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inforapound · 4 years

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The Devil Inside - Part 1

This was written to celebrate @fuchsiagrasshopper 200 followers. Congrats to you. This is not high literature, just a tiny-bop reader insert style romance.

Warnings - sexually explicit, hints of dub/con, possessiveness, love

Pairing - Ivar x Reader Prompt in bold.

There they were. The same unimpressed brilliant blue eyes. It was the second time that week you had seen them in the back parking lot at school.

The student car park was behind the main building where all those who either drove or smoked cigarettes congregated at lunch to sit in their cars, pump music, and yak. You didn’t smoke but had a car so hung out all the same. Students from neighbouring schools occasionally pulled in to visit, always staying in their cars and keeping a distance as these types of schools were full of rules and someone was always watching. That is where he fits it. The dark-haired guy with the cold eyes and the nice flat-black Camaro. Whether or not he was putting on airs, he looked dubious and the kids always hanging about his car were the shadier bunch in the school.

He had been coming around for a couple of months now and you had locked eyes with him once or twice. Maybe more. He always broke the contact first as if looking at you had been in error. Probably dealt drugs or something similar but honestly, you didn’t know. What you did know, with your sharp eighteen-year-old senses, was to keep to your side of the lot. Maintaining your flawless grades was your first priority with socializing a not to distant second. Plus, you had been single for less than six weeks so boys were not exactly a draw.

So… you thought nothing of it when Mark Hasting approached your locker when the end-of-the-day bell rang. Standing with your closest friends, Kim and Amanda, you were deciding on whose house to meet at after supper. Mark was one of those smoking-out-back-leather-jacket-wearing types but he was friendly with everyone so it wasn’t that out of the blue for him to stop by your locker and chat.

“What’s up ladies,” he smiled, looking rather fit for a guy who had never played sports. “Any plans tonight?”

Kim carried on loading her binders into her locker and Amanda gave a breezy ‘not sure’ shrug so you spoke up as Mark was a nice guy.

“Might meet up with some of the others at the beach by my place after dark. What are you up to?”

“Me and some of the guys are going to meet behind Macdonald’s at 9 pm. Go from there. Some boys from Claremont are coming. You should join?”

“Clairemont, eh?”

It was the other private school in the district, prestigious like yours but with the reputation for being wild. Amanda’s brother had transferred there a few years back for their higher-profile basketball program and she had bitched that her parents were playing favourites ever since.

“Yeah, okay, maybe,” you answered not sounding convinced.

“You gonna be driving?” he asked which surprised you as you were the only one with a car. Kim had one that she supposedly shared with her brother but you had maybe seen her with it twice.

“Well, I won’t be getting a driver’s license in the next 6 hours,” Amanda laughed.

“Fair enough,” Mark smiled. “So maybe see you there?”

Hmm. That was interesting and you wondered if Mark or one of the other outbackers were interested in one of your friends. The crowd you ran with were the popular sort; the academics, preps, and jocks. Not the smokers who hit the bong on the weekends but at your school the cliques mixed well. Unlikely hookups weren’t that out of the ordinary but you certainly weren't interested. Hell no.

----

The evening air was a bit sharp so you were glad you wore your white denim coat and blue jeans. It was nearly dark and you were with a group of eight or ten of your friends standing between parked cars at the playground not far from your school. The closest street lamp was out so the only light came from the radios playing in the cars lined up in a row. The music was just loud enough to hear but not grab the attention of the tidy homes across the street.

If you were being honest, you were bored and the night was shaping up to look like the previous few weekends. Deciding to have a drink, you grabbed a cider from the full box in your trunk, passing your keys and responsibility over to Kim. ‘No problem’ was her reply that came in the form of a quick nod. You had been driving her around for years so she didn’t mind.

The headlights of two vehicles rolling past and pulling in made you all turn and look and you immediately recognized both. It was Mark’s white van and the low-slung Camaro tailing close behind. Blue eyes was in there. He had to be and it wasn’t immediately apparent but you had some reaction, nerves maybe or just feeling a bit on the spot for brushing off Mark’s earlier invitation.

“Guess nothing was happening at Macdonald’s,” Kim laughed.

“Shocking,” Amanda added sarcastically, taking a drag of her cigarette and blowing the smoke in the opposite direction.

“Cause hanging out beside the jungle gym is so much cooler,” you droned, squinting at the now parked cars, noticing that the Camaro looked full of people.

Not letting your sights linger, you turned back to your friends, taking a few long pulls of your drink, and heard car doors open and close. The sound of footsteps crunching over gravel came towards you.

“It’s Amanda, right?” a girl’s voice called and in unison, you all spun around.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Amanda answered, in her overly cheerful voice.

Before you was a tall blonde girl, a little older than you with very distinct features; a small narrow nose and the largest eyes you had ever seen.

“I graduated with Lani last year at Claremont,” she explained.

Lani was Amanda’s older brother, a year and half older, popular but a total prick unless he needed something.

“I’m Torvi,” she smiled and you all nodded your hellos.

“Hey, we are headed to my boyfriend’s if you want to come? Have some drinks. Can’t blow the doors wide but you girls are welcome to come.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Kim and Amanda’s mixed replies came at the same time.

Knowing the plan was set, you took a few more drinks of your cider, finishing it off, wondering who exactly was in that car.

The tall blonde turned and began to head back but stopped and looked in your direction.

“You’re not driving, I take it?” she glanced at the empty you were returning to the box in your open trunk.

“For once, no,” you replied quietly.

“Ride with us,” she jerked her head in the direction of the Camaro. “The girls can follow,” she smiled and you felt caught-off-guard.

“That’s okay,” you smiled back. “We’ll see you there.”

“No,” her smile widened and she took a step closer, offering her arm for you to link up. “I insist.”

The Camaro was nice. Really nice. Classic with a black leather interior. It had the faintest smell of cigarettes, beer, and leather. A total guy car and not the BMW SUV’s you were used to. You like it far more than those. But the atmosphere was anything but nice. For you at least. A tall, rather serious guy had opened the door, folding the seat forward for you and Torvi to climb in. Her boyfriend, you assumed, by the way he smacked her ass when she slid past.

Mr. Blue-Eyes was the driver and when you settled back in the seat, you realized those nerves earlier had nothing to do with running into Mark. It was him. As your mom would say, ‘trouble with a capital T’ and being that close to him made you feel.....funny.

The ride was quick and the house you were heading to turned out to be only a few minutes away but it felt like a different neighborhood. They were mansions; the original estates in the area before it was all chopped up into lots and sold. The gates on the driveway were open and you drove up a long driveway to a beautiful Tudor style home set well back from the road. It looked about 10,000 square feet from the driveway and if it hadn’t have been for those cold blue eyes glancing up at you in the rearview mirror, you would have turned around to make sure your friends were still following.

Inside the house was equally as amazing; soaring ceilings and a gracious front entry, an incredible kitchen with a large family room off to one side. You settled with Torvi on a large leather couch and from where you were sitting, you saw that the French doors on the other side of the pool table led out to a massive back-lit pool. Homes like this weren’t that uncommon in your world but you still appreciated its elegance.

There wasn’t a parent in sight and no mention of one which struck you as normal. It was always the wealthy and unsupervised doing the most scandalous things. But no one there was doing anything scandalous. You were just there for drinks. Right?

Torvi handed you some type of boozy beverage and you were unsure as to why, yet relieved, that she had taken you under her wing.

Entering the room and walking with the help of some customized crutch, the Camaro driver headed straight for the leather chair on the far side of Torvi. He didn’t make eye contact with you or anyone else but you still felt noticed. The way he hustled made you think that you shouldn’t watch and you wondered if that crutch was the reason he always stayed in his car at school.

Dropping it onto the hardwood floor, he sank into the seat, immediately raising his hand and accepting a bottle from Torvi’s boyfriend who walked in behind, carrying a case of beer.

“I haven't introduced you,” Torvi raised her hand. “This is my boyfriend, Ubbe, and his brother Ivar,” your eyes flitted over to your driver but he was gazing at something, nothing, off in the kitchen. “And their other brother, Hvitserk is just outside having a smoke with his girlfriend, Margrethe.

Your eyes shifted to the French doors and you could see the outlines of two people kissing on the patio.

Okay, realization struck you. They were the Lothbroks! You had heard of them. Definitely. Just couldn’t recall what but you knew it wasn’t good and you probably shouldn’t be there. Where were your friends and why hadn’t Torvi told them your name? As if on cue, Amanda and Kim and the long-lost Mark Hasting strolled in, cheerful and boisterous and thankfully taking the pressure off you from having to talk.

Someone had turned on music and the other brother and his blonde-haired girlfriend came inside to join. A game of pool begun and you stayed on the couch with your friends and Torvi. Ivar remained slumped in his chair, giving the impression he would have preferred to be anywhere but there.

It was awkward. Torvi and your friends gabbed about the differences in schools and universities and you quietly finished your drink but, in a flash, it was replaced with another.

As always Mark was the most animated in the room, and Ubbe, who then seemed far more at ease, was listening intently to the details of how Mark’s father made so much money selling appliances. Kim was a good sport despite not drinking and joined in the conversation knowing many of the same people as Torvi.

You could have sworn Ivar scoffed when you rolled your eyes at Amanda who went outside to smoke weed with Mark and Hvitserk but when you glanced over, he was back to staring in the opposite direction and picking the label off his beer. It felt strange….. sitting in a room with lively people and you and he were the only ones not joining in. You weren’t anti-social but for whatever reason that night, or in that house, the atmosphere felt… heavy. It wasn’t the alcohol though; you were almost sure it was him. Ivar. Every bit of your focus seemed to be spent on ignoring him and for some strange reason, you felt he was doing the same.

“Whereabouts is the washroom?” you whispered to Torvi and she raised her hand to point down the hall.

“It's just down the...”

“I need another beer,” Ivar interrupted, his voice so much different than what you expected. It was smoother somehow, breathier. “I’ll show her,” his eyes flicked over to you as he grabbed his crutch and pushed himself up out of the chair.

Your instincts from before seemed right as his body language told you he did not enjoy people walking behind him. He moved with a distinct limp but it was still agile in a way, his crutch obviously an extension of his body. But his mood seemed troubled.

Christ, you thought, as you followed, he could have just told you where it was.

Through the kitchen, he moved down a long hallway lined with closed doors and you were almost certain one of them had to have been a bathroom. Just as your feet slowed assessing where you were going, he glanced back and jerked his head for you to keep moving. Ohh-kay……

Opening the door at the very end, he walked in, not looking behind. Stopping on the threshold you surveyed the room and there was no question it was his. It had the same dark wood floors and wood trim, a neatly made bed with navy linens, large windows, fitted with wooden blinds, bordered by matching navy curtains. The room was lined with furniture; a dresser, desk, shelves loaded with books but it was the framed picture hanging above his bed that held your attention. Behind glass was a charcoal drawing of a scraggly, long-haired, bearded man who seemed to be missing an eye. Nice room, you thought, but the art was a touch dramatic.

As he dropped down onto a couch and stretched his legs out onto a low coffee table, he pointed at an open door which you assumed was his private bathroom. Ohh-kay…. you thought as you tiptoed past him and into the bathroom, closing the door. Again, it struck you how clean everything was, even smelt good like some faint cologne and you hoped the thick wood door with muffle the sound of you peeing.

After washing your hands, and a lip gloss touch-up, you opened the door, not sure he would still be there. He was…. lounging on the couch, watching the tv on the adjacent wall. There was no acknowledgment when you re-emerged so you mumbled some sort of ‘thanks’ and crossed the room, heading for the door.

“Are you afraid of me?’ he spoke at your back making you stop and turn around. Aside from the glances in the rear-view mirror, it was the first time he had looked at you directly. And holy shit, was it ever direct.

“No,” you lied trying not to sneak a peek at his tight white shirt stretched over his muscular chest and arms. You definitely didn’t want to be caught staring at his perfect hair, styled in that ‘perfect hot guy way.’ Holy god, he was striking, incredibly hot with his square jaw and smooth tanned skin. You hadn’t fully taken it in until then…. when his piercing blue eyes held you frozen in place.

The angle of his chin shifted just slightly, and he subtly squinted making you think he was somehow pleased with himself. A sweep of goosebumps spread over your skin and you crossed your arms as if suddenly feeling a breeze. Was your stomach suddenly upset? Or, maybe it was your nerves clawing out your insides.

“Then sit,” he said casually, as he looked away and you detected the slightest hint of a dare in his tone.

Why? You wanted to ask but didn’t, wondering if he was trying to intimate you. One thing you did suspect was that his aloofness was only to draw you in. Funny, you thought. Wouldn’t work. You had to get back to your friends….

“Okay,” you instead answered and walked over, slowly sitting down, your body sensing the two inches of space between you. Great, it was a love seat.

Like the force of nature he felt like, he somehow read your thoughts.

“Get me a beer,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bar fridge next to the tv. What teenager had a bar fridge in their bedroom, you wondered, only realizing then that he had ordered you instead of asking.

If your eyes hadn’t scanned his crossed legs extended out on the coffee table, his crutch on the floor below, you might have told him to get his own…. but…you didn’t. Did he not want to get up? Was he in pain? Was it his legs or his back that hurt him? Maybe a knee? Was it from sports? Or, had he been in an accident with his car? The blank one. It looked fast and he looked like he drove fast too.

Slowly but with no attempt to conceal it, he let out a long sigh, snapping you out of your analysis and you realized that perhaps you were a bit drunk. But out of the corner of your eye, you saw him smirk.

“Get a beer for yourself,” he chimed as if offering a token reward for your obedience.

That was likely the extent of his chivalry anyway. Returning with two beers you handed him one not expecting and not getting any sort of thanks. His eyes stayed glued on the tv.

“Do you even like beer?” he asked, and it somehow felt like a dig.

“Yeah,” you answered taking a small sip.

God, you hated beer.

For a few minutes, you both stared at a music video, some ethereal, whining song, about a hunter in the night sung by an emo looking guy. It suited Ivar perfectly and the longer you listened the more uncomfortable you felt being there… alone in his room……essentially two strangers.

Mentally, you cleared your thought. “My name is…”

“I know your name,” he cut you off sounding annoyed.

It was getting even stranger and you wondered if your friends would eventually come find you….

“Pray to your god, open your heart, whatever you do, don’t be afraid of the dark.”

…the song played on and it felt like the tension was building but what could you say? You didn’t know him and weren’t going to make small talk. Just as the air seemed to be getting sucked out of the room, you shifted on your seat making him look over at you.

“What?” you said sounding defensive.

Without a word, he just stared at you. The skin on your cheeks began to warm and you felt embarrassed.

“Well, this was fun,” you pushed your hands down into the couch to get up but he grabbed your forearm. Gasping, your eyes locked with his blue ones, his brows pinched and his eyes narrowed.

“I thought you weren’t afraid of me,” he whispered and you noticed how much closer he was all of a sudden. Jesus, those eyes…. they were clear and cold yet somehow dark and felt bottomless. You just stared back as if hypnotized but it was the quick flutter of his lashes and a look of uncertainty that flashed across his face that had you come back to the surface.

“My. Arm. Please,” you articulated through clenched teeth, and you knew you sounded scared.

Tilting his head, his lids blinked again and he began to chuckle, flashing a forced smile and releasing your arm. Smoothly, casually, he leaned forward and grabbed the TV remote off the table as if picking it up had been his plan all along. Slamming your beer down, you stood and rushed for the door. You were fucking done with Ivar Lothbrok.

“See you at school, beautiful,” he called in a patronizing voice.

As you rounded the corner, the volume of the tv rose and the last words of the song felt foreboding.

“Cover your eyes, the devil’s inside.”

Next chapter

@youbloodymadgenius @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @redama @mdredwine @didiintheblog @londongal2810 @fields-and-fields-of-poppies @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere @blonddnamedhandz @hecohansen31 @naaladareia @gearhead66 @flowers-in-your-hayr @lisinfleur @geekandbooknerd @xbellaxcarolinax @edythofhastings @ivarsgoddess @shannygoatgruff @where-beauty-goes-to-die @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @snatcherheart @xbellaxcarolinax @lordsexmachine

#modern ivar #ivar au #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarson #ivar smut #ivar and sarah #ivar and reader #ivar imagine #jealous ivar

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smoakmonster · 4 years

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G is for Gadgets and Gimmicks {3/3}

A/N:‌‌ ‌Well‌ ‌folks,‌ ‌the‌ ‌conclusion‌ ‌to‌ ‌my‌ ‌little‌ ‌bookstore‌ ‌AU‌ ‌is‌ ‌finally‌ ‌here!!‌ ‌Sorry‌ ‌for‌ ‌the‌ ‌extreme‌ ‌delay‌ ‌in‌ ‌finishing‌ ‌out‌ ‌this‌ ‌series.‌ ‌I‌ ‌appreciate‌ ‌all‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌sweet‌ ‌responses‌ ‌to‌ ‌this‌ ‌fic.‌ ‌There’s‌ ‌just‌ ‌something‌ ‌so‌ ‌precious‌ ‌about‌ ‌fluffy‌ ‌Olicity,‌ ‌isn’t‌ ‌there?‌ ‌I‌ ‌hope‌ ‌you‌ ‌enjoy‌ ‌the‌ ‌wrap-up!‌ ‌Thank‌ ‌you‌ ‌again‌ ‌for‌ ‌reading!‌

‌Special‌ ‌thanks‌ ‌to:‌ ‌‌pleasantfanandstudent‌ ‌for‌ ‌this‌ ‌adorable‌ ‌cover‌ ‌art!‌ ‌

(Part‌ ‌1)‌ ‌(Part‌ ‌2)‌ ‌(Read‌ ‌on‌ ‌AO3)‌

***

com∙pro∙mise (v.)

3. to cause to become vulnerable or function less effectively

***

“Hey, the QR code on the door isn’t working, so do I still get the coupon?”

Oliver glances up from meticulously arranging rows of his latest mini-soufflé experiment to find a gangly teenage boy (probably a college freshman) watching him with expectation and just a hint of entitlement.

He frowns, stifling a sigh. “The what?”

This has been happening a lot lately. Interruptions. Deep down, Oliver knows that any form of interruption is a good interruption, that droves of customers, albeit annoying ones, do not detract from his work, but rather are the purpose of it. Strangers mean business. They mean another day where he gets to make payroll and keep his archaic practice of second-hand bookselling from dying out.

He’s not sure when or why or how his antiquated cardboard box of a business managed to draw this sudden influx of cantankerous college kids buried in cancer-causing gadgets, but he has his suspicions. Perhaps it has something to do with this QR...something? While Oliver may not understand ninety-percent of the latest digital discourse, he does know what a coupon is. And he’s pretty sure he would remember issuing said coupon.

As though the fringes of his very thoughts have pulled her forth by a string, the oh-so-familiar staccato of heels on old wood flooring tears Oliver’s attention.

“I’ve got this,” Felicity says brightly, with a brief hand on his arm. She inserts herself into the conversation with ease, brushing past Oliver to smooth things over with the impatient customer.

Her touch is so quick that for a second he thinks he might have imagined it. Only the warm buzzing just below the surface of skin is proof that it was real. In truth, her touch has become a more regular occurrence. This marks at least Number 10. Not that he’s keeping track. Not that his body even remembers. Every reaction is like the first time.

Simple, innocent little touches that cause his mind to stray to dangerous places. She probably has no idea the effect she has on him.

Felicity suddenly peeks his way and shoots him a quick wink. Or more like her attempt a wink. The squinty-eyed delayed blink is so endearingly Felicity that Oliver has never had the desire to correct her.

So maybe she has some idea.

Oliver shakes his head with a soft smile. He’s not sure when this happened, either, but somewhere along the way Felicity and he stopped exchanging the usual social greetings and formal pleasantries. Now, she just barges into his store with as much zeal and belonging as Thea.

The conversion taking place directly in front of him quickly devolves into Domain Lookup and Cloud Networking, and a mere five sentences in Oliver finds himself on the periphery. Feeling inept and oddly foolish, as he so often does in the presence of Felicity Smoak, and yet also a bit bereft that this kid can keep up with her whirlwind trail of thoughts and he cannot, Oliver decides to venture into the nonfiction recesses of the store. The only safe haven he has left apparently.

Oliver finds himself gravitating towards the cramped little nook nestled alongside the brick fireplace that’s been inoperable since Plymouth Rock (Thea’s words, not his). Last year on a whim, Oliver tried cleaning out the old fireplace and ended up drowning himself and the entire back of the store in soot. He spent days washing soot out his hair. Thea got a real kick out of that, dubbing the incident Gray Day.

Even now, it is not uncommon for the occasional customer to find a book sprinkled with the stuff and mistake it for dust.

The conversation up front grows muffled, lending a calm stillness to this part of the store. Hardly anyone ever ventures back here, partly because the aisles are more narrow and the lighting is poor, and partly because according to Rene it smells like a murder happened here. As if the kid knows what a murder smells like.

