#milton lets everyone sit with him at lunch

[miltonworshiper1]

I love how people here make dnis instead of blocking it's like saying no you can't sit here at lunch while they sit down right across from you

[sadboi-writer]

Dear Jack (Series)

Pairing: Jack Brewer x Reader

Summary: Y/N is a student at the Bobby Wasabi Dojo. Their life changes when Jack Brewer shows up in their life. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Cussing, nothing else really, I kind of alternate between they and she pronouns.

Masterlist ~ Chapter Two

Chapter One: Wasabi Warriors

Y/N was sat with Milton, Jerry, and Eddie eating lunch. 

“Hey, Mil, can you help me with this?” Y/N asked sliding their algebra over to him, “I’m having issues with number five.”

Milton glanced over it, “Quadratic formula.”

Y/N nodded, “Thanks.”

They grabbed a fry off their tray and popped it into their mouth. Jerry looked over Milton’s shoulder.

“Aye yo, look at that new guy.” He said, pointing behind Milton

I looked where he indicated. A pretty boy was standing with his tray, looking around the cafeteria absently.

“You’re drooling.” Eddie commented as he ate

“I am not.” Y/N retaliated

The boys all tried to hide their laughs.

“Mhmm.” Milton hummed, he turned to the new guy

“Hey, new kid!” Eddie called to him

The boy smiled as he walked to the table.

“Hi, I’m Jack.” He introduced

“I’m Milton, that’s Jerry,”

Eddie cut him off, “I’m Eddie, and that’s Y/N.”

Y/N gave a slight wave, “Hey.”

Jack sat down with them, “So, how do you all know each other?”

“We all do karate together.” Milton replied

Before Jack could reply, Milton and Y/N were both hit with falafel’s. 

Y/N scrunched their nose in disgust, “Not again.”

Jerry was hit, “Not cool man.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and stood up. Jack eyed her for a moment.

“Frank!” Y/N snapped as she walked to the Black Dragons

“Hey!” Jack interuppted, he slung his arm around Y/N, “I like your outfits, are you guys cheerleaders?”

“No! Well, Bryan used to be.” Frank replied, Y/N hated his stupid voice, “So, you got a problem or something?”

Frank went all out demonstrating his karate.

Jack’s eyebrows rose, “ Look, I didn’t come over here to fight man.”

Jack was about to pull Y/N back to the table when Frank moved to punch him. He caught Frank’s fist and pushed Y/N behind him. She rolled her eyes at that.

“You probably shouldn’t have done that.” Jack smirked before flipping Frank

The rest of the dragons got up to fight. Bryan ran at Y/N followed closely by Tyler. She jumped and grabbed his shoulders before swinging around him and kicking Tyler across the room. Jack was doing pretty well himself. 

Bryan dropped Y/N and went to punch her, she swung her leg and took him to the ground. They gave Jerry a look and he tossed them his pudding. She smashed it onto Bryan’s face. Only two of the dragons were left in a position to be fighting, and Jack took care of them fairly quickly.

Once Frank had run out, Jack looked around and saw the damage he’d done. He looked at Y/N with a sheepish grin before booking it out of the cafeteria. 

After school Y/N was at the dojo with the boys. Eddie got absolutely wrecked by Marge.

Y/N laughed hard, “Wipeout, buddy.” 

“Eddie got dusted by Marge the lunch lady again!” Jerry chortled

Rudy was preceded by two guys in business suits. None of them looked very happy.

“Guys, what are you doing?” Rudy demanded, “They said if we don’t win two belts at our next tournament they’re shutting us down!”

“You wanna win some belts just make Y/N do everything.” Eddie groaned from the floor

“Or get that new kid Jack in here.” Jerry added

“Yeah, he took out four Black Dragons at lunch.” Y/N quipped

“You took down two of them.” Milton corrected

Y/N shrugged and grabbed another slice of pizza. Rudy shook his head.

“I don’t care about some cat fight at school.” He insisted, “This dojo is built on the foundation of hard work and discipline. Let’s get to work.”

The boys took their seats and Y/N sat with them. She was close to the decorative wall because she wanted to have everyone sitting on the mat, but there wasn’t enough space. 

After a couple of minutes Y/N heard yelling that sounded like it was coming from behind her. She stood and looked at the wall for a moment before the wall burst open, she let out a scream, then she was on the floor.

“That boy just came right out the wall!” Marge yelled

Y/N’s ears were ringing and she let out a groan.

“Okay, you guys have got to try that.” Came a new and vaguely familiar voice

There was a bit of shouting, a ‘sorry’ , and then Milton and Rudy were standing over her. 

“Holy christmasnuts, are you okay?” Milton asked

Y/N nodded, “I think so.”

Rudy grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled them to their feet, “Let’s get you sat down.” 

He walked them to the waiting area. She looked and saw Jack being held by two security guards. 

“Hey, Jack.” Y/N greeted

“Hey Y/N.” Jack replied with a wink

Jerry came up behind Y/N and patted her shoulder, “You coming over for dinner again tonight?”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, your mom is making arepas, right?”

He nodded, “Come on, let’s get going.”

Jerry leaned over and let Y/N wrap their arm around his neck and he aided them in their walk out of the dojo. 

At Jerry’s he sat them down on the couch and rifled through his DVD’s.

“What do you want to watch, hermana?” He asked

“I don’t care, you pick.” Y/N replied

She was distracted, thinking about Jack. He really seemed like the perfect guy. Cute, good hair, nice, confident, willing to stand up for others, and not to mention his insane martial arts talent. Y/N wasn’t even aware they had spaced out, but Jerry was. He saw the soft smile land on their face as their eyes seemed to see something other than his living room. The way that Y/N’s eyes crinkled as they thought. 

“You still with me?” Jerry asked

Y/N shook their head, “Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

“Whatcha thinking about?”

He went to the kitchen and brought out the steaming arepas as he listened to Y/N talk.

“Just about Jack, honestly.”Y/N replied, “He’s just... super cool, I guess. I don’t know. I just think it’s nice that he stood up for us when Frank was messing with us, and he’s talented.”

Jerry handed her an arepa, “And cute?”

“Yeah,” She said absently, “Wait, no!”

“Oh, you do think he’s cute!” Jerry laughed

Y/N pouted and Jerry ruffled their hair.

“No worries, your secret is safe with me!” Jerry assured

The next day Y/N was back to normal, if not a little sore. She opted to not get food with the boys and instead went straight to the dojo. Rudy came out of his office.

“Hey, Rudy!” Y/N greeted

“Hey, where are the boys?” He replied

“Falafel Phil’s, they’ll be here in a bit.” 

Y/N dragged one of the practice dummies out of the corner and started working on her form. It wasn’t long until Jerry, Milton, and Eddie came in. 

“Where’s Jack?” Y/N asked as she hit the dummy particularly hard

“With Kim Crawford.” Milton said as Y/N went in for another punch

She knocked it over with the force, “What?”

Jerry smirked, “Oooh, you’re jealous!”

“I am not!” Y/N insisted, “Jerry, come here, hold up the dummy. I need to hit something.”

He picked up the dummy and held it securely as Y/N unleashed an assault upon it. Hit after hit after hit landed, each one harder than the last. Until Y/N knocked over the dummy and Jerry.

“Sorry.” She panted, helping him off the ground

Rudy was smiling at her, “That’s the kind of energy we need for the tournament, Y/N! Good work!”

As he said that, Jack came in spinning a new bow staff with a stupid cute grin on his face. 

“Sorry I’m late-” Jack started

Rudy rounded on him and cut him off, “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Jack! Where did you get that astronaut bowstaff?”

“It was a gift from the Black Dragons!” Jack smiled, “See! We can all use it!”

He tried to hand it to Y/N who turned her back on him and retreated toward Jerry. Jack’s smile dropped.

“What? Students here are forbidden from even entering that dojo!” Rudy replied to Jack

Jack scoffed, “You can’t forbid me from doing anything!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, and Jerry wrapped an arm around her shoulder. They both watched the interaction, Milton and Eddie quickly crossing to them.

“Hey, if it wasn’t for me you would’ve been banned from the mall for two weeks!” Rudy insisted

A silence fell over the room. Jack looked livid.

“Banned from the mall?” Jack demanded, “You told me I was going to jail!”

Rudy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for a moment.

He sputtered a bit, “Wha- Well, I say a lot of things! I’m what they like to call chatty!”

Jack stormed toward Rudy, “You lied to me! You broke the Wasabi Code! You know what? Kim was right! This place is a joke! I quit!”

Jack marched out of the dojo. Leaving everyone speechless. Then Rudy jumped into action.

He ran toward the door, “Fine! Go!”

Then Rudy turned to the kids, “Who needs him?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and everyone stared at him. 

Then all in unison said, “We do!”

Rudy’s eyes widened as he ran back to the door, “Wait! Come back!”

After that they all left. Y/N was walking to their bike on the bike rack when she passed the Black Dragon dojo. Kim was walking out and smiled when she saw Y/N.

“Hey! How was your day?” Kim asked

“Just swell.” Y/N snapped, “Nothing like hearing that your friend called your dojo a joke.”

Kim’s face fell, “Y/N I’m sorry. But sensei really wants Jack at our dojo-”

“Go away, Kim.” Y/N sighed

The day after that they all resigned to the fact that Bobby Wasabi was going to close. So they all started packing, Y/N was set on rolling up the mats.

“Jack! You’re back!” Rudy burst

Y/N looked at him and gave him a small wave.

“I’m just here to get my stuff,” He specified, “What are you guys doing?”

“Packing up.” Y/N chimed

“Yeah, we’re closing. No Jack, no belts, no dojo.” Jerry finished

Y/N taped up the mat where it was rolled and started to tip it up but it was a bit too heavy, so Jack came over and helped her. He sent her a wink as he did so.

“Milton David Krupnick!” 

Y/N turned around, Milton’s dad was storming through the doors. She sighed, of course he hadn’t known Milton was doing karate.

“So this is your french horn lesson?” His dad snapped

“I’m sorry dad, I started doing karate so that I could defend myself when people made fun of me for taking french horn lessons.” Milton explained, “It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s shutting down. This was the one place I really felt like I belong.”

Eddie nodded, “Yeah, now my mom is going to send me back to Mrs.King’s Dance Academy! My body was not made to mambo!”

“Yeah, guess I’m a lone wolf again! That’s how I like it!” Jerry sniffled, “Don’t think for a moment I’m going to miss any of you meatbags!”

“Guess it’s back to eating lunch with Henrietta.” Y/N sighed, the boys looked at her weird, “My paper mache crab I made for my Earth Science class.”

Milton’s dad motioned for him, “Let’s go, Milton. You’re lucky you didn’t hurt yourself.”

Jack was gazing around at his friends. And then he ran toward Milton.

“Wait, Milton!” Jack hollered, “Why don’t you show your dad how you can break this board?”

Milton gave him a look, “Break a board? Jack, I can barely cut a well cooked piece of fish.”

Jack pulled him up to a board he set on two moving boxes, “Just do it.”

“Jack-” Milton protested

“Do it!” Jack yelled

In a panic Milton slammed his hand into the board and split it in half. Milton’s dad was impressed, and honestly so was everyone else. 

“Milton that was incredible!” His dad praised, then he left

Rudy warily walked to Jack, “These are your friends, Jack. They didn’t break the Wasabi Code. I did.”

They all gathered around them, hopeful glints in each of their eyes. They didn’t want to give this up yet. 

“What do you say?” Rudy asked, then put his fist to his palm, “Wasabi?”

Y/N copied Rudy, which prompted the boys to do so too. Jack smiled and copied all of them.

“Wasabi.” He affirmed

They all got to work. Jack came to help Y/N put the mats back where they went. He looked at her fondly as they worked.

“You’re staring,” Y/N commented as they rolled the mat out

Jack blushed, “Uhm, thank you. For, kind of making me not quit the dojo.”

She shook her head with a small smile, “Keep rolling.”

They all worked hard to get their belts. Hoping to get two, maybe three. 

When the tournament came, Y/N was undeniably nervous. But she came out with her boys in her gi. Flexing their muscles and making a big show of still being there to fight to stay open. They took their seats on the bench. 

“Okay, Eddie’s up first.” Jack said

We all looked at Eddie, he was knelt on the mat praying. Jack ran to him and said something, before seeing Eddie’s opponent.

“What do they feed you, brother?” Jack spluttered

He went back to talking to Eddie before returning to the bench with the rest of the team. Once the match started it was over quickly. Eddie flipped and pinned his opponent easily, surprising all of us. 

“We got our first belt!” Rudy cheered 

“Okay, Jerry, nunchucks is next. All you gotta do is-” Jack began

“Relax, Jack. I got this.” Jerry cut him off and stepped to the mat

His opponent did some fancy moves and Jerry nodded. 

“Oh yeah? Well check this out.” Jerry smirked

It started well, and it gave Y/N a little hope. But before that hope could grow too much Jerry hit himself in the balls and fell to the ground. Y/N was beside him in a moment.

“Jerry, are you okay?” She asked

“Everything is purple.” He groaned

Y/N hauled him to his feet and took him back to the bench. Her match was next so she stepped to the mat. Tyler was the guy she was against. He was huge in comparison to her. 

Jack stepped up next to her, “Hey, you’ve got this. I believe in you.”

He grabbed her hand and gave it a quick squeeze before going back to the team. Y/N took a deep breath and then the match started. With a running start Y/N jumped and landed with her thighs around his neck, which surprised him. She put her weight backward and flipped him over as they both landed on the ground, and kept him pinned until the ref pulled her off.

“Second belt, boys!” Y/N cheered as she went to the bench

Jack enveloped her in a tight hug, “I’m so proud of you!”

They sat as Milton went up for his event. He was against Frank for board breaking. 

Frank broke the one board he was given. 

“Double it.” Milton told the ref

“Ooh! My boy is going for the win!” Jack cheered, being a general dork

Y/N chuckled, “You look so stupid.”

“What, you don’t like this?” Jack asked as he deepened the dumb lunge he was in

Milton won while they weren’t paying attention.  Jack and Y/N cheered as he went around and gloated to the Black Dragons. The red took his belt for his bad sportsmanship.

Rudy scolded, “Milton! That was our ticket to staying open! What were you thinking?”

“That this is the best day of my life?” Milton sighed happily

The vertical peg kick was next, Jack’s event. He stood and went to the mat. He shot Y/N a wink. She gave him a little air kiss as a joke. Jack went around the mat and Frank attacked, taking him down by his leg.

Y/N ran to him quickly, “Jack! Are you okay?”

The rest of the boys were close behind her. She knelt beside him.

“I can’t move.” Jack groaned

Rudy panicked, “Yes you can! Don’t you quit on me!”

“Rudy!” Jack snapped, “You’re kneeling on my leg.”

Rudy stood, “Oh.”

Y/N pulled him up and held his shoulders.

“Are you going to be able to compete?” Jerry asked

Jack shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“You’ve got this, I believe in you!” Y/N encouraged

Rudy ushered the boys away leaving Jack and Y/N alone.

“You gonna be okay?” Y/N asked

He nodded, “Yeah, I’ve got this.”

“Good, now go kick the Dragons butts.”

She kissed his cheek and ran back to the bench. Jerry wrapped his arm around her and smiled.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that.” He teased

Y/N shook him off, “You didn’t see anything.”

Milton tapped Y/N as Jack moved to take his spot. He flipped into a hand stand and it occurred to all of them how he was going to do this.

“He’s launching from his hands.” Rudy said incredulously

They all watched as time seemed to slow down, Jack did his gymnastics and knocked the peg off. Y/N stood up and cheered quickly. Followed by the rest of the team.

“We did it! We get to stay open!” Rudy exclaimed

“And we got three belts so we outdid it!” Jerry added

“You guys feeling what I’m feeling?” Rudy asked

They all nodded before doing their high kick.

“Wasabi!”

[babbling-idiot]

Milton dammers x reader

Requested: nope

Warning: slight angst if you squint and some fluff

(So this is something I've been working on and I hope you all enjoy it!)

If only you had known Milton when he was younger. If only you had been there to talk him out of being a cop. If only you had been there to talk him out of taking that case. Maybe you would have been able to save him. Save him from what? The cults, the pain, the torture he endured. Then maybe you would have felt much more at ease. But no. The game of life had figure that you and Milton would only meet after years of pain, loss, loneliness, and sadness. Only then would you meet.

Though Milton didn't believe in God, or at least you didn't think he did. You believed it was God that lead you to each other. Had set up your lives to finally meet and be able to help fix each other. It wasn't just fate, it was the work of God.

When you did meet Milton, he was a rude, introverted, and scared man. He had no interest in being anywhere near someone who was interested in "being" with him. He had had many horrible instances where his "lovers" would use him. He would not be a fool and fall for yet another. He would not make another mistake like all those other times. Even after years of being a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, he changed, after years if abuse. He finally became the closed hearted man he had wished to be.

When he caught feeling for you, he was angry. He wanted to be rude to you to push you away, to scare you away. But you stayed. You stayed by his side even though he would scoff, and turn his nose up at anything you said. He cared, more than anyone in the department but he didn't want to revert back to his old self. He didn't want to get hurt again. So he defended himself. He told himself that no matter how strongly he began to feel for you nothing would break him.

Years. Years of being angry towards you only helped you see through his cold demeanor. You had been told of his past cases and all the things that they overshared on. It told you everything. Even the things you didn't want to know. So, you made it your mission to show him kindness. No matter how he pushed you away. You would always show him kindness no matter what.

It started off small. Little waves with a smile. He would look away with a shake of his head and go the opposite direction. Then it would turn to saying a small hello every morning as you walk by him. He’d ignore you and continue on. Then actually getting him a black coffee. This would change to every other morning as to seeing how he actually wouldn't even touch them on some days. Then came to sitting next to him when your breaks would end at the same time. Moving into lunch as well. Always asking permission first was just something you did. At first he would say no, just like that. With no emotion. Then he actually would say yes. But you would sit at a distance. Across the table from each other. No talking and when break was over you would bid him a wonderful day. Now though you sit with him almost everyday but that could change depending on his mood.

Sometime he would forget to get lunch and you would gladly ask his favorite food. Which would be just plain ham sandwiches. Which you gladly would make for him, you always made two just in case. You would put them in a sealed plastic bag and give it to him at the beginning of the day. This process took a lot longer. He didn't trust you remember. So getting him to eat the food you made was a very hard task. It took a few day of cutting a slice of his sandwich and eating it yourself in front of him to get him to finally try it for himself. When he did eat it though, he acted as if it was the best ham sandwich he had ever had. Which was odd. He always brought his own, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that he liked them.

Now he never said this to anyone nor did he plan to but....he liked you. He liked how nice you were, he liked how you looked at him with that smile. Liked how you looked at him like you weren't weirded out by him. He also like how you didn't mind his past cases. Liked how nice you smelled when you would pass by him. Liked how you would wave and say hi. Liked how you would bring him coffee and lunch. He liked you. He liked you so much he tried to push you away. Now though he doesn't plan to let you go. He enjoys your company, your laugh, your smile, your eyes as they gaze at him. He was infatuated with you and didn't know what to do about it. He was scared, scared like he was a teenage boy all over again. He felt like one too, like he was back in the crowded hallways, talking and commotion going on, and then there's you. You stood out from all the rest. Your smile brightens up the room and all he could focus on was your face. All he wanted to do was kiss you. To run his fingers through your hair and tell you he loves you. But he was scared and had no idea how to tell you.

When the day came that he finally told you, it was on a case. The most awkward and weird times but it was definitely a welcome surprise. You remembered how you had been sat on top of a man whom had been running from you both for a good solid 5 minutes before you finally caught up and tackled him. Milton had been close behind but just not quite faster than you. You had just cuffed the man who was still trying to catch his breath. When you looked up at Milton he was also breathing heavy, but was giving you an odd look. Then he told you. Told you all about how he felt and how much he loved you.

