request for the Leona, Vil, Azul and our boy Jack getting stuck in their MC's world and their experience? (MC is with them)

Oh sweet Jesus akdhakdhsk FORGIVE ME OF MY RATHER CYNICAL OUTLOOK ON OUR LIL BLUE PLANET 😬 I think it’s understandable to be more cynical than ever in this Hell Year, lolll

Send these poor, sweet babies back home, they deserve better than to be stuck here of all places 😅 ESPECIALLY JACK AAAAAA SAVE THE BABY 💔

Ok, not even going to play with you... Vil would thrive, lol.

Just give him time enough to stop panicking over all his lost clothes, magic, etc., and find new things that works for him and his detailed self-care routine, and whatever he chooses to do, he will make Fat Stacks in.

He’s the male version of Belle Delphine, here ajdhakdhsj

He appears anywhere, on tv with some company to continue his performer career he had back home, or on youtube/instagram, and he is almost immediately just as famous here as he was in Wonderland.

Can we really blame anyone, tho? Look at him.

And there’s no Neige here!

Also, ‘my’ Vil is definitely the one that knows there are many different ways to be beautiful~. He may be a bit more blunt to his friends if he thinks they’re not quite hitting the usual mark their talents place them in. But that’s only because he cares about them, and wants everyone to see their best, as he does~. He’s an absolutely encouraging sweetheart to anyone else/a beginner at whatever their passion is, though~. And either way, he’s your best cheerleader~.

Of course he still just doesn’t feel himself without his magic, or ability to do potions. I don’t think he’d find the witchcraft in our world would suit him very well.

If he was really stuck for good, of course he’d make the best of it. But if he could go home, especially if you wanted to go back with him, he’d jump at the chance. And always be on the lookout for the chance.

But that being said, I think, aside from all the world’s problems, of course, he’d find it interesting just how similar, and vastly different, things are here.

He donates Ass Loads to so many charities, like honestly.

Rich boy knows his privilege, and lets others ride off his advantages as much as he can. 💜

He becomes friends with James Charles. You know he does.

You can’t be truly fully beautiful if you’re not also lovely on the inside, too, after all~!

Rip Rook wherver he is, he is lost without his Queen 😔

Gosh, in direct contrast to Vil, Leona probably suffers the most over here?? Jahdkshdj

I know they based his sleep habits off a irl lion, but that also sounds just a Tad Bit like possible depression to me (along with a lot of the other ways he’s behaved so far, lol).

Get this sweetheart to some therapy, maybe?? Help him get a lil energy boost at least to help him feel better 💛

He’s going to HATE the work pace people have to maintain just to eat here, 100%.

He enjoys the entertainment the most, though~. Video games, things you can watch online, all those sorts of things~. Might like a few of our sports, too~.

Poor bby struggles with having to work, though, please help him 💔

At least he doesn’t have to live under being Forever Prince, here, and doesn’t have to worry about turning anything he touches to sand. And the lions in the zoos are pretty cool to go see~!

He’d probably love it if he could go to Africa and see what our “Afterglow Savannah” looks like here~. Meet the lions that are in the wild~.

I imagine he and Jack would both lose the ears for human ones, and the tails, too. (😢💔) So he probably feels weird seeing himself like that, and might miss his tail. Especially if it helped him with balance. Give him some time to adjust to it~. There’s these neat new tails people made for cosplay, that can move around on their own, if he’d like one to help him not miss his old one so much~!

I had to really think about what the heck he’d even do for a job, cause he’s so grumpy to everyone, retail’s just OUT, lol. And I don’t think he’d be that great at something like youtube, either ajdhsjjd

It’s hard for him to not just lay around all lazy, rather than think of stuff to do for it/actually get up and go do it. Let alone all the meetings, and interacting with fans, and the like.

So maybe actually being one of the zookeepers would be a good fit for him~. He’d be obligated to actually go, and he’d get to be around lots of different animals~. Might help him feel more at home, too~. I think he’d be pretty good at it, and the animals would probably be drawn to him~ 💛

He’d also absolutely challenge the authority here (or anywhere else that has appalling governments, especially if they’re not run by women). The state of things, and the way women and minorities are treated by white men around the world, and men in general, would absolutely appall him. He so drunk on that respecc women juice, he just can’t wrap his head around what the hell the problem is with those rich assholes in power. Put him in power, and he’ll ruthlessly show them what-for! ALL the others behind him would be women! Good grief, humans!

All in all, he doesn’t mind it here, but would also prefer to be home, where he can sleep more, and Ruggie can run around for him most of the time, lol

Besides, that allowed him to spend more time with you~! 💛

(LOOKIT THAT HAPPY BOY SMILE!!! I’M DEAD 💞💞💞)

Oh, Jack. Sweet, sweet Jack.

He absolutely becomes a personal trainer as a job, here. 1000%. He lives that Exercise Junkie Lifestyle, there’s just no doubt about it.

He’s VERY encouraging to his students, though~! Build up that beef, guys, he has total faith in you~! 🤍🤍

He absolutely loooooooves going anywhere to see wolves. He’d probably really love the wooded mountains in Europe, if you ended up there, or in Oregon/Washington if you ended up here in America~. Definitely Canada, or Alaska, too~! Just give him huge trees, snowy winters, and nearby mountains, and he feels right at home~.

Idk if he’d miss his magic a whole heck of a lot, tbh?? But he WOULD miss his friends and family! It’s just not quite the same here, though he thinks it’s beautiful and interesting to see where you came from~. 🤍

He’s a good boy 😭

Also appalled with the state of so many rulers and governings both in your home, and around most of the world, lol.

He can’t stand seeing so many people suffer like that! How can they possibly live the life that’s the most healthy and happy for them to live, disabled, chronically ill, or not, if they’re suffering under an iron fist all the time?!

He CAN’T stand for it. You won’t stop him till he sees good change starting to finally happen. Especially if you live here! There’s no way he can just sit around and have you be subjected to that!

HE’S A GOOD BOY 😭

You gotta calm him down a lot and remind him there are others just as good and kind as he is, fighting to change things too 🤍

God help people if he gets here anytime within 2020-2021. He’s sucker punching nearly everyone he sees without a mask.

He’s also sucker punching every nazi he sees, too.

My goodness, please show him the movie Wolf Children! He’ll hide the fact he’s crying multiple times through it, but it’s one of his favorite movies here~.

If you do manage to go back to Wonderland, please try to bring a copy of it with you. It’s the one thing he’ll miss most, and keep asking to watch with you again, before remembering it doesn’t exist there. 😭

He also misses his tail and ears a lot. Losing all of that + his senses would be very a very awkward adjustment for him, and he wouldn’t really like it poor bby 💔 Give him lots of hugs to compensate U-U 🤍

His favorite thing to do with you would probably be to go hiking, and stay in a little cabin in the woods, for a week or two~. Somewhere in one of the previously mentioned places~.

(I couldn’t find a chibi gif of Azul to use, rip 😭)

Azul is just straight up becoming a mafia boss, probably wkdhakdjjs.

He’s the ‘good’ kind, though. He’s learned his lesson since his overblot, and he won’t outright kill people for not paying him back, or introduce drugs, or anything like that.

He’ll help people obtain what they want as legally as possible... But that doesn’t mean he still won’t be sly as hell about it, haha~.

He’ll protect loyal/good customers and the areas they live in, too~. In fact, he’d probably reDUCE crime from doing so.

He just learns all the dirty ins and outs of everything about how things run here. And as much as he’ll fight for change as the others would, because there’s no way any of that is an acceptable way for you to live, he’ll work dirty in order to take advantage of the system, to do so. What better way, right? Make the dominos fall from the inside out.

He’s a good business man, he knows doing so would also benefit him, too.

He’s like Bruce Wayne if Bruce Wayne was a rich mafia leader jeehskdje

Need health benefits to work for him? Covered. Need above-average pay to actually afford your bills and other stuff? Covered. Need education to do a job for him? They’ll train you.

He’s also practically a Gordon Ramsey, tbh. Lots of his bars will pop up across the world, if he stays here long enough, lol. But they’ll all help a good number of people, in doing so~.

He also donates as much as he can, too. If he’s gonna become even a fraction as rich as Jeff Bozos, he’s ending world hunger and homelessness every year.

And boy oh BOY will he swindle the rich akdhakdhwj

He will whip them so hard, they won’t know what the hell hit them.

He may have been under restrictions at the college, but he sure as hell isn’t here. Watch out as he spreads his tentacles wings.

And, of course, he adores being anywhere near the coast. Doesn’t matter what part of the world you’re in, he just needs to be by the sea.

All the polution absolutely breaks his sweet little heart, and that’s one of the first things on his list to fix. Dealing with trash back home was much easier... you could just zap it all away at big trash fields. But you don’t have that luxury here.

Being that he doesn’t really like his ocotpus form (bbyyyyyy 😢💔), he probably doesn’t mind the permanent legs. At least he doesn’t have to constantly take a potion to keep them, anymore.

But it’s still awkward to get used to. And he can’t stand that he can’t breathe underwater anymore, or go too far down without dying from the pressure.

He’ll dive as often as he can~. And loves to dive, or snorkle, or just swim~, with you, if you want to join him~.

He does miss his home, if only for the beauty and familiarity it had, despite a lot of bad memories around it. But there’s no doubt he’d thrive here, in a way only he could~.

He totally believes your own version of mermaids exists, and gets excited over anything that could prove it to be true 😅

Plus, he’s just obsessed with how marine life works here in general~. If he can juggle being a freakin maffia boss, and a marine biologist just out of the pure love for it, I have no doubt he’d do it~.

Humans most likely evolved from creatures in the water?? That’s amazing~! So the ocean feels like a distant memory of a second home~! He’d love to bond over that, the romantic~ 💜

[chartedrights]

Golden Age AU Masterpost

For everyone lacking context, the Golden Age AU is just me riffing on every piece of comic book media I’ve ever consumed. Here are some single-paragraph rundowns I’ve made to keep track of things as I start to write!

The Board of Directors is analogous to the Justice League- they’re pretty much entirely people with superpowers (with the exception of Carol, at first), they’re very prestigious, and they come together to ward off larger threats like the impressive super powered task force they are. Or they used to. Membership’s sort of dropped, and people with powers are getting harder to find and recruit, and the big headliner who ran it left it in the hands of some nurse, which is like. So not sexy.

PEIP is PEIP- they fit right in where they were. In the shadows, in the dark, fighting the threats that the “special people” won’t, protecting people on a lower level than “oh god, the apocalypse,” because apparently the superheroes aren’t concerned with espionage or alien meteors anymore. The pricks. Mostly run by people without superpowers- as far as they know- and deeply concerned with keeping heroes responsible for their own actions. They would be oversight, if they were allowed to be.

CCRP Technical is an interesting place. Charlotte and Ted work there, for Sam, though neither of them is quite sure what it actually does. Paul was recruited in hopes he’d grow into upper management, but he didn’t have the ambition for it. Bill has been there for a decade or two now, ever since he started attending those meetings with Becky and Mrs. Davidson. Melissa... Melissa is their rising star. Mr. Davidson isn’t sure what they found in her, but he’s glad to see her succeed! Good for her! Four for you Melissa, you go Melissa!