Personally, Oliver kind of likes the pine and leather aroma. It reminds him of simpler times, when Dad and he would go camping in the woods every summer. Oliver chuckles, remembering what a poor sport he could be and how patiently Dad taught him how to start a fire and set up a tent. He’d give anything to get more days like that with his father. More days at all, really.

What would it be like to get away like that again? Even just for a weekend? To go somewhere off-grid, no cell reception, no emails, no internet or WiFi or QR Codes or...

A flash of yellow binding catches his eye, and Oliver spots a book haphazardly stuffed on the third shelf. Carefully, he yanks the book out and reads the cover. Beginning Programming for Dummies.

A huff escapes him. It seems he can’t get away fast enough.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Oliver flips through the book, hopelessly searching, but not really wanting anything to stick. Maybe something in here will remind him of Felicity. Maybe if he can find even one word embedded in all these hieroglyphics, he’ll be able to make more sense of her world and actually be able to communicate with her about the things that are important to her.

But with every turn of the page, every heading and diagram just serves to confuse him all the more. With a frustrated groan, Oliver slams the book shut and attempts to shove it back into its tight crevice; at this point, he couldn’t care less if the book’s misshelved.

“Hey, what did that book ever do to you?”

Oliver stills. Her voice both jars and soothes him.

Feeling strangely guilty, he turns around but has trouble meeting her gaze, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as though he’s been caught cutting up in Mrs. Hannoven’s fourth grade class again. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Felicity tips her head, wearing that adorably confused pout of hers. “I’m not sure I’m the one who needs you to apologize.”

“Oh. Um…” Does she seriously want him to apologize to a book?

“What I mean is…” She takes several steps closer to him and has the decency of a saint to wait until he’s looking her in the eye before she continues. “Oliver, I’m sorry.”

“What?” What on earth could she possibly have to be sorry for?

“I shouldn’t have pushed for the QR codes. I knew it was too soon, but I just got so excited after all of my contacts agreed to help sponsor your website. And then, during a webinar last Thursday there was this study that said QR codes can help increase foot traffic by upwards of 30%. And I thought, ‘Hey, that seems like it could work for my friend Oliver’—I hope it’s not too presumptuous that I called you my friend. We are friends, right? Of course we’re friends, what else would we be? It’s not like we’re exactly colleagues or anything—”

“Felicity.” He rests his hands on her shoulders, effectively halting her ramble, a tried and true tact. And if she happens to shift a bit closer to him as a result, well, who is he to stop her?

He likes this about them. That in this one, predictable way he can give her the same sense of quiet security she gives him.

“Yes, we are friends,” he says, giving her a slight smile, the finality of the word friends sinking into his gut. After all, it’s like she said. What else could they be? She is so many leagues out of his league. He's t-ball, and she's the Seattle Mariners. He doesn’t even own a digital watch, much less a smart watch. What could she possibly want with a guy like him?

Clearing his throat, Oliver moves on, “And I don’t know if I’ve said this to you yet, but...thank you. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done to help me out here.”

“Really?” That tentative, searching look makes him want to pull her close and wrap her up in his arms. She only wears that look when she’s seeking approval. She wears it a lot around him. Though why she’s still aching for his approval is beyond him. She’s had his approval and more since that first rainy Sunday.

“Yeah. Although I do have to ask…”

Felicity raises her eyebrows.

“When did I start offering coupons?”

“Oh. Um...since last week?”

“Uh-huh,” he nods, not wanting to cave just yet but secretly pleased. It’s a smart ploy, even if it was never part of his original plan. So much of their relationship and business schemes are way outside the bounds of his original plans. And he’s a better person for it.

Looking a little too pleased with herself, Felicity reaches into her pocket, pulls out a slip of memo pad paper, and hands it to him.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a list of all the computer science books you need to stock up on before the Starling University summer quarter starts up. There’s an Advanced Algorithms course that’s only offered once a year, and I have it on good authority that the college bookstore never carries enough textbooks. And let’s be honest, your computer science section is lacking. Pretty much all of your STEM material, actually.”

Oliver huffs a laugh. “What are you, my sales rep?”

“I could be.” She gives him a knowing look, telling him he can either waste time arguing with her about this or just accept the inevitable.

And after altering all the basic mechanics of his store, what are a few additional books really going to do?

“In the meantime, let’s see this little guy back to his proper home.” Felicity proceeds to extricate his paperback nemesis and saunter further down the narrow aisle, looking for the right Dewey Decimal destination.

“I also think we should advertise at the grad school,” she calls over her shoulder.

“We?” he replies, following her down the aisle.

“Yeah, bring in some study groups. Do you know there is a perfectly good History and English Literature study hall that meets at the Starbucks around the corner, when they could be meeting here?”

“No. No. I don’t do study groups.” He’s caved on a lot of things, but there has to be a line somewhere. And so help him, if this is the hill he has to die on to preserve even one ounce of dignity, then so be it.

“Since when?”

“Since always. Felicity, they’re a bunch of toddlers who leave scone crumbs all over the floor and never actually buy any books.”

Felicity just chuckles at him, and if he were in a better mood he might actually be able to enjoy the sweet sound. “Oliver, stop being such a grumpy old man.”

“No, Felicity, I think—”

She’s already moving up the ladder before he can stop her. The rickety, unstable pile of firewood that technically qualifies as a ladder he’s been harassing Rene about pitching for months. Honestly, he’d all but forgotten it was still tucked away back here.

While she makes her way up the rungs, Oliver latches onto the base, holding the ladder firmly in place. With an excruciating amount of restraint that he barely even knew he had in him, Oliver watches her heels lift up and settle on each rung, all the while discreetly avoiding a glance at her pencil skirt. Not even a peek.

The ladder shakes as Felicity engages in a wrestling match with the top shelf. “It. Won’t. Go. In,” she says through gritted teeth. Finally, on the third push, Felicity lets out a strong exhale of relief. After wiping her hands, she makes her descent.

Like a hawk following its prey, Oliver keeps his gaze glued to her feet. Even so, he’s still not quite prepared when one of those black t-straps slips, throwing her off balance and tumbling straight into his arms.

“Oliver!”

He catches her easily, pulling her soft frame snuggly against him. Felicity wastes no time in wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “Hey, I gotcha. I gotcha.”

Her head plops against his shoulder, her warm, rapid breaths tickling his neck. He tightens his own grip around her back and under her knees, as if to reassure himself that she’s alright.

“You okay?” he finally asks.

Her only answer is to press her cheek more deeply into his shirt, her soft hair nuzzling against his jaw. He catches a faint whiff of her strawberry shortcake shampoo.

“My hero,” she breathes without a trace of humor.

I’m no hero, he wants to say. It’s his gut reaction any time a single mom commends him for his “Cool Books” section that finally got her teenage son to try a book of his own accord. As though selling books can compare with saving lives every day. His greatest risk comes in the form of avoiding papercuts. And rescuing toppling patrons apparently.

Selfishly, he’s currently enjoying the feel of Felicity in his arms a little too much to be considered a hero. Can she feel his own racing heartbeat beneath her ear?

He clears his throat but fails to put any real distance between them without releasing her. He’s not ready for that just yet. He’ll prolong the sweet agony for as long as physically possible.

“Well, this is a bit compromising,” he admits.

“Compromising?” She snickers, lifting her head, a spark of mirth shining behind her eyes that wasn’t there before. “What are you, a Jane Austen character?”

“Blame Thea. She made me read them. It was in our original founders’ agreement. I have the contract to prove it.”

If you’re going to own a bookstore, Ollie, then you have to know who Mr. Darcy is. It’s a requirement. Plus, it’s catnip for women. Nothing gets girls more excited than if you acknowledge the perfection of Jane Austen protagonists.

That knowledge has never served him until this moment. Until Felicity.

He still hasn’t liberated her, and she seems in no hurry to be free of him. His ego far too eagerly takes note of that.

“Are you making an actual joke, Mr. Queen?” Her smile is contagious. “You know, if this were a novel, this would be the part where we would um…” She flushes, her gaze suddenly faltering to his mouth.

His heart jumps to his throat, pounding with misguided hope. While he’s not an avid reader, despite his self-appointed line of work, he can read between the lines now. And he knows Felicity well enough to know that she only ever blushes over accidental innuendos.

She can’t really mean it. Can she?

“Where what?” he asks gruffly, not trusting himself to crave more than she is ready to give him, yet aching for a way to turn fiction into a reality, to give Felicity Smoak her happy ending. And maybe find his own in the process.

She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t correct her misstep. She just watches him with a strange and quiet expectancy.

Oliver gently shifts his hold, bringing her a bit closer, leaning down to meet her. The tip of his nose brushes against hers, and when she lingers there with him, it’s all the invitation he needs…

“Hey, boss, we got a spill behind the counter!”

Felicity starts in his arms, and Oliver very nearly groans. Of all the times for Rene to interrupt him. The spill is probably minor. How many times does he need to remind his employees that if you make a mess, you should just clean it up yourself?

“Ollie?” calls Thea. Her voice comes from far too nearby for his comfort. It must be a real pickle if Rene’s managed to rope his sister into the ordeal.

Reluctantly, Oliver loosens his grip on Felicity, and she slides right out of his arms with a graceful plop, returning their difference in height to its usual status. The top of her head aligning with the level of his heart.

“I uh…” His entire vocabulary seems to have vacated his brain at present, leaving him feeling ten times more abashed than he was ten minutes ago.

Felicity tucks a golden strand behind her ear, still dodging his regard with robust persistence. “Yeah, you should go...take care of that…”

He nods once, not that she notices. As he slowly turns to walk away, she stops him with a simple question.

“Same time tomorrow?”

He really should not put much stock in the hope her voice carries. But he can’t seem to stifle the grin spreading over his face when he glances back over his shoulder. “Same time tomorrow.”

***

Thea pulls out a small chalkboard from under the counter, erases the number ‘1’ with her fist, and then writes a ‘2’ in its place. The sign now reads “12 Days Since Last Attempt To Date.”

Scowling, Oliver is almost too afraid to ask. “Thea...what is that?”

His sprite of a sister proudly places a hand on her hip. “This, dear brother, is a record of the number of days since you last tried asking Felicity out on a date.”

“What?” A flicker of panic rushes through him. What does she know? She can’t know about the almost-kiss. Besides, that wasn’t twelve days ago. Again, not that he’s keeping track. He opts for being as evasive as possible. “And when was the last time I supposedly did this?”

“That day you bought Big Belly Burger for the entire staff as a thank you for staying late to reorganize the science section. You gave Felicity the burger with extra pickles that mysteriously ended up in the bag—even though, last I checked, she does not work here.”

She gives him that pointed look, the one she usually wears when she’s guarding a straight. They really need to have a discussion about the merits of a refined poker face.

“That wasn’t a date, Speedy.”

“Hence the word attempt.”

Oliver shakes his head, returning his focus to the monotonous task of counting the till. Where was he again? Oh yeah, the fives. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five…

Once he’s got that row tallied, he finally tells Thea, “Felicity and I...we’re just friends.” The words burn his throat. Felicity might think of him as nothing more than a chum, but after that near-kiss nestled behind the dusty stacks, Oliver has ceased lying to himself about his feelings, resigned to this new, unrequited reality.

“Sure.” He can feel her eye roll. “Friends who just happen to spend all of their free time together and buy each other beverages and have inside jokes—”

His head snaps up. “We don’t have any inside jokes.”

“Really? Then how do you explain this?” Thea holds up the cassette player tape dispenser Felicity got him as a gag gift. He still has no idea where she stumbled upon the trinket. Using her internet prowess no doubt.

Oliver snatches it out of Thea’s hands while purposefully searching for anything in need of repair, as if to justify its very existence. “Our old tape dispenser broke.”

“Uh-huh. And what about that little emoji keychain you bought her? The one with the glasses on it?”

Oliver shrugs. “It just...reminded me of her, that’s all. It didn’t mean anything.”

Thea is clearly ready to keep arguing, but Rene wanders over with a pastry order for one of the offices across the street. For once in his life, Oliver is grateful for Rene’s keen ability to interfere with his private conversations and begins boxing up the order. His heart does a strange flip when he recognizes the usual list.

Unfortunately, Thea remains undeterred. “Hey, Felicity works there, right? I’m sure you could swing by for a quick visit.”

“Thea.”

“Don’t ‘Thea’ me. This is a good idea! Just tell her you were in the building and wanted to see if she’s available to go out to dinner this weekend. Easy.”

“I work on the weekends. You know that.”

“And you could schedule yourself some time off once in a while. You are the boss. Plus, you’ve built this place so that even Rene can practically run it with his eyes closed.”

Both Rene and Oliver shoot her a look.

“Alright, I said practically.”

Rene grunts his agreement, stuffing the to-go box to the brim with chocolate chip muffins. “You know, she’s got a point. You could think of this delivery as a trial run. You bring the order across the street, while Thea and I monitor the store. If all goes well, then you might feel comfortable enough to take a more extended break in the future.”

“You’re just trying to spend more alone time with my sister, aren’t you?”

Rene smiles, guilty as charged. “There’s no reason why we can’t both be winners here.”

Oliver sighs. “Thea?”

Thea chuckles, crossing her arms. “Don’t worry, Ollie, I can handle him.”

Still he hesitates, running his thumb back and forth over the box, the box he’s supposed to bring to her workplace. He has so much more riding on this than a mismanaged store in his absence.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Do not burn down the store while I’m gone.”

***

“Ms. Smoak?”

“One second, Curtis. This alphanumeric algorithm isn’t going to crack itself.” Huddled in front of the monitor and nibbling on the remnants of a Twizzler, Felicity has been doing the digital tango for the last hour.

“Well, I hope you get cracking in the next ten minutes, because Coffee and Coding is about to start.”

“We have Coffee and Coding on Wednesdays,” she dismisses without tearing her gaze from the screen.

“It is Wednesday,” says Curtis.

Felicity darts a glance at her IT Director, who just lifts his eyebrows in confirmation. Flustered, she pushes up her glasses. “But who ordered the pastries?”

“I did,” Curtis admits. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget to call your favorite little coffee shop around the corner. Or across the street in this case. Can you believe they still don’t have online ordering?”

A pang of disappointment flutters through her. While it’s not much, Felicity has come to treasure her little Wednesday morning ritual, an easy excuse in her routine to spend more time with Oliver.

Still, it’s not like they don’t see each other an ample amount of time during the week anyway. Though after The Incident a few days ago, things between them have been different, more uncertain than usual. He hasn’t been avoiding her exactly; he just seems a bit...distant. Like he’s carrying a secret he doesn’t know how to share yet. Takes one to know one. The mystery has been driving her crazy.

She’s also been racking her brain for the perfect scenario to recreate that heated moment they shared after her Humpty Dumpty debacle. But the trouble is...as soon as she hints at the depth of her feelings, she’s going to have to tell him everything.

Hey Oliver, so you know how you assumed that I was an Executive Assistant, and I never corrected you? Well, the thing is I’m actually more like the CEO of a product-pushing conglomerate that is slowly encroaching on everything you know and love. Do you want to go out sometime?

Ugh. A stealthy flirter she is not.

So maybe today’s mishap is for the best. A chance for her to rally some gumption and figure out how to phrase her affections while still salvaging their fledgling friendship.

The workshop will likely provide plenty of opportunity to strategize. Denise tends to drone on and on about the benefits of heapsort every time it’s her turn to talk, so the redundant lecture will afford Felicity added time to do some real romantic brainstorming.

Sufficiently mollified, Felicity pops up out of her chair and strolls towards the conference room.

“The food just arrived,” says Jerry as soon as she’s outside her office.

She stumbles to a halt, blinking at her executive assistant. He says it so casually, as though her entire, perfectly orchestrated little enterprise isn’t coming crumbling down around her by one bakery blunder.

“What? Now? Here?” She’s pretty sure she’s having a stroke. Although her ability to remain upright negates that possibility. But what good is logic at a time like this?

Of all the truth-telling scenarios she had running through her head, this was not one of them.

This is why she never asked for delivery! Why she personally has placed and picked up every order.

Okay, no need to panic. This is no different than any of the other work-related conflicts she has resolved in the past. Of course, those were mostly software issues, but surely the skills are transferable. She’ll just have to insist that Rene not breathe a word of this to Oliver until she has a chance to talk to him later. This afternoon, in fact. She can come up with an adequate confession by then.

That cursory idea gets zapped the moment she turns the corner and finds the apropos man of the hour waiting in the hallway. Oh frack.

Every blessed thought evaporates straight out of her skull. Only one person on the planet has this effect on her.

As though it’s been days and not mere hours since she’s seen him last, hungrily her eyes feast on every part of him, from his golden-brown hair with little flecks of gray that he likes to pretend aren’t there, to those broad shoulders and sturdy arms beneath that favored blue henley. She remembers far too well what it’s like being wrapped up in those arms, all snug and safe and wonderful.

Then she starts to catalog his overall uneasy demeanor, hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders rigid with discomfort.

Guilt pricks her heart. He looks a little lost.

She tries to observe her office through his eyes. Surrounded by glass walls, open and exposed. Screens scrolling with tech lingo. Not a single paper product in sight or dusty nook to duck behind. Everything is quite literally the opposite of his usual environment. And it has never been more apparent how contrary their lives are.

All this time, she’s been invading his world and never once has he stepped into hers. Because she wouldn’t invite him. Not until she was ready. She’s driven them to this precipice. Her little lie is the grain of sand slowly corrupting the motherboard, eroding their communication from the inside out. Some friend she is.

And yet, him braving the unknown and everything he opposes just to come and see her has to mean something, right?

“Should we wait for you?” asks Curtis.

Felicity shakes her head, keeping her focus on Oliver. “I’m not going to make the meeting.”

“Well in that case, can I have your muffin? Because you know I’ve been working out in the mornings, and my tummy is a rumblin’—”

“Curtis!”

“Okay. Okay.”

Footsteps retreat into the conference room, until at last the door closes, encasing them in peaceful silence.

Swallowing, Felicity hedges closer to him, the clank of her heels echoing down the long hallway. “Hi,” she says when she’s standing just a foot away from him.

“Hi.” He’s looking at her in that soft, affable way of his, making her heart short-circuit.

She has a masters degree in cyber security, and she’s taken many a profit-hungry board member to task, so why can’t she seem to come up with a better conversation starter than ‘hi’ ?

But Oliver, her sweet friend, saves her from her own awkward web of absurdity. “So...” he begins, nodding to the wall in between the elevators. The wall covered in bold, betraying letters Smoak Technologies.

Oh crap on a cracker. He knows. Already. Duh, Felicity, he walked into your building, you know this. The man can read. What did you expect?

Felicity slams her eyes shut and blurts, “I can explain.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I know it was wrong. And I hope you know that I would never want to take advantage of your friendship, and that my lying to you has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I was afraid that if you knew the truth that I would lose you—”

“Felicity, hey.” Oliver’s hands, solid and steady, grip her shoulders. She has no right to draw from his comforting warmth. “You’re not going to lose me.”

She licks her lips, daring to meet his gaze again. She’s startled to find those bright blue eyes looking back at her full of sympathy, absent of judgment. “Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve broken every cardinal rule in the friendship book.”

His face softens. “I don’t care that you lied to me. I don’t. I care...that somehow I made you feel like you had to.” He sighs, his voice deepening to a near whisper. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Felicity fights a wince and loses. “Because I...I kind of liked not being a CEO for a few minutes a day? It was nice. Freeing. And I didn’t know how you would react to the fact that basically my entire livelihood stands for everything you hate—”

“I never said I hated it.”

Felicity tilts her head playfully. “No, you just loathe the mere suggestion of technological advancement.”

Oliver chuckles. “Fair enough.”

“So you’re not mad?”

As he shakes his head, relief and elation spill through her.

Not for the first time, Felicity is grateful that her charming literary companion is truly a good person. And not just the kind of good where he’s friendly toward impatient customers or gracious with incompetent employees—although, he is that, too. But his integrity runs so much deeper; it’s the core of who he is. Modest and generous. Forgiving to a fault.

Oliver fundamentally embodies all that her corporate associates do not. Is it any wonder she was so drawn to him from the very beginning?

She may have ruined her chances for anything more than friendship to develop between them, but as long as he remains in her life, she’ll be happy. She can settle for cordial camaraderie. Besides, it won’t feel like settling with him. Not really. Not completely. At least, she’ll convince herself of that sooner or later.

Oliver withdraws his hands, leaving an alarming coolness tingling on her arms. Instantly she misses his touch.

She watches in puzzled silence as Oliver shifts his weight, clears his throat, and suddenly evades her look. He’s nervous, she realizes. How did she not notice sooner?

Because you’ve been a little too preoccupied with yourself, Felicity, that’s how.

“Listen, Felicity…I came by because I was in the neighborhood. But I guess I’m always in the neighborhood. You don’t need to be told that.”

Felicity bites her bottom lip to hold back a smile. He’s awfully cute when he’s flustered.

“I know I’m just an obsolete bookstore owner, with no degree, and you…” He glances around the hallway, as though the point he’s trying to make is engraved on the walls somewhere.