Secretly he had expected you to scoff, and turn away laughing. To tell everyone in the office how ridiculous he is and how stupid he is for thinking he could be with you. But you didn't. You smiled and blushed. Then picked up the man that was running and escorted him to your police car. After sitting him inside you looked back at Milton. You smiled again and then confessed your feeling back to him. He was surprised. He never thought that you'd like him back. He remembers how he felt his cheeks burn. He was so flustered and so happy that nothing could take that moment from him and nothing ever did.

Now he was sat on the couch in the your living room. He thinks back on his memories of you. As he slowly cards his fingers through your hair as you lay your head on his lap. He feels how soft your hair is against his palm. How peaceful you looked as you slept made him feel content. The way you buried your face in his stomach made him want to hug you close. The way you slightly smiled when he ran his fingers through your hair. He wanted to stay in that moment forever. Just watching you sleep, keeping you safe. You were the only person left in his life that cared, that loved him like he wanted to be loved. The only person left that didn't judge him by his past.

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He would quit the FBI if it meant a normal, happy life with you. He wouldn't even think twice about it. He wanted to be with you and have a family with you. Besides the fact that he disliked children, he would gladly have them with you. He wishes that however many children you end up having that they are all like you. This makes you laugh every time. What was wrong with them having something that resembles him? He was a wonderful man when he wasn't working with assholes. But he didn't see that in himself. He never saw the good in himself. But with you he felt like it didn't matter what happened in the past. All he cared about was you. All he could think about on days when he would be alone at his desk, was how highly you speak of him. How you defended him on so many levels. How you always smiled when you brought his name up. 

He loved it, loved that beautiful smile and the way you would squint as you laughed at something he said. He hoped that he would continue to see that, for the rest of his life, in the morning, during the day, at night, whenever he saw you he couldn’t help but feel a smile creep up on his face as well. You made him feel loved, you made him feel special. And he couldn't imagine a moment in his life without you.

(So if you enjoyed this please do leave feedback it helps a shit ton and I appreciate every bit of it! Have an amazing day and stay safe out there in the world!)

[allzelemonz]

Frank Bickle X Male Reader

Frank is 19 according to the wiki, the Kicking’ It timeline is weird. I’ve had a crush on him since I was like thirteen, so... this. No one will read it, it’s fine, I just needed something for my boy.

Not proofread whatsoever. This is a random conglomeration of thought.

Karate tournaments were always fun. The Black Dragon Dojo brought home plenty of trophies every time, so there wasn’t much stress. The not so fun part was being cramped into a car with five other guys and Sensei Ty. The only upside was that it was an SUV, which could ready seat seven or eight. Not really cramped, but your sensei had the bladder of a squirrel so the trip took hours more than it should. That is why you always left early.

This tournament was pretty important, two of the guys would be trying for advancements and you and Frank were both up for major trophies that Ty thought would be absolutely stunning in the entry to the dojo. He had put you and Frank on a no junk diet for the whole week leading up to the tournament and it was starting to show. You and Frank were in the third row together, the only set of seats with no gaps so you’d brush against each other on occasion.And to put it lightly, it was annoying.

“If you touch me one more time I’ll miss when you hold my boards.” Frank threatened.

“And I’ll give you a nipple twister.” You retorted.

Frank’s hands shot up to protect his chest as he had flashbacks to Milton’s attack on him.

“If you two can’t get along… Just shut it and get along.” Ty called back from the driver’s seat.

Frank sent you a glare, but was distracted when Ryan threw a single cheese ball in between the two of you. You both looked down at it before diving to steal it. You grabbed it first but Frank wasn’t giving up without a fight. He pulled your hair and made your drop it, he then quickly snatched it up and ate it. He made sure to chew loudly as you glared at him. You jumped at him, but before you could do any damage Ty stopped the car.

“That’s it, Frank up here, Cameron back there!” He pointed his students around.

Frank climbed to the front as Cameron climbed back to you. The car started up again in no time with no more distractions other than Cameron slipping you some candy.

When you got to the hotel it was already dark and the tournament would be until tomorrow afternoon. Ty checked you in, yawning more than everyone else. He shuffled over to where you were all waiting with only two three room keys. No way Ty was sharing, he would never. He handed one key to you and the other to Cameron, keeping one himself.

“(Y/n) and Frank don’t share beds, you other three I don’t care about, they’re the one’s getting trophies.” Ty let out a long yawn, too tired to remember that Frank and you wanted to kill each other. “Get to bed.” He noted and walked off to the elevators.

The five of you looked at each other, wondering if it was such a good idea to let you and Frank be near each other. Cameron found a simple solution. He disappeared for a few minutes and returned with arms full of vending machine food that made your head spin at the sight of it. Frank licked his lips in anticipation of sweet artificial cheese flavoring.

“You guys can have all this and we’ll get ice cream or something tomorrow if you’re both alive in the morning.” Cameron then shoved everything in his bag and scrambled off with the other two guys before you or Frank could register that you could just take it. Two black belts versus a few green belts and one blue belt, it’d be easy. It was too late, you didn’t know what room they were in.

After sulking for a moment you and Frank went up to your room. You swiped the keycard at the door, but it wouldn’t register. After the third try Frank grabbed the card from you and tried. You held in a laugh when he couldn’t get the things to work either. His face was turning so red it looked like he was going to explode. You tried to grab the key card from him but he pushed you away.

“I got it!”

“Clearly not.” You held up and finger to your lips, reminding him to be quiet.

Frank scrunched up his nose and mocked you in a way off voice. You took the chance and grabbed the card, swiping it one more time. The little light finally blinked green and granted you access. You gave Frank a dirty look before turning the handle and entering. You dropped your bag on the bed by the window as Frank claimed the one next to the bathroom.

You were both asleep within the hour, exhausted from the car ride. Your sleep was short lived however, as Frank began to talk in his sleep. He mumbled incoherently and you tried to drown him out, placing a pillow over your head. It didn’t work. You got up to shake him awake and tell him to shut up, but you stopped short when you saw his face.

He had the biggest smile you’d ever seen him have. His arms looked as if he were hugging himself, he just looked too peaceful for you to be a jerk. He was competing tomorrow too. You tried to go back to sleep, only for your eyes to shoot open at the sound of Frank mumbling something odd. You could’ve sworn you heard your name mixed up in between the huffs and random words. You shook it out of mind and screwed your eyes shut, determined to sleep.

Morning came fast and it seemed to hit like a truck. You stirred and stretched before sitting up to look at the clock. It was 7:30, Ty was still getting his beauty sleep this early. You looked over to find Frank’s eyes boring into yours. He looked away and sat up as soon as your eyes met. He shuffled off to the bathroom before you could say anything.

You messed around in your suitcase, waiting for Frank to finish up. You’d all agreed to meet down at the hotel’s gym before lunch to mess around more than actually work out. Frank emerged in shorts and a sleeveless shirt. He avoided any eye contact that he could, only giving you a quick glance. You hurried and got dressed for the gym in the bathroom, making sure you put the room key in your pocket.

“Frank, you ready?” You asked as you emerged.

“Yeah.” You saw him fumble to put his phone back in his pocket before he stood up and followed you out.

You met the other guys at the gym, vacant except for you. Perfect. Cameron congratulated you and Frank on not killing each other. Ryan then directed everyone’s attention to the bench press. A simple competition, who could press more.

“Not fair!” Garret whined.

“How’s that?” Ryan asked as he loaded on his weight.

“I’m only in eighth grade!” He protested. “You guys are in high school.”

“Frank’s not in high school.” You reminded. “He’s in eighth too, a real accomplishment.”

“But he’s the same age as you guys!” He whined again. “Still not fair!”

“Get over it, short stop.” You patted the top of the preteen’s head.

He grumbled to himself through both Ryan’s and Cameron’s lifts. They both got around 200. Garret went and, as predicted, only got to 125, much less than the oldest in the group. You managed 225, greatly pushing yourself to beat the others. Frank went last and managed 250.

“Beat that.” He mocked, sitting up from the bench.

You all shook your heads, knowing it wouldn’t happen. Frank gave you a mocking look. Cameron brought our attention to the next competition, the only other one you’d  have time for. An easy cardio competition, just running. Whoever could go the fastest on the treadmill would win. No contest, Garrot won. He was smaller and just naturally faster, but he’d never shut up about it.

Just after his victory Ty found you and told you all to get dressed if you wanted lunch. Every single one of you sprinted to your rooms at the mention of food. You made it to the room first, swiping the card with no difficulty this time. Frank grabbed the door behind you and you both ran to your bags. Without bothering to split up you both started to get dressed. You’d shared a locker room with Frank plenty of times. The difference this time was that you weren’t focused on keeping a clear head for a tournament yet, that wasn’t for a few hours. This was the first time you’d seen Frank in nothing but his boxers and registered it.

You were transfixed for a moment until Frank was midway through putting on his shirt and noticed your stare. He flushed pink, incapable of stopping himself from looking you up and down as you were in a similar state of undress. You blinked a few times and cleared your throat, scrambling to put your pants on now as Frank did the same.

It was awkward as you both left the room and met the others in the lobby. Each of you was wearing the usual Black Dragon track suit you normally did. At the sight of you and Frank Ty made everyone cram back into the car, making sure everyone had their gis to change into.

“Do I have to sit next to Frank again, or are you two done with the killer instinct bit?” Ty asked.

“I think we’ll be fine.” You muttered.

Frank nodded along nervously. Ty looked between you two before waving it off and loading everyone in the car. You and Frank were back in the third row, both with arms crossed and refusing to look at each other. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and you took it out to look at it.

‘What happened?’ Cameron had texted.

‘Nothing, just trying not to kill each other so we can have chips and stuff” You replied, avoiding the subject.

You caught Cameron’s eye through the mirror and he gave you an odd look to which you just shrugged. You ignored his texts for the rest of the drive and was relieved to find that the buffet style restaurant had very limited seating, if you played it right you could sit alone and clear your head. Ty said nothing and just rushed to the food, most of the other Black Dragons followed suit. Weirly, Frank didn’t. He lingered by you for a moment before moving on. You went through the buffet slowly, letting everyone else establish their seats before you sat down. Cameron was hesitant, but he gave up after a few minutes and sat with Ryan, Garret, and Ty.

You sat down at the table on the other side of the walkway from them. You totally forgot about Frank. He sheepishly sat down across from you, nearly falling out of his chair from stumbling. He picked at his food, listening to the other guys joke around.

“Can we talk?” He asked.

“No.” You continued eating, not wanting to distract yourself from the tournament that would be starting in another hour.

“We really need to.” Frank pleaded.

“Frank, we have a tournament. It’s important that we focus on that.”

“What about after the tournament?”

You looked up from your plate and nodded to him. Frank’s face lit up and, as he usually does, he punched his plate of food in excitement. He mumbled something before going off to get more, thankful for the buffet.

In no time you were finished eating and on your way to the tournament venue. Frank held true and didn’t talk to you the whole time. You tried to focus on your task, you just had to win a spar, not a big deal. When you arrived you all changed into gis and met Ty on the sidelines of the sparring mat. You tried to ignore the image in your head of that smile you saw on Frank’s face when he was asleep, or the picture of him during your gym competition. You tried to think about the spar.

Ty gave you a quick pep talk about how he really needed the trophy for the entry to the dojo and to whatever you have to do to get it. You just nodded along and made your way onto the mat. Your opponent was a fellow black belt from some chain dojo you’d seen bad ads for on TV, kind of remind you of the Wasabi kids. You and your opponent gave each other a bow and began to spar. He wasn’t the best and went down relatively easily. The moderator called in after only thirty seconds and his sensei came and helped him up. Ty got his trophy and nearly fainted at the sight of it.

You sat down on the bench and caught your breath.

“You did really good.” Frank chimed in from your left.

“Thanks.” You nodded along, trying not to look at him.

You saw him give you a small smile before he took his place on the mat. You didn’t watch the start, but a few seconds in you glanced up and found yourself unable to look away. Frank was good, he was a black belt in the same degree as you. His opponent was forced into more defensive movements and Frank won pretty fast. Ty grabbed the other trophy and jumped for joy, getting weird looks from the other sensei. He calmed down and gave a nod to Frank as he sat down before continuing to celebrate quietly.

“Can we talk now?” Frank prodded, clearly impatient.

“Should we see if Ryan and Garret rank up?”

“Please?” Frank persisted.

You looked up from the ground and got caught in his pleading face.

“Fine, five minutes.” You nodded and followed him to the locker room.

It was empty, the last of the competitors changed and about to compete and all the others still watching eagerly. You and Frank stood in silence for a few seconds before he spoke.

“Do you like me?” He asked point blank. You blinked a few times and cleared your throat.

“Maybe.”

Frank nodded and tried to collect himself.

“Do you wanna be my boyfriend?” He asked.

You looked at him. His usual furrowed brow tilted up in question and shyness and his curly hair a bit wetted down from sweat. You ringed your hands and didn’t even notice your nod until the word fell out of your mouth.

“Yeah.”

Frank’s mouth flinched into a smile for a moment before lighting up as it was in his sleep.

“Really?”

“As long as Ty never puts us on a junk ban again I think we’ll be fine.”

Frank’s grin was bigger than ever as he pulled you into a hug. His arms wrapped around you tightly and you let yourself get used to the feeling.

“I was texting my mom about you this morning.” He mumbled.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I told her we were in the same room and she really wanted me to ask you.”

“Your mom barely knows me.”

“She thinks you’re nice.”

You smiled against Frank’s shoulder, remembering his mom coming to a tournament at the dojo and cheering everyone on.

“Do you wanna get ice cream?” He asked.

“Cameron owes us.”

Frank nodded faintly and pulled away. His smile became contagious now. You both cornered Cameron at his seat on the spectator’s bench and made him give up money for the ice cream he owed you. Frank may have threatened him, but that’s besides the point. Ty was too occupied by his trophies to notice the two of you were gone.

You and Frank talked, eating your ice cream on the way back. You waited outside of the venue for the others to finish up. As you ate, Frank wiped some of the dessert off of your cheek with his thumb and froze there for a moment. You leaned forward as he held his hand to your cheek and you pressed your lips together in a small kiss. Frank blushed darkly and pulled away. You smiled at the ghost of the feeling just lingering there. You slowly wormed your hand into his while you waited.

When the other Black Dragons came out you dropped each other’s hand and congratulated them on their new belts. Ty was in a hurry to get back home so he could arrange the trophies. As soon as you got back in the car Frank swiped Cameron’s bag from him, dumping out all the snacks he had bought the other day. The entire car ride Frank wouldn’t let go of your hand, holding it tight under the blankets you’d thrown over yourselves. You didn’t talk so as not let any of the others in on what had happened, but you sent texts back and forth full of the new found loving feelings.. It certainly wasn’t the worst tournament you’d be to.

[thebestestboyo]

Because I am stressed and my friend requested a prompt, we're gonna do one

Prompt #3: Drunk/Sloppy Kisses

Why Not?

Tw: Alcohol/Swearing/Mention of puking

Originally, Janus didn't mean to end up drunk at some stupid house party. At first, he was hoping on having a quiet Saturday night in for once. Get Chinese food from that nice restaurant down the street, watch documentaries about the social plannies of the world, and curl up with his snake Diana. He was not planning to end up shitfaced on the couch while chaos reigned around him, and he felt as if he was going to puke if he got up to leave.

But unfortunately for him, his stupid cousin Remy decided that he needed to get out more, and dragged him along to this stupid party so that he'd be able to 'socialize for once.'

Please, Janus socialized plenty! He had friends! Two close ones, to be precise. Virgil Timore and Logan Crofter, who he had known for several years and talked to daily. Hell, Wednesday he and Virgil bingewatched conspiracy theories together and got lunch afterwards. Janus was perfectly fine with his two friends thank you very much.

He had showed up to this party, which he was told would be small, and was disappointed, but not surprised to find that it was practically filled to the brim with drunk college kids. He couldn't go two steps without running into someone, let alone get to anywhere quieter in the house without someone probably trying to frisk him.

So he had to settle for the couch. For now. He was at least somewhat away from the action, well, as much as someone could be in this frat house crammed with people. Nursing a ginger ale he found in a cooler (unopened, he didn't trust any of the punch on the table. Was punch supposed to be green?), Janus was ready to stick it out sober. He didn't know any of these people, so why should he trust his drunk self with them?

...which is what he thought, until he saw him.

The absolute gremlin of the fucking year, Remus Whitby.

This little prick not only was in half his classes, but also managed to have a seat near him in every single one. He was absolutely infuriating, and if Janus didn't think better, he could have sworn that guy chose to sit next to him just so he'd have someone to piss off.

And to top it off, he wasn't even half bad looking! True he dressed like a walking fashion disaster, but it was at least a hot sort of fashion disaster. Somehow his smug little self managed to make floral and bright yellow work, while still wearing the most outlandish pair of cowboy boots to class, as if a dad and a gay cowboy had designed his outfit.

Not to mention he was always trying to get Janus to talk with him! All he had to do, was scoot his chair close to him in the lecture hall, spout some new bullshit of the day, and wait. Their most recent debate was about the reasoning why you shouldn't try to befriend wild possums with preprocessed cheese.

He was crude, he was a terrible dresser, he was smart but in a way that infuriated you, he ate weird concoctions in class that probably weren't compatible flavor palates, and Janus was utterly in love with him.

Now this was something Janus would normally take to his grave and never speak of to anyone, but he was bored, fed up, and altogether too headstrong to care right now.

So making what would probably be a bad decision for his future self, he grabbed a nearby bottle of whiskey, chugged half of it, and strode over to Remus in what he hoped looked confident, but more likely looked as if he was drowning in the crowd due to his shorter stature.

Remus perked up immediately at Jan's arrival, a smirk spreading across his face.

"Why hello, if it isn't the non-believer of making friends with garbage critters! And what might the distinguished Janus Milton be doing here?" His front tooth was slightly crooked, Janus noticed. It was cute, in a dork sort of way.

"I could ask you the same thing. Don't you have seagulls to train or something?"

"Usually I would, but unfortunately most seagulls aren't around during the day. I was trying to teach some of the frogs by the swamp to sing Never Gonna Give You Up though!"

"Of course you would." Was it just the overwhelming amount of people milling around them, or did Remus get a little closer to him?

"They all have names! My brother wanted to help but he was going to name them something too cute."

"Let me guess. Horror authors?"

"Close! Serial killers! I got Jack the Ribber, Dalmer..."

"Wait hold up. Jack the Ribber?" Okay he had to admit, it was a good name.

"Of course! It seemed to fit him. But that doesn't answer my earlier question cornsnake. What are you doing here? Doesn't seem like your thing."

"Normally it wouldn't be. But my cousin decided it would be good for me to get out." He didn't add the part about Remy thinking he was a shut in, that wasn't important. "But I'm not a cornsnake. Why would you even think I was a snake?"

"You do lie a lot, my slippery serpent."

"I most certainly do not."

"Ah, but you do! You even do that thing with your s's and c's when you are."

"I have no idea what you mean." Janus took that moment to take another swig of his whiskey, throat burning with the taste.

"Whatever you say Janny! You wanna go in the pool in the backyard? Beats being crushed by everyone here."

"Is there people skinny-dipping?"

"Not yet! Wanna be the first?" Was Remus...wiggling his eyebrows at him? No, it was probably the alcohol. He wasn't exactly known for having a high tolerance for it.

"I'm only going down to my pants."

"Aw you're no fun!"

_________________________________________

Since Janus hadn't fully undressed, Remus only went down to his boxers. By that time, Janus probably wouldn't have even noticed nor cared anyways, because he was already more than a little tipsy.

He was straight up (or gay up) drunk.

The two had already climbed out of the pool and stumbled to the front yard of the house (probably the least crowded place), Janus leaning into Remus for most of his balance.