Hatchetfield.... is Hatchetfield. It’s small, it’s insular, it’s full of gossip and weirdness and people with eccentric ideas of morality. It might be easier to admit that superheroes and supervillains exist, but let nobody say that the citizens of Hatchetfield ever took the easy road. They will walk uphill, in the snow, denying the supernatural both ways.

Paul is a real sweetheart. He’s autistic, he’s quiet, he likes his routine and the simple pleasures in life... and he just happens to be unkillable and he maybe possibly sort of has the ability to fly. He could be an excellent addition to either team, but he refuses to be a proper superhero, making him Hatchetfield’s most obvious target. Which in turn means that he often ends up acting like a proper superhero against his own will. He thinks Emma is perfectly lovely and still hasn’t noticed her committing crimes.

Emma is Hidgens’ Lab Assistant, which is code for “committing crimes for college credit,” and she does a lot of the footwork for him. Being a henchman definitely tops food service, lets put it that way. She also gets to follow in the family business- a long line of Perkins supervillains ended when Jane broke free and became a real hero for Tom’s sake. She always wanted to be a good person, but Emma is not as opposed to violence. She also cannot wait for Hidgens to level Hatchetfield, which is made complicated by the fact that she likes Paul rather a lot, and he likes Hatchetfield.

Hidgens is a supervillain. He never leaves his house, orchestrates incidents of immense damage to the civic infrastructure, and refuses to acknowledge that just maybe putting children into the path of radioactive chemicals is not a valid scientific experiment. He’s not necessarily a bad person, it’s just that his morals refute even the idea of black and white. More like blue and red. Orange and green. He is of the opinion that world peace can only be achieved by world domination, and therefore has begun a track to world domination. He and Sam have a blood feud of indeterminate origin.

Becky Barnes, low-level healer and walking anesthetic, somehow ended up in charge of the Board of Directors. The last leader disappeared three days after handing off control, and Becky is still looking for them. Becky is very conspicuously not looking for her ex-husband, however. It makes some people suspicious, and nobody more than Sam, who is Stanley’s most obnoxious cousin. Apparently, ruining Becky’s life runs in the family. Despite these troubling events, Becky does her best to keep the city standing and the world turning- she and Bill manage what they can, Carol and PEIP manage what they can’t. She’s still in a precarious place, however, and she’s looking for help.

Frank Pricely supplies everyone with gadgets. Hero and villain alike, everyone pays. Not always the same price, but everyone pays. He’s a neutral party, and he acts the part, but everybody likes to debate his loyalties. There’s no such thing as truly neutral, right? Everyone has their price- even him. It’s just a matter of what that price is.

Lex is his cashier, which means that she learned early on in her career in retail that the panic button is not half as good a first resort as the paralysis darts Frank keeps in the cash drawer. She has the ability to manifest objects, as long as she knows where they are. She needs a concrete location to pull them away from, which means that she snoops in every house she visits, checks the staff rooms of every store she enters. She can, on command, find you just about anything you need. For a price. She’s learning a lot lately, though, and what she learns about her powers might put her at risk.

Bill is one of the few members of the Board of Directors still standing. He and Becky get coffee all the time, and commiserate about the lack of help in Hatchetfield. He has telepathy, and certain illusionary abilities, which come in especially handy when he’s talking people down or trying to sneak hostages out of hostage situations. A gentle, well-intentioned man, Bill is not outwardly very intimidating, but he’s strong. Much stronger than most people would like to think. Becky keeps trying to hand off leadership to him, and he gently hands it back every time- he’s got other problems to deal with right now.

Formerly married to the infamous Perkins family heiress, Tom tries to live a nice, quiet life. He used to be a hero- and a damn good one- but Jane defected for him, and then died for it, and he carries more guilt than he probably should. Tom never thought of himself as special, really, and he still doesn’t. He can warp matter- twist it into shape, turn it from one thing to another, and he’s a fine craftsman when he wants to be. But it’s a dangerous thing to have on hand when you’re angry or frightened, and Tom still has an awful case of PTSD hanging around his neck. He’s doing his best to wrangle with it, but he’s going to need some help.

Ethan is just a teenager. Really, he promises. He absolutely swears. Nothing special about him! He’s just real intuitive! He and Lex have been looking into that whole “experimentation” thing they did at CCRP back when they were babies and it wasn’t even interesting! He’s just a mechanic, honestly. He’s a straight C student! He hasn’t even joined the cult off the coast on that houseboat!! He’s a good kid. No reason to be concerned at all.

Ted is also Hidgens’ henchman, but definitely the lower-ranked of the two. He applied hoping he’d make some friends, but thus far all he’s managed to do is fall in love with Charlotte, who is Sam’s henchman. It’s not going badly for him, but it’s not going well, either. He and Paul still work together. Every time Hidgens asks, Ted is like “Paul? Nah. He’s totally normal.”

Gary is a mob lawyer. He used to work for Emma’s family, but now he works for Sherman and Linda. They’re technically competition, and if they ever find out that he’s playing both sides he’ll absolutely die, but in the meantime he is racking up that cash. He is so rich. He is capable of great evil, and occasionally does terrible things, but overall he’s an affable guy. He and Charlotte had an unfortunate tryst once that ended with her tying him to the Welcome to Hatchetfield sign with his own scarf, but he still pines for her. She’s the one that got away. And continues to get away. cops hate her: local woman refuses to go to jail.

MacNamara still works for PEIP, which is only slightly a different job, on account of there being very public superheroes in this world. He and Xander have been married for ten years, but they are both under the (mistaken) impression that it wasn’t a real marriage because it was done undercover. He thinks about that and is very sad about it sometimes. But they’re partners, and that’s good enough that he can be content with it. For now. He has the ability to intensify or nullify other people’s superpowers, and he does his best to keep it quiet. He thinks there’s something noble about living without superpowers, and vaguely wishes that he and Chad’s roles were swapped- until he remembers that Chad has one (1) brain cell to his name.

Xander has the ability to speak to computers. It’s not flashy, at first glance. It doesn’t have the pizzazz of Paul’s gifts or the subtle mind fuckery of John and Bill’s. But he can know whatever he wants, can hear anything, tap any phone call, look through any webcam. He doesn’t, because he’s not a fucking creep, but he can. PEIP was lucky to find him before CCRP- and so was everyone else in the world. Xander’s not flashy in general- he keeps a lot to himself. He and John have been partners for a long time, and they still haven’t said they love each other. He still hasn’t told John that he’s a member of the Board. He still hasn’t told John that he and Paul are in the same book club.

Schaffer doesn’t need powers. You think she needs powers? Her power is that she breathes and death turns away. PEIP was built by good people like Schaffer, people with principles and strong hearts and ice cold spines of steel. Normal, human people, unremarkable except that they chose to be better. She’s fourth-generation PEIP, born and raised to believe in the service they do, the protection they provide. Some of the more bitter agents will say that Schaffer benefitted from nepotism. They will never say this in front of her, because deep down they know she did not and they know that she will prove it by kicking their asses. She and Carol used to date, but the strain of crossing enemy lines in what was, essentially, a Cold War between PEIP and the Board got to them both. Schaffer is the person Hidgens called after he got struck by lightning.

Charlotte is Sam’s henchman and quietly in the running for longest con ever pulled. One day she is going to off him and take his place as the leading supervillain in Hatchetfield, but that day is not today. She likes Ted, but Sam keeps telling her to kill him, so their relationship amounts to “the inherent eroticism of trying to murder each other”. Nobody is entirely certain how she does what she does, but she’s very, very good at her job. Emma looks up to her just a little. She had a therapist once. He tried to sleep with her. She no longer has a therapist. She does have a very lovely goldfish, however.

Mr. Davidson is MacNamara’s twin brother and Hidgens’ ex. His wife is a genuine bona fide Batman-level hero in a bigger city, so he occasionally gets kidnapped or tortured. Hidgens still writes him bitter and mildly threatening love ballads that he genuinely treasures and sends very heartfelt thank you notes for. His life is so messy. There’s so much drama. He’s also completely powerless and cheerful about it. (Re: the Working Boys.... he’s Chad. Chad MacNamara Davidson.)

Alice is developing absolutely no superpowers and she’s really really annoyed about it. She used to take this out on Lex, as teenagers will, but after Lex dropped out she began to regret that. Too little and much too late, but regret is regret. She keeps trying to mend that bridge, but it’s not working. Unfortunately for her, she’s still been seen with Lex and Ethan, and that’s enough. Imminent danger perceives no difference between friend and foe. Alice is full of a very different kind of potential, however, and sooner or later all that bottled-up anger and stress will lash out.

Deb, on the other hand, is an intern at the Board of Directors’ headquarters, which is now St. Damien’s given that Becky is in charge. Interns for heroes are much less common than henchmen working for villains, but Deb has a keen interest in coordination and overseeing operations. Bill hates having her on comms for missions, but she’s just... so good at her job. She can brew a pot of Red Bull twice-steeped coffee, arrange a date with Alice, avoid an international incident, redirect PEIP and talk Bill through defusing a bomb in the same ten-minute stretch. Lesbians can do anything. This is a fact. They are the backbone of our society.

Hot Chocolate Boy is full of secrets. And hot chocolate.

And speaking of St. Damien’s, do you recall poor Bridgette, who lost her eyesight in a horrible accident? I’m not saying Hatchetfield is going to have it’s very own Matt Murdock expy, but I am saying that. She’s blind, she’s Catholic, and she’s coming for your kneecaps.

Linda is a very low-level villain who operates out of her husband’s office and sics her Boating Club on people. Gerald should technically be a threat, given that it’s the Monroe family prerogative to slaughter rising heroes with an alacrity that distinguished them from all the other families in Hatchetfield. He is not. He’s barely even a henchman. Linda got all the bloodlust between the two of them, and she is out for blood from the start. Though initially quickly defeated, she grows in seriousness over the course of time and ends up a formidable threat with a weighty grudge against Becky and Lex. She’s not much in a physical fight, Linda, but she is deeply, deeply vindictive, and she’s willing to make any deals she has to to bring Becky down. Any deals. With anyone. Anything.

Sherman Young is a mob boss, and you know it. He’s a real creep and he’s got some sick hobbies, even for a man in his line of work, but somehow the 80s jacket and the comb-over mullet make it all worse. He’s the richest man in town, and that’s saying something, but if Linda has a say in things he won’t be for long. The Youngs, the Monroes, and the Perkins have been at war since the founding of the town, and Sherman is cutting down his competition. He might have even arranged for Jane’s accident to happen, but nobody is sure. Nobody living, anyway.

Sam is a villain. He’s not super or anything. He’s just a villain. He’s top-tier Joker-level normie, but he still goes toe-to-toe with all kinds of heroes. Notable for being pretty much exactly the same as his show counterpart in regards to his proclivity for threats and violence. He once told Paul to “talk to his fucking gun” only to find that Paul is, despite all outward appearances, fucking immortal. He is still very embarrassed about it. He’s up and coming in the Hatchetfield Villain circuit, but he’s definitely a threat. To who? Who can say. Somebody, somewhere.

Papa Ed is a PEIP informant, and he has the ability to speak to animals. He’s raising Peanuts to be a very small, very enthusiastic little squirrel spy.

Man in a Hurry is a former speedster who lost his powers and compensates for it by Being In A Hurry at all times.