“And I what?” she prompts, a sudden burst of panic flaring in her chest, more terrified than anything that he’s never going to finish that sentence.

Oliver studies the screens for a long time, his gaze finally coming to rest back on her, and what she sees there makes her want to hold on to him and never let go. “You’re going to change the world,” he says. “You’ve already changed mine. For the better, I might add. But, I don’t know, maybe our worlds are just too different.”

“But I don’t care about the differences, and I thought you didn’t either.”

“I don’t!”

Everyone in the conference room can probably hear their conversation by now, but that is a low priority issue. All she cares about is Oliver.

“Okay, so then what are we arguing about?”

“Felicity…you should be with someone who deserves you, someone who won’t hold you back.”

“That’s what you came up here to tell me? Oliver, what I deserve is up to me.”

He dodges her look again, and she can feel him retreating, feel the invisible barrier he’s erected between them.

Not one to forfeit so easily, Felicity calmly sidles up to him and lays a bold hand on his chest, right over his heart. “Please, Oliver,” she whispers. “Ask me what you really came here for. Whatever it is, I’ll say yes.”

“Promise?”

Her inability to read his face scares her more than anything. “Promise.”

He sighs, and an anxiously long time passes before he says, “Felicity, would you like to go camping?”

She starts. “What? You want to drag me out into the woods with your sister—”

“Thea will not be there.”

“Oh.” Nibbling on the inside of her cheek, Felicity processes this information before it dawns on her. “Oh.”

Oliver nods faintly, as though he can hear the flurry of questions her heart is suddenly screaming.

“Are you asking me out on a date? Like an actual date? Like a date...date?”

“I mean, the implication with me standing here…” He bobs his head around, like he can’t really decide whether to confirm or deny that. She’s really put the poor guy through the ringer today.

“Or we could go hiking,” he suggests with a shrug.

“Hiking?”

“Yeah, there’s a great trail about an hour north of the city. My dad and I used to go there all the time. There are waterfalls and plenty of wildlife. I should warn you, though, that it’s near impossible to send or receive phone calls in our spot.”

He wants to take her to his special haunt? Her heart twists with bittersweet excitement. She deceives him, and he rewards her by sharing yet another coveted piece of his history.

How can this man think he’s not worthy of her? If anything, their situation is exactly reversed. What are gadgets and gizmos compared to goodwill and grandeur?

With more boldness than she thought herself capable of, Felicity meticulously wraps her arms around Oliver’s waist, leaning her head way back to keep eye contact with him. “Well, Mr. Queen, that sounds perfect. So...am I forgiven?” she whispers, pinching her lips together.

His own lips twitch as he follows her movements and pulls her close. “Always.”

***

“I like you like this,” Felicity tells him, following his lead down the winding, rocky trail, her hand snuggly wrapped around his.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, sort of Man Versus Wild.”

He laughs, a loud, rich melody that vibrates through the core of her being.

She’ll admit she was curious to see what side of Oliver the great outdoors would bring forth, and reality did not disappoint. Out here, away from the chaotic noise and hustle and bustle, he seems so...free. Happy. Like he’s really alive for the first time. And she feels privileged that she’s the one he chose to let so close to him.

The perks of the great outdoors have surprised her, too. Not once has she missed the ding of her cell phone.

They stop for a break on a small cliff ridge (small according to Oliver, anyway) overlooking a waterfall and a trickling stream. The views today have been glorious. All of the views, she thinks, sneaking a peek at the man beside her.

Though he doesn’t turn, he squeezes her hand once, and there’s a slight flicker at the corner of his lips, acknowledging that he can feel her ogling him unabashedly. She gets to do that kind of thing now, though.

“I’m thinking of closing the bookstore,” he admits, causing her to trip over a branch in shock. His grip steadies her, and then he motions towards a large rock. Once they’re sitting beside each other, he continues. “I’ll turn the business into a full-time bakery and cafe. It’s something I probably should’ve done a long time ago. You were right.” He glances her way, wearing a reluctant half-smile.

Reeling, all Felicity can say is, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You were right about the QR codes, too.” He leans in conspiratorially. “Our weekly customer traffic is up 25%, and the sales reflect that the majority of those purchases are from the coffeeshop. Just seems like the smartest decision.”

“But Oliver, don’t you love the bookshop side of things? Helping people find their next go-to read?”

He shrugs. “Sure. But I love staying in business more.”

Felicity doesn’t understand it, but the thought of never smelling second-hand pages or stumbling over disarrayed book stacks sends a pang of longing through her. “Well, it sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I have,” he confirms.

“But will it make you happy?”

He hesitates. “It’ll give me some stability to put Thea through college. That’ll make me happy.”

He’s so selfless, it breaks her heart a little every time she beholds that soft underbelly of his gentle nature. She wonders what other secret dreams he’s sacrificed over the years to provide for his sister and his employees. And maybe even for her. If she gets her wish, she plans to return the favor and help make his tucked-away dreams come true. First she has to discover what they are.

Shuffling closer, Felicity rests her head on his shoulder. “You know, I hate to break this to you, but bakeries are just as liable to collapse as bookstores. You can never fully predict the market, even in the most stable of economies.”

“I need information about what I don’t know,” he says in her ear.

She perks up. “What about a compromise?”

“Compromise?”

“Yeah, it’s where two parties agree on a mutually desirable outcome.”

He chuckles, the hearty sound warming her down to her toes. “I know what a compromise is, Felicity. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that I have converted the entire IT department over to the ways of Verdant-roasted coffee. We could make you the official sponsor of our weekly Coffee and Coding. Think of all the free advertising that will bring.”

“I don’t want any handouts, Felicity.”

“It’s not a handout if it’s good business,” she argues, pleased to see him giving it some genuine consideration. After a long time of companionable silence and sharing a water bottle, she says, “And if all else fails, there’s always the kindle route.”

She giggles at the dismissive look he shoots her before growing serious again. “Don’t give up, Oliver. Your little bookstore...it’s changed my life. You opened up my heart to ideas and worlds that I didn’t even know were possible.”

Pulse hammering in her throat, she wonders if he catches her accidental revelation, that the depth of her urgency has far less to do with treasured paperbacks than it does her utter dependency on him.

“A compromise. It could work.” He nods to himself. “Speaking of…” He slips his hand into his back pocket.

“What are you doing?”

Oliver pulls out a phone. A shiny, non-retrograde phone.

Felicity gasps. “Since when do you have a smartphone?”

“Thea got it for me after she spilt a latte on my old phone. I’m choosing to believe it was an accident.”

“That is very sensible of you.”

“We could take a photo,” he suggests.

“You mean with the front-facing camera? That, my friend, is called a Selfie.”

He scowls. “I don’t think I’m ready to say that word. Baby steps.” After an arduously humorous struggle, with Felicity patiently helping him navigate all the buttons, Oliver finally manages to snap a photo or two or twelve.

While she’s fairly certain the majority of the photos turn out blurry, they take an unnatural amount of fun in making ridiculous faces at the camera anyway. “Okay, you have to delete that one.” She points to a photo that paints her in a particularly unattractive light.

Oliver studies the picture fondly. “Can’t. I don’t know how.”

“Here, then let me.”

He holds the phone out of her reach. “Oh, so you can delete all of them?”

“Not all of them, just the ones that make me look bad.”

“Felicity…” he says her name as if it explains everything. And suddenly he’s not laughing anymore, though his eyes still carry a spark of secret amusement. “Let me have this keepsake.”

Keepsake. Such an old-fashioned word from this unconventional man. If Oliver were a book, he would be just like those scuffed up, intimidating volumes he’s always trying to convince novice readers to sample. Judged for his strange and rough exterior, yet guarding a mysterious sweetness and—more than he will admit—gooey epicenter. You just have to crack the spine and ruffle a few pages to get there.

“Felicity…” Just the way he says her name makes her feel like she could do anything so long as he’s with her.

He leans in just enough to let her know his intent, but stops halfway, leaving the final choice to her. What a gentleman he is. And like all the great heroines, Felicity doesn’t let him do all the work. She meets his kiss eagerly, pouring out in little touches what they’re both unsure to say out loud at this early stage.

But she knows it. Deep down in her bones, she knows she loves him. And she can feel his love in the way he responds.

What a risk she’s taken, giving her heart to the most anti-technology human on planet earth. She has a feeling the dividends will be well worth it.

***

Tag Team: @angelalafan / @austencello / @dust2dust34 / @emeraldoliverqueen / @hope-for-olicity / @mel-loves-all / @memcjo / @releaseurinhibitions / @scu11y22 / @smoakqueenz

#olicity #oliver x felicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfiction #olicitysquee #olicity au #my stuff #my fic #shelley does fic #g is for gadgets and gimmicks

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mcusoulmateau · 4 years

Text

Jane Foster, the Consultant

(If this looks a bit familiar, it’s because a version of this has been put on AO3. But I’m reworking it, taking Jane in new, more canon-divergent directions.)

It could be worse, Jane tells herself. There are whispers that one girl in her grade has a mark in hieroglyphics. Some people say that Brittany and James only broke up because James’s mark came in with a boy’s name. And everyone knows that Coach Fowler has no mark and is bitter about it.

Still. “Thor” is pretty bad, and it’s not even in English. She spends a whole day in the library just trying to decode the not-English-alphabet language on her arm before she knows for sure what the name even is.

Jane’s best friend suggests that she travel to Scandinavia for a better chance at finding a Thor. Jane shrugs the suggestion off and keeps dating her not-Thor boyfriend, a sweet boy called Brandon.

But Jane Foster is not one of the brightest minds of her age because she can forget about an idea. The same obsession that drives her to excel at astrophysics also compels her to learn everything she can about her would-be soulmate. The only Thor she has even heard of is a pagan god, so that’s where she starts.

She is by no means religious, but these stories give her a feeling of home that she has never found outside of research. Just like writing papers and entering centuries-long academic discourse, myths give her a community and a sense that some knowledge belongs uniquely to her. On Thursdays, she feels something that might be her soul. If Thor is Jane’s and Thursday is Thor’s day, then it follows that it is also Jane’s day.

The romantic in her wins out, and Jane studies abroad in her junior year of college. She bounces across Europe, meeting a handful of Thors but never hers. One is the young son of an archeology professor, a little boy whose mother convinces her to tough out the double major and to keep studying the ancient Norse. Jane babysits little Thor and loses herself in his mother’s library after he falls asleep. Another Thor is an old man who bartends at a pub she frequents, and he tells her about the myths so precious the Nazis invaded to dig them up.

That catches Jane’s attention, and before she knows it, she’s submitting her thesis proposal about the Nazi incursion in a tiny town in Norway.

Uncovering the Mystery of Tønsberg:

Norse Mythology, HYDRA, and the Impossible Advancements of the Nazi Science Division

It’s a wild thing, she knows, not like her neat lab experiments. This is photographs of Johann Schmidt’s personal belongings, taped interviews with Dr. Armin Zola before his death, centuries-old poetry and stories about Odin and his treasures, interviews and diaries from the Tønsberg survivors, photographs and reports from battlefields all over Europe, even an interview she manages to score with Strategic Scientific Reserve officer Margaret “Peggy” Carter. Peggy is not a scientist, but she is an eye witness who affirms many of Jane’s theories. She’s also frustratingly coy.

Still. By the end of it, Jane Foster is so close to reverse-engineering HYDRA’s weapons that it hurts. There’s something, this nameless treasure that holds the secret to Schmidt’s science and Norse mythology, something that gave Schmidt incredible power and that the people of Tønsberg tried desperately to protect. And Jane knows in her bones that Thor is involved. She calls this mysterious MacGuffin “the Cosmic Cube,” even though she’s only 70% sure that it’s even cubic.

In front of a panel of professors and TAs, she begins.

“I did not think it would be possible to write a single thesis that unites my two majors of Physics and Germanic Mythology, the latter of which is a custom program designed for me. Yet, while studying abroad in Norway, I visited several archeological sites with mythological significance, where I discovered the ruin brought on by Nazi Germany. Though the accounts of what Johann Schmidt did to the Norwegians are horrific, it was the stories about Schmidt’s exploits after leaving Norway that caught my attention. Survivors, Allied and Axis alike, all tell of physics-defying weapons wielded by Schmidt and his men. I believe that Schmidt found something in Tønsberg, Norway, something of mythological significance, that gave him and the Nazis a technological edge on the Allies.

“By all accounts, Johann Schmidt, the head of the Nazi Science Division, HYDRA, was obsessed with Norse paganism and mythology. . . .”

When she is done with her speech and accompanying slide projections, most of her professors look impressed. Not convinced, but impressed. They thank her and send her on her way when she is confronted by a woman in a suit.

“Jane Foster,” she says. “My name is Dr. Weaver, of S.H.I.E.L.D., and I’d like to offer you a job.”

She says she can fast-track her for a PhD, get her a spot in her organization’s elite Academy of Science and Technology, maybe give her a chance to study things like the Cosmic Cube. But something about it doesn’t feel right, the fact that she’s never even heard of this organization. And if they know about the Cube, why didn’t she find anything about it when she was researching? And why does Jane get the feeling that if she accepts, she’ll be signing away her freedom?

They compromise, and Jane Foster becomes a consultant of S.H.I.E.L.D. Years pass, and they never call her, and she starts to forget about the shadowy organization. They have better astrophysicists they can call, better experts in Norse myth—why would they bother with a PhD candidate like her? She has better things to think about, like tracking meteorological anomalies and theorizing about interstellar travel.

And then New Mexico happens.

Jane and her intern, who is also her only friend, are chasing an atmospheric disturbance when a man falls out of the sky. A man who looks like all the drawings and paintings from her mythology studies. A man who wields a hammer. A man whose name matches the name on her wrist.

When Thor finally acts reasonable (though if she had traveled lightyears via an Einstein-Rosin Bridge, got hit by a van, tazed, and sedated, she doubts she’d be reasonable), Jane tells him she believes him.

“I know who you are,” she says, “but I don’t know how you are who you are.”

“You’ve heard the tales of me, then?” he asks with that cocky smile.

“Tales? More like myths. Maybe humans believed them, once, but not anymore.”

“But you do.”

“I didn’t until a few hours ago. And it’s only because—” She stops herself, heart pounding. “I don’t want to presume anything. Do your species even have soulmarks? But…” It’s easier if she shows him.

Jane uncovers her wrist and holds it out for Thor to see.

“I am sorry,” he says. “Mine is not a match.”

Her heart plummets. “Can I see? How do I know I can believe you?”

He smiles sadly. “You may. But I would not lie to you, Jane. I do care for you.”

“I do care for you” is hardly the passionate speech Jane has dreamed of hearing from her soulmate. Yet, it is a balm to the wound in her chest, an assurance that things may yet work out.

Thor removes the alien covering from his wrist. On it, in the same alphabet as her own mark, is the name “Loki.”

“Him? Isn’t he—he’s your brother!”

“I do not know why fate gave me his name and not yours, or any other. But my destiny is entwined with his, for good or ill. It would not do to enmesh you in our affairs.”

“But—but you care for me,” she stutters.

“Yes.” He seems to hope she will be satisfied with that answer alone, but when she is not, he continues. “I care for you, Jane Foster, which is why I cannot bring you to Asgard. Only a true match may rule, and I cannot abdicate the throne. You would be in far more danger there—from him, from a thousand others—than you would on Midgard. ”

He’s handsome and kind and dreamy and noble and fascinating and everything she could want in a soulmate. But he’s also an alien and decidedly not a match for her. When Thor leaves Earth, Jane Foster returns to academia. S.H.I.E.L.D. asks for her help with studying the Bifrost and the marks it leaves behind, and the agent who had tried to wipe her research on Thor’s arrival apologizes by giving her access to the Cosmic Cube.

But it turns out that Thor was wrong about at least one thing: Jane Foster is still very much in danger of Loki while on Midgard, especially given her proximity to the Cube.

Perhaps, in another reality, Loki would puppet a different human. Perhaps the Tesseract, the Chitauri invasion, all of it would still play out the same way. Perhaps it makes no cosmic significance that it is Jane Foster who Loki picks to be his influence on Earth.

But it matters to Jane, cosmic significance be damned. For months, she is made and unmade by a stranger, driven by whispers and whims she doesn’t understand. It’s not entirely against her will, either. She has been champing at the bit for a chance to focus exclusively on the Cube for a decade. It just takes a push from Loki for her to seize that opportunity.

It’s a little poetic, in a backwards way, that she should be puppetted by her soulmate’s soulmate. For a normal couple—a true match—one is always controlled by one’s soulmate’s soulmate (i.e. one’s self). But she, with her alien mark and her god inexplicably bound to his brother, she gets this twisted version of a soulmate. If she were herself, she’d be horrified. But the god of mischief in her brain finds it all very amusing.

Besides, there is no time for horror when there is research to be done. Working with the Cube begins to consume her, and Jane—both with and without Loki’s influence—is rather willing to be consumed.

“I understand the ancient Norwegians a lot better now,” she confesses to Dr. Selvig one night over a beer. “Putting the Cube in a church, in a place of honor, revering the ones who sent it as gods.”

“Finding religion, are you?” he asks, only partly joking.

“Maybe. The Cube is beautiful, Erik. Otherworldly. Perfect. It’s an actual four-dimensional shape, and sometimes I feel like I’m on the edge of finally comprehending it. Not just theoretically, but really getting it. If I were the type, I think I’d worship it.”

She isn’t sure how much of her right now is Jane and how much is Loki. Nevertheless, her words are true.

“Anything new to report?”

“It’s more than an energy source, that’s for sure. Maybe the energy output is the most useful attribute, at least for human civilization right now, but I’m almost positive that the thing can warp spacetime. Maybe it makes time loops, maybe it creates tiny wormholes, maybe it can manipulate the space between subatomic particles. But the readings it creates don’t get explained away by energy alone.”

“You think we could see interstellar travel with the Cube.”

“Imagine creating your own Bifrost whenever and wherever you pleased.”

“You’re getting fanciful, Jane. Lost in the Edda.”

“I have never been less lost, Erik. Johann Schmidt died on the Valkyrie with Steve Rogers. Except Rogers isn’t dead, and there’s not a single shred of Schmidt’s remains on that ship. Forensically speaking, there ought be some trace of him, even after seventy years. But there’s not! And the Cube is involved, somehow. I just have to piece this mystery together, like all the others.”

“Your poking at mysteries will be the death of you. And I’m only half charmed and endeared when I say that. The other half of me is quite concerned.”

Jane smiles, though it does not reach her eyes. “It’s not such a bad way to go.”

When she is on the cusp of sleep that night, a whisper creeps into the base of her skull, a primal thought she will only barely remember in the morning: a doorknob in the shape of an otherworldly Cube.

Days later, with the help of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent or two, the door opens.

#jane foster #thor

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maximelebled · 4 years

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My quick review of the ASUS XG27UQ monitor (4K, HDR, 120Hz)

I originally wanted to tweet this series of bullet points out but it was getting way too long, so here goes! I got this to replace a PG278Q, which was starting to develop odd white stains, and never had good color reproduction in the first place (TN film drawbacks, very low gamma resulting in excessively bright shadows, under-saturated shadows, etc.)

The hardware aesthetic is alright! The bezels may feel a bit large to some people, but I don’t mind them at all. If you’re a fan of the no-bezel look, you’ll probably hate it. There is a glowing logo on the back that you can customize (Static Cyan is my recommendation), but it isn’t bright enough to be used as bias lighting, which would’ve been nice.

The built-in stand is decent; it comes with a tacky and distracting light projection feature at the bottom. It felt quite stable, though I don’t care about it because it got instantly replaced by an Ergotron LX arm. (I have two now, I really recommend them in spite of their price.)

The coating is a little grainy and this is noticeable on pure colors! You can kinda see the texture come through, a bit more than I’d like. Not a huge deal though.

The rest of the review will be under the cut.

The default color preset (”racing mode”), which the monitor is calibrated against, is very vivid and saturated. It looks great! But it’s inherently inaccurate, which bothers me, so I don’t like it. It looks like as if sRGB got stretched into the expanded gamut of the monitor.

sRGB “emulation” looks very similar to my Dell U2717D, whose sRGB mode is factory-calibrated. However, the XG27UQ’s sRGB mode has lower gamma (brighter shadows), so while the colors are accurate, the gamma is not. It feels 1.8-ish. Unless you were in a bright room, it would be inappropriate for work that needs to have accurate shadows. This mode also locks other controls, so it’s not the most useful, but the brightness is set well on it, so it is usable!

The “User Mode” settings use the calibrated racing mode as a starting point, which is a big relief. So it’s possible to tweak the color temperature and the saturation from there! I checked pure white against my Dell monitor and my smartphone (S9+) and tried to reach a reasonable 3-way compromise between them, knowing that the Dell is most likely the most accurate, and that Samsung also allegedly calibrates their high-end smartphones well. My configuration ended up being R:90/G:95/B:100 + SAT:42. This matches the saturation of the U2717D sRGB mode fairly closely. You also get to choose between 1.8, 2.2, and 2.5 gamma too, which is not too granular, but great to have. It kinda feels like my ideal match is between 2.2 and 2.5, but 2.2 is fine.