"You certainly don't hold your liquor well do you cornsnake?"

"Shut, shut up Remus. I hold everything. Bags. Phones. Car keys. Six inch subs."

"Uh huh sure. Do you still have your phone?"

"Most certainly!"

Laughing, Remus held up what looked like...Janus's phone! How'd he get that?

"Hey! Give it back!" He attempted to reach for it, but due to his lack of dexterity while hammered, only managed to throw himself into Remus's lap. It was even more annoying that when he grumbed his discontent, Remus just laughed harder.

"I took the liberty of holding it for you. You left it in the backyard and I don't exactly know if anyone else is sober enough to keep track of both of you."

Before he could do more than open his mouth, Remus's hand began to card through his hair, smoothing out the still damp strands. While normally, the only people he'd ever let touch his hair was his friends, it felt utterly sublime, so he was in no mood to stop it.

"Hey Re? Heh, re."

Remus jolted a little at the sound of his voice, but answered anyways. "Yeah cornsnake?"

"Come ere' I need to tell you a secret."

"What? Why would you-"

"Shshshshshsh no! I need to tell you the secret!"

"Well okay?"

It took quite a bit of effort, but through Janus grabbing at Re's arms for leverage, he managed to sit upright in Remus's lap, leaned into his chest. "You can't tell anyone okay?"

"You needed to sit in my lap for this secret?" His voice sounded like he was teasing, but for some reason his face was just getting redder. Maybe it was Jan's imagination?

"Yes! It's important."

Waiting for dramatic effect (even drunk he was still a drama queen), Janus tilted his head up and kissed him, smiling afterwards. "I love you!"

Was his face always that red? Janus didn't know, but he really wanted to kiss him again. Maybe not at the moment though, right now his stomach was feeling a little sick-

Thankfully for Remus's clothes (and Janus's dignity, whatever was left of it) once Remus saw that look on Jan's face, he wrapped his arms around his middle and turned him to face the other way.

"...I think we ought to get you out of here cornsnake."

Wait was he disappointed? Did he not like Janus back? What was that tone in his voice?

He didn't know, so his drunk self elected to cry. Great.

"Nononononono it's okay! It's alright, fuck, I never expected you to be a sad drunk, it's okay." The arms around Janus's middle moved to cradle him, as Remus lifted him up and away from where they were sitting.

"I just-" He couldn't get through a sentence without hiccuping through the tears. "-You sound- so dissapointed."

"Janus I'm not dissapointed! I'm just, god am I...worried?"

"Re reeeeeee."

"Sorry, just thinking out loud. Look, I don't know where your dorm room is, so I'll take you back to mine okay? I'm not disappointed, you're all good, let's get some water in you and get you to bed."

_________________________________________

It was most certainly against road laws to have someone sitting on your lap as you drove, so Remus had to transfer a teary-eyed Janus to the passenger seat. For some reason, the only thing calming him down was if Remus would hold his hand (which, he did, that was nice).

It was strange, Remus driving while Janus sat in the passenger seat, playing with the fingers of Re's hand, but it was oddly nice. Beats having him stay at the party where he'd probably hurt himself.

Or tell more of his secrets. Like how he got that scar over his face. He seemed to hold that one pretty close to his chest, so it was unfair to learn it through his drunkenness.

He was actively ignoring the secret he was told, about how Janus loved him. If he thought about it right now, he'd probably end up crashing out of excitement of the fact that he himself had been pinning after him for a solid half of the school year to find that his feelings were reciprocated.

Maybe being drunkenly confessed to wasn't the best way to find out, but hey! He'd prefer it to the sappy romance novel way that his brother was always droning on about.

Once they pulled up to the dorms, Remus went around to Janus's side (not trusting that he'd be able to walk by himself) and lifting him up again, much to the delight of Janny.

"Look I'm your princess!"

"Mmhm, right now this princess has to drink some water, and maybe take a nap."

"Heh Sleeping Beauty took a nap for a long time."

"You wouldn't be sleeping beauty I think, you'd be little red riding hood. Because I'm the wolf, and I've stolen you off!" Tickling at his sides a bit, he pushed open his door as his face was already starting to tinge red. He never expected Janus to be a giggly drunk, then again, he never expected Janus to let himself get drunk. Musta been a tough party experience.

His roommate, Patton, was already asleep, so he didn't have to worry about him asking questions, at least till morning. A quick water break, and a successful attempt at getting Jan's shoes off later, Remus had tucked him up into his bed, planning on sleeping on the chair nearby in case he woke up.

"Re re waiiiiit!"

"Hm?"

"Can I have a goodnight kiss?"

He hoped that Janus wouldn't remember this in the morning, he had already shown so much of his softer side, that if he did, his reputation would be ruined. Part of him hoped he did remember anyways, as he lightly kissed Jan's forehead, going off to sleep.

_________________________________________

When Janus woke up, it was certainly jarring to be in a completely different bed than his own. In a different room, with a splitting headache. And...Remus was sleeping on a chair?

Wait....

Was this Remus's room???

Oh lord. He must have blacked out. It was stupid to drink that much, he always knew he was a lightweight, he probably made a fool of himself in front of Remus.

"You ok cornsnake?"

OH GOD HE WAS AWAKE.

"Considering my head feels as if someone is knocking a wrecking ball through it, I'm as good as I can be at the moment. What am I-"

"I uh, didn't think you'd be okay if you stayed at that place while you were drunk. You got pretty emotional."

Oh no.

"So I decided that, since your phone was locked and you had the dexterity of a clownfish stuck in a riptide, I'd let you chill here...?"

"Please tell me I didn't say anything that embarrassing."

Remus was making that face. He knew that face, that face was the same look a dog made when it had been caught digging in the trash.

"What was it."

"It was really, well, uh-"

"Remus please I'm hungover and tired."

"Yousortaconfessedyoulovedme."

"..."

...

Fuck.

"I mean! It was probably a fluke right? Drunk people always go confessing their love for random people, I know I have!" Remus looked...nervous? The world was too painful to look at for the moment to tell. But he was throwing him a line, so that they'd be able to forget it happened.

Well you know what? Janus was tired in two ways. Tired because he ran around a bunch last night and got drunk, and tired of pretending. So why not come out and say it.

"Actually, it wasn't a fluke."

"I- what."

This certainly wasn't the way he intended to go about this confession if it ever happened, but it would have to do.

"Due to your insistence on talking with me during classes, I've grown...fond of you. One might even say I love you."

Before Remus could get anything else out, Jan continued, knowing he was prolonging his inevitable rejection, but powering through anyways.

"And I while I doubt you hold these same feelings, I'd just like to clarify that I was not lying when I confessed to you drunk. So if you wish, we can both go about our seperate-"

"You dumbass! How can you be so smart and yet so dumb?? I've been in love with you ever since you talked to me about crabs!"

"Wait that's oddly specific-"

"It's true! And I'm gonna prove it."

Taking Jan's head in his hands, Remus looked for a nod of confirmation, before kissing him deeply before pulling away to breathe.

"So how bout it cornsnake?"

Hands looped around Remus, he only had one answer.

"Why not?"

[offbrand-outlaw]

More RDR2 HCs because why not?

Hosea Matthews, everyone's favorite dad, got his portrait taken with John and Arthur. He made the boys dress nice and comb their hair. Despite not really wanting to, the boys are smiling extra wide and had a good time.

Dutch was not having a good hair day, so he wasn't in them.

After a while both Strauss and Swanson also had their photos taken together. Strauss is pulling a poker face and Swanson is all awkward smiles and red faced.

The women in camp all got their portraits taken, with Jack, and it is still one of their happiest memories. When they did a group photo they managed to make Grimshaw laugh so hard she snorted and no one will let her live it down.

One time Charles, Dutch, Javier, Arthur, and Bill went out drinking and found Agent Milton having lunch with his sister. He made eye contact but only glared and ignored them.

They very distinctively heard her whisper to him, "See any cute guys you like?"

He looked them all dead in the eye and said, "I only like men with CLASS."

No one really paid him any mind except Dutch, who was very offended. He went back to camp and complained to Hosea for hours.

"No class? NO CLASS? Who does he think he is to insinuate that Dutch Van der Linde doesn't have class? I swear Hosea, I swear-"

Hosea stalks off to his bedroll, "Give it a rest, Dutch!"

"No one wants his mole rat face anyway!"

"Dutch," Hosea groans.

"I AM A GOD, HOSEA!"

Sean likes to do cartwheels around camp. Not for any reason, just because he can.

Lenny and Tilly like to get together at night and talk about their struggles with racism and their difficult childhoods. They like to daydream about how great the world will be in the future, when people won't be looked down on for the color of their skin.

Javier loves to try and teach everyone to play guitar. The only people he won't teach are Dutch and Uncle.

Uncle just argues that the banjo is so much more refined and likes to push Javier's buttons.

Dutch complains too much. About his fingers, about the notes, about the songs, about EVERYTHING.

John likes to play with his food.

Jack likes to play with his food.

Dutch plays with his food when he's upset.

Swanson has a habit, even before he went through hard times, to just sort of lay in the middle of camp. He'll just lay there and stare at the sky.

Sometimes Strauss just sorts of sits next to him and reads.

Whenever Swanson is on particularly hard times, Strauss will read passages from the Bible to him.

Charles and Arthur like to sit together and just chill. Arthur will draw in his journal and Charles with enjoy the scenery.

Pearson making meals that varies in variety? Wack. Pearson making stew every single day because no one in the gang likes change? Godly.

Everyone complaining if Pearson changes the stew just slightly? Guaranteed.

Also, everyone complaining about Pearson's cooking even though it's their fault? Guaranteed.

The camp will sometimes party too hard to a point where Jack will wake up and tell them all to promptly "Go to sleep!"

Here, have some more HCs that no one asked for! ❤

[chicagocityofclans]

Maxine Vanes → Lupita Nyong'o → Rat Animal Shifter 

→ Basic Information 

Age: 62

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight 

Born or Made: Made

Birthday: December 28th

Zodiac Sign: Capricorn 

Religion: Deism

→ Her Personality Max has always been secretive and closed off. She has strong opinions and will not let them fall silent nor back away from what she knows is the right thing. That’s normal for most rats but what sets her apart is her elegant stance and gracefulness. Despite being loyal to the Rat Clan of Chicago and having their best interests in mind always, Max disapproved of their secretive ways.  Seeing it as obstacles holding them back from making the world a better place, and uniting the supernatural world as it once was before humans became the dominant population. She sees every person for their actions and beliefs rather than assigning them a label based on their species or family reputation. Even with her duties as the Pack Fixer and Cyber Exploitation Officer, she consistently gets involved in conflicts for the good of other species, adamant to use her abilities to help those in need. Thanks to her position she is often able to negotiate nearly every social situation to her advantage. Her stance and headstrong attitude often have her coming to idealistic clashes with Jo, despite both having clear respect for each other and a strong friendship.

→ Her Personal Facts

Occupation: BOND - Pack Fixer and Cyber Exploitation Officer

Scars: None 

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Fashion and Bright Colors

Two Dislikes: Red Meat and Airports

Two Fears: Being Caught and Unknown/Poisonous Frogs

Two Hobbies: Programming/Scripting and Shopping

Three Positive Traits: Elegant, Sincere, Immutable

Three Negative Traits: Secretive, Unabashed, Opinionated

→ Her Connections

Parent Names:

Jamie Vanes (Father): Max does not remember a lot about Jamie, Trudy or Egypt. She tries to keep the tragedy of their deaths and her life as a human tucked away.

Trudy Vanes (Mother): Max does not remember a lot about her mother. She tries to keep the tragedy of their deaths and her life as a human tucked away.

Sibling Names:

Egypt Vanes (Sister): Max does not remember a lot about Jamie, Trudy or Egypt. She tries to keep the tragedy of their deaths and her life as a human tucked away.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Henry Dean (Ex-Boyfriend): Henry and Max had known of each other for years before actually speaking with each other about 5 years ago. There was some fluke with BOND and the two were pulled in to deal with the situation. Had Max known that they would hit it off like they did, she would have sought him out earlier. Henry asked her out for dinner at the end of their case and they dated for 3 years until Henry proposed to Max. Max was still unsure if Henry was the final answer and said no. Henry broke things off soon after instead of giving Max more time. Max and Henry’s relationship was private, Max is thankful no one has ever found out about the two of them or Max refusal of Henry’s proposal. 

James ‘Jim’ Montgomery (Something): When Max could not return home because she had no family to return home to, she found solace in Ray and Jim. They were the only ones Max would allow near her as she and Nick continuously bumped heads. Jim is usually the one Max talks to first when she is unsure on a subject before bringing anything to Nick or Mills. Jim and Max had grown a part throughout the years, but she still found comfort in him when she needed it. However, since the RED massacre, Max and Jim’s friendship have taken a turn towards something more. Jim kissed Max during a heated argument 6 months ago which led to them having passionate sex at the SKIN headquarters. They went about their day afterwards and Max gave Jim a few days to approach her but he never did. When Max finally approached Jim 3 days later for clarification they agreed to take things slow. Max has recently started spending the weekend at Jim’s place.  

Platonic Connections:

Josephine ‘Jo’ Floyd (Best Friend): Max met Jo only four years after Max was mistakenly changed when Jo was brought in from a rival pack that was abusing their woman. Their pack has always been diverse but for a while Max was one of the few changed African American females; especially one who was outspoken. Jo was a sweet relief, someone else that looked like 16-year-old Max, whose company was mainly Ray, Jim or Ben. While Max was already in training, Jo had just joined and had to start from the beginning. Max took to Jo like a moth to a flame. They were inseparable and still are. 

Conrad Kale (Best Friend): Max and Conrad have been friends for years, but their relationship had become a lot closer since Conrad second of RED and started attending meetings. They would sit together and talk after joking about whatever happened in their respective groups. Max was there for Conrad when RED was massacred and when Conrad was promoted to third. Just like Ray in the past, Max thought she was developing feelings for Conrad and wanted to act on them, but Henry asked her out the day before Max thought about making her move. 

Ray Hamelin (Old Friend): When Max could not return home because she had no family to return home to, she found solace in Ray and Jim. They were the only ones Max would allow near her as she and Nick continuously bumped heads. Ray became Max's family although she was not blind that Nick is Ray's only family. There was one point where Max was confused on whether or not she was romantically in love with Ray or if she loved the protector he had become of her. Ray and Max work side by side as liaison for their Clan and BOND.

Nick Hamelin (Unknown): Nick has always been hard on Max and in turn Max has given him Hell. Max had forgiven Nick a long time ago for the bite that changed her into a rat, but it has been clear to Max that Nick has yet to forgive himself. Instead of becoming the father and protector Max needed at the time Nick her enemy. Nick had threatened to kill her on numerous occasions. Nick had gone out of his way to embarrass her and degrade her worth. Max had survived his attacks and returned them tenfold. Everyone had ensured her that Nick saw potential in her and was only doing it for her own good, but she knew better. Nick either hated her or was intimidated by her. It took years of going back and forth but they have worked out somewhat of an understanding and friendship over the years. Max knows that Nick still believes that she has not forgiven him and tries to guilt him but Max knows it is Nick’s own way of self-pity and blame. Max cannot define their relationship but she does not hate Nick. She does not care for him either, at least, not in the way she cares for and loves Ray and Jim.

Mary Lang (Friend): Max and Jo took Mary out on the town a few days after Mary’s mom had passed. They helped Mary get dressed up, did her hair, and overall helped Mary become herself again. The three of them are incredibly close but Max enjoys her one on one time with Mary too.

Maya Morris (Friend): Max is not blind, she can tell that Maya looks up to her and sees Max as a role model. Max is flattered and tries her best to live up to Maya expectations. Max thinks Maya becoming friends with Mary and Conrad was a big step in the direction of personal growth for them all. 

Achilles Idris (Good Friend): Max was surprised when she found out that Achilles was Jaxson's older brother. Achilles is a sweetheart and Max enjoys his company. They have settled into an easy friendship. There is something off about Achilles but Max had put it off as Achilles settling in and trying to separate himself from Jaxson. Max has her theories but has kept them to herself and imply that she is always there if Achilles needs someone to talk to about anything.

Vincent Kane (Liaison): Max has only recently reached out to Vincent after hearing about the increased hostility between Clan Rat and the human shifters. Max knows getting on the human shifters ‘shit list’ would not be beneficial but no one seems to be listening to her. Vincent and Max have met a few times and Max is hoping she can talk some sense into Jim and Ray for results.  

Shannon Harris (Liaison): Max was happy when Ray told her that Shannon will be training as liaison. Max has been going easy on Shannon, helping her with the learning process and giving her suggestions whenever Shannon gets flustered or overwhelmed. They have been meeting outside of pack business for lunch.

Clara Fields (Contact): Max still does not know how Clara got her number, probably was Sam Thompson but everytime someone crosses the line at the Fields Hotel, Max gets a phone call instead of Mary or Nick. Max always helps out without much fuss and gets to the bottom of which rat is messing up. 

Churchill Darling (Contact): Max befriended Church by mistake but has yet to end whatever it is that they have going on. Jim has warned her against using Church as a contact but Max is hoping opening another line of communication with the human shifters may be somewhat beneficial. 

Lillian Pickford (Contact): Max has exchanged information with Lillian on multiple cases regarding the local supernaturals. Max would not call Lillian a friend but they are business friendly and professional with each other.

Milton Rod Jackman (Contact): Max is Milton’s contact when he is investigating supernatural events. Besides hashing out details or coming up with journalist coverup suggestions, Max and Milton barely talk and keep it strictly business.

Hostile Connections:

Jaxson Idris (Unsure): Jaxson and Max have never gotten along. Max does not know what it is about Jaxson but she couldn’t care less about anyone more than Jaxson. She has seen a change in him lately for the better. She isn’t putting her money in his pot and keeping her distance. 

Keith ‘West’ Freeman (Annoyance): Keith is a liability that Max does not understand. If anyone else would have pulled the stunts that Keith had, Nick would have had them by the balls. Keith gets zero sympathy from Max. 

Pets:

None

[moveslikebucky]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: lockdown - Freeform, Fluff, Pining, also a mouse is there, First Kiss, Love Confessions, the love language of wax seals, two months shouldn't be a long time for immortal celestial beings, but when you're pining, with art!

Everyone and their mother is writing a Lockdown fic and here is my contribution!  Featuring them actually staying apart for the full 2 months, Aziraphale having a lot of introspection and befriending a mouse, and little clips of Crowley sleeping away 2 months of time xD.  

My magical airplane friend @akinmytua2 did beautiful and amazing art for this fic and I cried about it a lot; so if you read this for nothing else go read it for her beautiful art and show her some love! <3 <3

---

“You know,” Crowley drawls through the phone, “I could hunker down at your place.  Slither over and watch you eat cake.  I could bring a bottle, a case, of something drinkable.”

And wouldn’t that be something, Aziraphale thinks to himself.  Some company right now would be lovely.  The burglars had been unexpected but not entirely unwelcome.  The thought of Crowley here with him drinking wine and watching him eat sends an all too familiar thrill through him.  

Things had been nice lately.  More relaxed.  Clandestine meetings were now just days spent at the park.  Lunch was no longer a means to an end, but something to be enjoyed together.  None of the rendezvous points had names anymore (except when Crowley was feeling particularly ridiculous) - they were just places that they visited together.  Gazes lingered, hands brushed over glasses of wine.  Crowley spent more time sleeping in Aziraphale’s backroom than he ever had in the past.  But, inevitably, he’d still wake up and go back to his flat - murmuring something about the plants on his way out.

“Hunkering down” seemed like a lot.  There was no way to know how long this would last at the outset.  Crowley could be stuck here for months.  Lots of time to get sick of one fussy angel; lots of time to remember just how much Aziraphale had done wrong by him.