Homeless Man is a CCRP agent. He specializes in camouflage and compassion. He doesn’t remember what came before, but he knows something did, and finding out what it was is all he has left to hope for.

Howard Goodman does not have superpowers, but he’s got gumption. Okay, I lied. He doesn’t have gumption. But he’s a very nice man.

[spaceorphan18]

99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #4

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

I’m using this as a fun writing experiment for a) writing short things and b) writing things from a multitude of varying perspectives.   Have fun! :)

[Ao3]

***

Howard Bamboo (Duets) 

Howard Bamboo has been working the cashier line for the past five hours now.  He has only gotten one fifteen minute break.  His feet hurt.  Krystl in line three gets a stool.  He would like a stool.  But he does not ask.  Terri might yell at him.  

Two teenagers enter his line.  One is a boy with a very unusual slanted cap on his head.  The other is a black girl who smiles at him.  Howard smiles at her.  She looks nice.  He is unsure about the other one.   

They talk with each other as they set down one of Sheets’N’Things ZeroSun Nineteen-inch Premier Window Dressings (in black) retail price nineteen dollars and ninety-nine cents.   

“Are you sure you want to do this? I thought you were doing a duet with Sam?” the girl says. 

“Well, that has effectively been dissolved,” the boy says.  

The girl laughs.  “Did you figure out that he wasn’t gay, like I said, and ditched his pale ass?” 

“Mercedes!” The boy hisses.  “No, I just figured my best chance if I do the song with myself.” 

“You’re missing the point of ‘duet’,” the girl teases.  

Howard scans the product.  He shifts from one foot to another.  The teenagers don’t notice his distress.  

“Why are you buying this here and not at one of the fabric stores, anyway?” the girl asks.

“Because the prices here are cheaper than most thrift stores, and I’m on a budget,” the boy says.  “And homemade costumes can be made out of anything.  Even tacky materials bought from places that really should be burned to the ground.” The boy looks around as if the store had a foul smell.  

“Please don’t burn my place of employment down,” Howard says.  He likes his job.  They pay him nicely.  He would be homeless without his job.  

“Oh, no one is really burning anything down,” the girl assures him.  She seems nice.  

Howard struggles putting the product in the bag.  He is unsure why the company does not bound it in pre-packaging like the bedspreads.  

“Anyway…” the boy says.  “I’ll admit, I thought it was a bit far fetched to do a duet with yourself -- but when I figured out what song I was doing, it all just clicked.  Think about it - embodying both the masculine and feminine while singing the Julie Andrews’s seminal classic Le Jazz Hot from Victor/Victoria.  It’s genius.”  

Howard looks up.  He has seen that movie before.  It is a nice movie.  “Did you say you were singing Le Jizz Hat? I enjoy that song.” 

The teenagers look at him confused.  “Did you just say Le Jizz Hat?” the boy asks.  He seems horrified. 

The girl giggles.  

Howard is confused.  Did he say something wrong? Terri says he is always saying things wrong.  Oh well. 

“Will you be saving five percent today with Sheets’N’Things Super Savers Membership Account?” Howard asks.  

“No, thank you.” 

“Would you like to sign up for Sheets’N’Things Super Savers Membership Account?  It is thirty dollars every six months.” 

“No.  Thank you.” 

“Would you like to sign up for Sheets’N’Things Junior Super Savers Membership Account?  It is twenty-five dollars for every eight months.” 

“You know what, why don’t I just give you cash, and you can keep the change,” the boy says.  He sounds like he is in a hurry.  Many of his customers seem like they are in a hurry.  The boy hands him a twenty dollar bill and a five dollar bill. Howard finishes the transaction and gives the boy the receipt.  

“Thank you for shopping at Sheets’N’Things,” Howard says.  He tries to hand them back the change but they have already picked up their bag and are leaving.  

Howard puts his four dollars and twenty-four cents tip on the register.  It feels nice to have an extra four dollars and twenty-four cents.  He is unsure what to do with it.  He should tell Terri that he has it.  But she might take it from him.  He is unsure of what decision to make.  

He looks at the clock.  Only three more hours of his shift to go. 

[newstfionline]

Saturday, February 20, 2021

One of Ten in U.S. May Have to Switch Occupations Post Pandemic (Bloomberg) One out of every ten U.S. workers—about 17 million, all told—will likely be forced to leave their jobs and take up new occupations by 2030 as Covid-19’s after-effects destroy huge swathes of low-paying positions in a labor market that was primed for disruption before the pandemic. “Covid is a big disruptor,” Susan Lund, a Washington-based partner at McKinsey Global Institute, the consultant’s research arm, said in an interview. The 17 million Americans are part of the more than 100 million people worldwide that the institute forecast will need to leave their jobs and enter new lines of work by the end of the decade. That will amount to about one in 16 workers in the eight leading economies covered by the study, which includes China, Japan, Germany and the U.K., as well as the U.S. In a more-than-130-page paper, the institute sees the pandemic accelerating three trends that will continue to upend the labor market in the years ahead: more remote work and working from home; increased e-commerce and a bigger “delivery economy;” and stepped-up business use of artificial intelligence and robots. The forces Covid-19 unleashed mean there could be a lot less demand for front line workers in food service, retail, hospitality, and entertainment.

Politics Is Seeping Into Our Daily Life and Ruining Everything (Reason) Is there anything that politics can’t ruin? The answer, it appears, is a resounding “no” as partisan conflict creeps into all areas of American life. Our political affiliations, researchers say, obstruct friendships, influence our purchases, affect the positions we take on seemingly apolitical matters, and limit our job choices. As a result, many people are poorer, lonelier, and less healthy than they would otherwise be. “Political polarization is having far-reaching impacts on American life, harming consumer welfare and creating challenges for people ranging from elected officials and policymakers to corporate executives and marketers,” according to a new paper in the Journal of Public Policy & Marketing by researchers from Arizona State University, the University of Wyoming, and four other U.S. universities. People’s partisan identities influence the range of people with whom they are willing to have relationships, the brands they purchase, and the jobs they take. The finding that everything is becoming politicized builds on a growing mountain of data. Even before political tensions hit their current fever pitch, a 2018 survey found that “Nearly two-thirds (64 percent) of consumers around the world will buy or boycott a brand solely because of its position on a social or political issue” (the number for the U.S. was 59 percent). In 2020, a separate survey reported that “83% of Millennials find it important for the companies they buy from to align with their values.”

Cracked Pipes, Frozen Wells, Offline Treatment Plants: A Texan Water Crisis (NYT) Power began to flicker back on across much of Texas on Thursday, but millions across the state confronted another dire crisis: a shortage of drinkable water as pipes cracked, wells froze and water treatment plants were knocked offline. The problems were especially acute at hospitals. One, in Austin, was forced to move some of its most critically ill patients to another building when its faucets ran nearly dry. Another in Houston had to haul in water on trucks to flush toilets. But for many of the state’s residents stuck at home, the emergency meant boiling the tap water that trickled through their faucets, scouring stores for bottled water or boiling icicles and dirty snow on their stoves. Major disruptions to the Texas power grid left more than four million households without power this week, but by Thursday evening, only about 347,000 lacked electricity. Much of the statewide concern had turned to water woes. More than 800 public water systems serving 162 of the state’s 254 counties had been disrupted as of Thursday, affecting 13.1 million people, according to a spokeswoman for the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality.

Texas Good Samaritans Are Helping Out Those in Need Amid Deep Freeze (Newsweek) From owners turning their stores into warming centers, to a mystery man handing out $20 bills to shoppers in Houston, when faced with a crisis that has left 24 in the state dead, and millions without water and electricity, Texans have instinctively turned to helping others. One such figure is Raymond Garcia of Houston, Texas, who, upon realizing he had no power at home, decided to use his time helping others. He has been visiting people in his local community, helping with tasks such as fixing burst water pipes. "I'm just trying to help the Houston community," he told ABC13. "If I can help anyone else in my close range I will.” Garcia said he was inspired by the teaching of his mother, who died recently from COVID-19. "My mom always taught me, if you help and you give to people, God will always bless you," he said. "And you know what, I've been blessed." On Thursday, Jason Spenser, the Public Affairs Director for the Harris County Sheriff's Office tweeted about another remarkable character, a man dubbed a food 'angel'. When electricity outages meant the Foodarama near 18th Street and Ella Boulevard could no longer accept credit and debit card payments, the unidentified man began handing out $20 bills to people waiting in the line. Spenser estimated the man, who did not want to be photographed, handed out a total of $500. In Elgin, Texas, Monica Nava, owner of the Chemn Cafe, put in a big order just before the storm hit. Rather than see perishable items go to waste, she boxed them up with shelf-stable good into care packages estimated to have a value of $25 each. She gave the packages out to in-need members of the community and asked for those who could afford it to pay a donation.

Biden repudiates Trump on Iran, ready for talks on nuke deal (AP) The Biden administration said Thursday it’s ready to join talks with Iran and world powers to discuss a return to the 2015 nuclear deal, in a sharp repudiation of former President Donald Trump’s “maximum pressure campaign” that sought to isolate the Islamic Republic. The administration also took two steps at the United Nations aimed at restoring policy to what it was before Trump withdrew from the deal in 2018. The combined actions were immediately criticized by Iran hawks and are likely to draw concern from Israel and Gulf Arab states. The State Department announced the moves following discussions between Secretary of State Antony Blinken and his British, French and German counterparts, and as Biden prepares to participate, albeit virtually, in his first major international events with world leaders.

The Cuba bet (Foreign Policy) Cuba may still become Latin America’s first country to design a successful COVID-19 vaccine, with Phase 3 trials on one of its four vaccine candidates set to begin next month. If the shot performs well, it is expected to be exported to other Latin American nations. Cuba and Iran are partnering on Phase 3 trials of the Soberana 02 vaccine, and Mexico is exploring carrying out a Phase 3 trial as well.

It’s mud, mud everywhere in UK’s 3rd lockdown (AP) It’s apparently not enough for Britons to endure almost 120,000 COVID-19 deaths and face a new variant of the virus that scientists say is more contagious and more deadly. Not enough to struggle through a third lockdown in less than a year, a shutdown now in its ninth week in London with no end in sight. No, all of this has to come smack in the middle of Britain’s mud season, the time formally known as winter. While everyone in the U.K. is already lacking Vitamin D, the sun chooses to take a months-long work stoppage and named winter storms kept sweeping eastward across the Atlantic. Storm Bella marched in right after Christmas, bringing gusts up to 106 mph (92 kph) and rains that dumped 3.2 inches (80.2 mm) on a village in Scotland. A sodden, freezing version of a hurricane. Storm Darcy roared in last week from the opposite side, bringing an icy Arctic blast and the U.K.’s coldest temperature in 25 years. Unlike the southeastern U.S., which floods during the summer-fall hurricane season, Britain floods in the dead of winter, bringing hypothermia alongside germ-laden waters. Rivers across England and Scotland are bursting: 73 flood alerts were in effect on Friday alone. And this year, few gyms or schools are available for emergency housing for fear they will turn into COVID-19 factories. It’s a Dickensian time.