The color gamma according to lagom.nl looked fine, but I had to open the picture in Paint, otherwise it was DPI-scaled in the browser, and that messed with the way it works!! (That website is an amazing resource for quick monitor checks.)

Colors are however somewhat inaccurate in this mode. It’s easy to see by comparing the tweaked User Mode vs. sRGB emulation. There are some rather sizeable hue shifts in certain cases. I believe part of this is caused by the saturation tweak not operating properly.

Here’s a photo of what the Photoshop color picker looks like when Saturation is set to 0 on the monitor, vs. what a proper grayscale conversion should be. It’s definitely not using the right coefficients.

So in practice, when using the Racing & User modes, compared to the U2717D sRGB, here’s a few examples of what I see:

Reds are colder (towards the purple side) & oversaturated

Bright yellow (255,215,90) is undersaturated

Bright green (120,200,130) is undersaturated

Dark green (0,105,60) is fine

Magenta (220,13,128) is oversaturated

Dark reds & brown (150,20,20 to 90,15,10) is oversaturated

Cyan (0,180,240) is fine

Pink (230,115,170) is fine

Some shades of bright saturated blue (58,48,220) have the biggest shifts.

The TF2 skin tone becomes slightly desaturated and a bit colder

It’s not inaccurate to the point of being distracting, and you always have the sRGB mode (with flawed gamma?) to check things with, but it’s definitely not ideal, and some of these shifts go far enough that I wouldn’t recommend this monitor for color work that needs to be very accurate.

I’ve went back and forth, User vs sRGB, several times, on my most recent work (True Sight 2019 sequences). I’ve found the differences were acceptable for the most part; they bothered me the most during the Chronosphere sequence, in which the hazy sunset atmosphere turned a bit into to a rose gold tint, which wasn’t unpleasant at all — and looked quite pretty! — but it wasn’t what I did.

I’m coming from the point of view of a “prosumer” who cares about color accuracy, but who ultimately recognizes that this quest is impossible in the face of so many devices out there being inaccurate or misconfigured one way or the other. In the end, my position is more pragmatic, and I feel that you gotta be able to see how your stuff’s gonna look on the devices where it’ll actually be watched. So while I’ve done color grading on a decent-enough sRGB-calibrated monitor, I’ve always checked it against the inaccurate PG278Q, and I’ve done a little bit of compromising to keep my color work looking alright even once gamma shifted. And so, now, I’ll also be getting to see what my colors look like on a monitor that doesn’t quite restrain itself to sRGB gamut properly.

Well, at least, all of that stuff is out of the box, but...

TFTCentral (one of the most trustworthy monitor review websites, in my opinion) has found suspiciously similar shifts. But after calbration, their unit passed with flying colors (pun intended), so if you really care about this sort of stuff and happen to have a colorimeter... you should give it a try!

I hope one day we’ll be able to load and apply an ICC/ICM profile computer-wide, instead of only being able to load a simple gamma curve on the GPU with third-party tools like DisplayCAL. Even if it had to squeeze the gamut a bit...

Also, there are dynamic dimming / auto contrast ratio features which could potentially be useful in limited scenarios if you don’t care about color accuracy and want to maximize brightness. I believe they are forced on for HDR. But you will probably not care at all.

IPS glow is not very present on my unit; less than on my U2717D. However, when it starts to show up (more than a 30°-ish angle away), it shows up more. UPDATED: after some more time with the monitor, I wanna say that, in fact, IPS glow isit's slightly stronger, and shows up sooner (as in, from broader angles). It requires me to sit a greater distance from the monitor in order to not have it show up and impede dark scenes. It is worse than on my U2717D.

Backlight bleed, on the other hand, is there, and a little bit noticeable. On my unit, there’s a little bit of blue-ish bleed on the lower left corner, and some dark-grey-orange bleed for a good third of the upper-left. However, in practice, and to my eyes, it doesn’t bother me, even when I look for it. It ain’t perfect, but I’ve definitely seen worse, especially from ASUS. The photo above was taken at 100% brightness, and I’ve tried to make it just a tad brighter than what my eyes see, so hopefully it’s a decent sample.

Dead pixels: on my unit, I have 5 stuck dead green subpixels overall. There are 4 in a diamond pattern somewhat down and right to the center of the screen, and another one, a bit to the right of that spot. All of them kinda “shimmer” a little bit, in the sense that they become stronger or weaker based on my angle of view. They’re a bummer but I haven’t found them to be a hindrance. Took me a few days to even notice them for the first time, after all.

HDR is just about meaningless and uses some global dimming techniques, as well as stuff that feels like... you know that Intel HD driver feature that brightens the content on the screen, while lowering the panel backlight power in tandem, to save power, but it kinda flattens (and sometimes clips) highlights? It kinda looks like that sometimes. Without local dimming, HDR is just about meaningless.

Unfortunately, the really nice HDR support in computer monitors is still looking like it’s going to be at the very least a year out, and even longer for sub-1000 price ranges. (I was holding out for the PG27UQX at first, but it still has no word on availability, a whole year after being announced, and will probably cost over two grand, so no thanks.)

G-Sync (variable refresh rate) support is... not there yet?! The latest driver does not recognize the monitor as being compatible with the feature. And it turns out that the product page says that G-Sync support is currently being applied for. Huh. I thought they had special chips in those monitors solely for the feature, but it’s possible this one does it another way? (The same way that Freesync monitors do it?)

DSC (Display Stream Compression) enables 4K 120Hz to work through a single DisplayPort cable, without chroma subsampling. And it’s working for me, which came as a surprise, as I was under the impression this feature required a 2000-series Turing GPUs. (I have a 1080 Ti.) I was wrong about this, it’s 144 Hz that requires DSC. And I don’t have it on this Pascal card. But I don’t really care since I prefer to run this monitor at 120 Hz, as it’s a multiple of the 60 Hz monitor next to it.

Windows DPI scaling support is okay now. Apps that are DPI-aware, and the vast majority of them are now, scale back and forth between 150% and 100% really well as they get dragged between the monitors! The only program I’ve had issues with is good old Winamp, which acted as if it was 100% on the XG27UQ... and shrinked down on another monitor. So I asked it to override DPI scaling behaviour (”scaling performed by: application”), which keeps the player skin at 100% on every monitor, but any call to system fonts and UI (Bento skin’s playlist + Settings panel) are still at 150%. So I had to set the playlist font size to 7 for it to look OK on the non-scaled monitor!

A few apps misbehave in interesting ways; TeamSpeak, for example, seen above, scales everything back from 150% to 100%, and there is no blurriness, but the “larger layout” (spacing, etc.) sticks.

Games look great with 4K in 27 inches. Well, I’ve only really tried Dota 2 so far, but man does it get sharp, especially with the game’s FXAA disabled. It was already a toss-up at 1440p, but at 4K I would argue you might as well keep it disabled. However, going from 2560x1440 to 3840x2160 requires some serious horsepower. It may look like a +50% upgrade in pixels, but it’s actually a +125% increase! (3.68 to 8.29 million pixels.) For a 1080 Ti, maxed-out Dota 2 at 1440p 120hz is really trivial, but once you go to 4K, not anymore... you could always lower resolution scale though! (Not an elegant solution if you like to use sharpening filters though, looking at you RDR2.)

Overall, the XG27UQ is a good monitor, and I’m satisfied with my purchase, although slightly disappointed by the strong IPS glow and the few dead subpixels. 7/10

#xg27uq #review #monitors

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 5 years

Link

Local Teen Unaware of how Weird Family is, Local Goth Decides To Go All In and Learn Magick, Exhausted Teens Do Fun Dumb Teen Stuff

It was the day after they’d taken down Skulker, and Tucker had to collect up the armor. Danny helped him, of course, and he flew home with some help from his favorite ghost boy. They landed in Tucker’s room, and Tucker gave Danny a hug as soon as the suit was set down. Danny returned to his warmer flesh and blood self and hugged him back before they got to work searching for a port to plug Tucker’s laptop into. Thankfully even the dead respected the U in USB and they manage to connect. Before long, however, Tucker’s mind wanders from his code-breaking program that’s now hard at work with Skulker’s head and to his situation with Sam. And considering what all he’d learned about Danny’s family so far, he might as well ask. “Danny do you have access to transparent solar panels?”

“Yeah, all the windows at Fenton Works are solar panels - I think they run at uh 50% efficiency. Why?”

“Danny, that’s like, the exact last piece I need for my solar-powered car design.” Tucker was tempted to inform Danny of how amazing that fact was, but he knew Danny wasn’t a fan of being extraordinary, so he’d let it slide for now. “Now I just need some way of building it.”

“Well, you have the design itself saved right?”

“Yes…” Tucker wasn’t sure where this was going, but he was hopeful that it’d be a place he liked.

“We can just print out the design at my house?” Danny shrugged, as though that was obvious and the most simple thing in the world. “We have like, a pretty big 3D printer, it’s uh modular, and we use scrapped metal from junkyards that we liquified as filament. We can print a car pretty quickly.”

Danny was going to say something that made Tucker fall completely in love with him one of these days, the idiot. “Danny I need you to take me to this 3D printer. Now.” Skulker’s head was left where they’d put it on his desk, the rest of the suit stuffed in Tucker’s closet, and the pair flew off to Danny’s house.

When they arrived at Fentonworks, they turned to one of the other buildings on the block and set down there, Danny taking the time to unlock the door and everything. “So this 3D printer you guys have…”

“Well, Dad calls it the Fenton Fabricator. See, there's a theory that went around a while ago when 3D printers and fabricators first started, it was the Recursive Loop Theory. It goes like this. You buy a 3D printer. Mid-range, sorta useful, but with enough detail and strength that you like it. But then you need something a bit more detailed. So you look online and you find a set of 3D models for a second printer. This one you can build on your machine, and with only some minor parts you can make the more detailed printer for a tiny fraction of what it would cost.”

Danny took them to a set of stairs and Tucker was so focused on his friend he nearly missed all the art Danny’s ever done hanging all over the walls.

“So, you can make more detailed parts. And you find designs for a bigger printer. It's modular and sorta rough, but it needs those detailed parts. So you can then build massive somewhat detailed pieces… and so you do. And now, with your 3 printers, you find designs to a fourth. Bigger, better, more detailed, it's another generation, and you can print it off your current designs. Boom, bam, rinse and repeat. Eventually, your diminishing returns drop till you can’t make a more detailed printer, but at that point, you have one hell of a machine, particularly if you have a couple of crazy hackers building your final design as a custom project. Course, it’s not quite that easy. We had to fabricate a lot of weird and unique bits for them in other ways - well, my folks and their friends in the Secret Scientists did anyway."

“So the Fenton Fabricator?”

“Is a massive, customized high detail 3D fabricator that can even print metal and glass, yes.” Danny turned on the lights as they entered a large underground workspace. Tucker saw the fabricator and felt he might’ve gone to heaven. It was a massive aquarium tank, easily twenty feet from corner to corner and at least eight feet tall. Above it, hanging like a mechanical spider on segmented green and red limbs with shiny metal joints and points, was a motorcycle sized 3D printing extruder. Tucker could see a set of lasers for dust printing, a pair of high-heat high-speed extruders for wires, several dozen smaller legs with colors and specific grades of wire, all of which fed up and around the room to spools of plastic and cylinders of dusted metal.

“There are hidden parts in the walls with directed gravity manipulators and some arms kept out of the way until needed for assembly-based stuff. I think Mom and Dad built a car or something down here recently. The canisters are all refilled completely.” Danny shrugged, moving around the lab and grabbing up papers - notes about what feeds to use, hints for setting things up. “I can help you connect up and plug in your stuff - though you’ll have to leave it here so that the thing can print. If you’re legit making a car here, it’ll take about 2 days to finish printing it out at all, let alone assemble.”

“Danny, after I finish with that, we are so using this place for other projects together, do you understand me?” Tucker saw doors that likely lead off to other rooms in the lab and wondered just how Much of Fentonworks there was. “This is too amazing.”

“If you say so, bro. Here, let’s get started. I can help with setting up the print file.”

Sam had to say, going through the bs of school was beyond irritating when both of her friends were barred from the school until they could get around the weapons the Fentons were installing. Paulina’s gratingly loud personality was especially difficult to tune out that day, and Sam found herself feeling proud of her self control in not throwing something at the shallow cheerleading idiot when she started going on and on about the upcoming spirit week.

Once school was out, Sam grabbed the board that Danny apparently made for her after he finished Tucker’s, though she wasn’t sure how, and put on her helmet. New, magnetic boots planted firmly on the board, Sam pulled out her phone, put in the address of the Skulk and Lurk, and activated the Nav AI that Tucker had managed to make an app for to download. “One of these days Tucker is going to overwork himself into an early grave.” Shaking her head Sam took off into the sky, and no amount of gothic reputation could keep the smile off her face or prevent her from cheering. “Woooohoooo!” Who could possibly blame her? She was flying . There was nothing more awesome than this that she knew of.

When she arrived, Sam had her board hover itself up to the roof, where it was less likely to get snatched by someone who thought it’d be cool to snag a hoverboard. Walking into the store, Sam took off her helmet and grinned. The Skulk n Lurk was one part book store, one part poetry reading area, and one part coffee shop. It had the gothic, occult theme down pat with black, blue, and shades of purple being the only colors to be found around the store. Heading straight into the books section, Sam managed to flag down an employee and nudged him in the arm. “Nice mohawk, Chris, I see you’re branching out.”

Chris turned around, hair dyed a brilliant blue and his clothes all pastel shades of purple and grey with a bat-shaped nametag pinned on his chest. He smiled and elbowed her right back. “Yeah, just got it done the other day. How’re you holdin up, Sam? Parents still trying to push you into being a prep?”

“Such is my curse.” Sam sighed and leaned heavily on Chris while he laughed. “But, that’s not what I’m here for today. Think you can help me find some books on magick?”

“Cursing people is wrong, and will always go wrong for you, I hope you know that.”

Sam rolled her eyes, standing up straight. “It’s not for cursing anyone, Chris, it’s for something else.”

“Hitting that cheerleader with a love spell is not the way to go about getting over your crush on her.” Chris smirked and turned away from her, walking steadily while Sam scoffed and scowled at him.

“That’s gross on two fronts. A love spell sounds ridiculously creepy, and I don’t have a crush on Paulina of all people.” Sam made a gagging noise and Chris laughed yet again.

Ludicrous notions about cheerleaders aside, Chris lead Sam to a section about magick and left to go help another customer while Sam browsed. She held her hand up, letting her fingers brush over the spines of the books as she read their titles and stilled. There was a vibration, warm and far more humid than any bookstore should be and humming so much like Danny and Agatha and even that piece of trash Grovsner did when she was close. It was a feeling that she hadn’t really noticed until now that all of the ghosts she’d encountered shared, however few of those there were. The tiny hairs all over her arms and the back of her neck stood on end and Sam grabbed the book.

Roots, stems, rain, warmth, leaves, petals, heat, crushing cold, withering emptiness, life granting rain and growth . Sam dropped the book and just barely bit off a loud swear, staring at the cover. Magick: The Life Blood of the Earth. “Well. Danny can see weird shit, I guess I can feel it. Being that close to the portal must’ve done something to me.” Picking up the book slowly, Sam waited for any weird feelings to hit her again. When none did, she grinned slowly. “Let’s see what I can do with that.”

Danny takes some of the time after fighting Skulker to relax at home, get his schoolwork done that was emailed to him, and figure out a plan for working around the school's new anti-ghost security system. It had been two days already and he was coming up blank. Of course, it's at dinner that Danny thinks to ask his parents. "Hey Mom, you said the Fenton Finder works by keeping track of a ghost's ectosignature, right? What is that, exactly?" Jazz, as she standardly did when Danny instigated ghost-themed rants, looked as offended as one might have had their mother been described with every cuss word in the dictionary. She stabbed her chicken alfredo while holding this look for 5 continuous seconds without blinking.

Mom smiled wide and ecstatic. "Well you see, Danny, an ectosignature is the frequency of electrical signals running throughout a ghost's body, shaping its form and directing its actions."

"Like brainwaves?"

“Exactly, hon!” Mom reached into her pocket and pulled out a macaroon, which Danny devoured immediately. “When a ghost manifests outside of the Ghost Zone, its ecto signature is a signal being broadcast from the Ghost Zone into our reality. Since ghosts are 4-dimensional constructs made of exotic matter that of which exists beyond our standard perceptive abilities, a ghost can receive this ectosignature from just about anywhere on Earth or beyond. Like the best cellular reception in the universe.”

“Like any signal though, an ectosignature can be tracked! And that signal can be disrupted and blocked!” Dad only spoke in exclamation points Danny realized some time ago. He waved his fork around in presentation at the blueprint that his mind had likely superimposed on the air next to him. “The Fenton Thermos™ uses charged ectoplasm and what I’ve coined as Fentonite to isolate any ectoplasmic mass contained inside of it from its corresponding ectosignature by creating a four-dimensional enclosure! The filthy ghost is still charged with the ectosignature though, there’s a centralized network of energy that allows the ghost to immediately take on its form after it’s released.”

“So the ghost is conscious within the thermos?”

Mom shrugged. “As conscious as a ghost can be, sweety. It’s not an actual person or anything, just a static imprint of what used to be a person’s thoughts. Like an A.I.”

“The Fenton Finder™ used scanners specially made to detect ectosignatures that are on our satellites up in space! It’s also how our security system works, though that works off of scanners here in the house!”

"So is there a way to track down ghosts by their specific ecto signatures? If you can track the general signals maybe you can create a way to lock into a specific one."

"Mm, I suppose we could! That'd be useful for tracking down that scum that attacked you and friends! We've got the blueprints for the ecto signature scanner down in the lab somewhere if you wanna try the idea out, son!"

"Will do, Dad. I'll tell ya how it goes." Danny grinned around his chicken and pasta. He had a game plan now.

After dinner, Danny raced downstairs to print out the blueprint from the computer - his father stacked the blueprints in an infuriatingly chaotic way that Danny hadn't the patience to sort through - and then ran through the door on the left. Behind it was a hallway into a tunnel, one that lead Danny to the alternative lab under the building right next to the house. Hopping into his wheely chair, Danny slid over the linoleum floor to his work table and laid down the blueprint.

"Alright, I can work with this. A signal can be tracked, and it can be isolated. Which means that My signal can be isolated and tracked specifically." A smirk crossed his face. "Which means the scanners can be set to ignore my signal. Perfect!"

Danny slid over to the laptop connected to a second Fenton Fabricator, glad that his parents were always thorough enough to make a back up of everything they did. "This should be done in no time. Then Sam can help me test it and Tuck can- speak of the devil." Danny whipped out his phone and hummed, tilting his head at the simple message his best friend had sent him.

FriarTuck: Hey Dan, almost fin breaking the security in Sklkr's suit. Bout to crack this badboi open n make it mine. Muahahahaha! Hyd?

"Ugh, stars, I don't wanna think about that asshole." Danny shot back a quick reply and set his phone down, finding a notebook he typically kept around. Writing in a code only he, Tucker and Sam knew, Danny got everything down that he could. "Skulker has been a major set back in my plan to prove not all ghosts are evil to Mom and Dad, and a few other weird developments made themselves known. I can now see everything in the lower intensity ultraviolet spectrum 24/7 instead of having to concentrate, as well as the electrical currents running through everything; I can somehow see my emotional connections with people I'm close with and use those connections to influence their emotions as well as read them clearer than other aurae." He stopped, taking a breath and looking over what he'd just written. " Mierda , ain't that creepy?" Danny pulled on his hair a bit while he wrote.

"Joining that on the list of creepy-ass things about Danny: I can reach across that link to everyone and pull on their love and affection and all that and use it to heal myself. Stars, that's such a gross way to look at everyone's care for me. Just a fucking- a bandaid? A free trip to the nurse in a minute?"

Turning back to the parts being made, Danny huffed and dragged his nails against his scalp a touch too roughly. "Physiological changes in my ghost occur when Tucker and Sam are in danger; Canines grow into fangs and according to Sam my voice starts to echo as though it's coming from everywhere. Thankfully a check in Tucker's mirror proves that the changes are temporary. Reaction to my temperament? On that note: being a psychoreactive exotic material, the ectoplasm that makes up my ghostly body reasonably reacts instantaneously to my emotions, but it seems to be enhancing them as well. It's either that or maybe puberty, but I have a feeling puberty doesn't make you violently angry at the slightest provocation and likely to turn any ghost you see into a splatter on the ground." Danny groaned, closing his notebook. "I fucking Executed Skulker. What the fuck? Why didn’t I just suck him into the thermos?"

A ding from his phone and Danny snorted.

GardeningClaws: Hey Star boy, don't go angsting without us there to hug you. We will know and you will pay the price.

"And what price is that, being buried in a pillow fort?"