Besides that…they’re living by the rules of humanity now.  Their own side - them and humanity.  That’s what they had agreed to during their long lunch at the Ritz all those months ago.  This is the important thing, to take care of them, even if it means being apart for a while longer.  They’d risked everything for humanity, to save them from the forces of Heaven and Hell (actual level of usefulness notwithstanding).  It wouldn’t make sense, none at all, to throw it to the wind now.

“No, I… I… I… I’m afraid that would be breaking all the rules,” Aziraphale stammers out before he can stop himself, falling back on that comfortable old pattern.  “Out of the question!  I’ll see you… when… this is over?”

He hopes Crowley can’t hear the sadness in his voice.  That he doesn’t do what he always does and circles back.  Tempt, deny, tempt, give in - their well-worn dance of centuries and millennia.  Aziraphale knows if Crowley insisted he wouldn’t be able to say no.

“Right.”  Crowley says with resignation in his voice.  “Um... I’m setting the alarm clock for July.”

July is so far away, Aziraphale nearly tells him to stop, to not go to sleep.  They can chat on the phone again, be with each other that way.  Spend time together over this distance with the sound of their voices at least.  He says none of this.  His coward’s tongue remains silent even as his sadness builds.

“Goodnight, angel.”  Crowley says in a voice soft as anything before hanging up the phone.  Aziraphale sits in the silence of the darkening bookshop and tries desperately not to imagine hearing that every night.

--

Across town at his flat in Mayfair, Crowley taps ‘end call’ on his phone.  He heaves a heavy sigh, setting a reminder for 10am on July the 1st and rolls over onto his side.  It’s not all bad, he’ll see Aziraphale when this is over.  Maybe he’ll tell him when all of this is over, the extent of these emotions that eat him up inside.  His eyes start to fall shut as sleep begins to overtake him, and he wraps his arms around a pillow pretending that it’s an angel.

--

Two weeks in and he’s getting sick of it already.  Aziraphale has a sweet tooth, of course, but there’s only so far that can go.  He’d really love to sit down to a nice plate of gravlax and dill sauce, or maybe a coq au vin.  Something luscious with a nice bit of umami.  Savory, earthy, perhaps a bit spicy.

For the good of humanity he is stuck here in the shop, so he peruses his cookbook section for something a bit more savory 1.  He misses restaurants.  He misses the waitstaff; someone else pouring the wine for you is always a bit of a treat.  He misses the clean linen tablecloths and opening a menu, starting a new journey of his own with every new establishment.  He misses getting to know the chefs, blessing them and their businesses.  He misses softly playing music and the chatter of humanity in a background hum around him.  He misses yellow eyes behind sunglasses across the table from him.  He misses clinking wine glasses together in a toast to whatever the thing of the moment is.  He misses a Cheshire Cat smile, mischievous but fond, flashed at him in these moments.  He misses…well, he misses a lot of things.  Best not to go down that road at the moment.  Nothing to be done.

He stops on an old volume called A New Booke of Cookerie , taking a second to smile to himself at how languages change and evolve.  He opens it and flips through for a bit, landing on a recipe for, of all things, pickled oysters.  “Halfe a pinte of white Wine, and halfe a pinte of white Wine vinegar.”   Oysters sound delectable.  Though maybe not pickled.  But maybe…on the half shell.  With some lemon juice and a bit of honey.  Mixed with just a bit of wine.  Briny and salty, that would be the ticket, just like-

Oh.

Just like Rome.  Petronius and those oysters; good wine and good company.  That had been the first of he and Crowley’s, well, he didn’t want to say ‘dates’.  Actually, he did want to say dates, he ought to say ‘casual friendly lunches’.  Right now though, in the still and silence of the bookshop, he can’t quite bring himself to care one way or the other.  

He holds the cookbook in his hands and thinks.  Thinks about the way Crowley’s long fingers curl around the stem of a wineglass.  About how open and unguarded Crowley is while he drinks his espresso, content to let Aziraphale eat his fill, wanting nothing for himself.  About how right now Crowley could be here, watching him eat cake.  

And Crowley had said that, hadn’t he?  Aziraphale hadn’t imagined it, he’s sure.  An odd thing to want to do with a friend, outside of an eating establishment at least.

He puts the cookbook back on the shelf and sighs, not feeling much like cooking anything now.  He has an old Milton that needs re-binding, he’ll distract himself with that for now.

Seven weeks left to go.

--

Snrrtt

In a flat in Mayfair, under artificial pitch black darkness (bit of a demonic miracle), a demon snores away.  He snuggles up to his pillow, arms still wrapped around it.  A faint mumble that could possibly sound like “Aziraphale” escapes from his lips as he continues to sleep.

--

Skitter skitter skitter

The scratching and skittering is driving Aziraphale up the proverbial wall.  Soon enough, possibly the actual wall, if that’s where he has to go to get away from them.

Currently, he’s on his hands and knees with a broom handle, arguing with a very stubborn little mouse.  It’s taken up residence under one of the larger bookshelves and refuses to see reason2.  All the mouse does is stare at him with his beady little eyes while he rubs his tiny hands together.

Aziraphale does not trust the tiny little hands.  Too much mischief.

He has his face pressed to the floorboards, one eye closed.  He can see the mouse there, sniffing at the broom handle.  He’s trying to be gentle, moving the handle slowly, trying to coax the little thing out of hiding.  “Come on then, little one, not gonna hurt you,” Azirpahale coos at it through gritted teeth.  “Just going to catch you and drop you outside, everything will be tip top then.”

The mouse stares at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale stares at the mouse.

The next events happen in such quick succession that they must be broken down accordingly:  The mouse, sensing impending danger, shoots forward directly towards Aziraphale’s face.  Aziraphale, sensing an impending mouse, jumps back and screeches in a high pitched tone that only occurs when one hits the high notes in some of the harder celestial harmonies.  The shelf behind him, sensing an impending angel, braces for impact as he knocks into it.  Twelve of the books on the shelf, sensing impending floorboards and being able to do nothing about it, fall with various thunks and thuds, most of them landing directly on Aziraphale’s head.

[Continue reading on AO3]

[nlvianne]

My Story

I was diagnosed with moderate to severe hearing loss when I first started school at 4 years old in the year 1989.  I only remember the things my family told me around that time and prior.  It's a very young age to recall everything and the memory does play tricks on the mind. When I was a baby testing for hearing was just not thought of, no one's fault.  It wasn't all that common.  I suppose I lived like a normal small child, playing with anything that struck my imagination, running amok.  In photos I looked like a happy child except when I was dressed in an outfit knitted for a boy.  My Mother said I would always watch the television and not listen to her when she called for me.  I'm guessing she called for me many times, explains why she's quite loud.  She said she thought I just wasn't listening to her.  Typical child behaviour.  My hearing or lack thereof just never registered. I was playing behind the barn at my Grandparents' house and My Grandmother was yelling my name.  I'm told she almost lost her mind.  She told my Grandfather she lost me so they both went around searching for me.  Apparently Nan said she was going to beat my ass for disappearing.  Pup said she damned well wasn't because I just couldn't hear them. The teachers in school noticed almost immediately and that began the testing.  The results were in and my parents were confused and a bit scared I think.  The school suggested enrolling me in a school for the deaf and hard of hearing in Amherst.  That was over 3 hours from my home.  I was told that my Grandfather was not pleased with that idea and demanded that I stay home learning in a regular school with everyone else.  I think my parents followed suit not sure what to do.  My Grandfather, Pup was the best this way.  Maybe it was denial.  Maybe he didn't want to admit to it but he didn't seem to think hearing loss could hold anyone, least of all, his Granddaughter back.  Or worse, maybe I was naive and didn’t want to know he was ashamed of this because I loved him.  I never thought of those things then, just that he was my gruff hero that let me sleep on his lap in the rocking chair and steal gum from his shirt pockets.  I have pictures of that. Soon I had my hands on a toy that would sit right in my ears and hook up a box called an FM transmitter so I could hear the teachers across the classroom.  This was made possible by the best group we had in the school system, APSEA.  APSEA assisted parents with costs of aids and funded tools like the transmitters, funded for special educators for the deaf and hard of hearing to come to the schools and assist in ways that a mainstream teacher would need extra help.  The organization was a godsend.  They enabled me to sit in class and learn with my peers mainstream and took me aside to learn more.  With them I would practice my speech by reading.  I would take extra time to write for proper grammar.  I had extra practice in mathematics.  Their main focus was my speech.  They kept me caught up and then some.  I remember my time with them fondly.  I was the only kid in Milton School they came around to see at the time. I was never picked on in school about my hearing aids.  In fact, they (classmates) loved the FM Transmitter.  I could always let them know if the teacher was walking back into the classroom so they could quickly get back to their seats.  Yeah, I was the lookout.  It was hilarious and gross when they went to the bathroom.  They were pretty embarrassed when I told them I heard them.  Ha ha.  They caught on quick and my signal was cut upon leaving the classroom. Carpets were also installed in the classrooms to prevent the chairs and desks from scraping, protecting my tender ears.  That was a lovely APSEA request. My Father told me that I kept asking him what a certain noise was.  It was a bird.  I never heard birds before that.  I don't remember this but Dad chokes up when he tells me. I remember taking a bath one time as a child and I wasn't adjusted to having hearing aids at the time.  I accidentally forgot to take them out and my Mother wasn't thrilled that they fried the moment I poured water over my head.  I can confirm that they indeed do not electrocute when introduced to water but they certainly do not survive it.  Every year I needed to have new moulds created to attach to the aids behind my ears.  Children's ears are constantly growing at a quick rate just like the rest of them.  It was a strange sensation to have that cold goop squeezed in my ear.  Felt like soft sticky earplugs.  Before they put the silicone in they have to insert small spongy things with long strings so they have something to pull them out with when they dry.  I giggle a little because it looks like I have tampon strings hanging out of my ears.  My APSEA teachers tried to make me understand that in my life I would encounter people who didn't understand or were not quite as tolerant as some.  They would encourage me to teach them, to spend a lot of time helping them understand.  I never realized how exhausting this would be sometimes.  My first assignment was to explain to my peers in front of the classroom about something that pertained to my hearing. It could be anything from the tools I use to my experiences.  I chose to explain the FM Transmitter especially since so many of my peers enjoyed tracking the teachers’ movements with them. After 7 years it was time to change schools.  The districts decided it was a more logical idea to consolidate all of the smaller schools.  Grade 6 was spent at the Dr. John C. Wickwire Academy.  It was my first and last year there.  Out of all the consolidated schools there were still only 2 of us that were hard of hearing that I could recall.  Even there the teachers seemed well adjusted to us.  There I made new groups of friends.  Some found me odd, others didn't care and a few hung out with me.  Again it was never an issue or a big difference.  By that point no one realized I was hard of hearing upon first meeting me.  I learned just like the rest of them, I behaved similar to them.  It wasn't pointed out until they saw the gear and obviously had some questions.  It was never a big to do thing. In the following year I attended Junior High and met a whole slew of mates with differences from Autism to Hearing Loss to Mobility Issues.  I met three wonderful people with hearing impairment/loss that I remain in touch with to this day.  I learnt a little bit of sign language from them and we had a great common ground.  It was pretty neat.  I was in a position where I had questions for them because their experiences were so different from mine.  One attended the school for the deaf and hard of hearing for the early years. We were a very lucky in the way we all were able to attend a school without much in the way of total exclusion.  Yes, we had separate classes and we had special needs that teachers didn't quite know how to handle them but we always met in the middle being in the same school.  I know there are experiences from others that I'm not capturing and I know they've had some not so great experiences.  This is why it upsets me to see how divided we are almost 20 years into the future.  We should be so far ahead but we've fallen so far backwards.  It really is a crying shame.  We were so, so lucky and I never realized that until the later years of my life. High School was much the same but we had yet again, more populace.  High School was even better because there was an open door policy.  We were permitted and encouraged to visit the special needs students, have lunch with them, even sit and do homework together.  Even in this point of my life I was still never made to feel inferior with my hearing.  I was only ever picked at for being a little nerdy but that was it.  Okay, a lot nerdy.   I liked Sci-fi.   I'm sure it wasn't all fairy tales and rainbows for most.  We all had our not so great moments.  And there was the odd time kids would poke fun at something.  And there is that good high possibility they made fun of me but I didn't hear them.  They say ignorance is bliss, they haven't experienced hard of hearing.  Ha ha! When I learned how my trio of HOH friends came into their world of semi silence and how others came into that I began to have questions of my own.  I had them before that.  It just wasn't important enough for me to ask and my parents already shared some details. (Ones I'm sure some would find rather ridiculous in this day and age!) The most prevalent explanation was that my parents had the same blood type and the family doctor speculated that was why I was born with a hearing loss.  Today we know that's a very ridiculous and ignorant answer as many parents have the same blood type.  But this was the reason everyone stuck with as it made some sense out of why the child didn't come out 'normal'.  I'm not resentful of this particular tidbit as it was made in ignorance in a past that we didn't understand.  Even now there’s still much we don’t fully understand.

 In high school and much after I didn’t show much outward interest in a romantic life and when I did I brought home extremely questionable individuals. I also didn’t have a high confidence level in myself.  My parents worried and considered me behind in my personal life, which I suppose I was. They always thought it was because of my hearing and I didn’t make them think otherwise.  I never considered it due to my hearing loss. I suppose they did because it was something tangible they could digest.  When I was older I found myself walking on eggshells around adults more than children.  Even today I don’t have a high opinion of myself and I explain it off as humble.

Most of this way of dealing with the discomfort of adults has been the most baffling and occasionally it has spilled over in my workplaces.  Most have been very well and extremely considerate. We’ve talked and joked about it without a hitch.  But sometimes there will be that wayward thing coming from the mouths of adults that will light my fuse.  Once I reached the point of contending with adults I became more sensitive and sore about things.  Suddenly my hearing loss became the white elephant in the room.  This is now the most challenging time for me.  

In my adulthood I suspect there were things my parents shielded me from which I haven’t fully been on the receiving end of.  My experiences as an adult are far different compared to my childhood.  That goes without saying but it wasn’t what I was expecting.  I’ve had a great life and I did quite well for myself despite my hearing loss/impairment.  However, I did not expect to be brought down by a few uttered comments by family.

I was told that I had become hard of hearing because I had too many ear infections which my parents didn’t take me to the doctor soon enough.  I remember having many of them and I do remember sitting in the doctor’s office waiting for antibiotics.  A child never told me this.  An adult in my own family did.

I was also informed that hearing aids have made me a bit lazy and not wanting to listen.  Again, by an adult.  Never by a child or a peer.

But the one single comment that took the ever loving fucking kick in the teeth and made me particularly ugly.  “Maybe if your parents didn’t have the same blood type you wouldn’t be that way.”

My Grandmother!

My immediate family member!  Not a child! Not a peer!  An adult that was my own family member.

I find this ironic now seeing as My Grandmother and I now share hearing aid batteries.  Some say Karma took a very good journey but that doesn’t help me to forget or feel better about that.  In fact, I haven’t forgiven that and I doubt I will anytime soon.

My Hearing Loss is part of who I am and has moulded me into the individual the world sees today.  In fact, I do not consider it a ‘Loss’ but a faucet which makes me unique in a sea of what we consider normal.  I would not be the person I am now without it.  I am just different.  There’s no need to advocate my difference through the thought of ‘making it normal’. I wish the world today would stop focusing so much on fighting the good fight with their protests.  We are not a political agenda to make you feel good about yourselves.  All I want is understanding.  That’s it. And maybe some money to pay off these overpriced hearing aids....

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 27)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25  Lewis POV 3

Part 28: here

MYSTERY POV

  Mystery watches his youngest charge, Vivi Yukino, strangle her new vehicle's steering wheel and is disproportionately concerned. Human emotional drama is an unfortunately common occurrence and, in his experience, rarely leads to any significant long-term consequences. Usually, its effects are fleeting and far beneath his interests.

  When had that changed?

  Mystery resists an inclination to climb onto Vivi's lap least he risks distracting her and causing an accident. Instead, he watches, somewhat at a loss, while she glares at the road, tense and obviously worried for her missing friend's wellbeing. The lack of room in the compact truck cab has Mystery squashed between the two humans, giving him a good view of both as they stew in silence, discontent rolling off them in angry waves. Lewis, equally upset by their third member's sudden departure, is staring obsessively at the note Arthur had left behind. Not a habit which denotes a healthy mindset from what Mystery understands. Fortunately, he does not have to worry about distracting Lewis, and he leans his full weight into the other. His leaning gets him a scratch on the head but nothing more. An internal sigh and a minor physical huff of exasperation. There is not a lot a dog can do in these situations aside from offer small comforts. The movement does have the additional desired effect of catching Vivi's attention. Her eyes flick in their direction. A few minutes later and they are pulling into a gas station.

  "Lewis. It's your turn to drive," Vivi orders, bringing the truck to a stop next to the appropriate pump. Lewis hastily hides the note and Mystery wonders who he thinks he is fooling with the action.

  "Sure. Sorry. Didn't realise we'd been on the road for so long. I would have offered sooner." There is some shuffling while everyone clambers onto solid ground, Vivi waving away the apology.

  "Don't worry about it. I kind of like it. It feels like I'm driving a tractor around with how high up it is. You know, when compared to the van."

  She holds the door for Mystery to exit. There is a convenient patch of grass adjacent to the gas station, and he knows what she wants of him. One of the few downsides to this dog form is the prerequisite that the humans meet his dog needs. At times such as these, he wishes that the youngest Yukino were aware of his true nature to save her from the additional, unneeded pressure. Luckily, Mystery is probably the best, most well-behaved, dog in existence because he's done and jumping back into the truck before Lewis has finished refuelling.

  "Where are you going?" Lewis asks after Vivi, catching her sleeve when she shuts the door on him and turns towards the gas station's attached burger stand. Mystery watches the humans share their small affectionate touches through the closed cab window. There has been a significant increase in this touchy-feely behaviour. Another indicator that all is not well.

  "I'm just grabbing breakfast. Lunch. Or whatever," Vivi answers, walking backward a few steps, "You keep filling her up. I'll get the grub."

  Lewis nods, "Don't get me anything with meat."

  "You're paranoid," Vivi snorts, moving away.

  "If you worked in a diner you'd be paranoid too. Not everyone is as clean as my parents," Lewis calls at her retreating form.

  "Give a wave when you're done so I can pay for the gas as well," Is Vivi light response. Mystery observes Lewis's dementor deflate the moment Vivi is out of sight. The tall human is staring blankly at the petrol pump, mind obviously far from the task. Mystery places his paws near the window ledge, drawing close to the glass to get a better view. He does not believe he has ever seen the human in such a melancholic state, slumped and drooping. Concerning.

  Ding. The pump clicks off, and Lewis does not seem to notice. Mystery, after another mental sigh, gives a loud yip to catch attention. Honestly, these human emotional states seemed to be as much a hindrance as they were a benefit. 

  Vivi returns not moments later with several packets of fries and three burgers, of which he is fed several meat paddies. All his dog food is gone with the van. It's not a terrible loss, dog food being a close contender for the worst part of being a dog.  

  As they return to the highway, Mystery can't help but admit that, as much as would criticise humans for their erratic and illogical behaviour, this disturbance has affected him in ways he could not have anticipated. When had Mystery lost that impartial distance, carefully cultivated and maintained over decades of human interactions? When had he started to care for the humans he had long sworn himself to? It has crept upon him like the summer fading slowly to autumn. All those blissful years spent pretending to be a dog and getting showed with attention and affection has blinded him to winters approach. This sense of attachment and concern is more binding than any oath.

  Of course, like many of his failures, it is only after the fact and long past the point of return, that he realises his blunder. Mystery cannot deny that he has grown to care. He cares not only for Vivi, a quirk he can attribute to duty, but also for her friends to which he has no obligation. Not only does he care, he cares immensely, about both their physical and emotional wellbeing. It is a grave misstep for a being of his longevity.