Spain arrests 80 in 3 nights of riots over rapper’s jailing (AP) Protests over the imprisonment of a rapper convicted of insulting the Spanish monarchy and praising terrorist violence were marred by rioting for the third night in a row Thursday. The plight of Pablo Hasél, who began this week to serve a 9-month sentence in a northeastern prison, has triggered a heated debate over the limits of free speech in Spain and a political storm over the use of violence by both the rapper’s supporters and the police. The rapper and his supporters say Hasél’s nine-month sentence for writing a critical song about former King Juan Carlos I, and for dozens of tweets that judges said glorified some of Spain’s defunct terrorist groups, violates free speech rights. Besides that case, the rapper has previously faced other charges or has pending trials for assault, praising armed extremist groups, breaking into private premises and insulting the monarchy.

Heating Up Culture Wars, France to Scour Universities for Ideas That ‘Corrupt Society’ (NYT) Stepping up its attacks on social science theories that it says threaten France, the French government announced this week that it would launch an investigation into academic research that it says feeds “Islamo-leftist” tendencies that “corrupt society.” While President Emmanuel Macron and some of his top ministers have spoken out forcefully against what they see as a destabilizing influence from American campuses in recent months, the announcement marked the first time that the government has moved to take action. It came as France’s lower house of Parliament passed a draft law against Islamism, an ideology it views as encouraging terrorist attacks, and as Mr. Macron tilts further to the right, anticipating nationalist challenges ahead of elections next year. Frédérique Vidal, the minister of higher education, said in Parliament on Tuesday that the state-run National Center for Scientific Research would oversee an investigation into the “totality of research underway in our country,” singling out post-colonialism. In an earlier television interview, Ms. Vidal said the investigation would focus on “Islamo-leftism”—a controversial term embraced by some of Mr. Macron’s leading ministers to accuse left-leaning intellectuals of justifying Islamism and even terrorism.

Myanmar protests stall fuel imports, drive up costs (Reuters) Myanmar’s refined fuel imports have stalled as protests over the Feb. 1 coup have shut the banks and government offices necessary for trade, while depreciation in the nation’s currency has driven up costs, four industry sources said. The economy of the Southeast Asian nation has been pulled up short by the biggest demonstrations since the “Saffron Revolution” of 2007, with protesters taking to the streets to denounce the military takeover and the unseating of a democratically elected government. Myanmar relies heavily on gasoline and diesel imports as its refineries are too small and old to meet its fuel needs. One of the sources said imports may make up as much as 98% of Myanmar’s fuel consumption. The “economy is almost at a standstill. Almost all government ministries are closed,” the source said. “Fuel supply is running low. (The country) might run out of oil in two months.”

Jakarta’s poor fear landslides from overflowing waste mountains (Nikkei Asia) The stench is overpowering, and it only gets worse as you approach the biggest landfill site in Southeast Asia. The green grass on the embankments of the road leading into the Bantar Gebang landfill on the outskirts of Jakarta quickly gives way to trash—stacked in piles as far as the eye can see, reaching the height of a 15-story building in places. Plastic bags, food packages, rubber wheels, cardboard, drink cans, and everything else that Jakartans consume and throw away can be found here—much of which turn to sludge when it rains. The site that constantly threatens landslides is also home to thousands of impoverished families. Around 20,000 people, according to an estimate by locals, make a living from collecting trash in Southeast Asia’s largest dump. More than 100,000 live in the landfill and its surroundings. Authorities are struggling to dispose of the massive amount of waste created by the 35 million people estimated by Statistics Indonesia to live the Jakarta metropolitan area. Landslides often occur at such sites. In February 2005, heavy rains triggered a slide at the Leuwigajah landfill, which serves the cities of Cimahi and Bandung in West Java, killing 157 people and swallowing two villages, Greenpeace Indonesia said. The Bantar Gebang landfill has also taken lives.

Israel expands its nuclear facility (The Guardian) Israel is carrying out a major expansion of its Dimona nuclear facility in the Negev desert, where it has historically made the fissile material for its nuclear arsenal. Construction work is evident in new satellite images published on Thursday by the International Panel on Fissile Material (IPFM), an independent expert group. The area being worked on is a few hundred meters across to the south and west of the domed reactor and reprocessing point at the Shimon Peres Negev Nuclear Research Center, near the desert town of Dimona. Pavel Podvig, a researcher with the program on science and global security at Princeton University, said: “It appears that the construction started quite early in 2019, or late 2018, so it’s been under way for about two years, but that’s all we can say at this point.”

[solastia]

Until We Love Again | 1

Pairing: Kim Namjoon & Mystery Member

Summary: Kim Namjoon is drowning is despair and a miracle arrives in the form of a letter. 

Word Count: 1,243

A/N: TW for depression and thoughts of suicide. Nothing of the sort occurs, but it’s worth mentioning just in case. I will update the pairing when they’re revealed. Please let me know what you think! 

He closed the front door of his apartment behind him with a relieved groan, juggling his bag and handful of mail so he could flick on the light with his elbow. Nothing happens. He frowns and flicks the light switch up and down with his elbow again, staring up at the fixture in frustration, before letting his shoulders drop in defeat. He’d forgotten to pay the electric bill again. The cherry on top of another crappy day. 

Namjoon sighs in annoyance and navigates his way to the coffee table as best as he can in the dark. His shin bangs into hard wood, alerting him that he’s found his mark. He hisses at the slight pain and drops everything he’s holding onto the top before feeling around for the candle he usually kept lit when he smoked. He finds it easily enough then lights it with the little lighter he had in his pocket. Finally, he falls back onto the couch, wearily banging his head against the back of it. 

He stares at the wall, watching the shadows the single flame projects onto it and falling deeper into the pit of depression he’d felt growing since the moment he’d woken up. 

He can’t believe sometimes that this is his life. Twenty-five years old and he feels like he has nothing to live for. He wakes up, works an eight-hour shift at a retail job he hates, then comes home too tired to do anything else. Not that it mattered if he did want to go out. The only real friend he has these days is the guy at the convenience store who keeps his favorite ramen brand in stock just for him. He was tired and lonely and was beginning to have no hope that this would ever change. 

Namjoon sighs morosely, ruffling his hair as he leans over to pick up his mail. He knows that he needs to stop thinking about his shit life too much or his thoughts will start to turn...dark. Wouldn’t be the first time and he was feeling particularly weak today. 

He shuffles through the mail, not really expecting much. Junk. Junk. Coupons he’d probably keep. More junk. Magazine he didn’t remember subscribing too but he’d probably read it on the toilet. 

A small envelope catches his eye. It looks like it’s seen some shit - a little battered, a bit dirty. But there is his name in black pen, with no return address. The stamps say this was sent here in Seoul, but there’s no dates or times anywhere. Odd to see these days. The realistic part of him reminds him it’s probably just some sneaky advertisement. Some company probably figured out more people look at their shitty flyer if it looks like a handwritten letter. 

He shrugs and rips it open, amused they even took the time to add ‘Dear Kim Namjoon’ to the top. He settles in and begins to read, waiting for the moment they offer him a great deal. 

“Dear Kim Namjoon,

I’ve been coming back to this page with only the ‘Dear’ part written for at least three days. It’s hard trying to figure out how to start a letter like this. I don’t have your gift with words, it seems. All I can think of is this: 

Hello Kim Namjoon. This is your future husband speaking. I can’t wait to meet you...again. 

I know right now you don’t understand and you probably think I’m a stalker or this is some elaborate prank. I could spout off a bunch of facts I know about you, but any stalker worth their salt could do that, right? So I’ll just wait and let the letters speak for themselves. That’s right, letters with a big S. There will be many more to come. I had to think of a gift special enough for the love of my life, and here we are. I’ll tell you what for later. 

If everything has gone according to plan this should reach you on June 13th, right when you come home from work (if it doesn’t, you’ll have to let me know someday so I can demand a discount). There were many moments in our lives I could have chosen to send this letter. The day we met, our first kiss, the day we moved in together. Hell, I probably could have even had them send it when you were a kid if I’d paid well enough. But as I sat there thinking of the perfect time I remembered something. 

There was a night when we were sitting in our apartment and I had lit candles to be all romantic, but you were reminded of this particular night. You told me how deep you’d been falling and how something had saved you from “doing something stupid.” (I’m realizing now that it’s probably this letter. I hope it is) You never said the words, but I knew what that meant. My heart hurt for you, that you - the most loving and kind-hearted person I’ve ever met in my life - would ever feel abandoned and alone. I’ve thought about that night for years and how I wished I could have gone back and stood by your side. So here I am in the only way I could think of, standing by your side and letting you know that you shouldn’t give up because there is so much waiting for you ahead. 

I could use this chance to make it easy for you. Let you know exactly who I am and where to find me. Let you know who to look out for. However, the Joon that I know would tell me that’s cheating and give me a super smart (and very long) lecture about how ‘the longer the journey is the more you appreciate what’s on the other side’. Granted, you said that about hiking, but I feel like you’d probably apply it here as well. 

I can’t tell you how far ahead I am or all the things waiting for you in the years to come, but what I  can give you is the gift of hope. Just hold on a little bit longer, Kim Namjoon. Think of this as your guiding light out of the dark tunnel. The other side is beautiful, I promise. 

Until we love again”

Namjoon didn’t even realize he’d been crying until a drop hit the page in his trembling hand. He sniffled and wiped the wet trail from his cheek. 

What the hell was this? The person was right. His first instinct was to believe this was some huge prank only...how could they know? Even he couldn’t quite admit to himself the dark thoughts that circled the back of his mind just waiting for him to be weak enough to let them break through. There was no possible way for anyone to know that unless…

No. Letters from the future? Really? There was no fucking way. 

Still, he couldn’t help the tiny flame of hope that had come alive. Small and weakly flickering like the single candle illuminating his living room, but it was there. 

Perhaps he was just too tired to think about this rationally. Perhaps this was a prank, or even a stalker (which was still strangely flattering?). All he knew what that during this moment as he held the letter close to him and watched his little candle dying, he felt less alone than he had in years. 

[lefaystrent]

Could you write a short story where Virgil is out at a store, Deceit and Remus spot him. Virgil is like F social interaction. Then is only rude because he really didn't feel like being noticed by people who recognize him. (Patton could be another costumer, Roman a cashier who is working there when not acting, Logan getting supplies for a science class at school)

A Storm Rolled into Town

Fandom: Thomas Sanders,Sanders Sides

Pairings: none

Summary: It’s not likeVirgil meant to become famous anyway. It just sorta happened. And now he’sshopping in some small-town mom-and-pop store on a weekday morning. Despitewearing the hood of his jacket up and perhaps looking the more conspicuous forit, he can sense that someone somewhere in this store is watching him.

Word Count: 2150

________________________________________________________________

Virgil Storm was born with eyes inthe back of his head.

Not literally. It was mostly justanxiety and paranoia working in tandem to create a 360° zone of caffeinated caution.A necessary skill when you became part of the famous crowd. All it took was onecrazy person with a knife screaming about how you’re meant to be together, andthen you’re fucking dead.

Not that Virgil had been assaultedby anyone.

Yet.

He has had experiences witha couple of stalkers before that were quickly handled. It’s amazing how whenmore than a handful of people know your name and can buy your merch, theirsense of entitlement turns you into a thing to be owned.

It’s not like Virgil meant tobecome famous anyway. It just sorta happened.

And now he’s shopping in some small-townmom-and-pop store on a weekday morning. He had to make a pit-stop on his longdrive back home to Florida. Sure, he could have gotten home faster if he’dridden in a plane. He could also set this store on fire or go jump in a lakewhile strapped to an anvil. Doesn’t mean he’s going to.