GardeningClaws: do you know how many pillows I have in this house?? Do you think, like a fool, that I won't use them against you?

Danny laughed, sending a quick 'fair point' before heading to the door opposite the one into the house lab. Behind it was a room with rows of lockers, each holding three sets of suits. Danny didn't need them though. At the far end, there was a large octagonal metal rim, blast doors sealed shut within.

Opening it up to just the right coordinates, Danny watched the doors pull back and felt the building charge of the portal's startup. For a fraction of a second, Danny was filled with a bone-deep fear that gripped his entire body and held him stock still. With a thunderous crack, the fabric of space-time was folded around and torn, and Danny relaxed, staring out at an expanse of white and grey. Opening the blast door, he let the void fill him up and spread outward to chill his bones and freeze his veins. Skin blue, eyes and freckles green and his fluffy hair snow-white, Danny flew past the event horizon and gasped silently at the sight before him.

The moon is so much more beautiful when you can look with your own eyes instead of through the lens of a helmet visor.

Sam, smartest of the group that she was, called Danny and Tucker both to head to her house for a horror movie marathon. “After what we’ve been through, none of these B rate movies are gonna scare us.” It was so close to inarguably true that the boys both shrugged at their phones and headed on over. Danny came down from the sky in that space where everything was heat and impossible colors, everything around him highlighted in a panorama view that almost made him dizzy. Landing in an alleyway, Danny checked to make sure he didn’t see anyone around him and took a deep breath. He folded himself up, cold edges practically trapped within him tugged and bent until the brilliant moonlight that bled from his form retreated into the center of his chest, light and freezing cold as it hummed in an offbeat pulse next to his heart.

Pulling the hood of his jacket over his head, Danny jogged out of the alleyway and down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. He looked around the neighborhood properly and hummed, wondering how he never put together that Sam was rich when the address she’d given them ages ago was very obviously in the rich part of town. “Stars, we’re really just that oblivious aren’t we?” The stars in mind, Danny cast his gaze up and smiled at the full moon that greeted him, counting the tiny dots of the stars around it while he walked. Thankfully, his odd kaleidoscopic vision seemed to extend to his human form a bit and his foot froze mid-step as a car drove past him at an intersection. “Sweet mother of the gods, why can rich people not drive right?”

When he got to the gates of Manson Manor, Tucker was there typing away at his phone. When he looked up Danny waved and grinned, pointing a thumb at the huge mansion behind the gate. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s just so much . Why does anyone need that much space? How do they keep it clean?”

“If I meet some butler named Alfred I’m going to eat your hat.”

“Are you sure you wanna make that bet, Danny? This is looking Batman-ish.”

The gate opened up before Danny could respond to that and instead, he nudged Tucker’s side before jogging toward the door. Sam was there, opening it before Danny could trip on nothing and faceplant into the mahogany or whatever expensive wood the door was probably made from, and he instead landed on a soft carpet. Tucker nudged his foot with his shoe and Danny groaned, resigned to simply laying there for the rest of his life. Two pairs of hands lifted him up from the ground however and Danny laughed, getting up properly.

“You can’t just let me wallow in my shame in peace, can you?”

“Of course not,” Sam scoffed. “If you’re going to be ashamed, I have to be there to make sure it’s appropriate. Now, c’mon!” Sam dragged Danny down a few halls, and up some stairs, followed closely by Tucker.

“I need to make a map of this place so we don’t get lost the next time we come to visit,” Tucker muttered, and Danny nodded. When Sam opened the door she was headed for she let Danny go and grinned at them like a cat that’d eaten the canary. Walking in, Danny felt his jaw drop and took a moment to soak in what he was seeing. “You have an entire movie theater in your house?”

“I know, it’s grossly excessive and we absolutely don’t need it, but-”

“Sam, what the heck are you talking about?” Danny waved a hand in the goth’s face and snorted when she swatted at him. “This is awesome! We can marathon every Dead Teacher movie here and it’ll be like when we went to see it in the actual theaters but better !” Danny pulled down his hood and hopped over one of the chairs - of which there were two whole rows - and plopped himself into the soft cushioned seat with a laugh. “The only thing that could make this room better would be if you had movie snacks.”

“Well, good thing I have a popcorn machine right back there full of fresh popcorn, a cotton candy machine, and ordered us pizzas.” Sam grinned, sitting next to Danny with a bowl in hand full of greasy buttery popcorn, and Tucker sat on his right. “What should we watch first?”

Halfway into Dr. Sleep, the pizza arrived and three laughing teens had to pause the movie and pull themselves together from the heap of giggles that they’d become. “Oh, oh stars, that hurt , laughing so much hurts!” Danny leaned on Tucker while Sam leaned on him, the bowl of popcorn practically forgotten next to Tucker. After a few minutes, Danny took a deep breath and patted his friends on the back. “I can grab the pizza - I can fly, so unlike you two I can actually go and be back before the things are cold.” Before either friend could protest, Danny let the shimmering void of silvery dark cold spread out from the center of his chest to every hair on his body in a flash of light. He slipped through Sam and Tucker like water through the air and flew off toward the red aura of the pizza guy, diving to transform behind the front door when he appeared outside. In just a moment he was back inside and setting three pizza boxes down on the snack table. “I see we got ourselves a meat-lovers for Tuck, a veggie everything for Sam, and-” Danny gasped. “A dragon’s tongue pizza for me! Aww, Sam~”

“Oh stuff it you goof,” Sam said as she and Tucker grabbed slices and plates. “I just knew that you’d complain your pizza isn’t spicy enough unless it has ghost peppers, reaper peppers and every other kind of spice known to man and dolphin on it.”

Tucker rolled his eyes, already scarfing down his first slice. “Dolphin? Really?”

“Dolphins are the closest animals to humans in behavior and observed intellect, Tucker.” Danny took the time to go through three slices of pizza while Sam ranted about how dolphins might as well be classified as non-human people before pointing accusatorily at her.

“There is nothing wrong with my sense of taste, thank you. Anyone with a strong enough tongue can handle this pizza, Sam.” Danny took a bite to emphasize his point and smirked when he was flipped off. “I’ve just got the strongest stomach here.”

“ Excuse you? ”

“Unlike you, I can eat veggies without my stomach declaring a mutiny.”

“Um, go fuck yourself? That was the lowest of all low blows, I am utterly betrayed !” Tucker covered his forehead with the back of his arm and half fell backward. “Truly, my trust has been shattered by mine own brother, how could you? And I’ll have you know that the amount of capsaicin you consume is well beyond what any human being should have in their body.”

“Funny, I’m pretty sure I’m not human.” Danny paused mid-chew, ignoring the look of disgust on Sam’s face over the two of them talking around their food. “I wonder… what smaller changes like that might be going on because of my ghost? Like, regular puberty is already horrible enough but now I’ve got like, ghost puberty to deal with.”

“First of all, ghost wise, you’re baby.” Danny pouted at Tucker, feeling mildly offended. “You haven’t even been half-dead for a whole year yet, you’re baby.”

“Tucker, can you be reasonable for one moment?” Danny nodded, gesturing to Sam, who was clearly the only one with her head on straight between them. “Danny is always baby, not just because of his ghost.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Danny rose up in front of the movie screen, less crossed in the air as he frowned down at his friends. “I am offended, I am revolted, I dedicate my life to our lord and savior Jesus Christ and this is the thanks I get?”

“I wonder,” Sam said loudly as she walked toward his pizza box. “What it would taste like if I put cotton candy on your pizza?” Danny dove for his pizza box, nearly crashing into Sam as he grabbed it up and flew toward the ceiling. He flipped upside down and stood with his feet to the ceiling, grinning down at his friends. Carefully opening his box he took out a slice and stopped.

“Sammy that is a wonderful question!” Gravity shifted, reasserted itself in the correct direction, and Danny flipped with it, landing in front of the cotton candy machine. He dipped his pizza slice into it and smirked at the despaired wail of his friend while he ran away from her, munching away at his unholy pizza slice. “This is so sad, Alexa-”

“You don’t think I’d have Alexa in my home, do you? First you defile my cotton candy, now you insult my common sense? Do me a favor and parish.”

“Been there, done that.”

“As amazing as all that is, I was wondering something about you, Danny.” Danny flew over to Tucker, landing on his shoulders with a snicker. “So like, can you do that thing from the movie? Like, turn your head all the way around like an owl?”

A wide grin spread over Danny’s face and he set his food down on the table, before pulling the void up and out and around himself. Bright silver light illuminated Tucker and cast odd shadows on his face. To think about later. Danny turned his head slowly, cautious of being wrong, and almost stopped when he heard the pop of the joints in his neck. Still, he kept going until he was looking at Sam’s gaping face right behind him. He raised a hand to give her a thumbs up and winced at the sound of more popping joints - though, fascinatingly enough… “None of this hurts at all.”

“Well now I gotta see you spider-walk up the walls, that’s just the natural result of you showing off like this, Danno.” Turning his head the rest of the way around, Danny saw Tucker’s phone pointed at him and snorted. “Dude this is wicked !”

“Oh my gods, we have to time you, hold on.” And like that, Danny was doing laps around the walls and ceiling, reversed on all fours while Sam timed him and Tucker recorded. When he dropped back down to the two rows of seats, Danny crossed his legs behind him with a hum.

“Anything else y’all wanna test?” Tucker raised his hand and Danny let his gaze slide from Tucker himself to the brilliant yellow-gold-grek air around him. “I’m going to regret hearing out this question, aren’t I?” Tucker nodded, his grin widening and the grek in his aura growing brighter. Danny sighed and pointed at his brother.

“Can you possess people? Cause that would be pretty fuckin cool.” Tucker T posed as if that would help Danny with the wave of discomfort that crashed over him at the idea. “How would you know? Go ahead, try me. See if you can like, take me over.”

Danny drew the darkness back into his chest, warmth and the beat of his heart and the weight of gravity tugging relentlessly against him like countless invisible chains made themselves known to him. Digging in his pocket, Danny pulled out a coin, looking at Tucker with as much seriousness on his face as possible. “Heads I tell you to yeet your PDA into the cotton candy, tails I try to possess you.” Danny flipped the quarter and caught it in his open palm. He took in a deep breath through his nose, and let it out the same way. “Shut.”

Slipping back into the void, Danny stared at his Tposing best friend and considered just how he was supposed to do what he had asked. The only thing that made any sense, of course, was to slide even deeper into the void. Light and sound and even the air circulating through the room all faded away and the world shifted like a gradient scale from Xtreme Indigo to a deep dark blue sprinkled with green that lit up the empty world in bands, rivers, and threads that Danny could’ve stared at for the rest of his life and probably never grown tired of. The only constants were the gold and green aurae at the ends of silver threads that shone like solid moonlight. Danny dove for the golden light and dipped a hand in where he guessed Tucker’s head was. The silver thread practically yanked him in, and Danny sank into a desert of yellow and glittering light.

In the next instant, he was blinking unfamiliar eyes, falling out of a dumb pose he hadn’t taken, stumbling on legs longer than he was used to and warmer than he’d been in months. “Holy shit.” Danny held out his - Tucker’s hands and turning them over each other again and again. He took a few testing steps forward and back, turning and stretching every way he’d ever seen Tucker move, and felt a laugh bubble out of hi-Tuck’s mouth. “Sam holy shit!”

Sam was staring at Tucker-Danny like he was the most out of this world thing she’d ever laid eyes on and she wasn’t sure how to react to him. The cheer of figuring out yet another ability dimmed at the sight of her expression and what might’ve been horror was building itself up in his chest. Then Sam schooled her expression and pointed at him. “You sound the way you do when the two of you are speaking in unison.”

“I feel like I’m wearing a costume that doesn’t fit right, I’ll be honest about that. Stars, Tucker’s vision is horrible.”

“Alright, that voice thing is actually getting annoying, can you like, leave him now?” A moment of silence passed, the room growing incredibly small and Sam stepped closer. “Danny, you can leave Tucker’s body now, right?”

“Gimme a second, Sam, I didn’t know I could go into him in the first place.” Danny huffed and closed his eyes. He focused on what was different and wrong about being in Tucker’s body instead of his own, thought about floating upward to the surface of a large body of water, the moon coming to his mind’s eye and he reached for it. There was a solid kick at the edge of his shadows, golden sands rising up and filling the empty space to push him up and out toward the moonlight and-

Danny flopped onto the ground face first, sensing a trend of him faceplanting on Sam’s floor, and Tucker let out a loud gasp. “Holy balls, that was weird as fuck !” Danny flipped around onto his back, letting his own familiar warmth and heartbeat fill his senses before he looked up at Tucker and found him wiggling his fingers and toes. “It was like blacking out or something. I had the weirdest dream where I was like, I dunno, made of fire or something?”

“It was a lot of weird, hard to describe feelings on my end but mostly like a suit that doesn’t fit right. Like, I know what my body feels like and that wasn’t mine, ya know?” Sam and Tucker nodded and while Danny knew they had absolutely no idea what he meant, it was relieving all the same. Standing up, Danny reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the scanner he’d printed earlier. “By the way, I made something that’ll help me get back into school.”

Tucker, without missing a beat, said, “That sounds like a horrible evil device.” Sam snorted and Danny nodded. “What does it do?”

Danny launched into an explanation of what he’d learned about ectosignatures and his idea for tricking the security system at school. “Also,” Danny added when it came to mind, “the car should be done printing in my basement by now.”

“Wait, you not only finished designing it but also started making it?” Sam looked between them with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean printing?”

“The Fenton Fabricator™ is a giant, modular, high detail 3D printer that can make complex metal technologies - like our hoverboards. The first 3D printed car took a couple of days and it wasn’t as complicated as this so I guessed about 48 hours.” Danny shrugged. “Probably done by now.”

“Isn’t that cool?” Tucker practically had stars in his eyes. “We can build anything in there, Sam!”

“Before that, we gotta get this ecto signature of Danny’s recorded." Sam held up the scanner and Danny nodded. Things had to happen in the right order or things would go wrong.

Danny reached inside of himself and pulled the dark, endless space between space that rested within him out to wrap around him like a cool, relaxing blanket. The extreme indigo of the world rose to an even more brilliant blue and purple that blended together and unwove from each other and wrapped around everything. Tucker shone from within with gold that glittered like desert sands and Sam was wreathed in the viridian green of the forests. The threads between them were silver and thick as though woven from many. "I never need to take drugs cause all I need to do to get a trip is go ghost. I swear."

"Yeah, well, I think I have the reading on you right here. Tucker, can you make any sense of this?" Tucker rolled over and stared at the data on the Fenton Finder remake. After a moment of silence, Tuck started tapping away at his PDA ferociously. "I'm gonna guess that means yes."

"I can record this signal and have a filter to keep the school's system from recognizing you as a threat by tonight. Think we can break in and do it then?"

"Probably," Danny shrugged, flipping a few times in the air. "Ishiyama probably had them set the security system to an activation button or lever or verbal input. They wouldn't want them to make something automatic in case a ghost was too close to a student."

"Fair. Tomorrow night then?" Tucker grinned as Danny tucked that blanket of not so empty empty space back into the very center of his everything and flopped onto his seat.

"Sooner I can tell my family we beat Skulker the better. I don't like worrying them like this." Ever since his Spirit Vision or whatever got turned permanently on, Danny could feel the undercurrent of anxiety that ran through his family. It made his skin crawl with the itch to make them all feel better and left a bitter taste on his tongue.

"Agreed, I can only keep this info from my parents for so long." Sam sighed, rolling her eyes. With a grin she handed the scanner fully over to Tucker and ran a hand through Danny's hair, messing it up as much as she could.

Danny swatted away Sam's hand after a moment and sank further into the soft cushiony seat. "Your chair is eating me, Sammy."

"You've been getting a healthier amount of meat on you, so yeah it might be." Tucker was steadily getting engrossed in his task and Danny knew they had precious few seconds before he was completely lost to them so he decided now was a good time to be a dick.

“So like, when the first hoverboard exploded and I put up a forcefield on a reflex we completely skipped over that cause of hyper-focus but like. Should we talk about that?"

"You have protective instincts," Tucker mumbled, "and ghost stuff reacts to the deeper parts of your mind right? So it's just you defending someone you care about."

"Which reminds me." Sam poked Danny in the sides until he was squirming and giggling to get away. "You're keeping like, a journal of all the things you can do right?"

"Mostly notes on what I learned about ghosts in general, like a bullet point list of the stuff that happened with Agatha and Skulker, and stuff but yeah. I need to add ‘owl neck’ and ‘possession’ to my list of Things I Can Do."

“And what, pray tell, is on that list?”

"I can turn intangible or invisible, defy- no, actually, with what happened at the zoo I guess I can influence gravity, I can see all the radiation in the world, which is a trip lemme tell ya, I can apparently make a wall of ectoplasm?" Tucker and Sam were staring at him for a long beat of silence before both were tackling Danny and pulling him into a big group hug. “I know, I’m awesome, but so are you guys and you should celebrate it.”

“Yeah, I am pretty awesome,” Tucker said with a grin. “You guys are lucky to know me. I feel I deserve a reward for the amazingness I bring to this group.” Tucker was promptly dropped by Sam onto the floor and Danny laughed.

“Another cool thing you can do is heal yourself and other people.” Sam poked Danny in the side until he was squirming away from her in that unreal state of being, slipping through her fingers like the space between air and flopped onto Tucker’s lap before solidity came back to him. “That’s probably one of the coolest powers you have.”

“One day, Tucker is going to copy everything I can do, but with technology.” Danny poked Tucker a couple of times and got his hand swatted away for his trouble. “He’s already copied my language-”

“Spanish doesn't belong to you just because your dad is Mexican, Danny, try again.”

“And now he’s tryna say what’s mine isn’t even mine, can you believe this guy?” Danny didn’t even try to hold in his laughter now, waving a hand emphatically in Tucker’s face. “Next he’ll say I’m not the greatest ghost fighter in the world-”

“Your Mom.”

“Or the first boy to step foot on the moon-”

“Neil Armstrong - also, did you just say you walked on the m-”

“Or the unthinkable, like I’m not the very first Fenton that’s gonna be built like a brick house.”

“No no, you can’t just talk your way out of this one, Danny, you were on the moon? ” Ah, Danny loved riling up his friends.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Tucker Foley #Sam Manson #OCs #Maddie Fenton #Jack Fenton #Jazz Fenton #Fanfiction #Phanfiction #fanPhiction #Phanphiction #fanfic #phanfic #fanphc #Phanphic #MCS #Monstrous Chosen Spellslingers #Rexy Writes

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ladyxxdaydream · 5 years

Note

47 (Texting the incorrect number but continuing the conversation)

Well, this was a fun way to spend my sunday morning (✿◠‿◠).

These are meant to be a little rough–spur of the moment writing with little editing–while I’m working on my longer fics. If I get enough requests, I may add a drabble section on my Ao3 page, and polish them up to post over there. Thanks for the request, tea! Hope you like it.

ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ You can submit your own from the list here. ♡

☆゜:。*。。*:゜☆

Kakashi couldn’t sleep. He grabbed his track pants he had discarded on the floor, removing a wrinkled piece of paper out of the pocket. Gai had finally entered this century, and gotten a cell phone. He had scrawled his number on top of a flyer for his personal training program—Green Beast—before Kakashi had left the gym earlier today.

He punched it into his phone and sent a text.

Yo, what are you doing?

Binge watching the newest season of Icha Icha instead of grading exams. God, it’s so terrible.

Wait, what? Kakashi knew for a fact that his best friend didn’t watch Icha Icha, much to his dismay. Gai was a crossfit trainer; he’d have no reason to be grading exams. And Kakashi imagined that his friend’s exuberance would translate through text. There wasn’t nearly enough yelling in the form of all caps and exclamation points. Did he have the wrong number? But then why would this person be answering like they knew him?

And what was that crap about Icha Icha being terrible?!

He couldn’t help himself.

Then why are you watching it if it’s so terrible? He typed out, annoyed.

It’s like being stuck in traffic over a car accident, and you’re cursing the people who keep slowing down to stare, while vehemently telling yourself you won’t act like everyone else, but then you get there, and you become that bitch. You can’t help but stare.

Kakashi couldn’t hold back his laugh. It rang out in his empty apartment.

Hm. Sounds like you secretly like it.

Of course I do. What, you think I have no self restraint? You know me better than that.

Shit. What was Kakashi doing? He should really tell this person he accidentally sent a text to the wrong number, but it would be weird now. He already continued the conversation.

Another text came through.

LMAO I can’t believe Lori went after Gavin. Good lord.

Kakashi’s face broke into a grin. He knew the exact moment this person was talking about. He’d already watched the season, twice, despite it being released on Netflix yesterday.

God. This puts my students drama to shame, which is rather impressive. Speaking of, Naruto ‘accidentally’ kissed Sasuke today, and Sakura ran out of the classroom crying.

Kakashi answered without thinking.

How do you accidentally kiss someone?