  Nevertheless, there is nothing to be done now but proceed according to his new priorities. It is a shame that he had not fully realised these priorities before Arthur's flight. Mystery, being the only one to have reason to suspect supernatural foul play, could have perhaps acted to prevent it. After Arthur's bright golden aura had simultaneously doubled in strength while also dulling in colour overnight, Mystery had been on the lookout for some form of interference. The sudden reduction of loving pets, riveting games of fetch-the-stick, and instances of Arthur chattering at him about his current interests,  also pointed towards Arthur having realised Mystery's secret. An unfortunate encounter with another being like himself fit somewhat in explaining the sudden aversion to all things supernatural.

  Mystery has been biding his time while he worked to discover the extent of the human's new knowledge. He had planned on pulling Arthur aside to offer an explanation, belay any understandable fear, and perhaps find a cause behind his changing aura. Now it is too late, and Mystery is left hoping that Arthur's abrupt exit is a result of human silliness and not something more sinister.

  "Viv, can you pull up a map to the hospital. I think that's the sign for the exit," Lewis's deeper voice breaks the silence which has been sitting about them like an itchy blanket for the past several hours. A quick glance at Vivi's watch tells Mystery that it is almost 5 pm and they have been on the road for almost four hours since their last stop. His dog body has gone stiff with disuse. Usually, he would play up his dog persona and whine for a break. Today, he lets the façade rest, if only minimally.

  "Oh yeah. Sure," Vivi pulls out her phone and begins typing, "We've been past the hospital a load of times. It's in the middle of town on the far side of Milton High. Near the university and that new research centre."

  As she talks, she pulls up the map, and, finding no space for on the cab's cramped dashboard, holds it out for Lewis to see.

  "I know," Lewis's eyes flicker to the phone and back to the road. The indicator for the turn signal is flipped on. "But I don't think I've ever actually been to the hospital. And this truck is harder to drive than the van, so there's more risk of me taking a wrong turn and getting lost."  

  Vivi nods in agreement, exhaling, propping up her arm so she can continue to hold the phone for Lewis, "You know, I bet this truck is close to the same weight as the van when you add up all the crap we carry around, but the van handles a million times smoother. Wonder why that is?"

  "Arthur does work on it obsessively. Maybe that has something to do with it?" Lewis points out before lapsing into silence his face pinched up in that strained way it does when he thinks of something unpleasant. Silence once again falls over the group.

  A traffic jam only servers to sour already frayed nerves, making Vivi jitterily and irritable and Lewis increasingly dourer. Thankfully, the negative vibes put out by the humans mostly disperses upon Vivi pointing out their destination fast approaching on the horizon. The pick-up truck, being too long for any of the hospital's provided parking, means they are forced to circle the block several times over. They find a rest space outdoors, and a five-minute walk from their destination. Mystery watches in slight bewilderment as the humans take exemptional offence to the setback. More erratic human behaviour. Concerning.

  The sooner they find their third member, the sooner all his charges can re-establish an equilibrium amongst each other, allowing his own worry and concern to abate. Then- after seeing to whatever supernatural force is interfering with Arthur-he can begin restoring his distance. As much as Mystery has adored watching this small group grow into a family unit, building their positive emotional bonds and being included among them, these erratically negative mood shifts are a harsh reminder that humans are as fickle as they are short-lived.

  Mystery releases a tiered snuff, allowing Vivi to carry him against her chest, to hasten the crossing of several intersections all crawling with various forms of transport. Humans did have a tendency towards packing themselves onto smaller and smaller plots of land.  

  "Excuse me! Mam! Madam!"

  Their entry into the hospital is barred by a thin man in uniform grey. The stranger steps suddenly into Vivi's path and Mystery has half a mind to growl in annoyance.

  "There are no animals allowed in the hospital. You'll have to leave the dog outside."

  "What," Vivi almost barges straight into the stranger, and Mystery feels her grip tighten slightly in irritation, "Crap. Right. Forgot about that."

  She swears again under her breath. Once again, Mystery is reminded of this form's disadvantages. Like the now fretting Vivi, he too forgets that dogs are often not welcome into human buildings.

  "You go ahead," Vivi is speaking to Lewis, who hovers to the side, "I'll take Mystery back to the truck."

  "You're sure?"

  "Yeah. Go find Arthur. That's more important. This should only take me ten minutes."

  When Lewis hesitates for a second too long she continues with a sympathetic hum, "I'll probably beat you to the room anyway, even with a head start. Hospitals are like mazes and your sense of direction is terrible."  

  A disgruntled but amused frown follows the joke. Lewis protests briefly, "That's a bit unfair. I only got lost once," turning. He continues into the building while Vivi spins, a few choice words of discontent directed at the still staring security guard, and powerwalks back in the direction they'd just come. They cut across several roads, dodging people and cars alike.

  It is not until they are back at the pick-up truck, Vivi having placed him on the ground so she can retrieve keys, that Mystery smells the tangy scent of a human who has had dealings with creatures not of this plane. A quick glance around and it is easy to spot the offending person. The man's aura is warped and stained in several places, and he's watching Vivi from several paces away. Mystery immediately lets out a small growl to alert Vivi to the potential danger. Usually, he would ignore such tainted humans, their presence, while not common, is hardly strange. Humans had an unfortunate tendency towards messing around with forces beyond their understanding. Today, with all the drama, he is on edge.

  Vivi's attention snaps to him and then to their surroundings in search of his enacted distress. The man, wearing a scuffed leather jacket and donning an aggressive expression, pushes himself forward upon their combined attention. Mystery notes the wrappings and sling, holding one arm secured, signalling severe injury.  The smell of blood and infection confirms his suspicion. With a significant amount of facial bruising, this man is looking awfully mangled in Mystery's expert opinion.

  "Hey. You got a moment?" The beat-up human asks in a gruff voice. Mystery growls from down by Vivi's feet to discourage any potential aggression. The action gets him a quick once over and nothing more.

  "Saw you arrive with that dude in purple, spotin the purple hair-do. He doesn't work at that weird-ass diner in Tempo, does he? Called 'Pepper and salt' or whatever."

  "Do I know you?" Vivi asks shorty, putting both hands on her hips, glaring.

  The action gets a grunted, "No. But you might know the guy I'm after.  Goes by the name of Arthur. That ring any bells?"

NOTE: Guess which character it is! Just kidding, there's only one supporting character left alive at this point (unless you count Claire the receptionist) so not a huge pool to guess from. Note to self: introduce larger supporting cast in early chapters.   Anyway, thanks for the comments on the last part it was genuinely encouraging to see people enjoying sections with heavier character introspection. I wasn't sure about this Mystery POV, so thanks again for giving me the push needed to finish it off.   On a somewhat related note, sorry about the wait between parts, it's that time of the semester where everything is due, so updates on this fic are going to be super slow for the next few months.  Trust me when I say that I'd pick writing fanfiction over work, essays and exam study any day of the week :(

Part 28: here

[loverontheleft]

Ready to Leap (Chapter 36)

AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. Chapters 1-35 can be found on my Masterlist.

Brendon x reader. Warnings: language and dirty talk, phone/FaceTime sex, toys. Pretty sure that’s everything.

Word count: 8.1k

-||-

“Ms. Milton, you and Mr. Urie were so cute at homecoming!” Jessica’s voice rings out through the morning chatter and all of the girls agree, their enthusiasm growing. Eric and Brian say nothing and the other guys in the class keep notably silent. “Eric, didn’t you think they looked cute?” Jessica asks pointedly, smirking. You’re at your desk and you close your eyes for a moment, praying Eric does the smart thing.

“Yeah,” he says noncommittally. You let out a sigh of relief. It’s as good as you could ask for, honestly. Jessica seems displeased with his answer but you hold up your hand to get their attention.

“A reminder everyone, I’m going to be out for the rest of the week due to my conference. You’ll be on your best behavior for the substitute, I trust?” You give the room a meaningful look and they all nod. “No party planning during class time?”

“Is there something worth celebrating?” Anna asks and you laugh and roll your eyes. “Just checking.”

“Yeah, you probably should have checked last time too,” Brian mutters. “Wasn’t even pregnant or married. Waste of a party.” Well, he’s half-right, you think.

“Shut up, Brian, at least you got cake,” Jessica shoots back. You try not to smile but it’s hard, so you duck your head and focus on taking attendance.

“Nothing worth celebrating, no,” you respond to Anna with a small smile. “So no party planning.” They mutter their agreement and you move on, walking them through their Dracula assignment for the next few days. The next class goes smoothly and when the bell rings, you make your way down to the band room. Before you’ve even approached the door, you can hear the drum set going.

The door is cracked from second block leaving so you slip inside, leaning against the wall of his office, watching him. He’s got his shirtsleeves rolled up and he’s working on something that sounds vaguely familiar; his eyes are closed and he’s deep in thought. You’re enthralled by the fluidity of his body, the way he instinctively moves and twists and pivots to create the music he’s producing. His eyes slide open for a moment and he sees you. He looks only slightly startled before he stashes both sticks and crosses the room to take you in his arms. “Baby,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “I’m going to miss you so much when you’re in California.”

You melt into his arms and bury your face in his chest, breathing him in. “It won’t be too long. I fly out tonight and you’ll be there Sunday, right?” You look up at him and he nods. “And then we’re taking Monday and Tuesday off and spending Thanksgiving Break with your friends at the vineyard right?”

“If you still want to,” Brendon says and he looks worried. You give him an incredulous stare. “I don’t want you to feel pressured to go hang out with my friends or anything.”

“Hey,” you say softly. “Hey. You okay? You seem down.” You rub your knuckles over his jawline affectionately and he leans into your touch, sighing. “B,” you coax gently. He shrugs and turns his head to kiss your fingers. “B, we don’t do this. We talk about our shit.” He sighs and cups your hand in his and looks at you glumly.

“I just have a bad feeling about State. Class didn’t go well today. It’s like we regressed easily an entire ranking. The kids are tense, I’m tense, it’s just -“ you cut him off with a soft kiss and he runs both hands through your hair, holding your mouth to his. You press closer, arching your back subconsciously to put yourself flush against him. One of his hands leaves your hair and snakes around your waist, holding you.

When you part, he’s looking at you so adoringly, like you’ve solved all of his problems just with that one embrace. “You’re going to be just fine,” you tell him. “You know that, right? They’re nervous now and you’re nervous now, but it’ll all be just fine. You’ve all worked so hard, you especially. You’ve written an amazing show and you’ve got amazing students to bring it to life.”

He sighs again and kisses your forehead. “Thank you, baby. I do appreciate you cheering me up. What brings you down here? Any particular reason, or do I just get to see my pretty wife?”

You give him a confused look. “B, we have lunch duty.” He groans and puts a hand to his forehead. “I know, I have a ton of stuff to do too, but at least we’re together, right?” You smile at him and he nods, hugging you again. “You ready to go? First lunch is almost over and we’re scheduled for second.”

“We’d better get to it then,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “And really, honey. Thank you. I do feel better.”

-||-

Your suitcase is flung open on the bed and he’s packing for you while you go over your slide notes. “Hey,” he says at one point, and you look up at him. “I love you. You’re going to be great.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “And thank you for packing for me. I knew I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute.” He grins and slides the suitcase over, crawling into bed and hugging you tightly. You wrap your arms around him, sighing happily when his lips move down your neck.

“I don’t mind in the slightest. Makes me feel useful and like I’m helping you. And every time you open your suitcase, you’ll be like, ‘Brendon, what the hell is this stuff?’ as you struggle to find something to wear.” You get out from under him and give him a wary look as you peer into your suitcase.

“That all looks relatively normal,” you point out, and he nods, grinning. “You were just trying to worry me?” You ask with a small smile and he shrugs, trying not to laugh. “That wasn’t nice,” you scold playfully, pouncing on him and tickling him.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, babygirl,” he warns, gasping through peals of laughter as you continue to tickle him mercilessly. “I will win.”

“You sure about that?” You tease him, making growling sounds into his neck and squeezing his hips with your thighs. “I feel like I’m winning right now. Not sure how you’ll- oh!” He’s flipped you over so you’re under him again and he’s biting lightly at your neck and collarbone, grinning as you shriek with laughter. “Okay, okay! You win!” You plead. “Mercy, baby, mercy!” He slumps on top of you and you’re both laughing and kissing each other.

“Toldya I’d win,” he mumbles, nudging your earlobe with his nose. “Toldya.” You giggle and cling to him, sighing happily. “I’m almost finished packing. We gotta leave for the airport in two hours,” he tells you and you nod, sighing. “You okay, love?” He looks worried and you attempt to reassure him with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m just not a great flyer. They make me nervous. At least for the honeymoon, I’ll have you. I’m going to be alone this time...And then crossing the country…and then giving a presentation to a ton of other English teachers...and not being with you...it’s all just compounding right now.” He rolls off of you and reclines against the headboard, gesturing for you to sit between his legs. You do and he starts playing with your hair idly, running his fingers through it. When you relax fully against his chest, he takes your left hand with his and holds it out in front of you both. “My ring looks pretty,” you observe and he nods, kissing your temple.

“Pretty ring for a pretty girl,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand now. “I wish I could take your stress away.” You shrug and tip your head back to kiss under his chin. “You’ll only be without me for a few days. And we’ll talk all the time and I’ll wait up so I can sing you to sleep and we’ll be just fine,” he promises. “You’ll be just fine. And,” you can hear his smirk. “I packed your vibrator for you.”

-||-

You linger in front of the security checkpoint, hugging him tightly. His arms are wrapped around your waist and he’s murmuring soothing things in your ear while rubbing your back. “You’ve gotta go, baby. You’re gonna miss your flight,” he tells you after a minute, still caressing your back and nuzzling your ear. He kisses you one last time, and you focus on fixing the feeling in your mind. Then, you nod, step through security, and look back at him warily, clutching your tote bag. “I love you,” he says. “Call me when you land. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say softly, following the snakeline through TSA. He stands there, watching until you’ve made it all the way through. You turn to catch a glimpse of him and he smiles reassuringly and raises his hand in a goodbye wave. Your phone buzzes moments later; it’s a text from him. “You’ll be just fine. If you get scared or nervous, just think about our first kiss. That always helps me. I love you, Y/n Y/m/n Urie.”

Your eyes fill with tears and you clutch your phone to your chest before tapping out your reply. “I love you too. Thank you.” You board the plane and settle into your seat, pulling out a book and praying for an uneventful flight. The seat next to you is empty and the row ahead of you has a young mother clutching a small baby who is, contrary to general expectations when it comes to infants on planes, behaving quite well. The child is peering at you through the gap in the seats and you find yourself making faces and waving at her the entire flight. The mom notices at one point and you pull back, apologizing, but she waves away your apology and thanks you for entertaining her daughter. The flight goes by quickly this way and you’re surprised and a little disappointed when they tell you to put your seatbelts on for the descent.

When you de-board, you head for baggage and then over to the taxis and shuttle services. You and Brendon talked about renting you a car, but you figure so much of your time will be spent at the conference itself or the hotel (attached to the convention center) that there’s really no point. He’ll rent the car when he arrives and you’re actually in need of a car. You grab your phone and text him. “Hey, baby! Landed and in a taxi, headed to the hotel. Call if you’re awake!” He replies immediately, asking if he can FaceTime you once you get to the hotel and you agree, sending him a series of kissing emojis.

The ride to the hotel is brief and you’re soon checked in and settled in your room, entirely unpacked into the dresser and closet. He calls moments later and you can see how tired he is, but he’s smiling once he sees your face. “Hi baby,” he says softly as you crawl into bed. “How was the flight?”

“It was not bad, actually,” you admit, grinning. “Plus there was a cute baby in front of me so I just made faces at her the whole time.” He smiles wider at this but changes the subject.

“Bed feels weird without you,” he murmurs, hand moving in broad sweeps over the place next to him. “How’s your bed there?” He looks wistful; not sad exactly, just longing.

You stretch out, considering. “It’s too big.” You roll onto your stomach, phone still in your hand. “Yeah. Too big. It feels like our bed, but it doesn’t because it’s too big - you’re not here.”

“Babygirl,” Brendon sighs, eyes closing. “I wish I could be there with you.” You nod and you both just listen to the other breathe softly for a moment, wishing you could hold each other. He opens his eyes and focuses on you. “You gonna be able to sleep tonight?”

You nod. “Yeah, probably. I’m feeling really tired.” You glance at the clock. “Baby, it must be late!” You try to do the math- you took off at 8:30 pm eastern and landed at 2:15 am eastern, which was 11:15 pm western - and the clock next to you reads 1:27 am. So it’s…”Baby, it’s nearly 4:30 in the morning!”

Brendon smiles before trying to stifle a yawn. “Had to make sure you got there safely and got settled. Not gonna fall asleep before I know my wife is safe and comfortable.” He looks almost offended at the idea. “Not a chance, Y/n. I know you’ve handled yourself for a while now and you don’t need me to make sure you’re okay, but-“

“Thank you,” you say softly. “It’s nice. I like that you worry. You care.” He tells you that of course he cares and you smile before smothering your own yawn. “You’re gonna sleep, right Brendon? I know you’ve gotta be up for school soon…”

“I’m gonna sleep in,” he assures you. “Not much to get ready for tomorrow, lesson-wise. I can get to school a little later than normal.” He shifts and you can see him pull the blankets up a little higher. “You’re gonna sleep?”

“Yeah,” you nod and yawn again. “It’s gonna be nice to gain the three hours.” You pause. “That is what’s happening, right? My body feels like it’s later than it is, so when I wake up at 7 am here, it’ll feel like I’ve slept til 10 am, right?” He smiles and nods. “You should get some rest, Bren,” you murmur, pulling your own blankets higher.

“Too tired to play, babygirl?” He tries to smother another yawn and rolls to his other side, the phone in his outstretched hand so you can see more of him.

“I think you are,” you counter, clapping a hand over your mouth as you yawn too. He grins and murmurs that he pleads the fifth. “Honestly,” you admit, “the only thing I wanna do with you right now is fall asleep.”

“We can fall asleep,” Brendon mumbles, eyes slipping shut. “Sleep, baby. I’ll talk to you in the morning?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, plugging your phone into the charger. “I love you, Brendon.” He tells you he loves you too and you’re both clutching your phones, eyes shut, listening to the other fall into a deep sleep. You wake up a few times through the night and panic when you feel how empty the bed is, but the FaceTime call is still connected and he’s letting out the most delicate little snores, more like a kitten’s purr. He mumbles your name at one point and you clutch the pillow you’ve been using as your pseudo-husband closer as your heart swells. When your alarm goes off, it’s followed by a cacophony of sound and your eyes snap open. you glance at your phone; 7 am with you means 10 am with him which means second block just started. The call is still connected and he’s in class; music appreciation must be starting and those kids are loud. He glances down at the screen from his podium and blows you a kiss before sending you a quick text that you look gorgeous when you’re asleep and he’s gonna end the call so you can both focus. You reply with a kissing emoji before dragging yourself from bed to get ready. It’s Tuesday and there’s nothing big, conference-wise, happening today. Instead, today is the day for the presenters to mingle and get to know each other before the “Leaders in Young Adult Literature” dinner this evening. As a presenter, you’ve been invited to that too, and while you’re not normally a social butterfly, you’re glad for the various “get to know each other” activities throughout the day. Hopefully, you’ll find someone tolerable to be your conference friend so you won’t feel so alone. Brendon is, of course, only a text or call away, but you don’t want to distract him for silly things when he’s got State this weekend. He doesn’t want to bother you either; almost every text either of you has sent in the short time you’ve been separated has started with “not urgent, reply when you can, love you…” and it’s almost always just been, from both of you, small love notes, or short anecdotes the other would appreciate, or funny pictures. The last one he sent you was Donald Duck seeing a family of ducks at Disney World and pointing at them in absolute euphoria. “How I feel when I wake up and reality hits me: you’re my wife,” he had captioned it.