The point is, Virgil is very awareof how famous he is, and despite wearing the hood of his jacket up and perhapslooking the more conspicuous for it, he can sense that someone somewhere inthis store is watching him.

Virgil glances down the aislebehind him, but there’s nothing. Again.

He lets out a huff of air andcontinues to peruse the candy section. He’s got a craving for something sour,but he’s not looking to get accosted here.

He swipes up a packet of gummy wormsand goes around to the chip rack next. Virgil subtly peeks around the store,noting the two guys manning the register counter. They look young, maybe aroundtwenty. They’re more talking and laughing rather than working. Other than them,there’s this one nerdy looking guy in a tie and glasses over by the stationary.The store seems empty otherwise.

Virgil picks up a large bag of sourcream ‘n onion and nearly screams when there’s a mustached face poking out inthe space left behind.

“Boo!” the man says.

“Fuck off!” Virgil growls andthrows the chip bag right at the face.

A series of snickers come back fromthe candy aisle that Virgil had just vacated. Pissed off and heart racing, hewhips his head around to see some guy in a bowler hat.

“I do believe the phrase ‘got you’fits this scene well,” Bowler Hat says.

“You didn’t ‘get’ anything,” Virgilhisses.

“Oh? So you didn’t just jump likeyou’d seen a ghost?”

“He definitely jumped, Dee! He evenpeed his pants!” Mustached Man cackled, coming out from behind the chip rack.

“I didn’t—” Virgil went to defendhimself but found it pointless. These guys just seemed like assholes. “Justleave me alone.”

“Oh poo, have some fun would you?”

“Now Remus, let’s not annoy him toomuch. Wouldn’t want him to storm out.”

Storm.

He made it very clear that he knewVirgil’s last name. If the pointed pun didn’t say as much, the smarmy grin onBowler Hat’s face surely did.

Virgil tried not to show how muchthat got to him.

“So what? You know who I am. Bigdeal. Buzz off and let me shop in peace.” If these two kept harassing him orworse, Virgil could always threaten to call the cops. Then again, cops took afew minutes to respond, and it only took less than a second to die.

New plan. Virgil could throw downthe chip rack and then run for his life. And if that didn’t work, he carriedpepper spray on his person for a reason.

“What brings someone such asyourself to our neck of the woods?” Bowler Hat questioned, not leaving Virgilalone in the slightest.

Mustached Man jumped up beside hisfriend, leaning an arm against his shoulder to loudly whisper, “I bet he needsto hide a dead body!”

Virgil’s eye twitched. “Yeah,because that’s the only reasonable explanation, right?”

Mustached Man nodded in agreement. “Nothingelse to do around here.”

“It does get rather dull here,”Bowler Hat mused. He brushed his gloved fingers over his chin.

Seriously, who the hell were theseguys? And were they intentionally being low-key threatening? Perhaps not, butthat’s how they were coming across anyway.

“That’s nice.” Virgil smiled in away that showed his utter contempt. Better than showing his fear. “Now if you’redone bothering me, I’ve got things to buy.”

He would have liked something morethan just the gummy worms, but he no longer felt hungry enough to risk hislife.

Virgil walked away, his stepspicking up speed as he heard Mustached Man barking at him.

He was never stopping anywhere everagain.

________________________________________________________________

Roman sat at the register counter,bored out of his mind.

“Patton, my loyal companion. Remindme why we’re here again?”

“Because we get paid to be here.”

“Ah.” Roman nodded, eyes narrowedin deep understanding.

Then he slumped over with a whimperingwhine. His head banged against the countertop.

“Awww, cheer up Ro-Ro! We’ve only gota few more hours left of our shift!”

“My shackled soul is unmoved byyour comfort. They are but mere words in the face of unforgiving oppression.”

“…so what you’re saying is that youneed a pun, right? Or maybe a hug. A combination of the two? A pug. Oh!Doggy!”

Roman snorted as Patton’s train ofthought derailed. He sat up to stare at his coworker and long-time friend.

He snapped his fingers. “Focus,Puffball.”

“Oh, right,” Patton said,refocusing. His expression became determined. “Go on and get all the angst out,kiddo. I’m all ears.”

“Retail suuuuuucks,” Roman concluded.“My creative spirit yearns for a place I can spread my wings and thrive! I ammeant for bigger and better stages. You see this face? You hear this voice? Alltoo good to be squandered away in Backwoodsville, Tennessee.”

“We don’t live in Tennessee.”

“My point is that I am a work ofart, and yet I am left collecting dust in grandma’s attic. It is a crime! Theuniverse should give me a break already.”

From the stationary aisle, afamiliar voice contributed to the conversation, “Perhaps if you put nearly asmuch effort into publicizing yourself to the entertainment community instead ofwhining, you wouldn’t be stuck where you are now.”

Roman slammed a hand on thecounter. “No one asked you, Microsoft Nerd!”

Logan smirked and resumed hisshopping. They knew each other of course. It was hard not to recognize everyonewhen you worked in one of the only stores in town. Plus all three of them hadgone to high school together.

Patton patted Roman’s shoulder insympathy. “I think what Logan’s trying to say is that you’ve got loads of potentialand I’m sure someone’s going to notice one day.”

“That is not what I said at all,but go off I guess,” Logan stated.

Roman flipped him off. Somehow, despitehis back turned to him, Logan must have sensed it and returned the gesture rightback to him.

Patton swatted at Roman’s hands. “Don’tbe ugly!”

“That’s impossible for someone likeme.” Roman grinned.

Patton sighed. “What am I going todo with you?”

“Love me, of course.”

Patton giggled.

“Hi,” a clipped voice cut in. Romantore his attention away from the agony of his life to regard the customer athis counter.

Roman hopped up from his seat andshifted flawlessly into his customer service spiel. “Hello! Ready to check out?”

“Yeah,” the man nodded, his hoodfalling back a bit at the movement.

Roman smiled. He recognized thejacket brand and was about to compliment the customer’s taste.

Their eyes met briefly and Roman’sheart exploded.

Virgil Storm.

Virgil freaking Storm was standingat his register counter.

No. No it couldn’t—

HOLY SHIT!

“That’s it,” Virgil Storm said,tossing a pack of sour gummy worms onto the counter. He briefly glanced overhis shoulder as if to look for something. He wasn’t really paying attention toRoman, so he didn’t catch being ogled.

Oh god, Virgil Storm was standingat his register. No matter how many times Roman looked, Virgil Stormstood there, and all Roman could do was ogle him.

Roman suddenly found the candypacket very interesting.

If he kept his head down, nothingbad would happen, right?

“Uh . . . that’s it,” Virgil saidagain, and Roman realized that he’d been standing there frozen.

Willing his limbs to unthaw, Romanmechanically reached for the candy and ran it over the scanner. A beep sounded,and with a stiff arm, he punched for the total.

“Your total is . . . a number.”

“What?”

Roman couldn’t even look up farenough to check the screen. How could he? When one of his idols stood beforehim. He owned all of this man’s albums, for God’s sake!

“Yes,” Roman said, as if thatexplained everything.

“Okay . . .” Virgil said. Heshuffled, presumably getting his wallet out or something. Internally, Roman wasscreaming to Patton for help, but sadly his friend had never mastered telepathy.In fact, he had no idea what Patton was doing right now. He wasn’t sayinganything, that was for sure. Did he even recognize the celebrity in their storeright now?

“Here,” Virgil offered a five-dollarbill.

Roman blinked at it. Wasn’t VirgilStorm rich? Why was he using cash when he could use a card?

Carefully, lest he mess up andforever embarrass himself, Roman reached up and took the bill from him. Theirfingers weren’t even close to touching, but Roman still felt like he’d steppedon a live-wire, a shock racing through his system.

Roman had dreamed many a time ofcasually running into his idols. He imagined nearly daily of becoming likethem, of leaving his mark, of impressing those that he looked up to. He wouldbe suave and graceful and witty, a dazzling star in the making who would sweepthem off their feet.

Instead Roman hunched in on himselfand began to cry.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” VirgilStorm asked him, and that somehow made everything worse.

Roman covered his face with hishands and sniffled. “I’m just feeling a little emotional right now.”

How mortifying.

A hand rubbed at his back. “Sorry,he’s having a quarter-life crisis,” he heard Patton explain.

Roman threw up his arms,tear-streaked face be damned. “PATTON! That’s not why I’m crying.”

“It’s okay Ro, it happens to a lotof people. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“I knew retail work was hell, butgeez,” Virgil commented.

Patton nodded in sympathy. “Hereally wants to be on Broadway someday.”

“Patton,” Roman gasped in admonishment.“You can’t just be telling V— telling people about my silly dreams.”

“Why’s it silly?” Patton asked. “You’reso talented! You’ll make it, I know you will. You’ve just gotta keep trying.”

This could not be happening rightnow. Roman wanted to curl up in the employee’s bathroom and die.

“Broadway, huh?” Virgil asked.

Screw going to the bathroom. Roman coulddie on the spot.

“Ridiculous, huh?” Roman tried tolaugh at himself. If he laughed at himself first, it’d hurt less when everyoneelse did.

Virgil shrugged. “Not really.Someone’s got to do it, right?”

Oh.

No rejection.

Just a practical sense of hope.

Someone’s got to do it, and thatcould be him.

Roman blushed and gazed down at hisfeet. “Thank you . . .”

“No problem. Just uh, feel better Iguess.”

It was clear Virgil found this situationawkward but was trying to be considerate. For that, Roman was extremely grateful.

“Dee! Remus! What are you doing inhere? You know you’re banned!” Patton hollered, moving around the counter. Hehad his stern face on and a broom in hand. The two troublemakers would do wellto run while they still could.

They watched Patton chase Dee andRemus off.

“Does that happen a lot?” Virgilasked Roman.

“Only about every other day.”

Virgil didn’t say anything, soRoman went ahead and finished the transaction.

“Here’s your change,” Roman saidmeekly, handing the correct amount back to him.

“Thanks,” Virgil said, pocketingthe money. He picked up his gummy worms yet hesitated.

“Something else?” Roman wondered.

Virgil scratched the back of hishead. “To be honest, I wanted to get more stuff. But those guys were beingcreepy . . . But they’re gone now, so . . . would it be weird if I went to getmore stuff?”

Roman’s lips twitched up into asmile. “You didn’t judge me, so I’m not going to judge you.”

Virgil smirked. “Thanks.”

___________________________________________

General Tag List: @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @notalwaysthevillian @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @whats-going-on-kiddos @randomsandersides @gamerfreddie @unring-this-bell @analogicallythinking @lilygold23 @levy-the-b00kw0rm @tacohippy56900 @accio-hufflepuff-power1 @just-another-rainbowblog @georganabanana @grey-says-heck @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @thesynysterunknown @idont-know-what-im-doing @idioticsky @fadingglowcloud @whizzie72 @theinvisiblespoon @greyyy523 @opaque-puppet @just-fic-me-up @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @sos-fandoms @loganeatsbooks @trust-is-overrated @theitalianalchemist @im-crunchie @mourning--star @4amanxiety @hogwarts-my-love @enby-phoenix @justanotherpurplebutterfly @internet-or-sleep @absolutesandersidestrash @seaspider10 @nonasficcollection @satanblessi @an-absolute-failure @analogical-mess @noisyeggpizzapatrol @hamilsandersfam @cefinitely-rolo @thgjclw @knight-shives @no-no-no-no-6 @savingshae @rabbitsartcorner @buddypallady @midnight-tragedyy @007ardra @fandomloverangel @dorkoverse @mirrorz-n-starz @idunnosong

[someguynamedstevewrites]

Unwanted House Guest: Valentine’s Run - Part 1

Based on characters created by @tamarinfrog (a.k.a. @searching-for-bananaflies , a.k.a. @cafe-cardamari , a.k.a. @bottledupcomic , a.k.a. OH MY GOD Tammy, just how many more blogs do you have!? I mean, I’m not one to talk, but...)