You don’t? That was his wording when I asked him what all the fuss was about. Guess he’s not ready to admit he kissed a boy on purpose. I’ll tell you about tomorrow. What time did you want to meet at Blackberry Cafe?

Oh god. Kakashi had a terrible idea.

10? He typed out.

Can we make it 11? I’ll probably be up all night watching this bullshit.

—-

Kakashi was sitting at a table in the corner of the patio, inspecting the customers. It was 11:15. So far he’d narrowed it down to three people. One was a woman, who had just answered her phone, which immediately eliminated her. The speech pattern didn’t match. That left two men who were sitting alone. If Kakashi was being honest with himself he was hoping it was the cute one with the ponytail—

—who had just glanced at his watch, sighed, and pulled a stack of papers out of his messenger bag, along with a red pen.

..watching Icha Icha instead of grading exams…

Bingo.

Kakashi got up and walked over, standing in front of the empty chair across from the teacher.

“Uh, hi.”

“Hi?” the man replied, giving him a small smile as he wrinkled his face in confusion.

Kakashi’s heart skipped. Fuck.

“Is this seat taken?”

The smile grew a little bigger. A blush coloring his cheeks.

“Actually, it is. I’m waiting for someone.”

Kakashi thought he saw the slightest bit of disappointment flicker across the man’s face. It was enough to encourage him forward with his ridiculous plan.

“I think that someone is me.”

The man put down his pen, giving Kakashi his full attention.

“Clever, I’ll give you that. But I know that it’s not.”

“No, really. It’s me.”

The man scratched at the scar the cut across his nose and over his cheeks, his irritation apparent.

“I’m flattered by your effort, but pushy persistence isn’t attractive to me.”

Oh boy. Well. He’d already come this far…

“I’m not being pushy. It was me you were texting last night.”

The man narrowed his eyes. Kakashi tried not to wince under his glare. It was formidable.

“What?”

Kakashi pulled out the chair and sat down, as the man nearly squawked with disapproval.

“My friend wrote his number on a piece of paper. There was one number that could have been a 4 or a 9 and I guess I got it wrong.” Kakashi said, matter of fact.

He watched as the man face contorted through several reactions.

“Are you insane?” he hissed.

Well, maybe, but…

“Not clinically. I’m not a serial killer or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The man widened his eyes.

“Ok, sorry, that was a stupid thing to say, considering.”

“Try idiotic.”

Kakashi bristled.

“Well, what about you? My number can’t have been in your phone, yet you spoke like you knew me.”

“I just got a new phone yesterday! None of my contacts transferred. I thought you were Izu—my friend. The number looked vaguely familiar I—this is fucking absurd. Why the hell would you come to meet me?”

“You seemed interesting.” Kakashi shrugged.

“After a ten minute text conversation?” he asked, incredulous.

Kakashi rattled off other reasons in his head. How he’d had a terrible fucking night. How he couldn’t sleep because he was plagued by painful nightmares. How he was seconds away from taking enough anti-depressants to knock him the fuck out for a few hours, when their texts had distracted him enough to forget about it completely.

“I was having a bad night and you made me laugh,” he settled on saying.

The man scoffed, yet there was a softness in his eyes.

“How can I trust you? It’s not like someone can vouch for you—“

“IRUKA!”

Gai was mid-stride to their table, before he froze.

“K..kakashi!? You two know each other?!”

“You two know each other?!” Kakashi countered.

“Iruka’s my newest protégée! We just started training a few weeks ago,”—Gai’s eyes lit up—“Why have I not thought of this before?! This is absolutely perfect! What incredible genius set you two up?!”

“Uh, actually, you did, Gai. I misread the number you gave me and well,” Kakashi spanned his hands out in front of him to say here we are.

“What luck! How beautiful! It was meant to be. I’ll leave you two alone,” Gai said, quickly making himself scarce.

“You know Gai,” Iruka deadpanned, both eyebrows raised, as he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

“He’s my best friend.” A smile crept across Kakashi’s face. “How’s that for vouching for me?”

#kakairu #fan fic #my work #fan fiction #drabble #one shot #ficlet #hatake kakashi/umino iruka #my fic

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cottonblush · 5 years

Text

blooming days | pjs

❧ word count: 2,533

❧ genre: fluff-ish, more to come in later parts

❧ notes: so i was originally gonna make this one super long post but i had this idea of how i could split it up and make it more interesting so i think it’ll be a three part series?? the first part is shorter than the rest because it’s an intro but i just wanted to some background about how jisung and the reader first meet. and i may or may not have been inspired by day6′s m/v series from the sunrise and moonrise albums but that’s irrelevant. this is unedited and i typed some of it out on my phone bc my laptop was being dumb and kept glitching (we don’t stan). btw i’ll be trying out a new layout so we’ll see how it goes

❧ parts: planting, budding, ---

Jisung rests his head on his arms, which lay on the worn out surface of the cash desk, the cool air of the a/c doing nothing to help alleviate the sweat that’s pooled on his neck. Summer is winding down to a close, but it’s a summer day nonetheless, so the air is still thick and the temperature is still high enough that Jisung is tempted to lay down by the tiny produce section of the corner convenience store and give up on his job entirely. It doesn’t help that he’s also extremely bored. He’d usually have some homework to work on or friends to text, but the second semester has only just begun and almost all of his friends have decided to form an Overwatch league without him. He’s in the middle of questioning whether or not he should quit his job when his train of thought is interrupted by two things: the unequivocal fact that he so desperately needs money to pay for his Apple Music subscription and honey butter chip addiction, as well as the jingle of the bell that signals that a customer has entered the store.

“Dude, I know. Like, the fact that she assigned us two whole pages of problems on the third day of school? Not my physics teacher. I don’t claim her,” your voice rings through the almost empty store as you hold your phone to your ear with one hand and use the other to grab a basket. Jisung’s eyes trail your figure as you place multiple bags of honey butter chips in your basket and he feels his stomach practically try to eat itself out of hunger. You grab a small bottle of sprite and head towards the front of the store, still talking about the same teacher, “What do you mean, I can’t not claim her? I, as a decent human being, refuse to accept her as one of our own. She literally has to be an alien. Or the world’s biggest sadist.”

You quickly tell you’re the person on the other side of the line that you have to hang up as you place your items on the table in between yourself and the young man in front of you. You ask him how his day has been, bringing up the fact that he must be suffering in this weather, and Jisung is grateful a chance at human interaction.

“Could be better, to be honest, but at least I don’t have any homework. That must suck,” he says with mild amusement.

Your cheeks quickly turn a soft pink as you scratch the back of your head with embarrasment and reply, “Was I really that loud that you could hear the whole conversation? Wow, I really need to turn it down a notch, don’t I?”

“Nah, you’re fine. It’s really quiet in here and I might’ve been eavesdropping. I get bored really easily.”

Jisung hears a soft chuckle and feels the corners of his own mouth start to quirk upwards. The conversation so far has just consisted of small-talk, and he knows that you’ll be gone within the next minute, but you honestly feel like a breath of fresh air to him. He doesn’t know why but once you pay for your items and leave, he hopes for you to stop by again. He hopes he can get to know a little more about you than just your name (he took a peak at the name on your debit card earlier and knows it’s a little creepy but has no regrets). He’s known for being quite shy, but this time Jisung thinks it’d do him some good to try and befriend you.

Alas, luck is never on his side because the next time he sees you is a month into the semester. You’re wearing a school uniform this time and he literally wants to smack himself because ohmygod you go to the same school as him. How has he not seen you around before? You’ve now completely piqued his interest and he can’t take his eyes off you even as you give him a wary look while walking up to the counter.

When asked if he’s okay, Jisung is snapped out of his reverie and tries not to pretend like he hasn’t almost swallowed his own tongue before responding with, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… what grade are you in? I’m not trying to pry or anything. We go to the same school, t-that’s all.”

Jisung really wants to slap himself when he finds out not only are you two attending the same school, but you’re also in the same grade. Perhaps he’s going blind just like his friends keep telling him. Perhaps you have a secret ability that makes you invisible when you’re around him at school. Perhaps he’s just been stuck in his own world and too shy. Reluctantly, Jisung admits that the third one holds the most truth.

When asked what classes you’re taking, you explain that you want to major in physics, so most of your classes are math and physical science based. In turn, Jisung says that he’s interested in computer programming, but he has decided to take less challenging math courses so he can fit in his dance electives.

With that small interaction, Jisung feels a little lighter as he watches you exit the store. He’s glad to know more about you, to be one step closer to making a new friend. This is kind of a big deal for him. He really isn’t the most extroverted person, but he’s not a recluse. He’s in that weird gray area where if he knows a person, he can hold a conversation, but there are times when his brain forgets how to get to know a person in the first place. It’s at times like these when he feels the greatest envy towards his friends, Donghyuck and Chenle, who could talk Thanos out of killing half the universe if they really tried. However, he’s also grateful to them because who else will defend him when Renjun comes at him for literally breathing?

Jisung is now more aware of you at school. He sees you in the hallways between classes and in the cafeteria during lunch. Unfortunately, he doesn’t notice you in any of his classes, but the little waves you send each other when you spot one another is enough to satiate what Jisung deems to be “on track” for a friendship.

It isn’t until the end of August that he realizes how close yet far you appear to be for him. He’s let out of class early for once and is one of the first to get their lunch and start eating when Donghyuck loudly plops his tray down across from him and states, “My lab partner is gonna sit with us at lunch from now on so we can work on this project. Hope you don’t mind, but also she’s sitting here either way so you better deal.”

Jisung shrugs his shoulders and replies with a quiet “sure” before going back to shoveling a mix of kimchi and rice into his mouth at an alarming rate. He’s caught off guard, though, when Donghyuck’s partner turns out to be you and you greet said teen by jogging up to him and throwing an arm around his shoulders after placing your tray down along with your books. You smile and say, “Hey, Jisung,” to which Jisung is slightly confused because he’s sure he’s never told you his name and he’s way too forgetful to actually remember to wear his name tag at work. You’re quick to explain that Donghyuck always blabs about him and the others during class, but he shouldn’t worry because he’s actually made out to be one of the normal ones of the bunch.

Much to Jisung’s dismay, the conversation comes to an end due to the reason you've come to their table in the first place. You flip your book open and begin perusing through the material while Donghyuck’s fingers glide across the keyboard of his laptop.

Having nothing better to do, Jisung simply straightens up and leans across the table, trying to take a peek at what his friend and now acquaintance are working on. Noticing his gaze, you slide your textbook toward him and flip it around so you can explain, “We’re starting our boat projects so Hyuck and I are trying to look for good ideas for designs and costumes and stuff. Honestly, when the teacher said we would be starting the project after break, I didn’t think she meant the first week. But like, go off, I guess.”

At this, Donghyuck releases a snort and says, “Don’t encourage it. I swear she has ears and eyes everywhere. She knows everything we’re saying. It’s creepy…”

The three of you chuckle, but not before casting a sweeping gaze across the cafeteria, looking for the aforementioned teacher. For the rest of the lunch period, Jisung and Donghyuck look on the internet for cool group costumes they can put together while you continue to take notes from your textbook. By the time you’re all getting up to go to class, you’ve narrowed the costumes down to the characters of Little Mermaid, gondoliers, or pirates. You also have a basic idea for the structure of the boat. Somehow, Jisung has found himself now apart of your boat project group even though he’s never even stepped into the physics lab before, but he’s glad and even offers for the group to meet at the convenience store so he can help after school.

When Chenle gets back from yet another family business trip—Jisung is highkey jealous that Chenle is rich enough and smart enough to afford taking multiple weeks off of school per semester, but Chenle assures him that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be—Jisung fills him in on what he’s missed. Chenle pouts when he hears how much fun Jisung has been having without him, but he’s quickly reminded that he got to spend two weeks in the Maldives so he promptly shuts up.

Before anyone realizes it, two weeks pass by in the blink of an eye and now it’s become a daily routine for you and one or two of your crew to show up at the convenience store when building the actual boat is getting too tiring or when your fellow groupmate Haknyeon declares for the thousandth time that he is starving and literally cannot cut even an inch more cardboard until he has food in his stomach. This time, however, seems to be a special occasion because the whole group is filling through the entrance one by one (or two by two if you count how Seungmin and Jisu just fought tooth and nail, squeezing through the door frame to see who could get there first).

“Hey, Jisung,” Jisu calls out with a smile, snapping Jisung out of his daydream and making him sit up straight at the counter. He offers up a meek smile and waves to everyone else as they walk in. You and Jisu immediately head to the ice cream section, grabbing several popsicle and fudge sticks each and giggling at the cold sensation against your skin.

“There’s a lot of you today,” Jisung points out, inwardly cringing when he sees Seungmin accidentally knock over a display and poorly putting it back together.

Donghyuck’s head pops out of one of the aisles as he explains, “Yup! We finally finished building so we came here to celebrate! We’re gonna hang out outside so you should come join us.”

Jisung shrugs his shoulders and once he finishes scanning all of their items, he hops off his seat and walks around the counter. He takes a seat at one of the tables outside, figuring if a customer comes in, he can step back in. The rest of the gang joins him and open all of their treats, some choosing to savor the food on this especially pleasant fall afternoon (Jisu and Seungmin) while others choose to shovel everything down their throats as quickly as possible (you, Haknyeon, and Chenle). As if on cue, you and Chenle drop your heads in your hands and groan about having a massive brain freeze. Literally every other person at the table except Haknyeon—his cheeks are stuffed with cheese puffs and when he tries to speak, several little puffs tumble out of his mouth and onto the pavement, causing him to pout and forget about the situation at hand—says ‘I told you so,’ with an indignant smirk.

The atmosphere continues in its lightheartedness and no one notices the darkening sky until the sun has almost completely dipped into the horizon. After cleaning up the mess that has been made, the teens slowly bid their goodbyes and head home. You’re one of the last ones remaining, wanting to buy some more chips to have during your study session later that night. Placing a little package of Hello Panda cookies in your basket, you’re about to tell Jisung you’re ready to pay when you realize there’s an older man, probably a college student, at the cash desk speaking angrily to your friend.

The man continues to raise his voice, practically yelling at this point, “Are you serious? I’m telling you I’m 21! Can’t you just believe me and give me my damn cigarettes?!”

Poor Jisung seems to fold back into himself in intimidation as he nervously stutters out, “S-Sorry sir, I can’t let you have them without an ID. Please c-come back next time with some form of identification.”

It’s when the man slams his fist on the counter and leans forward that you decide this has gone too far and you have to step in.

“Excuse me,” you say, putting up a facade of confidence, “I believe that camera in the corner has just recorded this whole interaction and if you don’t leave now, I won’t hesitate to report you to the police.”

The man stomps out of the store with a huff, but not before knocking down a shelf of candy. Jisung is still in a state of shock as he shakily comes around the counter and starts to pick up the candies. You bend down and start to help him as well, trying to get everything back in place, when he asks, “How do you do that? Y’know, like you were just so calm, collected, and confident?”

You let out an airy laugh as you expound, “Dude, are you kidding? I was so nervous. I totally thought he was going to turn around and punch me in the face or something. But I wasn’t just gonna let him treat one of my friends rudely, so I just did what I had to.”

Jisung can’t pinpoint why, but when he ends his shift and heads home, he has a little pep in his step. Maybe it’s because he’s glad he didn’t have to deal with another confrontational scenario. Or maybe it’s because you stood up for him without a second thought. Either way, he’s glad his day has turned out how it did and he can’t wait for tomorrow.

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spootiliousrps · 5 years

Text

The Truth Is Drarry

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like drarry.

Stranger: ( Modern AU, some years after the war, don't need to respond in length, just wanted the details out ) Out of everything that had happened, out of what came of the war and wondering how he would go on without constantly having to please his father and serve a lord he didn't completely agree with, Draco had spent years trying to change himself. Seventh years at Hogwarts had to spend another year after the school was fixed and Draco managed to pass. Of course, he had no friends, no allies, and could only study. The Malfoy house and name fell with Voldemort and Muggles Relations was one of the few willing to hire him, no matter the grades. A couple years spent studying and amongst the muggles helped him put aside his prejudices. He left Muggles Relations after a couple more years to open up a shop in Diagon Alley. specifically, an alchemy, potions, and goods shop. Cutting costs where he could and some of the fortune helped him open the shop, and helped him keep it open as well, seeing as not many people wanted to buy potions from a Malfoy without thinking they would be poisoned. But his time in Muggles Relations taught him to be accepting. It changed him in more ways than one. On both the outside and inside, the shop was normal. But Draco himself stood out like a sore thumb. He took up muggle fashion trends and donned piercings, facial ones including a septum, lobe, upper lobe, industrial, nostril, eyebrow, and snake bites (along with the semi-hidden tongue piercing). His arm was void of the dark mark he once had, instead his wrists decorated with tribal like bands going around and a snake curling around his right forearm. Though he hadn't been in school for so long, he still donned the color green in his clothing. And it was present whenever he was behind then counter of the shop. It was how he working now, a white v-neck shirt under an open green sweater, glasses perched on his nose as he went about doing an inventory check.

You: [reading]

You: Harry pulled his cloak closer around him to fight off the chill of the evening as he strode down the alley of shops and patrons. He had just finished dropping off a package at the joke shop for Ron who was working with his brother while Hermoine was away in France offering enchantment students in the foreign program for Hogwarts. Everyone was very proud of her achievements, though not surprised. It was no doubt the same for Harry who worked as an Aurora for the ministry. Life was... tolerable... It was actually kind of nice having a small family though they weren't blood and he enjoyed his work. Still, he missed the old days every now and then, hanging out in the common room and staying up late studying. Even missed a certain blonde always causing trouble though he would never admit it. Honestly that was probably why he found himself pausing infront of the small potions shop that seemed to be lacking in customers. Ron had told him Draco had opened it some time ago and that he didn't think it was doing well. Harry wasn't really sure what had peaked his curiosity but... That had never stopped him before... So, with a small shake of his coat to get the dampness off, he stepped inside, the bell ringing loudly as the door shook it.

Stranger: What little was left of his family's fortune would have to help him make it through the month if business didn't pick up at some point, though he had more customers than he had when first opening up shop. The rumors that he would catch from children looking around were not surprising, though it did nothing but harm his business. That all of his potions were tainted to rid any users who weren't pureblood, that there were curses put on certain vials that would bring nothing but suffering. The only rumor that was true was that every product had a charm placed on them, to cause anyone who shoplifted to be unable to leave the store. At first, it had been a blinding charm, but that had caused more trouble than good. With a sigh, Draco finished and moved out from the back, attention directing towards the door as the bell above it rang. He took a deep breath before stepping behind the counter to get a better look at the person, only for something to twinge inside of him as he saw Harry Potter standing there. Any attempt at a smile was dashed, wondering what god of misfortune was looking down on him today. "What brings you by, Potter?"

You: Harry glanced about the dimly lit store as he stepped inside, taking it all in before his attention was pulled to the man behind the counter and he paused. Malfoy looked so different then what he remember that it took him off guard for a moment before he offered a small half smile that could be translated to something akin to amusement. "I um..." He began, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment as he strode forward, closer to the counter. He was suddenly embarrassed and not sure what to say. "I'm looking for a Draught of Peace." He offered quickly. "Any chance you could help?" He asked awkwardly.

Stranger: Harry was amused. Of course he was. Who wouldn't be amused to see someone that had gone against him in any way he could until the end doing so poorly? A lifetime ago, Draco would have laughed if their positions were switched. But things had changed, he didn't loathe Harry like he told himself to over the course of so many years... even towards the end, he couldn't bother not liking him even a bit. A brow raised when that potion was mentioned and he wondered for a moment who it was for. But that was none of his business. "I don't carry any on hand, but I can make something if you care to wait." Any business he could get was welcomed.

You: Harry glanced towards the door as if he were considering it but gave a small shrug. "Sure." He offered, his smile only growing a bit as he gave a shrug. "I can wait. I don't really have anything pressing today." He admitted. "That is, if you have the time of course, I wouldn't want to cause you any undue trouble." He added politely.

Stranger: For a moment, Draco wondered if Harry would leave and he would be left alone in an empty store once again. Thankfully, he was proven wrong as the man said that he could stay, shaking his head when he was asked about his own time. "You see how things are. I have nothing but time on my hands." He gave a bitter laugh as he moved from behind the counter, pulling out a cauldron from the back before going through the shelves and drawers in the front to gather the necessary ingredients. Once they were collected, he set a flame under the cauldron and began.

You: Harry glanced about the shop once more at Draco's emphasis and gave a small nod. He waited until the other man disappeared for a brief moment to collect the cauldron before he began to wonder the isles. "Yeah, Ron told me he's heard the rumors about the shop." He admitted when the other man reappeared. Harry picked up a small bottle, examining it curiously before setting it back and moving on. "I don't understand why it matters. If anything, the people from school should appreciate the quality of your work... I mean... You were practically a prodigy when it came to potions." He mused with a small huff.