Your smile was so wide it hurt a bit and you screenshotted the text and image together from your messages and sent it back with your own caption: “my heart is so full. I love you, Brendon Boyd Urie.”

It’s 8:30 by the time you’re ready to go and you double check your bag for everything you might need. As a presenter, you’ve made arrangements with the exhibition hall sponsors to have any books you’re given or you purchase delivered back to your hotel, so you don’t need to worry about an excess amount of tote bags. Wallet, chapstick, phone, portable charger, hotel key, notebook, a multitude of pens, and your Nalgene - in the past years, the convention host sites always have water purification bottle stations, and your motto has always been “Hydrate or Diedrate.” When you’re walking across the connecting bridge from the hotel to the convention center, your phone rings. His face lights up your screen and you answer eagerly. “Hi, baby!”

He laughs softly. “Hey, honey. You headed to the convention?” You tell him yes, you’re walking over as you speak, and he makes a soft sound. “Planning period is so weird, not having you within walking distance.” He pauses. “Not that I begrudge you going, of course.”

“I know, baby. It’s just strange. I woke up at one point last night and the bed was so big and I couldn’t find you and I had this moment of panic...and it’s like you knew because you mumbled my name in your sleep over FaceTime loud enough for me to hear and I suddenly didn’t feel so alone anymore. Still missed you like crazy of course, but it was like both of our minds needed the other - I woke up and you talked in your sleep. Even across the country, you’re in tune to my needs,” you say with a soft smile.

“Even across the country, I take care of you in bed,” Brendon teases and you both laugh.

“Speaking of which,” you practically purr into the phone, “I have a dinner for presenters at six and they said we’ll be out by eight. Will you still be awake?”

“Do you want me to be awake?” Brendon asks, his voice low and a hint of arousal creeping into his tone. “Because I’ll be whatever you need me to be, honey.” You smile and clutch the phone tighter.

“I need you to be awake,” you tell him. “I’m going to have some needs to which you’ll hopefully be attending.”

“I’ll be awake,” he murmurs, his voice going lower. “You know I’ll always be available to take care of my wife and her needs.” He pauses and you can hear his breathing quicken. “Especially if it involves kissing her, using my fingers to play with her tight little pussy, licking her sweet clit, or just fucking her like she deserves to be fucked - well and often.”

“Thank you, baby. I have some questions for you as to your current activities but I have to refrain since I just entered the convention,” you tell him. He laughs and tells you that whatever you’re thinking, and he groans a little, is probably accurate. He swears under his breath and hisses your name, making you pout. “Not fair, B.”

“That I’m getting off and you can’t or that I’m making you listen?”

“The first one. You know I love the second one.” Your eyes dart around as you step onto the escalator to go to the ground floor to sign in with the organizers. “I think I have to go, baby. I have to get signed in.”

“Once we hang up, I’m gonna call you right back. Send me to voicemail,” Brendon instructs. “Want you to hear me finish.” You agree, tell him you've got a break this afternoon, so you'll listen then, you exchange your goodbyes and I love yous, his a little more desperate than yours, and you hang up. Sure enough, your phone immediately lights up again with his name and you click the red icon, sending him to voicemail. You’ve got a break from 2 to 5 this afternoon; you’ll go back to the hotel and listen. Of course, Brendon has extended practice and won’t be available to take care of you, but his voicemail should be enough.

Your break can’t come fast enough; you’ve enjoyed your morning and met some great people and you’re not worried about sitting alone tonight - in fact, a group of you have already exchanged numbers and made arrangements to meet in the lobby so you can sit together. But you’re ready to listen to his voicemail because ever since the notification came in, you’ve been feeling tense and you need to come. The session you’re currently in ends, and it’s a flood of people exiting the convention center; you work your way through the crowd towards the escalator and head for the breezeway back to the hotel. This alone, combined with the book delivery, might be the best part of being a presenter. Other than the part where you get to share your knowledge and research with your peers and help them become stronger educators - that part is nice too, you think with a smile. You slide your key into your door and lean into it once it flashes green. It gives and you’re inside, crossing the room with purpose, dropping your purse and kicking off your shoes. You wiggle out of your skirt and panties and pull your shirt off over your head before reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. Fully naked, you walk into the bathroom to spray your hair liberally with dry shampoo and throw it up into a bun. This way, no matter much you play and sweat, your hair won’t need to be washed. Heading back to the bed, you stop at your suitcase and dig for your vibrator. Your hand closes around it and you get in bed, fumbling with your phone to get to your voicemail. His name with a blue dot next to it is right at the top. You settle back into the pillows and click, putting him on speakerphone.

His voice fills your ears. “Hey babygirl,” he purrs. “You on your break and back in bed? Hope you’re naked, hope you’ve slid those pretty panties off and are stretched out in that too-big bed, ready to play. I’m in my desk chair at school and I’m stroking myself with one hand, holding the phone with the other. Don’t wanna be too loud. I did lock the doors though, classroom and office, and the blinds are drawn in my office so I should be fine but...not taking any chances. God, you’ve got me so worked up. Gonna be on edge all day until you call tonight for me to take care of you. You know,” he pauses for a moment, “normally I’d grab some lotion or something, but I’m definitely leaking at the thought of you listening to this, whimpering and bucking against your vibrator, and I don’t even need anything; my pre-cum enough will let me go fast and hard. Wish you were here, Y/n, curled up on the floor, chin resting on my knees, watching me jack off. God, the way the tip of your tongue pokes out like you want to lick me, fuck, baby, I’d do anything to have you here, begging to taste me. You playing with yourself, honey?” His breathing is shallow. “You fucking yourself good with the toy I packed for you? I’m going so fast and rough on my cock,” and you can hear the truth in his words and the background, his fist sliding over his dick noisily, “thinking about you getting off to this. Want you to get off from this. Want you to come, listening to me come. Oh fuck, Y/n, I’m wishing you were here riding my cock, bouncing in my lap, moaning in my ear, begging for my cum. You want my cum, baby?” He pauses on the voicemail like he knows you’re going to answer. You answer.

“Yes,” you whimper aloud, hand flying as you thrust the toy repeatedly. “Yes, I want your cum, come in me Brendon, please!”

“I know you do,” he moans. “I know you want my cum in you, good girl, my good girl, begging for my cum. God, baby, squeeze my cock, go faster, fuck yourself on me faster,” he instructs and you clench around the toy and speed up. “And I’ll come for you. I’ll come in you. You want that?” You moan wordlessly, hips bucking sharply to take the toy deeper. “God, right there,” Brendon pants in your ear. “I’m gonna come; I’m gonna come in your tight little pussy.” You come hard as he does, both you and his recorded voice moaning in tandem. “Fuck, baby, take my cum, such a good girl, still riding me slowly, squeezing her pussy around my cock, taking all of me. That’s my good girl.” You’re whimpering and trembling with the aftermath and he’s breathing hard. “Jesus, Y/n, hope that was good for you too. I had the good sense to shove my pants down and take my dress shirt off; I’m covered in cum right now,” he says on the recording with a laugh. You whimper and keep listening. “It’s dripping down my fist onto my thighs, and some of it hit my stomach.” You moan and trace your lips with your tongue, craving his taste, wishing you could clean him up, lick his thighs clean. “Can’t tell you the last time I jacked off and didn’t come in or on you at the last minute. My good girl always takes my cum for me, keeps me clean,” he chuckles. “Call me tonight when you’re ready to play, babygirl. I’ll be waiting. Love you so much.”

You’re still moaning and breathing hard when you roll over and bury your face in the pillow. “Damn,” you sigh, texting him. “Holy fuck, Urie, you know how to make a girl come. Love you so fucking much. I’ll call you later.”

Dinner goes smoothly and you’re laughing and enjoying yourself with the friends you’ve made - these three women and two men are like your colleagues, only more intense, more laser-focused on literature and not your sex life. You wince. That’s not a dig at your coworkers, honestly, but since that night at the bar with Gina and how she witnessed you and Brendon reunite, your lunches have been filled more with trying to dodge questions about you get Brendon on his knees rather than actually discussing how you get your students to do their homework. This is nice, talking about your greatest, non-human love - literature. When dinner is finally over, you walk back to your hotel room, already hitting ‘call’ on your phone. “Hey babygirl,” he murmurs, answering on the first ring. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” you tell him. “But I have other things I’d rather talk about.” He chuckles and you hear him roll over in bed. “I’m still walking back to my room, which is my favorite number, by the way, 113, our anniversary, but you should start talking now, Urie. Get me going, baby.” You lower your voice as you make your way across the breezeway.

“Love when you ask,” Brendon sighs, and you hear him groan a little as he stretches out. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, honey. You’re gonna get into your room and you’re gonna call me on FaceTime. You’re gonna let me see you strip down and you’re gonna get in bed and tease yourself nice and slow with your fingers. You’re gonna let me see your fingers after you’ve played with what’s mine, all slick and shiny, and you’re gonna suck them clean for me. When you’ve convinced me you’re wet enough, I’ll let you bring your vibrator out to play. I’m gonna talk you through everything while I tease myself, cock hard in my hand. You want that, babygirl?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, crossing into the hotel. “Yeah, Bren, I want that.” He moans and asks if you’re almost to your room. “Yeah, almost,” you reply, a little breathless. “Almost, baby. Almost.” You’re walking fast and he’s groaning, telling you that he loves how you tell him when you’re close. “I meant to my room,” you tease and he laughs.

“Sure you did, baby. I know you did. But I also know it won’t be long before you’re saying the exact same thing in a much higher pitch, begging me to push you over the edge.” Your breathing hitches in your throat as you stop in front of your door and he must be smirking. “You know it too, don’t you, babygirl?”

“Yeah,” you admit, sliding your key into the door. “Yeah. I’m back in my room now.” He tells you he’s going to hang up and call you on FaceTime. Moments later, your phone is ringing again and you accept the call, watching it connect. “Oh god,” you moan when your screen is filled with the image of his erect cock clenched in his fist. “Oh Brendon, please.” He tells you to strip for him and you do, setting your phone upright against the pillows while you stand at the foot of the bed, rushing to get naked. He tells you to get in bed and you do, crawling back towards your phone, eyes fixed on his pumping hand. “Brendon, please.” His phone moves and he’s shifting; he comes into full view, kneeling at the foot of the bed, still stroking himself. He must have done the same thing, propped his phone up on the pillows. He’s breathing hard and his hair is a mess, falling into his eyes except when he grasps it and tugs hard, groaning as you whimper.

“Lay back, head towards the foot of the bed, baby. Prop yourself up with the pillows and leave the phone against the headboard. Spread your legs; want you to be able to see me but also wanna watch you play,” he manages, hand still going, albeit slower. You obey and grab the pillows, adjusting your phone. Once the angle is right, you toss the pillows towards the foot of the bed and fall back, spreading your legs wide for him. “Rub your clit,” he tells you, eyes slightly downcast, which tells you he’s fixated on the screen. “That’s a good girl,” Brendon sighs, watching your fingers roll. “My good girl knows how to tease herself.” You’re whimpering and moaning as your fingers move and he’s still stroking himself. “Your pussy nice and wet for me, honey?” You nod and he groans. “Show me.” You whine as you pull your fingers back and show him how slick they are. “Good. Lick them clean, really suck on them.” You obey and he grunts, hips flexing and you suck harder, watching the head of his cock force through his fist. “Thinking about sucking my cock?” His tone is knowing and you nod as you watch.

“Yeah,” you tell him, pulling your fingers out for a minute. “Always.” You sigh happily as your fingers slide back into your mouth and he sighs too, visibly trying to take control of himself. “Can I get the rabbit, baby?” You ask him innocently and he grunts again, fist speeding back up. He tells you of course you can, you’ve been such a good girl, of course you can get your toy, of course you can play. “Thank you, Brendon,” you whisper, sitting up and rolling onto your hands and knees to reach for your toy in the bedside drawer. “Charged it up good,” you tell him, and he smiles, telling you he’s proud of his clever girl. “I’m gonna use it now, should I keep it low?”

“No, babygirl, play how you want. I’ll keep up,” Brendon sighs, head tipping back for a minute. “Play how you want.” He brings his head back and he’s staring at you, eyes dark. You nod and bite your lip, turning it on low to start, dragging it across yourself, whimpering slightly when it brushes your clit. “God, you’re so wet,” Brendon murmurs, hand stilling for a moment as he leans over to get a closer look and supports himself on one forearm. “What I wouldn’t give to taste you, honey…” you moan and slide the toy into yourself, letting out a soft squeal when it stretches you slightly. “Feels good?”

“Well, it’s certainly not you, but it’ll do,” you moan, back arching as you push deeper. “I’ll manage.” He laughs and, still leaning over to watch you, starts stroking himself again. Without prompting, you shift to your hands and knees too, mirroring his position. “Need to see your cock,” you tell him, breathing hard. “Need to see what I’m imagining. Need to believe it’s you fucking me.” He groans and shifts slightly, giving you a better view of his slick cock. “Thank you, baby,” you sigh, arching your back so he can watch the silicone slip in and out of you. “You like watching?” He nods and his grip tightens as more pre-cum slides down his length and over his fist. “God wanna suck your dick,” you groan, licking your lips. “Want you to come in my mouth and praise me.” He groans your name and you thrust the toy faster, gasping. “Come, Brendon,” you order, and his hips falter in their pace. “Come for me. Come all over our bed, come all over our sheets. Come right where you fuck me so good so I can come in this bed, all over these sheets, pretending you’re fucking me good. Come. Baby, come!” You’re begging now and he gasps, groaning your name as he comes hard. “Look at you, so fucking hot,” you moan, watching how he milks his orgasm, fucks his fist, hot ropes of cum spilling over the sheets. “Oh, oh god, oh shit, right there, come in me Brendon, god, yes!” You’re coming too, shrieking and bucking against the toy, feeling your own climax coating your thighs. “Baby, yes!” You both groan and collapse once you’re coming down, rolling to the side to avoid the wet spots on the beds. “Fuck, I miss you,” you sigh, grabbing your phone and watching him. He runs a hand over his face, clearly exhausted and thoroughly fucked, glowing with his orgasm. You want to kiss him.

“I miss you, babygirl.” He stifles a yawn, brushing his fingertips over the screen. “I miss you so much.” You both fall asleep, listening to the other breathe softly and occasionally murmur each other’s names.

Wednesday and Thursday pass in the same way; you go to the conference and make your way through sessions and presentations and the exhibition hall, gratefully handing your card to different vendors, each setting aside a copy of whatever book, or books, they’re there promoting to be delivered back to your room later, courtesy of the convention staff. You have dinner, sometimes formal and arranged by the convention, other times casual and arranged by your new friends, and the night always ends with you and Brendon, panting and moaning and whimpering as you both come before you fall asleep on FaceTime. Thursday night he asks you to wake up slightly earlier the next morning, zipping his lips when you ask why. “Just an hour earlier, love. That’s all I need,” he promises. “It’ll be worth it. I know you’re presenting tomorrow, but it’ll be worth it.”

Your alarm goes off at six and you groan, fumbling with your phone. At some point in the night, the call ended. You text him that you’re awake and the FaceTime call instantly comes through. You yelp when you see Marissa and Josh and Stacy’s faces and you notice immediately that he’s not in frame. Suddenly there’s a settling of the camera as though it’s been propped up and he comes into view, moving until he seats himself behind the drum set. You scrape your hair back out of your face and wait. Brendon blows you a quick kiss and murmurs a quick count-off to the kids, tapping the snare gently. Josh is holding a guitar and Stacy has a shaker in her hands. Marissa is just standing there but you watch, entranced, as Brendon starts playing. You recognize it on two levels; on the one, it’s the beat he was playing Monday when you interrupted him. On the second, with the guitar and the shaker, it’s quickly recognizable as one of your favorite songs. He’s singing softly and you melt, falling back against the bed.

“Headin' up to Napa Valley,” he starts, and you smile at the lyric change. “For the Labor Day weekend show, I've got my hush-puppies on, I guess I never was meant for glitter rock and roll. And honey, I didn't know, that I'd be missin' you so,” he pauses and laughs a little, shaking his head. “I so knew,” he comments, before starting up again. “Come Sunday,” and you laugh delightedly again at the lyric change. “It'll be alright, come Sunday, I'll be holding you tight. I spent four lonely days in a brown C.T. haze, and I just want you back by my side.” He looks on approvingly as Josh works at the guitar, still singing. You’re entranced by his hands, and you realize you’ve missed part of the song in your fixation. “And darlin' I love you so, that's the reason I just let you go...come Sunday, it'll be alright, come Sunday, I'll be holding you tight. I spent four lonely days in a brown C.T. haze, and I just want you back by my side.” Marissa’s role is clear now; she’s harmonizing under him in a clear, sweet voice. He meets your eyes through the phone, and you blink back the tears. “I can't help it, honey, you're that much a part of me now. Remember the night on the compound when we said there'd be no room for doubt?” His voice rises with the intensity of the song, the lyric change feeling natural and perfect. You wipe at your tears, smiling radiantly. He blows you a kiss as Josh absolutely kills the guitar solo - you make a note to tell him later. You refocus, knowing your line, whether Brendon intends it for you or not, is coming. “I hope you're enjoying the scenery, I know that it's pretty up there. We can go hiking on Tuesday, with you I'd walk anywhere.” He eyes you expectantly, and you break into a huge smile. You knew he’d know you’d know.

“California has worn me quite thin,” you sing the line softly, your shaking voice blending with his on the next. “I just can't wait to see you again,” you sing together; his voice cracks with tears as yours does the same. You’re clutching your pillow to your chest with one hand, holding your phone, watching him play and sing through the emotions. You’re pretty sure Marissa and Stacy are tearing up too since Marissa is finding it hard to harmonize under Brendon and Stacy’s rhythm with the shaker is falling apart. He finishes the song, despite these issues, shaking his head with a smile. “Come Sunday, it'll be alright, come Sunday, I'll be holding you tight. I spent four lonely days in a brown C.T. haze and I just want you back by my side…” he brings the song to a close and the kids wave to you before stepping out of the shot. Brendon approaches and you see his palm as he reaches for the phone and then it’s his face, close up, and you can see the tears welling in his eyes too. “Hi baby,” he whispers, smiling.

“Hi yourself,” you laugh, still wiping at your eyes. “That was amazing. I love you so much.” He glows with your praise and repeats it to the students. They cheer and you laugh, sitting up in bed. “Can they still hear me?” He shakes his head, tells the students he’ll be right back, and walks with you into his office. The door closes and you sigh softly. “Good thing I took your advice and fell asleep in one of your t-shirts,” you tease and he laughs. “But seriously. That was...that was just incredible. I love you so fucking much. I cannot wait until you’re here.” You take a deep breath. “My presentation, your state competition, your flight, and then you’re in my arms.”

“And I have every intention of keeping you in mine for the next 24 hours after that,” he tells you with a small smile. “You’re under my skin, Mrs. Urie; I simply cannot be without you this long.” You agree, looking at him adoringly. “Which is not to say I’m going to keep you from further opportunities,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “You’ll take every opportunity that comes your way to highlight how brilliant you are. And I’ll either come along or I’ll cope without you and figure out new love songs to play and lure you back to me.” He winks and you laugh.

“Thank you, Brendon. Really. It means so much to me, you being so supportive.” He tells you of course he’s going to be supportive, he already knows how bright and caring you are; the rest of the world should see it too. “The world?” You look horrified and he smiles.

“You’re talking to teachers from all over the nation today, baby,” he reminds you and you go a little pale. “I’m sorry love, don’t panic,” he urges. “You’ll be wonderful. I heard you practicing in your sleep,” he confides. “You sounded great.”

You blush now. “Yeah?” He nods and you smile. “Thank you. I’m gonna go get ready, okay?” He nods again and wishes you luck. “I’ll call you right after,” you promise.