And the video games Splatoon, Splatoon 2, and Splatoon 2: Octo Expansion by Nintendo.

——————————

A brief primer on Unwanted House Guest:

Began this Fanfiction series back in the Fall of 2015.

Multiple entries in the series were submitted to Tammy’s blogs for posting.

Feel free to search Tammy’s blogs for “Unwanted House Guest” for previous entries in the series.

Now on with the story!

——————————

“YOU WANT HOW MUCH!?”

Arnick shouted from nearly the top of his lungs. Every Inkling and Octoling in Inkopolis Square turned to look at the small bench near the lobby entrance for Turf Wars. There, everyone saw a tall, lanky, Inkling male with purple tentacles wearing a replica hero jacket and with a Legendary Cap on his head. It was an older cap with some sewn on patches and a hole to let the Inkling’s tentacles out through the top of the hat. Upon recognizing who it was, about a third of the people turned back to minding their own business because they were rather accustomed to the ear-splitting din that Arnick Stilton was known for.

“You heard me, chum,” Murch shot back, “100,000 G! Take it or leave it.”

Arnick was gritting his teeth, clenching his fists, and looking like his hat was going to pop off his head. The 21-year old Inkling had been searching for months for a very particular item. He regularly browsed through Annie’s Online Shop, checked every retail store daily since Squiddoween, and constantly asked about it from the local (shady) “gear specialist”: Murch. After going for so long without any luck, Arnick even went so far as to try and craft it himself, but couldn’t get the ability chunks necessary to finish it.

Now it was being held ransom by a puny little one-eyed street urchin.

“You have any idea how hard it was to find this thing, chum?” Murch continued with a small hint of indignity, “Spyke had to ask somebody who knew somebody who knew somebody whose cousin’s sister-in-law’s brother’s uncle happened to have one tucked away in a box at a garage sale out in Calamari County!”

“Yeah, right...” Arnick said in about a 50/50 split between disbelief and sarcasm. He grabbed his iSquid and opened up the app for his bank account. His winnings had increased since Team Toxic’s recent entrance into the highest level of professional Turf War. This was a great honor as they were now being matched up against the most experienced players; some of who had been engaging in Turf Wars for decades. But Arnick still had rent, utility bills, credit card payments, grocery expenses, and other debts that needed paying.

Doing a quick check of his bank balance, Arnick saw that he had exactly 567,902 G in the bank, but by Arnick’s calculations, only 50,000 G of that would be considered “available”. Sure, Arnick had the 100,000 G in his bank account, but if he spent it now, one or more of the payments Arnick had scheduled to go through could bounce. This would lead to a Non-Sufficient Fund (NSF) fee from the bank, and a whole new level of headache that Arnick did not want to deal with. (Especially since Tetrox gave him enough of a headache anyway. Arnick couldn’t count the number of times she’d swiped his credit cards to buy ridiculous things online).

“Hey,” Murch called up to the tall, penny-pinching grouch, “you want this or not?”

“Yes of course I want it, you pipsqueak!” Arnick said with frustration in his voice (which was nothing new), “Is there any way I can pick it up tomorrow?”

“No can do, chum,” Murch said with a shake of his head, “I’m a busy guy here and gear like this is hot stuff! If you don’t buy this, I’m going to have to trash it.”

“WHAT!? You said it yourself this thing was difficult to get, and you’re going to throw it away just like that!?” questioned Arnick.

“Look, chum, I only got so much inventory space here,” Murch said gesturing to his case sitting on the bench behind him, “I can hold this for you up until midnight tonight, but after that, this gear is gone.”

Murch then raised his solitary eyebrow as he took a peak at the precious gear in the case. “Still,” he said, “why would an uptight guy like you want this bo-“

“SSHHHHHHHHHUSH!”

Arnick hissed, almost shoving his hand over Murch’s mouth to keep him quiet. He then looked around him, cautiously, to see if anyone had seen or heard anything. Everyone in the Square was either staring at or side-eyeing Arnick, but mostly because his outbursts were giving them a scare. No matter how many times Arnick blew his top, the folks that inhabited Inkopolis Square would still jump from his outbursts. (Many of them were getting rather tired of it.)

“What was that for, chum!?” Asked an annoyed Murch.

“I don’t want anyone finding out I’m getting this, you dimwit!” Arnick pleaded.

“Why wouldn’t you-“ Murch’s single eye popped wide open as it hit him. He then slowly turned towards Arnick with a big, smug smile on his face. His eye now had a look to it as if it was saying “I see what you did there”. Arnick had seen that look before and dreaded what was coming.

“Ohhhhhh,” Murch said with a sneaky smile, “this is a gift for someone, isn’t it?”

“Your point?” Arnick snapped back, feeling rather annoyed.

“You sly sea dog!” Murch said while giving a small elbow jab to Arnick’s leg, “Don’t you worry about a thing! Your secret’s safe with me.” His gesture was meant to be a knowing jab to the ribs, but given Murch’s height, Arnick’s leg was the best he could reach.

Arnick looked left, then right, then left again. By now, the eyes of the square were no longer on him and Murch. Arnick guessed that everyone was likely thinking: “OH MY COD! WHAT WA- Oh it’s just Arnick! False Alarm!” before going back to whatever it was they were doing. (He was right too.) In a quiet voice, Arnick responded with, “It had better be safe, or so help me, if this gets out...”

“Relax, chum!” Murch said with a smile, “all I need is that 100,000 G and you won’t hear a peep out of me!”

Arnick growled to himself. He absolutely hated the idea of having an overdraft fee affecting his credit score. But at the same time, he had been searching for this gear for so long that he just couldn’t let it slip through his fingers. His mind raced through possible solutions when suddenly the hour changed and the new Turf War maps were announced by Inkopolis’ latest shining stars: Off the Hook. The volume on the large Jumbo-Tron size TV in the square cranked itself up for the news segment.

“Y’all check this out!” the energetic Pygmy Inkling named Pearl called out over the airwaves, “Our sponsor Grizzco is now hiring for Salmon Runs!” She then looked over to her co-host, the Octoling named Marina, who was looking into the camera with a big smile.

“Big Money? Big Prizes? I love it!” The cheerful Octoling expertly said after reading it from the teleprompter. Arnick was certain this was an obscure reference to something. He also wagered that line was written by his old nemesis: “that guy named Steve”. Arnick recalled Steve saying something about how he was taking on some additional work responsibilities at the Turf War League the two of them bickered (and it was always bickering). Arnick didn’t have the foggiest idea what the reference was to, but he didn’t care...

...he just got a brilliant idea.

Turning to Murch, Arnick smiled unusually wide. “100,000 G by midnight!? No problem!” Arnick said confidently, “Hang on to it and I’ll be back with your money in no time.”

“Alright,” Murch nodded, “But remember, when I say midnight, I mean Midnight! If you ain’t here by 12:00 on the dot, then this...” Murch hesitated when Arnick gave him the stink eye (while still smiling, no less) to remind him to keep this under wraps, “...gear goes bye-bye.”

Arnick gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up and a toothy grin that almost sparkled. “Smoke me a kipper, I’ll be back for breakfast!” Arnick said assuredly before spinning around and marching towards the Salmon Run Office.

Murch called out, “YOU DO KNOW IT WILL BE TOO LATE BY THEN, RIGHT!?”

Arnick turned around and hollered back, “IT’S A FIGURE OF SPEECH!”

To Be Continued...

[acedesigns]

Pinky Promise [Good Omens: Crowley X Reader]

Word Count: 5538

A/N: Hahahah, here’s a long one! Who says I only write short stuff.

Warnings; Near-death, one swear word, minimal editing

Panic was starting to build up. There were too many digits on the bill you were trying to look at. It was shaking too much because of your hands. There was no way you could afford to pay this off with the savings you had. No, you needed to get another job. One that was more stable than the one you had now.

It took hours to fill out the same application over and over again. They all wanted you to put in information that your resume already had. It was infuriating. Then, you didn’t hear anything back. Not even for a single interview. Your parents told you to go to different places and ask if they were hiring. That was a sure way to get blacklisted by their HR departments, but if they weren’t going to contact you in the first place, what could it hurt?

There weren’t any Help Wanted signs in any of the stores you passed by. After getting rejected a few times, you dejectedly walked down the streets. Cars whirled by you causing gusts of wind to trip you up. Sighing, you looked one last time at any of the stores, hoping, praying that one of them was hiring.

Then, you saw it. It was a piece of paper with handwriting. In the fanciest calligraphy you’ve ever seen, were the magical words. Help Wanted.

Quickly, you crossed the street. One car honked at your carelessness. You raised a hand in an apology and safely made it to the other sign. You pushed on the door to the shop. A bell chimed announcing your entrance. Immediately, the smell of old books met your nose. You felt a warmth spread inside of you at the thought of working in a bookshop, where you could read for hours on end.

“Excuse me?” you called out to the seemingly empty bookshop. “Is anyone here?” You dug through your bag and pulled out a folder containing your resume. “I saw the Help Wanted sign out front and I was wanting to apply.”

A blond man wearing spectacles popped out from behind a bookshelf. In his hands was an ancient-looking book. He gently closed it and made his way over to you. He was wearing a blue collared shirt, brown vest, and a bowtie. All of which looked to be several decades old. At least they were newer than the book.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m the owner of this bookshop.”

“You’re Mister Fell?”

A weird sort of smile formed on his face. It was as if he was trying to hide the fact that there was an inside joke hidden in that name. Then, he nodded and stuck out his hand. “Yes, that’s me.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m [Y/N],” you said and gripped his hand to shake it.

“So, you are here to apply for the position!” he noted. “Please, come this way!” Mister Fell guided you towards the back of the bookshop. He told you to take a seat on the couch, while he sat in a chair near a desk covered in papers. “Now, I will be having to go on holiday for a while. A bit of a situation has come up, so I need someone to watch over my shop. I will check in from time to time, but for the most part, you’ll be on your own. You won’t have to sell anything, in fact, I prefer you don’t. You can work whatever hours you please, the more inconvenient for the customers, the better. Do anything to make sure the customers do not purchase any of my books!”

“Uh,” you were at a loss for words. This was perhaps the strangest retail sort of position you’ve ever heard of. Basically, have horrible customer service, don’t meet a quota, and do whatever you want. It sounded like Heaven. “I can handle that.”

“Wonderful! Now, many of these books were very difficult to procure, so they must be watched over with the utmost care,” Mister Fell noted. “I do have a very specific filing system for many of these, so if you feel must read them, please put them back exactly where you found them.”