Stranger: "I was a prodigy." If there were any classes that Draco more than excelled in when they were in school, it would have been potions. Working with the ingredients and making them just perfect was what he was best and and what made the most sense. But, as he had found out, just because he was good at it didn't mean that people would want to buy from him. "Most people think that I'm going to try and poison or curse them through the potions. I used to use a charm that would cause temporary blindness to anyone who shoplifted, but that worked about as well as you'd think."

You: Harry gave a small snort at the words. Leave it to Malfoy to think of something like that. He could see the person stumbling about and breaking things. "Just as humble as ever, I see." He mumbled under his breath before toying with one of the charms on the shelf. "I don't understand why'd they think that... It'd be a poor business decision really." He offered, glancing towards the blond. "Well if it helps at all, I know where I will be going for all my potion needs." He teased. "Well, that is... when Hermoine is not in town. She'd kill me if she knew I was buying potions instead of going to her or making them myself. I'm sure you remember how she is."

Stranger: Why be humble when he knew how talented he was at potions making? A small smirk tugged at his lips, but it was gone as he turned his attention back to the potion he was handling. If it didn't turn out right, the effects would be weak or there would be none at all. Draco was careful with everything he made, no matter what he was trying to do with it. "I also remember how frustrated she got when she couldn't make a potion properly. Never seen someone so frazzled before." Hermione was about as much of a perfectionist as he was, so he understood. But it was still an amusing sight to see.

You: Harry gave a bark of laughter. "Don't let her hear you say that." He teased. "I bet her right hook is stronger than it was in school." He added in amusement, moving to the next object. "She is /The/ Hermoine Granger. She's suppose to be good at everything." He reminded, flipping open a book and flipping through it. "I bet she'll be Head Mistress one day if she's not careful." He added more as an after thought, his voice soft and more directed to himself as he read the words on the page.

Stranger: "I hope to never be on the receiving end of that again." Hermione was one of the very few people to exist now that truly and utterly scared him. She was tenacious and violent if it came down to it and would do anything for her friends. All commendable qualities, but only if you were on her good side. And Draco was sure he would never be. He added a few more ingredients to the pot and turned the flame down a bit. "All we have to do is wait. Who is this for, anyway?" Of course he had to ask at some point.

You: Harry tensed at the question, having already closed the book and set it aside. "I uh..." He mumbled not meeting the other man's gaze. "It's for..." He began as he started heading back towards the counter, flushing a bit in embarrassment as he glanced aside. "Well, its for me if I'm going to be honest." He admitted, rubbing the back to his neck. "Sleep... doesn't really come easy since..." He explained his awkward smile turning into a deep frown. "Well, since everything." He shrugged before glancing up, meeting Draco's blues with his green, the look obviously expecting Draco to understand.

Stranger: There was nothing but understanding as Harry said it was for him, having had his own sleep troubles even before all that happened. Nightmares had been a common occurrence for him since he was young, due to his father's influence as well as the Death Eaters. For a while, he had been brewing his own potions to get them to go away, but that quickly developed into him being unable to sleep unless he had a potion in hand. He held up a hand to gesture for Harry to stay there, retreating into the back for a moment before coming back and holding up a dreamcatcher. "I'd recommend this instead of using potions frequently. I learned how to make and charm them properly when I worked in Muggle Relations, thanks to a visiting auror from the States. It'll help lull you to sleep and keep nightmares at bay."

You: Harry tensed at that, brows furrowing as he studied the charm. Why hadn't he thought of that? Why hadn't Hermoine. "You... Really think that would would work?" He mumbled softly, already pulling out his wallet. "I mean, I'm pretty much willing to try anything at this point but... I would hate for you to lose out on all those future purchases of mine." He offered, hiding his shame with humor.

Stranger: "I know it works. I use one myself." He would at least admit to that, seeing as Harry was airing out some of his own dirty laundry to him. But that was all Draco was willing to offer at the moment, wrapping the dreamcatcher in crepe paper before putting it in a brown bag. "Do you still want the potion? It only needs another minute before it's done."

You: Harry hesitated, considering it a moment. "Yes, please." He offered with a nod. "Just in case something happens." He offered. He paused once more, as if his thoughts were else where before counting out enough gold to cover the purchase and then some. "I would also like to commission you for a few batches of Veritaserum. If able." He offered, putting the payment on the counter. "I don't need it today but when you're able. I prefer to use it over some other... unsavory methods at work. Its come in handy often enough but whoever makes the potions at the ministry... well... it doesn't work as well as it should." He paused offering another smile, this one a tad more confident. "I have no doubt that your's would put it to shame." He admitted, and if he was right in the fact then he had a feeling Draco's business would increase after Harry's co workers saw the difference in the two.

Stranger: If business was better, he would have given Harry a discount on the dreamcatcher or given it to him for free. But any payment he could get was welcomed, taking the payment as it was set down and putting it in the register. A brow raised when he was asked for Veritaserum, knowing how it would have to be used whenever the Aurors were dealing with someone of trouble. It had been a while since he last had to make some so he might be a bit rusty, but a making a few batches would do no harm, and it was fairly harmless to test out on himself when he was alone as it was illegal to sell something that strong in a general potions shop. "Whoever does it probably goes only by the book. For a good Veritaserum, there are certain adjustments that need to be made. How much would you need?"

You: Harry's hand went to the stubble on his chin as he considered it. "I suppose for now... half a dozen?" He offered. "It can't be any worse then the stuff we use and I'll no doubt be lending some to others. Surely, that will do for a decent taste and then I may ask for a resupply if you able to of course." He offered. "I wouldn't want to take up all your time."

Stranger: "Unless business picks up within the next week, I should have them done in a few days." Even then, after the shop was closed, he had more than enough time on his hands to make the batches in the comfort of his flat. Turning to the cauldron and extinguishing the flame, he looked in to see it the fabulous turquoise it needed to be before bottling it up. Once the cauldron was empty, Draco gave a wave of his hand and it floated off to clean itself. "Remember to simmer this before you use it, otherwise the effects are severely dampened." He slipped the bottle into the bag and looked back to Harry, getting a good look at him now that he wasn't diverting his attention to anything else. A slight smile tugged at his lips. "And regardless of your sleepless nights... you look good."

You: "Of course." Harry nodded in acknowledgement of the instructions before being caught off guard by the words. A sudden flush of red coated his cheeks at the words and he gave an embarrassed laugh. "Um... Thanks... I guess." He managed. "You're not too bad yourself. I like the new look... and the green..." He added. "Its always suited you." He mused as he accepted the bag.

Stranger: The flush that rose to his face caused Draco to chuckle slightly, though more surprised than anything else at the embarrassment Harry was feeling. He leaned against the counter a bit and nodded, fixing his glasses as they slid down a bit. "It did. The rest was something I picked up when I was learning more about muggles."

You: "Well, its certainly a good look." Harry offered with a grin, his attention turning to the door as the bell rang, signaling a tall red head's entrance. "There you are, 'Arry." Ron huffed. "Mum just rang, says she wants us to take her to lunch. She's going to be livid if we keep her waiting." He explained before his gaze went to Draco and he frown. "Malfoy." He greeted flatly with a nod.

Stranger: Draco grinned back to the compliment and nodded his head a bit, looking towards the door as it opened and Ron walked in. The smile slipped a bit as his presence was ignored until he finished what he needed to say to Harry, tilting his head a bit towards in. "Weasley." After a moment's thought, he spoke up again. "Tell Arthur I said hi. It's been a while since I last saw him."

You: "Yeah, sure." Ron replied with a shrug as Harry turned back to him and offered out a hand to shake, purposefully not leaving his contact information. "Well, it was certainly a pleasure Draco." Harry offered, his smile never waning. "I'll stop by in a few days to check up. Try not to work to hard, yeah?"

Stranger: Looking to the hand that was offered, Draco took it and smiled back to him before nodding. "Should I gesture to the near empty shop to emphasize how there's barely anything for me to do?"

You: Harry chuckled at that giving the man a pat on the arm. "Just spread the word that Harry Potter is a regular of yours... Ron does." He laughed; causing the youngest Weasley boy to shrug. "Its true." He admitted. "It works to." Harry pulled away after that giving Draco a wave. "Stay out of trouble. I'll see you in a few." He offered as he headed for the door.

Stranger: "I'll make sure to do that." Though he wondered if anyone would believe him, most knowing that the two were on opposing ends throughout all of their school years. Draco waved back as Harry made his way to the door and left, gathering the ingredients he would need for Veritaserum once he was alone.

You: [Would you like to jump ahead a bit?]

Stranger: ( definitely. do you mind starting that? )

You: [Sure!]

You: It was a few days, just as Harry had said it would be, before he reappeared. This time he seemed a bit more upbeat rather than mellow. The charm had worked and Harry had had no reason to use the potion he had been given. He had been sleeping soundly though out the night which was new for him... even with the potions. Though that was only part of the reason he felt so different... To be honest, he had been looking forward to seeing the other man, so different than he remembered, ever since he left. He glanced up as the bell rang, his cloak, flowing with the small gust of wind, messing his unruly hair as he stepped inside, gaze searching for the owner.

Stranger: Though Draco had been told to tell people that Harry visited his shop, it had taken others just seeing the man walk in and out with something in his hands for more people to give it a try. Though the next few days weren't too busy, it was still more than he was used to. Inventory check would go along much better as there was more missing and he only needed to replace things that were being bought, not for going bad. Draco worked hard to make a perfect Veritaserum and had them stockpiled in the back when he had finished, waiting for Harry to appear again to retrieve them. He looked forward to seeing Harry for other reasons, but he wasn't about to admit that. When Harry walked in, a smile tugged at his lips and he laughed at the mess of his hair. "You still don't know how to tame your hair?"

You: A hand lifted to the dark locks in question as Harry grinned back at him. "And you still don't know how not to sound like a snob." He countered playfully. "But I don't complain." He added as he shut the door behind him. "Besides, I like the way my hair looks and I've never gotten any complaints before." He added, already pulling out wallet and moving to the counter.

Stranger: "Do you hear me actually complaining about it?" He teased back to the other, watching as the wallet was pulled out before retreating into the back and retrieving the small box of carefully packed Veritaserum. Draco set it upon the counter and rang it up. "It took a few tries, but these are stronger than any Veritaserum you have seen or tried before."

You: Harry just gave a small huff in response before Draco disappeared. "Right. Thank you." He offered with a softer smile. He hesitated to pay though, looking as if he were a bit nervous. "I uh... was wondering...." He began, a small flushing coming to his cheeks as he avoid the other man's gaze. "That is..." His heart began to quicken a bit before he finally sighed. "I was hoping that you had another Dream charm I could purchase..." He rushed, feeling a bit guilty. It was not what he planned on saying but he did need another. "I... tend to work late hours and sometimes stay in my office rather than turning in for the night." He admitted, the red darkening on his ears. "Its a bit embarrassing but it is what it is."

Stranger: Brows furrowed a bit as Harry hesitated when the box was set on the table, looking to Harry and then down before glancing back up to him when he started talking again. The flush that rose was becoming endearing at this point, not used to seeing Harry like this, embarrassed and almost vulnerable to a point. When he finally got out what he wanted to say, Draco gave a bit of a sigh and wondered how long this man truly worked to resort to that. But he had an idea - having been around so many aurors that ended up sleeping in their offices instead of their homes. A hand flicked and the dreamcatcher he hung in his bedroom in the flat above the store drifted down from the stairs in the back before ending up in his hand. He didn't advertise them or offer them unless someone needed it, so he had to resort to give Harry his own. The next few days would definitely be used to make more. "I'm not going to scold you, but you better not come back and ask for one wherever else you sleep." Draco teased before wrapping the dreamcatcher and slipping it into its own bag.

You: Harry offered a pathetic smile and chuckled softly, running a hand through his head. "Don't worry, I think two will be plenty." He offered as he began counting out coins, making sure to add a bit extra for the trouble. "And I'm sure the potions will work perfectly." He added pushing the coins towards him. "I'd say I can't wait to try them out but I'd feel bad for the poor sod I'd need to use them on." He admitted, opening the box and examining one of them. "How long do you think a few drops will last?"

Stranger: "You can always play a prank on someone to see how well it works. I always test a drop myself just to see how strong it is." Only in the comfort of his own flat and with pre recorded questions so it he wouldn't just be rambling on. Even though the Veritaserum was invasive as no one could stop from answering with a sincere truth, he'd grown used to the sensation it brought. "One drop should last about ten minutes, a few could range between fifteen to thirty. You won't need much for the desired effect."

You: Harry nodded, turning the bottle over in his hands a few times. "Ten minutes?" He asked as if clarifying but he didn't respect an answer. He gave a small shrug as he opened a bottle and lifted the dropper up. "Well... I suppose we only live once." He mused before allowing a drop to fall on his tongue. The flavor wasn't the worst thing he had ever had but it certainly wasn't the best. It was a bit sour with a sickly sweetness that was a bit off putting.

Stranger: That was a surprise. No one in their right mind would dare test out a Veritaserum with someone else around unless there was a wager going or something else that made them do it. And yet Harry took a drop on his own with no hesitation. A huff of a laugh escaped and Draco leaned against the counter. "I don't know if I should consider that bold or moronic."

You: "Knowing you, the later." He mused. "Though I would consider it both." He added with a chuckle and a shrug. "Like the majority of things I do." He glanced down at himself, running a hand over his jumper as if to smooth it. "I don't know... I don't really feel any different." He offered with a sigh.

Stranger: "You tend to be a pretty open book anyway, but you're going to have trouble keeping any thoughts in your head. And I'll try to avoid asking questions." Anyone else would have taken advantage of this and asked Harry whatever they could, wanting to know everything about the boy who lived. Draco was satisfied enough to listen to whatever Harry couldn't keep inside.

You: "True. I've never really been one for secrets." He admitted without hesitation. "Never saw the point in them. They tend to weigh you down and eat away at your soul until you can't take it anymore." He seemed to blink in surprise. "Wow... I... hadn't meant to say that." He chuckled. "Guess it works. Though, thats not a surprise since you were the one to make it. I always envied your talent for potion making. I always struggled but you were so perfect. Which I suppose is why I didn't understand why I was given Snape's book and not you." He clamped a hand over his hand, gaze wide as he tried to keep it all in. "I... am sorry... I hadn't meant..." He began but groaned a bit as pain washed through him. "Thats a lie I knew what the potion would do to me but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to force myself to be honest." He rush giving another groan. "Fuck!" He huffed a hand slamming on the table. "I am severely regretting it now."

Stranger: ( oh one minute! )

Stranger: Right off the bat, Harry was unable to hold back any of his thoughts and Draco was enjoying it greatly. Sure it started off a little grim, but then it melded into being honest about his skills and Draco couldn't help the smug grin that spread to his lips. This was more amusing than he thought it would be and he had to bite down on his lower lip just to keep from laughing out loud. But he was definitely getting a kick out of all of this. When Harry managed to stop, Draco had to clear his throat to get a chuckle loose before he could talk. "It's fine - but it's best to just let whatever happens happen. The more honest you are, the less you feel the... well, the less uncomfortable you are. But, so you're not alone - " Draco flicked his wrist and the closed sign was put up in front of the shop before reaching for the dropper and placing a drop of the Veritaserum on his own tongue. It tasted as fresh as it had after he brewed it.

You: "No, don't." Harry rushed but Draco had already taken the drop and he sighed. "I would have honestly preferred not to know what you really thought of me." He admitted. "I'm already fairly certain you think I'm some ignorant child whose fame has gotten him everything; just like everyone else does. I'm sure you've only been being nice to me because I spend so much money here. Which I do not only for your talent but because I have actually missed your company over the last few years, even if you were always mean to me."

Stranger: Immediately, Draco felt the effects from it as he listened to what Harry had to say. About how he thought he was seen, how everyone else seemed to see him as. And then the admission that he had actually missed his company over the years? Well, all somewhat of a surprise, and he was compelled to respond to all if that in kind. "I don't think you're an ignorant child. Even when I was telling myself to hate you while we were in school, I only did for the first few years. After that, I couldn't bring myself to. Even now, I see you as someone who is trying his hardest. I know you never wanted to coast on your fame, even though so many people would milk that for all it's worth. And the reason I'm nice to you is because I have missed you as well. I miss any positive human contact nowadays, but your visit before made things feel easier."

You: The tension in Harry's shoulders eased a bit at Draco's words and his expression softened. "I wish the world could see you the way I do. They're so focused on what happened... what you were forced into they can't see that you never wanted that." He admitted. "At least I assume you never did. I'll admit I barely know anything about you... But... I'd like to. I've always been too afraid to ask you out... Even in school. You were just so out of my league I felt like I'd never have a chance. Not to mention the obvious hatred thing. That and I was terrified what my friends would think. Granted now its more out of my own insecurities." He shrugged, his ears such a deep red it was almost unnatural.

Stranger: He couldn't help the way his own ears burned a bit as Harry spoke about him like that, a light flush dusting along pale cheeks as he glanced off to the side. And as Harry said that he even wanted to ask him out, there was no way he could keep silent about everything that had built up over the years. "I never wanted to be a part of it. When I was younger, I did admire my father for seeming so strong, but i quickly learned that there was nothing good about it. But I was scared of what would happen to me if I said no. I would be compelled to tell you more now if I wasn't so focused on accepting the indirect way you just asked me out. I've felt something for you ever since fifth year, but I spent almost a decade trying to convince myself that I didn't like you and that I wasn't gay. Didn't exactly turn out well."

You: Harry paused before a huge grin split his features in to. "I didn't really ask you out but if that is a yes I would prefer we just assume that I had." He admitted. "I never had a problem with my sexuality but I, of course, didn't have the same pressures that you did. I never knew you were into men which just added on to the million reasons I refrained from making my affections known. You were just so smart and gorgeous and...." He huffed. "and I don't know what. You are just so perfect, even know with those piercings and tattoos... All I could think about when I..." He groaned, brows furrowing as if he were in pain, obviously fighting the effects of the potion. "When I.... Saw... Fuck." He hunched over, hand bracing on the counter as his stomach churned. "As I saw all of them was how interesting.... how interesting it would be.... to run my tongue over them...." Now that the words were out he breathed in a relieved breath but covered his face with his hands as he straighted. "I can't believe I just said that. I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed in my life."

Stranger: When would the ten minutes be up? They needed to be up so they could stop mortifying themselves like this, yet the more Harry spoke, the more embarrassed Draco got as he leaned over the desk and tried covering his face with his arms. He could feel all of the blood rushing to his head and didn't want to be seen like that, especially as the man kept complimenting him. But then he started talking about the piercings and... started holding back. Draco peeked from over his arms as Harry tried fighting the effects, only to fail and cause his face to blush tomato red. He covered himself once more and tried fighting the words that clawed their way up, the searing pain almost as bad as the embarrassment. Until it became more. "I... the closed sign is on the door... so you don't have to hold back from any of that..." He wanted to fall into an open pit and remain there for the rest of his life, but that wasn't about to happen. So he just looked up a little from his arms, his glasses sliding down as he met Harry's gaze.

You: Harry pulled his hands away from his face at the words, staring at the other man in shock. It took a moment for him to recover before he spoke a moment. "I wouldn't love anything more." He admitted, pressing closer towards the counter, nails digging into polished wood as he continued to try and control himself. He could feel the effects beginning to wane but it was obvious that it wasn't enough yet. "You have no idea how often I've thought..." He groaned at the pain, it wasn't as bad as the last wave but it still made him want to vomit. It would soon be over but he knew he would do more damage if he continued speaking. "... thought of you.... since I came into the shop last.... how many times I've thought about... fuck that hurts.... about how good you'd look tangled in my sheets." He gave another groan but the pain was more emotional than physically at this point, as he began backing away towards the door. "I am... so so very sorry that I am saying these things to you in person." He admitted, noting how he narrowed the apology. He had no remorse about saying them... only doing so infront of the blond. "I should go before I make things worse. I am terribly terribly sorry."

Stranger: As Harry stepped closer, Draco was sure that he would be doing something, anything, with him in a matter of moments. There wasn't anything more that he wanted to do and yet he was so glad the Veritaserum did not affect physical action to save himself the mortification for anything he might have done. His head picked up a bit more as Harry kept speaking, his face remaining a bright red when the rest was said and making him squirm a bit, imagining himself like that now and knowing that he would drop everything just to have that in this moment. But then Harry was apologizing and backing away... making his way towards the door and saying that he should go. Draco barely had time to even think about what came from him. "Don't... don't leave." The pain in his chest was almost suffocating, near crippling, at the thought of Harry walking out like that now, and he hated as his eyes stung and tears sprung to them. "I... It feels like if you leave now, you won't be coming back... that you'll regret having been this honest and whatever could happen will never be... and I don't want that. I don't want you to go..."