“I’ll answer, no matter what,” he promises in return. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”

-||-

The line rings once and he answers. “Oh my god, it went so well,” you gush, not even waiting for his greeting. “I went slightly over time and no one even cared or walked out; there were so many good questions and conversations happening, and oh my god I’m just - I am on cloud nine right now!”

“I’m so fucking proud of you, babygirl,” he murmurs. You glance at the clock, thank god it’s during your planning. “I knew you’d kill it.” You chat for a bit longer before he has to go for lunch duty - “they got the baseball coach to fill in for you and all he does is talk stats,” Brendon groans good-naturedly. “Thank god it’s Friday.”

“Call me tonight,” you request and he promises.

“We’ve got some celebrating to do,” he agrees. “Charge your toy, baby. I’m gonna show you how proud of you I am.”

-||-

Saturday morning for you means nearly Saturday afternoon for him; you’ve been texting back and forth all day whenever you haven’t been in sessions. The band performs in an hour and you’re keeping your next two wide open. He FaceTimes you from the stands, and together you watch as they march on. He confesses that he’s nervous. “It’s natural,” you soothe. “But it’s out of your hands. You’ve prepared them well. They want it. It’s going to be fine.” You fall silent as Marissa calls them to attention and then the show is underway. You both make small noises of approval at the same time and like always, your breath catches at the full company forward march. The trumpet solo at the end brings tears to your eyes and Brendon whispers that there are tears from the audience too - not band parents, either, total strangers. The band horns come down, the cadence starts, and they’re marching off. “I’m so proud of you,” you murmur as he switches the camera to look at you. “I’m just so proud. They were outstanding. You wrote that show, baby. You wrote that. That was yours, your idea, your arrangement, your music, your show, and that band, your band, just won State with your show.” He protests and you shake your head. “I’m not kidding. I haven’t seen the other bands but I know in my heart you just won. I know it.” He smiles slightly, not wanting to look too excited. He knows it too, you can tell. “I love you so much, Brendon. Call me for scores?” He promises he will, and you blow him a kiss. When the call disconnects, you close your eyes and pray. He deserves this. They deserve this. He deserves this.

What feels like forever passes and you’re wandering the exhibition hall. You went to a few more sessions but you’re feeling that scoring must be soon, so you’re browsing books. You don’t want to be in a session when he calls - fortunately, it’s 3 pm your time, nearing the end of the conference, and you’ve either been to every presentation you marked on your guide or you’ve met the presenter for what you’re missing and they’ve promised to send you their materials. Your phone rings. It’s him. You scramble to answer it, your face eager. His fills your screen. “Here we go,” he murmurs, flipping the camera briefly so you can see Marissa and the rest of the band leadership standing in formation on the field. She looks confident, you tell him, and he nods once he’s turned the camera back. “Baby, I’m so nervous,” he confesses and you murmur your confidence in him, watching his face soften. “Oh god,” he groans, eyes shut. Third place is awarded, and it’s not them. Second place is awarded, and it’s not them. “Baby, you don’t think-“ and he cuts himself off, sounding petrified. You assure him they placed. You know they did. They had to have. You saw them. You heard them. Even over a phone, they sounded perfect. The announcer is droning on about the talent and skill displayed today but despite all of that, only one band can be in first place; you’re praying and Brendon is pale.

“In first place, your state champions, is the Putnam High Marching Band, under the direction of Mr. Brendon Urie and drum major Marissa Wayford with their show, Heroes and Villains!” The announcer’s voice booms through the stadium and you scream before clapping a hand over your mouth, looking around and apologizing quickly as people stare. You head for an exit, needing to be loud for him. Brendon looks stunned before breaking out in the biggest smile you’ve seen since your wedding night. “Congratulations to Putnam High, Mr. Brendon Urie, Marissa Wayford, and all of the student-performers!” The announcer continues and Brendon is just mouthing ‘oh my god’ over and over again, staring at you, his eyes wild with joy. You tell him you told him so, and he starts laughing, running a hand through his hair.

“They need me on the field,” he realizes, and you tell him to go. “I’ll call you,” he promises, blowing you a kiss. “I love you, baby.”

He does call, eleven hours later, and you’re asleep but you’ve been waiting and had your ringer on, just in case. It jolts you awake and you answer eagerly. “I caught an earlier flight,” his voice says softly. “Will you open the door?” You’re stunned and you race to your hotel room door, flinging it open. “Hi honey,” he murmurs, hanging up the phone, and you launch yourself into his arms.

[drdanwrites]

Magical Office: Episode 7 - The Rumors Part 2

Hey guys! So here is the drama packed part 2! I didn’t have time to edit so hopefully it’s okay!!! I hope you all love it! Message if you enjoyed it! xxx

Episode 7: The Rumors Part 2

(Silence befalls Newt’s office as he sits at his desk, he writes feverishly and every couple of seconds stops and turns towards his open case. He takes a moment’s pause and listens intently. When he doesn’t hear a sound, he turns back to his work and begins to devote himself to his work again. Abruptly he is interrupted by the sounds of gagging and heaving coming from the case. The camera catches a small smirk briefly etch itself across his face. Quick as a flash, Newt gets up from his seat and walks over to the case.)

Newt: Good Morning Sunshine

(Mumbles in your voice can be heard in response which makes Newt chuckle to himself. He goes back to his desk to get a small vial of cool blue liquid and some odd looking leaves which were purple. Returning to the case, he calls down to you again.)

Newt: Come up here darling, I’ll get you something for that hangover.

(Footsteps can be heard trudging up the ladder from the case. The top of your head appears following in suit with the rest of your body. The look of you can describe how the rest of your night went. Your hair is all over the place and your eye makeup makes your look like a raccoon. Newt walks over to you and instantly braces a hand behind your head and then brings your forehead to his lips as he plants a soothing kiss. You lift your head and greet the kiss and you quickly move past him to your desk chair and rest your head on the table. Newt brings over his supplies to you and begins to smear the leaf and blue liquid on the back of your neck.)

Newt: There that should help you feel right as rain. (Newt gets up and brings over his sk chair and sits chair. He leans into it and places his legs one by one on top of your desk. He gets comfy for the story he’s destined to tell).

Y/N: Go on then. Tell us what happened last night.

Newt: Oh? What, you don’t remember?

Y/N: Ha ha… spill it Scamander? How embarrassed should I be?

Newt: Nothing too bad my dear, you left to go to the loo but you missed the door and passed out in the doorway across from it. Luckily, Bridget got to you before I did and I told her I was just passing through, which I think she bought. I swear no one ever goes on that side of the house but it must have been popular because a couple seconds later the Minister turned up and helped you.

(As Newt finishes telling the story, you faintly remember seeing two people in that hallway… they had been so familiar at one point. You remain lost in thought, Newt sees this and continues.)

Newt: Of course you wouldn’t stop throwing yourself at me once you woke up. So desperate for all this then? (Newt runs his hand up and down, highlights his body. You instantly roll your eyes and laugh.)

Y/N: The nerve!(You respond, your smile implying the joke.)

Newt: Milton must have had a fun night as well. He’s late for work.

(You stare at Newt with wide eyes as you sip on the tea he had conjured for you.)

Y/N:What? He’s never missed a day of work, let alone been late!

Newt: Bridget swears that the other aurors reported that Angelica hasn’t showed up yet either.

Y/N: Scandal! (You smile and look down at your tea, you are feeling almost fully recovered and you look back up at Newt.) Thank you, you brilliant creature.

Newt:You’re welcome, you lovely beast.

(You both sit together in silence while you both sip on your tea. The office outside is quiet as others are just as hungover. You are the first one to break the silence between you.)

Y/N: I had a really weird dream. For some reason I dreamed that I saw Minister Parkinson and Bridget leaving the bathroom together and they had definitely hooked up.

(Newt, who was in the middle of a sip immediately spit it out in shock. You look alarmed as well, not sure of the implications of what you had just said. Newt quickly wipes his mouth looks over at you. His eyes wide.)

Newt: Are you sure this was just a dream?

Y/N: Yeah, I mean… come on… I know Bridget has a crush on him but… them hooking up in real life? Please. I must have just subconsciously made it up.

Newt: You’re probably right. Weird dream though. Wish you’d dream about us like that.(He winks at you as he collects your empty tea cup and carries his own cup over to his own desk.)

Y/N: Never said I didn’t.

(Just then Bridget comes walking in and the two of you go to pretending that you weren’t just flirting with each other. Bridget looks back and forth between the both of you and looks into the camera and smirks. She walks up to your desk.)

Bridget: How are you feeeeling? You were SOOOO drunk. Like you had passed out in the hallway and I just passed by and saw you lying there! Newt had to help me after… he just happened to pass by. (She looks back and him to see if Newt has reacted to what she said, but he just continues to write on his parchment, ignoring the situation.)

Y/N: Yes, I’m fine, thank you for helping me out Bridget. Did you have a good night?

Bridget: Oh yeah, totally. Those parties are always wicked. Do you want to go grab lunch?

Y?N: Sure! Love to. (To Newt) I’m just going to grab lunch quick with Bridget. I’ll be back soon.

Newt: (Newt hardly looks up when he answers) Hmmm…Sure Ms.Y/L/N.

(Bridget walks about the door ahead of you and you quickly turn back to Newt and blow him a kiss, he looks up and pretends to catch it and smiles back. You close the door behind you. The camera zooms in on Newt’s face and he turns back to his work. His smile grows wider and he shakes his head, knowing he is most certainly falling hard for you.)

(At lunch in the break room, the camera comes in to find Bridget and you laughing at the table. Your lunches spread out having been half devoured.)

Y/N: I can’t believe Finnegan put that charm on the main bathroom. I could hear Hannah screaming when the toilet tried to talk to her.

Bridget: (laughs even harder) He’s been trying to get back at Hannah for breaking up with him for that new Auror Michael. I think that did the trick.

Y/N: Did you hear Milton hasn’t been to work yet today? Apparently they say Angelica hasn’t either.

Bridget: Well yeah, I saw them talking, they never left each other’s sides. Like, I heard they ended up hooking up in Claire’s pool house!

Y/N: No…way…! Who knew Milton had it in him.

Bridget: Speaking of hooking up… rumor is that Newt and you spent the evening alone together too!

(You quickly stop laughing and you try your hardest to not give anything away.)

Y/N: Why would you say that?

Bridget: Rodger went looking for you after Newt left with you. He said he went to see the other beast department workers and they said they hadn’t seen you both…. Where did you guys go?

(Bridget has a huge smirk on her face and she raises her eyebrows up and down suggestively.)

Y/N: I… I don’t know what you mean. After we left Rodger we went over to the other beast workers… he must have missed us. I left to look for the toilets and Newt must have noticed I was gone awhile and found me with you.(You hope your story carries and that Bridget doesn’t catch on.)

Bridget: (Bridget rolls her eyes at you.) I don’t see why you guys just won’t admit that you guys are together.

Y/N: There isn’t anything to tell, really. (Bridget rolls her eyes again and goes back to eating and drinking. The moment has awkward silence written all over it. You chuckle and continue) Actually, you’ll get a kick out of this… so I thought I saw Minister Parkinson and you coming out of the bathroom together. (You laugh hysterically) What a crazy dream right?

(The camera zooms in on Bridget’s face. She looks at you stunned but is trying hard not to show it, tilting her head away from you as she looks everywhere but your eyes.)

Bridget: Ha. How funny.

Y/N: I know. I’m sure you wish right?

Bridget: Yep. I sure do. (She looks down as if preoccupied with something) Ummm I just remembered I’ve got this thing, so bye. (Bridget runs out leaving you stunned.)

(The camera follows Bridget at a distance. She seems too occupied to notice as she goes out into the stairwell and makes sure everyone is gone. The camera stands outside the door and watches through a small window. Bridget gets out a compact quill and parchment paper. She quickly scribbles a note and folds it into a paper airplane and then throws it into the air. It suddenly takes and flies down the stairs with a purpose. Bridget paces back and forth with a troubled look on her face. Suddenly another paper plane lands by her feet and she instantly bends down to pick it up. She looks it over, her eyes seemingly darting all over the page. With a sigh of relief she puts the paper down and catches the camera peering at her through the window. Casually Bridget flips her hair and walks towards the door. The camera moves back to allow her to open the door and walk through. Her faces holds steady as she walks to her office and shuts the door behind her.)

(You finish lunch along and start walking back to your office when you see Newt and Rodger walking into the conference room with Biggles and Claire.)

Y/N: What’s going on?

Rodger: Not sure, Minster sent a memo around asking us to meet him in here.

(The three of you walk into the conference room to see Bridget sitting there waiting. You all take your normal seats, a space open for Milton and the Minister. Moments later Minister Parkinson walks solemnly. He closes the door behind him and sits down without any hesitation. For a second you all sit in silence as you wait for him to reveal the reason for the meeting.)

Minister: Last night was fun wasn’t it? Let’s all thank Claire for another excellent party. (He begins to clap and everyone else begins to clap with him awkwardly.) Though with parties come the after party gossip. It’s come to my attention that there are some rumors going around about potential non reported relationships. (Everyone looks around)

(Suddenly the door opens and Milton bursts in. His clothes are completely disheveled and look as though he was mugged on his way in. He lunges forward towards Parkinson.)

Milton: Minister. Please forgive me, Sir! I overslept! I OVERSLEPT!!!!!

Minister Parkinson: Sit Down! SIT DOWN! (He waves off Milton annoyingly. Milton quickly puts his head down and walks over to his chair and sits down. He tries to fix his hair by smoothing it out.)

(In the background, Minister Parkinson continues to talk about the dangers of gossip and rumors. The camera zooms in on Newt and you. You lean your head over towards Newt. He leans into you as well.)

Y/N: I’m a bit nervous about this meeting…apparently there is a rumor going around about us being an item…

Newt: Don’t worry… it’s fine. (He squeezes your hand under the table.)

Minister Parkinson: Let’s bring some of these rumors to the table and just lay it all out there. Let’s find the truth behind the lies.

(Everyone looks around at each other, not really knowing where to start. Rodger slowly begins.)

Rodger: I heard Newt and Y/N left to go off alone pretty much all night.

Newt and you stare at Rodger incredulously that he would stoop so low as to actually go along with this.)

Minister Parkinson: Interesting… has anyone else heard this?

(Everyone raises their hands, even Milton who sits next to you.)

Newt: Really… Milton?

Milton: What? I have no loyalty to you.

Newt: Right then…. I heard a rumor that Milton and Angelica have been sleeping with each other for years now. (Milton turns to Newt)

Milton: Now see here Salamander!

(The two of the them start shouting at each other trying to deny everything that the other is saying. You finally stand in between them and pull them apart.)

Minister Parkinson: Gentlemen, please! Come down… now… are the rumors true?

Milton and Newt:NO!

Minister Parkinson: See everyone, it’s not work appropriate to go around and accusing people of non compliant things. Now I think we should put all the rumors behind us and all move on.

Milton and Newt sit down and the room becomes quiet again.

Claire: I *BEEP* ed Biggles.

(Biggles groans and hides his head in his hands as the room erupts with groans of disgust.)

Rodger: COME ON BIGGLES!!!

Y/N: Claire! Omg!

Minister Parkinson: I’m dismissing this meeting before we get any more detailed than that.

(Everyone begins to pile out of the room quickly, trying to get away from Claire. Even Biggles struggles to get out of the room and he pushes people out of the way as he runs.)

(It is the end of the day and everyone has gone home. Newt and you stand outside your office door as he locks it. After he is done turning the key he looks down at you and smiles. You look up at him and he gently grabs your face inbetween his hands and begins to kiss you passionately. You wrap your arms around his neck for support and give into the kiss. A cough breaks you two apart as Minister Parkinson walks up to the both of you. For a moment it is tense and you can hear your heart beating in your ears from the kiss and from the nerves of this situation.)

Minister Parkinson: Newt… I thought we talked about this. Did I not as you please report this to WR? If people find out that this is real and not just a rumor there is going to be a conflict of interest. (He pauses) I’m going to have to fire Y/N.

(You are drowning in the beat of your heart in your ears. It is so loud that you hardly hear Newt’s exclamations to this decree.)

Newt: SIR! That is so out of line! Y/N hasn’t done anything to deserve such a drastic sentence. Where is this coming from?

Minister Parkinson: Newt, I clearly explained to you that you needed to report this to WR. I’m trying to protect your job. I mean no offense Y/N but I did explain this was needed if you were going to enter into a relationship with someone from the office. No exceptions.

Newt: (Newt is visibly angry) If you want us to go to WR and report our relationship, fine… we will…. Maybe we’ll get talking about the strange dream Y/N had… you know… the one where she saw you and Bridget together in the bathroom… I bet the whole WR department would love to hear about it… maybe even someone in particular?

(The atmosphere quickly becomes tense as the Minister and Newt stare at one another. Seconds slowly go by before the Minister responds.)

Minister Parkinson: Y/N can keep her job. Consider your relationship registered with WR, no need for paperwork. Good evening.

(The Minister walks away and Newt turns back to you, his blood still boiling.)

Y/N: That was so bizarre! Why would he just change his mind like that? Who is in WR that he doesn’t want to know about Bridget?

Newt: His wife.

END OF EPISODE

[papermoonloveslucy]

Lucy Flies to London

S5;E6 ~ October 17, 1966

Synopsis

Lucy wins a trip to London but when she misses the plane, she must sit next to Mr. Mooney on a flight to New York to make her connection. First time flier Lucy causes havoc that is then blamed on Mr. Mooney.

Regular Cast

Lucille Ball (Lucy Carmichael), Gale Gordon (Theodore J. Mooney), Mary Jane Croft (Mary Jane Lewis)

Guest Cast

Ben Wrigley (Unintelligible Ticket Agent, above right) was a British actor who appeared in My Fair Lady (1964) and Bednobs and Broomsticks (1971).  He also did three episodes of “Here's Lucy.”

Walter Burke (Cedric, Cockney Ticket Agent, above left) was a highly recognizable Irish-American character actor whose small stature and wizened features frequently found him cast as a leprechaun (a role which he played on more than one occasion). This was his only appearance with Lucille Ball.

Pat Priest (Flight Attendant) is probably best remembered as the second actress to play Marilyn on “The Munsters,” taking over the role from Beverly Owen, who left after season 1.  She currently lives in Idaho restoring and selling homes.  

James Wellman (Airport Traveler) made just a dozen TV and film appearances between 1962 and 1975.  

Joan Carey (Airport Traveler, uncredited) was a long-time background player and stand-in for Lucille Ball on “I Love Lucy” and “The Lucy Show.”  

Romo Vincent (Passenger #1,aisle seat) was a Broadway performer from 1942 to 1959. He later appeared in two episodes of “Here's Lucy.”

Maury Thompson (Passenger #2, window seat) was the director of this episode (and all of seasons 4 and 5) of “The Lucy Show.”  He started out as a camera coordinator on “I Love Lucy.”  

Joan Swift (Passenger #3, aisle seat behind Lucy) makes the first of her six appearances on the series.  Earlier in 1966, she appeared with Pat Priest on an episode of “The Munsters.”  Swift also did two episodes of “Here's Lucy.” Her final screen credit was 1975's “Lucy Gets Lucky” with Lucille Ball and Dean Martin.

Jerry Rush (Captain) makes the third of his nine (mostly uncredited) appearances on the series. He also did two episodes of “Here’s Lucy.”

Other passengers, airport travelers, and crew are played by uncredited background performers. 

This episode is also known as “Lucy Goes to London.”  It was filmed on Thursday, September 15, 1966.  It was designed as a lead-in to the following week's CBS special “Lucy in London,” which was filmed on location in England in May 1966, four months earlier. 

Although officially written by Bob O'Brien, former “Lucy Show” and “I Love Lucy” writers Madelyn Davis and Bob Carroll, Jr. are credited with “special material.”  This is because much of the scene on board the airplane was taken directly from an unsold pilot for an anthology series titled “The Victor Borge Comedy Theatre.”  