You glanced around. There was no logical filing system you could think of. Still, you nodded your head indicating that you were fully capable of doing it.

“Now, as far as the pay,” Mister Fell paused for a moment. “I can pay you two-thousand pound a week.” You choked. Tears built up in your eyes. You hacked as you tried to clear your airways after swallowing you spit down the wrong pipe. “Oh dear! Are you alright?”

“F-fine!” you gasped. “Two-thousand a week?”

“Yes, is that alright?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded your head quickly. Suddenly, you straightened up and handed over your resume to him. “This is my experience. My references are on the bottom.”

“Oh, thank you!” Mister Fell looked at you and gave a warm smile. “Though, I was just going to actually hire you. With you being the first one to apply, it must be ineffable that you work here.”

“A-are you serious?” you stammered no believing your ears.

“Yes, my dear.”

A sudden weight had been lifted from your shoulders. This was a freaking miracle. Not only was the job seemingly laid back, but it paid better than anything you could have imagined. A knot formed in your throat, begging for you to cry. But you refused to in front of this stranger.

“Thank you, Mister Fell. You have no idea how much I need this,” you croaked out.

  "You’re quite welcome,” he said in a soft voice. “When could you start?”

“Right now, to be honest,” you laughed nervously.

"Perfect!” He stood up and clapped his hands. “I actually must leave tomorrow, so this is a bit of a miracle!”

--

Work did indeed start the next day. It was the only day you actually bothered to show up for an eight-hour shift with the shop open. You wanted to become more acquainted with the books and the customers. Most of the customers simply browsed the books having stumbled in while window shopping. Though, there was one collector that made your stress levels soar sky-high. They were insistent on buying some sort of prophecy book. You were honestly afraid Mister Fell would fire you if you sold it.

"It’s cursed!” you blurted out. “I can’t have you buying that book. I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but everyone that has come to purchase this book has met their most untimely demise! It’s part of the curse of knowing what the future holds! Please, I beg you, don’t buy it!”

The man looked at you with shock. He placed the book down and left the bookshop with a ghostly white complexion. You rushed towards the after him and locked it. You flipped the sign to close and sighed.

The shop was empty and the books were all resting in their places. Not a single one left that shop that day. You had a job to uphold, one that paid well, and you were going to do your best to make sure not a single book of Mister Fell’s sold.

--

“The book is laced with a deadly poison,” you said when a customer was examining a book in a glass case you brought from home. “We’re still testing the other books to make sure it didn’t contaminate the others.” The customer sped out of the shop.

--

“It’s reserved,” you told a customer and put a reserved sign on the book. You had printed off hundreds of reserved signs and started placing them near every single book. You smirked with pure joy at slamming down the signs in front of the customers. They each jumped in shock and left the store with a grumble.

--

There were times, however, when a schoolchild would enter your shop. You felt bad for having to deny them from buying a book. It only happened a couple of times before you brought some old books from home and set up a kid’s section. Those were the only books you would sell to the customers.

--

One day, when you were unusually bored, you started to examine one of the prophecy books. It was old but had a distinct binding. This was fairly interesting. When you opened it, it had a sort of handwriting that you could easily mimic. Then, the idea hatched in your brain.

It took several months, but you were able to create a near-identical duplicate to the original. It took some trial and error, but it worked. You placed the duplicate out in the shop to sell to the unwitting customer. You never did claim it was actually an original copy. In fact, you made it clear that it was the First Duplicate Edition in small writing on the front. That way, you were covered and the shop was covered.

--

Eleven years had passed since your unstable financial situation. Now, you were living fairly comfortably in a flat near the bookshop. The flat was close enough that you could keep an eye on the store from your living room window. You didn’t ever bother leaving and searching for another job. This job gave you a freedom that nothing else could have.

The door to the shop opened and the bell rang. You hurried out to the front to greet the customer into your lair of duplicated books. Then, you froze when you saw who it was.

“Mister Fell!” you called with a warm smile. “It’s been so long!”

He smiled at you, “Hello, [Y/N]! It has been quite a while, hasn’t it?” He looked around at his bookshop and a confused expression formed on his face. “What are all of these books?”

“Oh, uh,” you cleared your throat nervously. “I knew you didn’t want to sell your books, so I duplicated some of them and started selling those.”

There was a bark of laughter behind Aziraphale and a man with red hair and dark shades approached you. “Now that sounds like something my kind would do. Is this your little shop keeper, Angel?”

“Yes, they are. Crowley, this is [Y/N]. [Y/N], this is Crowley…My associate.”

“Oh, hello. It’s nice to meet you.” You reached your hand out towards the taller man.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he purred and brought your hand up to his lips. A rush of heat poured into your cheeks. You looked away quickly from the man and took a step back.

“Crowley! You’ll scare them!” Mister Fell scolded.

You cleared your throat and looked wards Mister Fell. “Should I put the kettle on?”

“That would be splendid!”

You rushed towards the back and quickly started boiling the water. While it has been a while, you remember Mister Fell had a thing for hot cocoa with plenty of marshmallows. As for Crowley, you hadn’t the foggiest idea. You’d come to that when the water was done.

“What are all of these signs?” You glanced over and saw Mister Fell holding a reserved sign. “Did you sell my books?” The look of fear in his eyes nearly made you laugh.

“No! I put those there so the customers would stop trying to buy them,” you said with a grin. You walked over to another sign you made that read Single and Ready to Mingle. “This goes to the books that are for sale, the duplicates and books I had at home.”

“So,” Crowley appeared out of seemingly nowhere. The corners of his mouth were pulled up into a wide smirk. “Are you single and ready to mingle?”

“Uh,” you froze. How the Hell were you supposed to respond to that? The whistling of the kettle saved you. Quickly you turned your attention away and started to make Mister Fell’s hot cocoa. Crowley chuckled and ignored the glare Mister Fell sent him. “What would you like, Crowley?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he muttered and flopped himself down onto the couch. His right arm stretched along the back of the couch.

You nodded and handed Mister Fell a mug with white angel wings, something that looked like it came from a novelty store. “Thank you, my dear,” he smiled at you.

“It’s still a bit hot,” you warned him right when he was about to take a sip of the cocoa.

Mister Fell brought the mug away from his lips and gave a shy smile. “Right. Why don’t you sit with us, [Y/N]?”

You glanced at the spaces available. Mister Fell was in the sitting chair. The only spot was next to Crowley on the couch. His arm was draped around the back. With a light blush, you nodded and sat on the edge of the couch.

“How has the shop been since I’ve been away?”

“Fine. We’ve had some shady customers come in that were very insistent on buying the books. They hinted that I’d get hurt if I didn’t sell the books to them,” you started off while looking up at the ceiling. “I ended up selling them some duplicates I created.” You chuckled lightly. “Of course, I made sure to add in some errors in the books.” Crowley snorted in amusement.

“Oh? What were those errors?” Crowley looked at you with a smirk.

“I may have added a prophecy on their untimely death,” you said rather proud of yourself. Crowley burst out laughing causing you to grin. Mister Fell, on the other hand, gave you a look of horror. “What? They threatened me. I should get to have my fun.”

“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat. “After eleven years, I can say I am finally back from holiday,” Mister Fell informed you.

“Oh,” you hummed and looked down at your hands. “Welcome back.”

“Of course, you may still continue working here! I do like how you’ve managed to not sell a single one of my books in my time away. No matter what tactics you may have used.”

The corners of your mouth twitched into a bright smile. “Thank you.” You looked up at Mister Fell. “How was your holiday?”

“Oh, it was fine,” he took a sip of cocoa. “Crowley and I actually helped to raise a child as his Godparents. That’s why the holiday was so long.”

"That sounds nice!”

Crowley snorted. “Turned out to be a waste of time.”

“Anyways,” Mister Fell hurried to change the subject. “We will be here for the next few days. You should take a holiday, yourself. Do the things that you like! I won’t need you back here until Sunday.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

“Of course!”

“Live like tomorrow’s your last day,” Crowley grumbled under his breath.

“Yes,” Mister Fell agreed. Though, there was some sorrow in his face and voice. He ran his finger along the lip of his mug before bringing it up to take a sip. Something was wrong, but you didn’t know what or how to ask. “Enjoy your holiday.”

“Right,” you nodded and stood. “I’ll get going then. You uh…Enjoy your week.” You started to walk off but paused mid-step. You turned around towards Crowley. “It was nice meeting you, Crowley.”

“Likewise.”

With that, you left your bookshop and made it across the street to head into your flat. Once you were in your living room, you happened to glance out your window to see Mister Fell and Crowley leave the shop as well and speed off in an old Bentley.

“How odd,” you murmured.

--

It had been a couple of days. It was, in fact, Saturday. That last day of your holiday. You had spent most of the time working on your duplicates or reading. Those had become your hobbies and what you enjoyed doing the most. Though your hand was cramping and your eyes had grown weary from staring unblinkingly at the books.

You stood and walked over to your window and gazed over the streets of Soho. Your heart stopped. There was a glowing coming from the inside of the bookshop. It was a sort of glowing that flickered erratically. Something that looked like a fire.

The door to your flat slammed open. Air rushed in and out of your lungs as you sped out of the building and towards the shop. Your fingers were already dialing 999 on your cellphone and speaking hurriedly to the emergency operator. The doors to the shop were unlocked and you slammed your way inside. An inferno was ablaze.

“Mister Fell?” you screamed over the roar of the fire. “Mister Fell? Are you here?!” The heat grazed your skin and the smoke clenched around your lungs. Still, you pushed further in, determined to find your employer. “Mister Fell?” You started crying in panic. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The books you have protected for so long were all catching aflame. “Mister Fell!”

Your vision was getting blurry. You could hear sirens in the distance, but you couldn’t leave without your employer. Finally, you collapsed onto your knees. Gasping for air, you looked around once more before everything faded to black.

--

For some reason, your lungs both stung and were completely fine. You could remember an intense heat, but at the same time, you weren’t sure if it was real or just some weird dream. You opened your eyes and saw a dull gray ceiling. It wasn’t your own ceiling.

Looking around, you noticed you were on a bed of black silk sheets. Definitely not your bed. You sat up in a state of confusion and looked around for any sort of sign as to where you were.

“There must have been a fire,” you said not sure of yourself. “Otherwise, how did I get here?”

Your legs moved to the side of your bed and you stood. You padded your way out the door and looked around. Then, you saw two people sitting on a couch.

“Mister Fell?” you asked.

Crowley turned to look at you and, with a relieved look, said, “Oh, [Y/N]! I was wondering when you would wake up.” Mister Fell elbowed him in the side with a scowl. “I mean, hello again.”

“Hello, Crowley,” you said in a tone that almost sounded like you were asking a question. “Would you mind telling me where I am?”

“You’re at Crowley’s flat,” Mister Fell spoke. It wasn’t as sing-songy as usual. “He found you unconscious in the bookshop and brought you here to rest.”

“So there was a fire?” you asked with a frown. Tears would have built up in your eyes if they weren’t already so dry.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, Mister Fell,” you sniffled. “I should have been there to stop it.”

Mister Fell glanced over to Crowley awkwardly and sighed. He walked over to you and placed a stiff hand on your shoulder. “It’s not your fault. At least you didn’t get hurt. Still, you should rest until I get back. Err…When Crowley gets back, I guess.”

"Right,” you nodded your head. “I still think I’m a bit off.” That or Mister Fell was acting far too strange. You didn’t know Crowley that well, so you couldn’t tell if he was acting off, too.

“You are more than welcome to sit on the couch or lie in bed,” Crowley piped up and glanced at Mister Fell for some sort of reassurance. Mister Fell shrugged his arms.

“I think I’ll go lie down,” you muttered not too sure of yourself.

“Right, well, Crowley will be back by this evening. Hopefully,” Mister Fell added. “He’ll see you then.”

“Okay,” you nodded your head. “Thank you.”

Everything was confusing.

--

The evening had rolled around and you had woken up about an hour prior. You needed to gain your bearings or perhaps you were just bored. You left the bedroom and looked around his place. It was pretty minimalistic. There were a few decorations here and there, but nothing too major. A lot of what he did have was vintage. What, with the Bentley, you guessed Crowley had a thing for the early 1900s.

Eventually, you situated yourself on the white couch. You somehow managed to find a remote to the television and turned it on. The news was playing. Apparently, there were conflicting reports on what had happened yesterday. More things were confusing.

Apparently, some kids made it to the American Tadfield Air Base. There was no clear reason as to how they made it past the security or why they were there. Oddly enough, charges weren’t pressed against them or their parents.

“What happened yesterday?” you muttered, but most of your memories from the day prior was a blur.

The door to the flat opened. You looked over your shoulder and saw Crowley entered. Quickly, you turned off the television and focused your direct attention on him. He glanced over at you and straightened up ever so slightly.

“Nearly forgot you were here,” he grumbled and sauntered his way over to the couch. “Mind if I rest here for a bit before taking you back? It’s been a long day.”

“I don’t mind,” you uttered quietly. He flopped down and leaned his head backward. “Um…I…Thank you for saving me.”

He rolled his head to look over at you. “You’re welcome. Couldn’t just let you burn to death. Though, I suppose there wasn’t actually a fire.”

You blinked. “There wasn’t?”

“Nope,” he popped his P. “Bookshop’s still there.”

“How?” you started and sighed in frustration. “Sounds about right for what I can actually remember from yesterday.”

“What do you mean?”

"I have conflicting memories. Like, I was in a fire, but at the same time, I wasn’t. It doesn’t make sense.”

“A lot of things don’t make sense,” Crowley said. “Let’s just be glad the world didn’t end.”

“Was it supposed to?”

“Not if it wasn’t in the ineffable plan.”

“Right.” You didn’t know what to do with that bit of information. Then again, you didn’t really know what to do with a lot of what Mister Fell said. Crowley must be in the same sort of group. That’d make sense with them being friends. “Are you okay, though? You look tired.”

“I suppose I am,” he sighed. “Do you know what it’s like being kicked out of a place you’re supposed to belong? What’s supposed to be your family? Twice?”

A frown formed on your face. There was a melancholy in his voice. It made your heart clench. “No, I don’t suppose I do,” you whispered. Crowley sighed to himself. “I can’t imagine how awful that would be. I’m sorry, Crowley.”

“It’s not bad the second time. They weren’t great either. Still, makes you wonder where you actually belong.”

That you could understand. “I think that makes you human, Crowley,” you muttered. “We’re all trying to find our place. Sometimes, it hurts. It hurts a lot. I…I didn’t really have a place before I met Mister Fell. I was close to being homeless, actually. But he offered me a job on the spot. And,” you felt yourself getting choked up. “I’m so sorry, Crowley.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why are you crying?”

You wiped your eyes furiously. “Because it’s sad.”

“For me.”

“I can cry for you!”

“You don’t even know me.”

“You’re friends with Mister Fell!” you protested. “That’s enough to know that you’re a good person.”

“I’m not a goo--,” he started. He must have realized he wasn’t with what he considered his family and couldn’t hide who he was. “Yeah…Maybe.” You turned to fully face Crowley and stuck out your hand. Your pinky was sticking up in the air. Crowley watched with bewilderment. “What are you doing?”

“You’re my family now. You and Mister Fell. I won’t kick you out. It’s a pinky promise. If I break it, you cut my pinky off.”

“Isn’t that a bit much?”

“No. It isn’t.”

With a sigh, Crowley hooked his pinky with your own. “Alright, fine. It’s a pinky promise.”

 --

A few months have passed since you’ve made the pinky promise with Crowley. Mister Fell, or as you found out was actually Aziraphale, had kept you working at his shop whenever you pleased for the same pay. It was also a fantastic way for you to become better acquainted with Crowley.

He would always be so kind towards you, at least when he wasn’t being mischievous and cheeky. One day, he threw you over his shoulder and dragged you out of the bookshop. Aziraphale would have stopped him if you weren’t dying from laughter. He placed you in his Bentley and, without a word, took off through the streets of Soho.

“Where are you kidnapping me to?” you asked through a fit of giggles.

“It’s a surprise,” he smirked over at you. You rolled your eyes and turned on some music. Play the Game started to blast through the speakers of the Bentley. Crowley cursed under his breath, but you otherwise ignored his odd behavior while humming along.

It took a good forty minutes of driving until Crowley pulled over. The sun was starting to set over the horizon. Both of you got out of the Bentley and started to trek through some grass. Crowley wouldn’t hint at all as to where he was taking you. He’d only smirk and come up with some ridiculous story, “We’re going to fight the Kraken on land in a pit of fire.”

Finally, he stopped. There was a telescope set up and pointed up at the heavens that were just starting to sparkle in the darkening sky. Light pollution didn’t exist this far out, so each new star shined brilliantly. A gasp of awe escaped your mouth.

“This is amazing, Crowley,” you uttered and kept your head facing up towards the sky.

“I figured you’d like it,” Crowley said while adjusting the telescope. You glanced towards him and your breath hitched. He was wearing a genuine smile. It was one of the only times you’ve seen that on his face. He looked at you with that smile and your heart leaped. “Come and look.”

Slowly, you approached and peered into the telescope. The cosmos was breathtaking. It was as if someone spilled a bowl of sugar into a black bowl and lit it up with magic. Glittering specks were everywhere. There was no possible way you’d ever get to see this in the city.

You pulled away and looked at Crowley. “Thank you for bringing me out here.”

“Of course.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and leaned down to your level before pointing out different constellations and naming them all for you.

--

There were days where Crowley would have you join him and Aziraphale for lunch at the Ritz. It always amazed you how they were able to simply walk in and a table would magically be available for the three of you.

Other days, he’d drag you away from Aziraphale talking about his latest book acquisition to go feed the ducks. Crowley claimed that it was very important that you specifically feed the ducks, otherwise they’d spontaneously sink to the bottom like a lead balloon.

Crowley’s spontaneous visits had gotten to the point where you found yourself coming into the bookshop nearly every day. Though, there was one day where you had come down with something. The light made your eyes hurt. Everything made it seem like your head was just one second closer to imploding. You decided that you couldn’t get out of bed that day.

At about 2:35 in the afternoon, there was a hammering sound on the door to your flat. You tried to ignore it, but the hammering only grew more intense, more desperate. Groaning, you trudged your way through your bedroom and to the door. The blanket around you loosened on your way. Slowly, you opened the door and looked up in shock at seeing Crowley standing there.

“Are you okay? You weren’t at the bookshop,” Crowley was slightly disheveled as if he ran all the way from the bookshop, up multiple flights of stairs, and passed your door, realized he missed your door, and ran back to your door to where he was currently standing, making slightly disheveled an understatement.

“Headache.”

“Oh.”

You stood there in silence for a moment or two before you were finally able to form a coherent thought past all of the pain. “Want to come in?”

"Sure, thank you.” You stepped to the side and shut the door behind Crowley. Crowley instantly took your arm and led you to your bedroom. “Stay here, I’ll get you some water and medicine.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he gave you that smile again. Instantly, just a bit of the pain went away because of that look.

You found that if you didn’t show up to the shop as usual, Crowley would be at your door ready to place nurse again. It made you feel happy, but you still went to the bookshop ready to see him.

The bell rang and you looked over with excitement. Instantly, you scowled seeing it was a certain redhead. It was just another customer that was going to be fooled by a duplicate you created.

“Waiting for Crowley?” Aziraphale appeared next to you and blew over his hot cocoa.

You jumped and stared at him. A blush was forming on your face faster than you cared to admit. “N-no! Why would you say that?”

“I am not completely oblivious, [Y/N],” Aziraphale said with a sparkle in his eye. “I can tell you have feelings for him.”

“Sh-shut up!” You crossed your arms and turned your attention to a book nearby. “Don’t be ridiculous.” The door opened. “Crowley!” you greeted almost right away and instantly regretted it by the sly look Aziraphale gave you.

Crowley gave a small smile, one that always made your heart flutter, especially since they were rare compared to his smirks. “Hello, [Y/N]. You feel alright? You look rather red.”

“I’m fine!” you squeaked and hurriedly walked over to a customer and snatched a book out of their hand before rushing to the back. Aziraphale chuckled at your reaction while Crowley looked at you with confusion.

Taking a deep breath, you placed the book on the desk Aziraphale had moved in for you. It was one that you had yet to make a duplicate of, so you were glad you got it out of the customer’s greedy hands. Still, you wouldn’t be able to focus on studying it. Your thoughts kept on racing back towards Crowley.

“[Y/N]?” You jumped and turned to see Crowley entering the back. He looked concern, though you could never be sure with those damn sunglasses. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you nodded. “Thanks for checking.

“You’re a shit liar.”

“Am not!”

“When you lie to me, you are.”

You pursed your lips into a thin line. He was right. Crowley could always read you like an open book. You didn’t know what it was, but he always seemed to know what you wanted.

“Customer’s all left,” Crowley noted before moving to sit on the couch. He patted the space for you to sit next to him, much like the first time you met. Like last time, you hesitated before sitting next to him. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“You know that pinky promise?” You hummed a yes in response. “I’m not going to hold you to it.”

A sort of dread and shock filled your body. “Why not?!”

“Because there’s something I need to tell you,” Crowley said and refused to look at you. “I’m not going to force you to stay friends with me once you find out, alright?” You opened your mouth to protest, but Crowley cut you off. “Just let me finish.” Silently, you looked at him to continue on. “I’m a demon. A demon from Hell. Well, not from Hell anymore. They kicked me out. So I’ve been kicked out of Heaven and Hell.” Crowley lifted a single hand to his sunglasses and paused. “Just know that I’d never hurt you.” He hesitated for a moment or two before he slid the sunglasses off his face. He turned to look at you with serpent-like yellow eyes.

You inhaled sharply when you saw them. They were gorgeous, unlike anything you’ve ever seen. They also held so much emotion in them it almost overwhelmed you. Fear, hope, anguish, and something more loving were pouring out of him.

“Please say something,” he croaked.

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke, “I made a pinky promise with you, Crowley.” You grabbed his hand that wasn’t holding his sunglasses and intertwined your fingers with his. “I am not going to break that promise.”

“You’re not scared?”

“No.”

“Why not? Humans are supposed to be scared of demons.”

It was your moment to hesitate. But when you looked into his eyes, you saw the same emotion that you felt for the demon before you. “Because I love you.”

Crowley grabbed you and pulled you towards him. His arms tightened around you as he held you close to him. “Thank you,” he muttered repeatedly. “I don’t think I could handle losing you. I love you so much.”