It was filmed just before the official start of “The Lucy Show” and starred Lucille Ball, Gale Gordon, and Norman Leavitt. The characters were unnamed.  

The night this episode first aired (October 17, 1966) Peter Marshall made his debut as the host of “The Hollywood Squares.”  Marshall had played Lucy's brother-in-law Hughie in “Lucy's Sister Pays a Visit” (S1;E15).  Many “Lucy Show” cast members appeared on the “Squares”:  Wally Cox, Nancy Kulp, Ellen Corby, Jan Murray, Jack Cassidy, Harvey Korman, Milton Berle, Bob Hope, Jay North, Ethel Merman, Gale Gordon, Lucie Arnaz, Desi Arnaz, Jr., Desi Arnaz, and Vivian Vance.  Everyone but Lucille Ball herself!  

Also on the evening this episode first aired, Lucille Ball made her last appearance on the quiz show “I've Got a Secret.”  She was there to promote her upcoming “Lucy in London” special by hosting a Carnaby Street-style fashion show of London couture.  

The premise for getting Lucy to London is that she wins a contest writing a dog food jingle. Lucy does not sing, but recites it:

I feed my doggy Arf Arf I buy it by the bunch. I know it's tasty dog food I eat it myself for lunch.

 It is hard to believe this would win a prize let alone a trip to London.  

When an excited Lucy leaves Mr. Mooney's office headed for her trip, she slams the door and glass panel next to it shatters.  Mr. Mooney sighs and say “And they think there'll always be an England.”  "There'll Always Be an England" is an English patriotic song, written and distributed in the summer of 1939, which became highly popular upon the outbreak of World War II. It was composed and written by Ross Parker and Hughie Charles, and a popular version was sung by Vera Lynn.

Lucy is flying out of Los Angeles International Airport (LAX) on British Imperial Airways, a fictional carrier.  

Stock footage shows the exterior of the airport.  In the opening moments of “Lucy in London,” the special that this episode sets up, Lucy arrives in England on a Pan American jet.  Presumably, during Lucy's transfer in New York, she switched carriers!  

When the flight attendant asks if there's anything she can do for Lucy, Lucy replies that maybe later she'll have some “coffee, tea or milk.”  This was an often heard phrase on airplanes as flight attendants did their beverage service. In 1967, just a few months after this episode aired, the book Coffee, Tea or Me? was published, the alleged memoirs of two 'stewardess' and their romantic and sexual escapades in the air.  

When Lucy is sitting right next to Mr. Mooney on her flight (not unusual for “The Lucy Show”) she says “What a small world!” Mr. Mooney replies that with her on it [the world], no wonder they are racing for the moon.  Although the US did not put an astronaut on the moon until 1969, it was the goal of NASA for much of the 1960s. In “Lucy Becomes an Astronaut” (S1;E16) Lucy and Viv were chosen for a women in space program.  

Lucy confesses that she's never flown before.  This must mean that her cross country move from New York to California was by car, although it is never overtly stated.

Callbacks!

Lucy Ricardo went to London (by ship) in “Lucy Meets the Queen” (ILL S5;E15) in 1956.  Once there, she, too, had an interaction with an unintelligible Englishman (Robert Shafto).  

Lucy Ricardo hilariously traveled by plane on her “Return Home from Europe” (ILL S5;E26) disguising a cheese as a baby.  

She also flew from Miami to Havana in “The Ricardos Visit Cuba” (ILL S6;E9), a flight that was a lot less eventful.  Both times, Desilu had a promotion agreement with Pan American Airlines to promote their clipper service.  Stock footage of Pan Am planes were used, although naturally the cast never left the Hollywood sound stage.  

Lucy Ricardo was later seen in an airport (though not in the air) in “The Ricardos Go to Japan,” a 1959 episode of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour.”  

“Lucy Flies to London” rates 4 Paper Hearts out of 5

[scasta]

My Mother’s Story - Sue Castaneda

What were the names of  your mother and father?

My mother was born April 14, 1930 in Caldwell, Idaho.  The daughter of Joseph and Leona Harris, she was named Shirley Lee Harris.

Shirley was the oldest of three children -- Shirley,  Bill, and then Linda. All three of them tell the story of how your Grandma would hold her little brother Bill on the floor, put Linda’s potty chair over his head and have Linda sit on it naked.  Much like hanging spit over your heads, right?

Shirley married Dean McLay – probably in 1947 or 1948.  She was pregnant with my brother Ronnie. They also had Randy McLay and Joan McLay.

Some year or another, a woman called Shirley (Grandma) and asked if she was Shirley McLay and was she married to Dean McLay?  She said yes and the woman told her that she was also married to Dean.  

Shirley and Dean divorced, and Dean spent six months in prison for polygamy.  He went on to legally marry the other woman and have some kids by him. Eventually, they divorced and the woman and Grandma became friends and would have lunch together on occasion.

Not long after this divorce, Shirley married a man with the last name of Gamble. They had a daughter named Lori. This marriage didn’t last long and when they divorced Grandma couldn’t afford to take care of all of these kids by herself, so she let the husband’s parents adopt her.

Lori lives in Vale, Oregon – an hour from Boise where Grandma lives -  and as close as live to each other,  Grandma never tried to connect with her.  She told me, “I know what she thinks of me.”  Randy knew Lori when he lived in Vale. Vale, by the way, is the town grandma grew up in. It’s about an hour or so from Boise in eastern Oregon.  Her parents built and ran the “Harris Motel.”  I used to love to go there! Thought it was the coolest place ever.  It had eight rooms with creaky beds and the metal shell-shaped yard chairs in front of each room.  My grandmother’s house was just old, but I loved the squeaky screen door, the old furniture and the coal stove in the dining room.  Whenever I read a book, this is one of the places I use for my mental scene of a house.  A few years ago, my cousins Rebecca and Pam got together in Denver and each of us drew a map of what we remembered of Grandma Leona’s house.  None of us could quite remember how the bathroom fit in to the picture.  Grandad – Jerry Lynn Chavers – was born on March 21, 1933 in Seguin, Texas to Merry Iva James Milton Chavers.  His father was so jealous of anyone and everyone where his wife was concerned, including hs baby son.  Iva told me that she was breastfeeding Jerry one time and that James Milton took him from her and threw him.  Later, they had my aunt Yvonne.  One night, Yronne tried to climb up into bed with them and JM threw a fit.  Grandma said she spent night in a corner with the two kids and a butcher knife to protect them.  They divorced but always had this love/hate relationship.  James Milton was in the Navy too, I think. Iva went on to marry Alton Hightower -- supposedly an Oklahoma oil man, but I don’t know.  Apparently, they were quite wealthy.  She was living part time in Texas and he in Oklahoma when she heard he was having an affair.  She drove to Oklahoma in the middle of the night and knocked on the door of her own house when she arrived. The “other woman” answered the door wearing Iva’s housecoat.  AB and Iva also divorced.  I never met James Milton or AB. I also never my mom’s dad Joe – he died three months before I was born.  My grandmother Leona was kind of boring, but Iva was the fun grandma.  She drank a lot though.  She and her sister Jimmie (Bertha) could milk a beer for hours!

[mikakomori]

Song No.1 - Chapter 2

So after f-o-r-e-v-e-r  I finally got down to write something for Song Stories again!  (I may have forgotten it existed.) That said Chapter 2 is rather short compared to the first chapter but well, better than nothing, I guess. Here are the words I vomitted so far: Ouverture Song No. 1 - Chapter 1 Also here’s the wattpad link again. Now here’s Chapter 2 then!

Chapter 2

Arriving on the seventh floor of the old office building Liz stealthily made her way to her desk. She wasn't a particularly organized person and keeping her workplace tidy wasn't her strong point either. Several pens were scattered on the desk, burying a dozen “Post Its” under them. Whenever Liz had an idea for an article or found out a new piece of information on the topic, she was currently doing research on, she would drabble it on a piece of paper and stick it on whatever free space was left on the table. Her boss, Meredith, would often fall into despair while trying to find something in all the chaos. Liz, however, always knew exactly where everything was, much to Meredith's astonishment. Well, it clearly helped that the young woman wrote everything in different colors, assigning one color per topic. So, one could argue that there was a certain type of system in all the mess. A systemized chaos so to speak.

Barely having sat down, Liz could already hear an annoyed “Achem.” behind her. Uh, oh. Of course, she saw me sneaking in just now.

Gulping she slowly turned around on her revolving chair and was faced with her boss who had a rather sour look on her face. “Well, hello there Meredith! What brings you to my humble working space right after lunch break?” I might as well try to play it innocent. Who knows, it might work.

“Elizabeth Glaze!”

Or not. Full name means bad news.

Clearly agitated the woman in front of her wasn’t in the mood for her antics. Scowling she started one of her lectures. Lectures which Liz had heard more often than she would’ve liked.

“You are late. Again! How many times did this happen this month now?”

“Uhm, I don’t know. I mean, who’s counting rea-“

“That was a rhetorical question!”

“…Oh.”

“Don’t Oh me young lady! You know I don’t mind you being late two or five minutes, but fifteen?! One could write a small column in that amount of time! And if I add up the amount of time you’ve been late this month – you could have finished writing a whole book in that time!”

Now that is clearly an exaggeration. I haven’t been late that many times. …Have I?  Liz wanted to interrupt her boss and explain to her that it wasn’t her fault this time, but she knew that interrupting a Latina when she was this angry wasn’t the best idea one could have. Something she had learned by experience – an experience she’d rather forget.

Normally, Meredith was a very chill boss. The Mexican woman in her late thirties gave her writers a lot of space in organizing their way of working. As long as one met the set deadline she didn’t really care on how her employees organized their work time or what they did to acquire their information. But the two things that ticked her off were tardiness and being unpunctual. Two things that fit Liz’s character to a T. How she was still alive and kicking at this point was a mystery to Liz. Maybe it helped that Meredith actually considered her her best writer.

“…you know I hold your work on high regards Liz.”

Ah, back to calling me Liz again. I’m save.

Sensing her boss calming down her tensed muscles relaxed. Liz hadn’t even noticed how tensed up she had been. But then again anybody would feel intimidated by a Latina’s temper. Although having settled down a bit Meredith wasn’t completely done with her lecture yet.

“But you always being late, it sets a bad example for the others. Especially for Violet.”

“Who?” Liz perked up.

“The new girl.”

“We have a new girl?”

Seeing the quizzical look on her employee’s face Meredith let out an exasperated sigh. “Liz I thought as a journalist you would pay more attention to your surroundings! Violet has been with us for three weeks now! She was assigned to cover the serial murder case in our neighboring town. The one where the killer abducts his victims before murdering them by slicing their throats.”

Slowly a look of realization spread on the brunette’s face. “Aaah! Now I remember! There really are quite a lot of murderers out and about right now. Really dangerous times we live in right now.”

Meredith blinked. “Yeah, well… Anyways, now that you remember Violet, what I was saying, you set a bad exa-“

“No.”

“Wait, what?”

“I don’t. I mean, I remember the case. But I still have no idea who that Violet girl is supposed to be.”

Meredith couldn’t believe what she just heard. “Liz! How can you not know!? Her desk is literally right behind yours!”

Woah, why is she so angry at me now??? I’m not required to be besties with everyone here. Besides I’m pretty sure I’ve never even seen that girl before. … I think. Well, at least I for sure haven’t talked to her.

Admittedly Liz was now a bit curious about the mystery coworker so she leaned sideways to catch a glimpse past her boss at the desk behind hers.

Huh?  “Meredith…” she started in a doubtful tone.

“Yes?”

“There’s nobody there.”

“What?!” Surprised the older woman turned around herself. And really, the chair where Violet was supposed to be sitting was empty.

Smirking Liz asked in a teasing tone “Meredith have you pulled a few all-nighters again this week? It seems your sleep deprived self fancied itself a new employee.”

By the look her boss gave the brunette after that remark it was clear that she was about done dealing with her so-called top-writer today. “Very funny, Liz. Oh, just what would I do without your comedic self?”

“Well-“

“Don’t comment on that.”

Damn.

“Anyways, actually Violet is over in Milton right now. Apparently another woman was kidnapped yesterday night.”

Oh, reaaally now. You could have said that before.

“Don’t give me that look. I just happened to forget about it for a second with you stirring me up like that again.” Meredith crossed her arms before deciding she’d had enough of Liz for the time being. “I guess I’ve wasted enough time lecturing you. For now. I’m afraid it falls on death ears anyways.”

Wow, someone's being sharp today!

“That said you better start typing soon young lady. We have to cover this morning’s events in tomorrow’s issue. I expect your article in my office in two hours.” With that her boss turned on her black heels and strode back to her office followed by a with fake enthusiasm exclaimed “Yes, Ma’am.” from Liz.

Sometimes I wonder whether I’m the only person here whom she actually pays attention to. I’d be happier if she’d decide to forget about my lateness too.

A sigh escaping her lips the brunette began working on the desired article. However, doing that meant she’d have to recollect the events from this morning. Meaning she’d have to go over her interaction with him again.

Now that I think about it… I wonder if it’s the same for Meredith. Is handling me equally irritating to her as dealing with that cop is to me?

Pondering about that possibility a tiny spark of guilt rose up inside Liz as she started typing on her laptop.

Have you searched for something deeper out of fear that life's a lonely road?

Have you roamed the darkest corners of the earth, until you're just a ghost?

*Song lyrics belong to the rightful artist*

[douchebagbrainwaves]

I'VE BEEN PONDERING KIND

And then there is the question of what probability to assign to words that occur in my actual email: perl 0. Only a few companies have been smart enough to realize this so far. Most struggles, whatever they're really about, will be cast as struggles between competing ideas. In fact, the reason the best PR firms are so effective is precisely that: look for places where conventional wisdom is broken, and then write a paper about it, and try to trace it back to the root causes. Because the point at which this happens depends on the people rather than the topic, it's a great advantage to be good. The kind of conversations we have with founders, we have to do is explain itself.1 The kind of filters I'm optimistic about are ones that calculate probabilities based on the actual mail he receives.

At YC, the culture was the product. Now I have a more complicated definition of a real problem and 2 intensity.2 There are worse things than having people misunderstand your work. But it's also because money is not the sort I mean. All other things being equal, they should get a good grade.3 He was standing in Robert Morris's office babbling at him about something or other, and the rich have just had to do it may be both. Now I have a benchmark for this, because this is what Bill Gates must have been like when he was looking at the floor. I could keep up.

Time gives us such distance for free. Why do they do this? So I recommend being good. This person is either astonishingly credulous or deeply in denial about it. Even so I can usually catch them.4 Ultimately it doesn't matter much which you use. Spam, and what constitutes a good solution. It was the perfect quality to instill in startups.

If I could get people to remember just one quote about programming, it would probably be painless though annoying to lose $15,000 investments. The best way to get great hackers to work on it. 9998 Subject free 0. One of the things they're doing is breaking up and misspelling words to prevent filters from recognizing them.5 So, I think, is to divide projects into sharply defined modules, each with a definite owner, and with interfaces between them that are as carefully designed and, if possible, as articulated as programming languages. Creating such a corpus poses some technical problems. I'll be able to watch your own thoughts from a distance.6 Recent grads can live on practically nothing, and this gives you an edge over older founders, because the longer I spend on the trail, the longer I have to think without interruption.

It was like being told to think than as sources of information. Even in college you get little idea what various types of work are like. For example, our PR firm often pitched stories about how the Web let small merchants compete with big ones.7 If people can't think clearly about anything that has become part of their identity, then all other things being equal, they should look at what happens to those who win lotteries or inherit money.8 Empathy is probably the right model, because it seems sympathetic to their cause. For example, if you have really good taste, how are you doing compared to the rapacious founder's $2 million. Anything deleted as spam goes into the nonspam corpus double. Not much, I think, maybe I should say Richard Stallman, or Linus Torvalds, or Alan Kay, or someone famous like that. In a society of one, they're identical.9 Work for us, the premise was, and we'll give you a place to think in.

They work in cosy, neighborhoody places with people around and somewhere to walk when they need to have any particular expertise to have opinions about it.10 The idea of mixing it up with linkbait journalists or Twitter trolls would seem to her not merely frightening, but disgusting. 08221981 supported 0. And because of supply and demand, they pay especially well. Free! Another way to figure out what to do with it? Ideally, of course. All makers face this problem.

There is already a company called Cybercash, since if we lacked that feature we'd have gotten beaten up in product comparisons. Just as houses all over America are full of the same words as my real mail.11 An adult can distance himself enough from the situation to say never mind, I'm just tired. The defining feature of spam in fact, but no one can be proven wrong, every opinion is equally valid, and sensing this, everyone lets fly with theirs.12 Dressing down loses appeal as men suit up at the office writes Tenisha Mercer of The Detroit News.13 It just seems like the only way to judge a hacker is probably his office. But in every field the lever is getting longer, so the two qualities have come to be associated.14 For a long time I felt bad about this, the better an idea it seems.

Notes

Users dislike their new operating system so much to seem big that they don't make an effort to be when it was cooked up by the time 1992 the entire period since the war on. If you were going back to the ideal of a correct program.

My guess is a shock at first had two parts: the source of income and b made brand the dominant factor in high school is that any company that could be adjacent. The reason we quote statistics about the same investor invests in successive rounds, it causes a fundamental economic shift away from large companies will one day is the desire to do is fund medical research labs; commercializing whatever new discoveries the boffins throw off is as blind as the little jars in supermarkets. On their job listing page, they were just ordinary guys.

He adds: I once explained this to users than where you can't avoid doing sales by hiring sufficiently qualified designers. Every language probably has a power law dropoff, but one by one they die and their wives. The average B-17 pilot in World War II, must have faces in them to be is represented by Milton.

Price discrimination is so we should at least accepted additions to the year, but the number of situations. 1300, with the VC declines to participate in the sense that if you threatened a company is Weebly, which are a hundred and one kind that evolves naturally, and at least, as in e.

No.

One of the living. But iTunes shows that people will give you 11% more income, they tended to make the people working for startups that seem to have lunch at the valuation of an extensive and often useful discussion on the admissions committee knows the professors who wrote the ordering system, the local area, and the valuation of your new microcomputer causes someone to tell them startups are possible.

Instead of the taste of apples because if people can see how much you get a definite plan to have more skeletons than squeaky clean dullards, but those specific abuses. Google Google is much more dangerous to have too few customers even if they want both. This has, like a core going critical. How to Make Wealth when I said by definition this will help you in?

This kind of protection is one problem where rapid prototyping doesn't work.

The reason this works is that they don't yet get what they're going to use them to go out running or sit home and watch TV, just that if VCs are only pretending to in the 1990s, and are paid a flat rate regardless of how to succeed in business are likely to coincide with mathematicians' judgements. But core of the subject of wealth, not bogus. 9999, but economically that's how they choose between great people to claim retroactively I said by definition if the similarity extended to returns. In fact the less educated ones come up with an online service.

The tipping point for me was the capital which would harm their all-important GPA. Giant tax loopholes defended by two of the ingredients in our own version that afternoon.

FreeBSD and stored their data in files. If they were. A web site is different from a company's culture.

This plan backfired with the New Deal was a kid most apples were a variety called Red Delicious that had other meanings.

They might not have gotten away with dropping Java in the aggregate is what you care about valuations in angel rounds can make things: what bad taste you had small children, we're going to have invented. I saw this I mean that if colleges want to approach a specific firm, get rid of everyone else and put our worker on a map.

From a company grew at 1% a week for 4 years. Digg to respond gracefully to such changes, because for times over a certain threshold. To be fair, the local area, and graph theory. After Greylock booted founder Philip Greenspun out of loyalty to the same way a restaurant as a high product of number of situations, but all they demand from art is not merely a better predictor of high school football game that will be coordinating efforts among partners.