You: Harry hesitated at the words, caught off guard by them as he stared at the blond. "I... I am too embarrassed to stay but... I don't regret being honest." He admitted. "Seeing you on the verge of tears is heartbreaking but... I don't think I can stay without hating myself for it. I don't want us to do something you would regret. I would rather do this properly. You deserve more than that. But I can assure you I wouldn't be able to stay away... Not knowing what I do now. " He admitted still backing towards the door, his hand resting on the handle. "Even if I wanted to stay away... you've always had this strange power over me that draws me in. It was one of the reasons I was so terrified when I discovered you were working with the Death Eaters. You would have caused the war to turn out very different than it had; I'm sure of it." He tensed, gaze lowering, unable to handle the sight of the Draco's expression. "I'm sorry." He repeated, before yanking the door open and hurrying out into the street; not even realizing that his wallet and the potions still sat abandoned on the counter.

Stranger: There was nothing he could say, nothing he could think to say other than to repeat that he didn't want Harry to leave. And quietly, under his breath, he was saying it, but Harry was backing towards the door and saying that he would come back. It made Draco feel a bit better, yet the feeling in his chest continued to suffocate him. It gripped him and strangled him and eventually, Harry was gone, running out on an apology. The store was too quiet now... his mind was blank as his own emotions burst forth and he hear collapsed behind the counter. Even if Harry came back - he'd have to, he left everything behind - Draco wasn't sure how honest he would be able to be. His entire life was spent suppressing every single thing he felt in favor of what others thought of him, and even though he was more honest with himself now, those tendencies still remained. He sat there behind the counter, deciding to close the shop for the rest of the day.

You: Harry didn't get far without his wallet, unable to call for a cab home; though the effects of the potion wore off quickly after he left the shop. Still he couldn't believe what he had done... He was so stupid! He needed some time to cool off, so he head back to the joke shop, ignoring the Weasley boy's pestering and disappeared in the back were he threw a small tantrum, ending with a few broken stink bombs which Ron scolded him for before leaving him to clean up. A few hours later he hand manage to gather himself and clean it all up, though it took a few spells to get the smell out of his clothes. He considered catching a ride home with the boys but the thought of having to explain what happened to his wallet gave him pause... not to mention the look Draco had given him as he left... No, he made up his mind and within a few hours he was back at the shop, staring up at the close sign and trying to muster the courage to knock. Of course the few passerbys who glanced his way starting to mumble and talk amongst themselves but he paid them no mind as he paced, doing his best to just knock. just knock.... just knock.... He approached the door a number of times but still didn't manage it.

Stranger: Even though he decided to close up shop early, Draco took his time getting up from where he was on the floor. He had moved, sitting with his back against the counter, but stayed in that position for nearly an hour doing nothing but staring off. Once the Veritaserum wore off, his mind had gone about repairing and composing itself, closing off to the outburst of emotions that had happened not long ago. He was used to doing so, had done it many times when he was in school, but this was the most intense episode in a long time. And he wanted to not feel any of the pain that wormed its way into his chest. When he finally managed to scrape himself back together, Draco did a quick inventory sweep before retreating upstairs, taking Harry's belongings just to keep track of them. He laid on the couch, resting and drifting in and out of the waking world when something set off the proximity charm, a dull hum sounding near him. He had set those for the front and the back of the store, in case of deliveries or any burglaries so he could get ready. Walking to the window that overlooked the front, Draco saw Harry standing there and the pain returned to his chest. He didn't want to see him now, he didn't want to shatter like he had, but if anything, Harry was probably here for what he left. The dreamcatcher and wallet was placed in the box with the Veritaserum before he went to the window, opening it and casting a spell to let the box slowly drift down and land in front of the other.

You: Harry was so focused on the door that he almost missed the box that slowly lowered itself next to him. But as his gaze caught it he glanced up and moved to catch it, looking back to its source before opening it. His heart sank. While he did come for his wallet, he had hoped to clear things up a bit as well... Well, actually he felt guilt and wanted to make it up to the other man. He set the box on the ground and moved down towards the window a bit, tugging out his wand and mumbling a small spell that would carry his voice without having to yell; so that passerbys couldn't easedrop. "I... realize I'm probably the last person you want to see right now." Harry whispered softly, his heart rate picking up. "I was an idiot to do what I did... But... I was hoping I could make it up to you." He sighed. "If you'll let me."

Stranger: Draco knew that if he didn't face Harry now, it would make it much worse later on. He would end up closing himself off to the other even more and most likely ruin any chance at whatever they could have had between them. But It hurt enough... he didn't feel like he was strong enough to face Harry like this. The window was left open so that he could watch the other walk away, if that was what he'd do, but a voice was carried up to him instead. He listened, brows furrowing a bit when the other told him he wanted to make it up. Swallowing roughly, Draco waved a hand and the front door was unlocked, swinging open a bit as if to invite the other in. Draco sent back down a message before closing the window. "Stairs to the flat are in the back. Door's open at the top."

You: Harry pursed his lips at the response, hesitating a moment but eventually nodded and moved to collect his box before heading inside. It felt strange, being inside the empty shop with the lights out and Draco no where to be seen but... he ignored it as he closed the door behind him and placed the box onto the counter before heading upstairs. He took a moment at the top to calm himself before trying the knob and stepping into the flat.

Stranger: It may have seemed dismissive, distancing even, but Draco wasn't comfortable seeing him to let him in. A few more seconds of composing himself was the least he wanted so he made sure he got it. Once the door to the shop was closed, it locked itself again. He listened as the door opened and Harry stepped in, having moved to sit on the couch, eyes red and the skin around it rubbed from trying to rid himself of the tears that had kept flowing before.

You: Harry moved inside, gaze landing on the man. He could tell that he had been crying and Harry hated himself for it. Still he moved to sit in the small chair across from him, feeling completely inadequate, as he avoided his gaze. "You... have a nice home." He offered lamely, cursing himself inwardly the moment the words left his lips.

Stranger: A huff of a laugh was all that sounded as Harry tried making some kind of small talk, though he kept his gaze averted from him. It was easier when he had the Veritaserum in him. There was an excuse for him to be emotional and spill his heart out. But as things were now? No excuse, no reason, only opportunities to close himself off more. "You're not here to make small talk."

You: "Right." Harry sighed. "Sorry." He mumbled taking a deep breath and forcing his gaze up. He'd taken down the Dark Lord and here he was terrified of a simple potion shop owner. It was pathetic. "I..." He just had to spit it out. "I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me." He rushed, his voice a bit louder than he intended it to be. He caught himself and depleted a bit. "That is... if you have the time."

Stranger: Out of all of the things that Draco expected to hear, that wasn't on the list. He wanted an apology for Harry running off, he wanted... just something. It wasn't like he didn't want to go out with the other, but it wasn't what he expected. Still, his gaze was kept off to the side, Draco fixing his glasses as he took a breath to keep himself composed. "Tonight?"

You: Suddenly Harry felt as if that had been the wrong move. Maybe now that the effects had worn off Draco was regretting what had been said and would turn him down. "Well... yes... if your available... or tomorrow... next week... Whatever you'd prefer.... I can even request a day off if you'd rather have lunch instead." He offered almost desperately. He had never really been good at playing it cool.

Stranger: Harry only ever seemed to be composed when it was literally a life or death circumstance. It would have been amusing if Draco wasn't still battling with himself. He sighed as the other scrambled about to try and say the right thing, eventually looking to Harry and meeting his gaze. "Tonight works. What do you have in mind?"

You: "Oh." Harry blinked in surprise that the man actually said yes. "I... hadn't thought that far." He admitted, offering a small soft smile. "But there is a place in the muggle town square that is nice." He hurried as if worried Draco might change his mind. "I've never been but I've heard good things." He had thought of a small cafe on the other end of the alley but he was worried Draco might think too much about the people around them.

Stranger: Honestly, Draco wasn't in the mood to go out right now. Not because he didn't want to be seen, but his mood for the rest of the day had tanked when Harry left him all alone in the shop. He didn't want to deal with other people right now. Sighing, Draco averted his eyes a bit and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Maybe next time. How about I cook for tonight? I'm not really in the mood to go out and deal with people."

You: Harry paused at that, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Right." He mumbled softly almost as if defeated. It wasn't a big surprise that Draco wouldn't want to be seen with him but it stung a bit. "I wouldn't want to put you out." Harry offered as he stood. "Listen... I'm really sorry about early... I hadn't meant for all that to happen... I understand if you don't want me here... You don't have to pretend like you do. I can leave if you'd like."

Stranger: However Harry took what he said was completely different from it's original intention, eyes rolling a bit as he looked to the man and listened to the apology. As the man stood, Draco took a piece of paper that was near him and crumpled it, up chucking it as his head and hitting him. That was the closest he was going to get at the moment. "Like hell I'm going to let you leave /again/." He stressed that, showing how great his discontent was for it. But Draco stood as well and walked over to him. "If you think I don't want to be seen with you, you're dead wrong. But after that emotional outburst, I am far too drained to be anything but scathing towards people right now. So you will stay here and you will help me cook a meal or you will never be allowed to set foot in my shop again."

You: [I'm about to have to go but I would love to continue this via email if you're up for it?]

You: Harry's brows furrowed as the paper smacked against his forehead, snapping him out of his self wallowing. He couldn't help but give a small soft relieved smile at the words however. "Right." He nodded. "I think I can manage that, though I'm about as good at cook as I was in potions." He admitted.

Stranger: ( i definitely am!! my email is **********************@gmail.com )

You: [Sweet! Do you mind if I send the log?]

Stranger: ( not at all!! probably best for me since i need to bathe my dog now )

You: [lol so cute!]

You: [Sent]

Stranger: ( got it!! )

You: [perfect! I will see you over there then! bye! ^.^]

Stranger: ( awesome!! talk to you there!! )

Stranger has disconnected.

#drarry #omegle #rp #the truth is drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter

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kompletnie-zniszczona-blog · 5 years

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rottedbody-blog · 5 years

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What you should need to think about Medical Spa?

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Some Medical Spas are even ready to offer body chiseling utilizing a laser like the SmartLipo Laser. They can fix skin and dissolve away fat from the waistline, thighs, hips, arms and even the neck area.

Make a rundown of what administrations you may be keen on and get some information about them when you call. A genuine Medical Spa ought to have the option to offer you a complete program to evaluate your needs and address your worries.

Q: What Esthetic administrations are accessible?

A: Besides the medical-grade Esthetic administrations like microdermabrasion and propelled concoction strips, a full-administration Medical Spa should offer a choice of against maturing and rejuvenating facial medicines just as a full menu of corrective and tasteful administrations like waxing, paraffin medications, perpetual make-up and even point by point guidance on make-up application.

Ask what is accessible and check the site for subtleties.

Q: What will the Aesthetician accomplish for me and what is her experience?

A: The key part of an expert Medical Spa experience is the counsel with the Aesthetician. The Aesthetician will dive into the subtleties of your healthy skin history, research the items you are directly utilizing, break down the state of your skin and tailor a treatment program to address your worries. On the off chance that you need Medical systems, the Aesthetician includes the Physician at the proper occasions to get you the ideal outcomes. In the event that this counsel step is skipped, you are getting a second rate administration and will have mediocre outcomes.

It takes long periods of experience for an Aesthetician to get the dimension of learning and comprehension to play out a point by point and exact conference. Try not to be reluctant to ask to what extent your Aesthetician has been rehearsing and whether an itemized conference is a piece of the administration.

Q: How will my consideration be recorded?

A: Before-and-after photograph documentation is an absolute necessity. Most exceptional Medical Spas utilize a complex camera framework like the Canfield Visia to guide and report your treatment program. The Visia takes different photos utilizing different channels and after that it applies complex programming calculations to your photographs to feature explicit regions of skin harm. There ought to be no charge for this administration. Ask how your Medical Spa intends to record your treatment program.

Q: What other Spa administrations are accessible?

A: Generally, most Medical Spa customers need to look progressively young and revived, yet that is basically insufficient. Spa customers need to feel better also. Stress decrease is a noteworthy piece of the cutting edge spa experience. How this is cultivated differs extraordinarily from spa to spa.

Most spas offer back rub. Get some information about what kind of back rubs are accessible. Profound neuromuscular may function admirably for the dynamic competitor however the worried official may lean toward Japanese Hot Stones or Lomi. Is the advisor experienced in Pregnancy Massage? Shouldn't something be said about Reflexology? Or then again Aromatherapy

On the off chance that you need a couple of hours or unwinding, will your spa get you a cappuccino and some lunch? Do they have an attendant service? Would they be able to get your vehicle washed, get your laundry, or make your supper reservations while you loosen up? Will they give limo administration to your spa day?

You may not be searching for this dimension of administration each time you visit a Medical Spa, yet you ought to get some information about it at any rate. On the off chance that your Spa is happy to give attendant dimension administration, you can be certain that their devotion to all parts of client administration is unparalleled.

Q: What will my Spa experience resemble?

A: This is simple. When you stroll in, you ought to quickly encounter a staggering impression of serenity and unwinding. All of your faculties ought to be included. The environment ought to be outwardly excellent. The sounds ought to be light and vaporous. There ought to be an unpretentious fragrance that quiets the brain and mitigates the soul. You ought to be offered a drink that lessens pressure and satisfies the sense of taste. The robes ought to be rich. The pinch of your advisors ought to be certain and delicate.

#spa #medical spa

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emakegr · 2 years

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Apple shipped me a 79-pound iPhone repair kit to fix a 1.1-ounce battery

https://emake.gr/wp-content/uploads/Apple-shipped-me-a-79-pound-iPhone-repair-kit-to-fix.jpg

I’m starting to think Apple doesn’t want us to repair them

Apple must be joking.

That’s how I felt again and again as I jumped through hoop after ridiculous hoop to replace the battery in my iPhone Mini. Part of that was the repair process — mostly, it was how difficult Apple makes it to even get there.

Last month, Apple launched its Self-Service Repair program, letting US customers fix broken screens, batteries, and cameras on the latest iPhones using Apple’s own parts and tools for the first time ever. I couldn’t wait. I’d never successfully repaired a phone — and my wife has never let me live down the one time I broke her Samsung Galaxy while using a hair dryer to replace the screen. This time, armed with an official repair manual and genuine parts, I’d make it right.

Photo by Sean Hollister / The Verge

A repair station in a box — or two.

That Apple would even let me buy those parts, much less read its manuals and rent its tools, is a major change of pace for the company. For years, Apple has been lobbying to suppress right-to-repair policies around the country, with the company accused of doing everything it can to keep customers from repairing their own phones. It’s easy to see this as a huge moment for DIY advocates. But having tried the repair process, I actually can’t recommend it at all — and I have a sneaking suspicion that Apple likes it that way.

The thing you should understand about Apple’s home repair process is that it’s a far cry from DIY. I expected Apple would send me a small box of screwdrivers, spudgers, and pliers; I own a mini iPhone, after all. Instead, I found two giant Pelican cases — 79 pounds of tools — on my front porch. I couldn’t believe just how big and heavy they were considering Apple’s paying to ship them both ways.

I lugged those cases onto a BART train to San Francisco and dragged them down the streets to our office. Then, I set everything out on a table and got started.

Photo by Sean Hollister / The Verge

Apple’s Self-Service Repair kit laid out on a table.

Step one of opening an iPhone is, basically, using a hefty machine to suck the screen off the top. Here, I wasn’t microwaving a jelly-filled sock to loosen the Apple goop holding my screen down. Apple lets you rent an industrial-grade heat station that looks like a piece of lab equipment, right down to the big red safety dial you twist to release the emergency-off button and the suction-cup-tipped mechanical lifting arm.

Photo by Thomas Blythe / The Verge

Hot pocket!

I slip my phone in a perfectly sized “heating pocket” that clamps a ring of copper around the iPhone’s band to evenly distribute the heat and melt the seal around the screen, realize in horror that I’ve invited the “Hot Pockets!” jingle to live in my head rent-free, then spin a dial to raise the arm that separates the iPhone’s screen from its body.

Or, that’s how it’s supposed to work, anyhow. The heating machine threw an error code partway through my first attempt, and Apple’s manual didn’t explain what to do if that happens after you’ve stuck your phone inside. So I wound up heating it twice in a row. And yet, that still wasn’t quite enough for my screen to “immediately” pop up when the suction cup arm began to lift the glass. The manual did cover that situation, making me spin a second hidden knob to put more pressure on the suction cup, but I started freaking out when I saw what looked like cracks spider across the screen. (It turned out it was just suction cup residue.)

Still by Thomas Blythe / The Verge

Here’s the suction cup arm.

Once the screen is loose, I cut through the softened glue holding it to the iPhone’s frame with Apple’s single tiny adhesive cutter, which also gave me a little trouble. The blade got caught when I wedged it under the corners of the screen, and I had to yank it out without accidentally sending my phone clattering to the ground. The kit comes with a perfect-fit tray to hold your phone steady and extra suction cups to hold the screen without stretching the fragile ribbon cables but nothing to hold the tray itself.

Image: Apple

The manual pictures a technician holding the screen with one hand while cutting adhesive with the other, but I also had to hold the tray to keep it from sliding around.

Apple also provides a set of fancy torque drivers to make sure you don’t screw down the phone’s tiny screws too tightly, but it’s a bit of a chore. I must have dropped Apple’s incredibly tiny fasteners a dozen times while removing the slivers of metal that hold the screen’s ribbon cables in place, as well as the bottom speaker that Apple makes you yank to get at the battery. Presumably just to make it more difficult to repair, Apple requires three different screwdriver bits just to remove the screen, and none of Apple’s bits are magnetized to keep the screws from slipping.

Photo by Thomas Blythe / The Verge

The torque driver has several swappable bits, and you’ll need at least three.

At this point, there was still a bunch of goopy adhesive around the sides of my iPhone’s frame. While instructions suggest it’ll just peel off in a few big pieces if you pull with tweezers (which didn’t come in the box), I gave up after 10 minutes of picking away at tiny fuzzy blobs of glue. I was just going to be adding more adhesive anyway, after all. Later, I discovered this was not my best idea.

When it finally lay open on the table, I couldn’t help but gawk in wonder at my iPhone 13 Mini’s precisely packed guts, and I realized I was having fun! Slicing open my phone was a thrill. But a lot of that thrill came from not knowing whether my phone would survive surgery — Apple tools or no.

Photo by Sean Hollister / The Verge

Still photos don’t do it justice — particularly not mine.

From there, it was time to swap out the battery. Once I finished cursing at the far too easy to tear tabs that held in the original lithium pack, I used Apple’s fancy battery press with a rolling arm to seat — but not squish — the new battery down. But I could have done that with my fingertips; I’d have much rather had a tool to properly align the battery, which I had to yank and reposition after plopping it down a millimeter too far south, or a tool to test whether you’ve properly reseated the battery and display connectors. But I’ll get to that.

Next, the instructions had me apply an actually helpful precut adhesive sheet designed to stick my screen back to the frame, which was easy to slot into exactly the right place and press down with my fingers. Then came a huge spring-loaded press (with a veritable slot machine of an arm) to close the phone once more. But even with the press, my screen wasn’t perfectly flush with the frame afterwards, perhaps due to the extra glue I didn’t manage to remove.

Photo by Thomas Blythe / The Verge

Apple’s screen press is a one-armed bandit.

With my phone closed up again, I held down the power button. Nothing. No bright white Apple logo — no response at all. For one horrible moment, I realized Apple gave me no way to test whether the battery and display connectors were actually seated (they probably weren’t) and had me close up the phone anyhow.

Then, a forlorn hope: maybe the replacement battery shipped empty? I scrambled around the office for a Lightning cable, and… my iPhone 13 Mini finally lit up.

Photo by Sean Hollister / The Verge

Sorry, Brian, you did your best.

But I wasn’t done yet. The single most frustrating part of this process, after using Apple’s genuine parts and Apple’s genuine tools, was that my iPhone didn’t recognize the genuine battery as genuine. “Unknown Part,” flashed a warning. Apparently, that’s the case for almost all of these parts: you’re expected to dial up Apple’s third-party logistics company after the repair so they can validate the part for you. That’s a process that involves having an entirely separate computer and a Wi-Fi connection since you have to reboot your iPhone into diagnostics mode and give the company remote control. Which, of course, defeats a bunch of the reasons you’d repair your own device at home!

And, if I’m telling you the truth, the second most frustrating part didn’t occur during the repair either. If it were just me, I’d have aborted the entire process before Apple ever shipped 79 pounds of equipment to my home.

It would be an understatement to say that Apple has a history of resisting right-to-repair efforts. Before the iPhone, replacing a battery was typically as easy as inserting a thumbnail to pop off your phone’s back cover; afterwards, phones largely became tricky to even open without specialized tools, which arguably pushed customers to replace their perfectly good devices when they might have only needed a new screen or battery. Also see: batterygate.

In recent years, the company has actively lobbied against right-to-repair legislation in at least 20 states, sneakily pushing California, as one example, to postpone its bill. (The bill died in committee again this very week.) Apple cracked down on unauthorized repairs by throwing warnings or even disabling features if you repair phones with non-“genuine” parts, though it walked some of that back after an outcry. And it put together a contract for indie repair shops that was reportedly so invasive, many refused to sign it.

So, it didn’t surprise me when Apple’s press release about the program warned “the vast majority of customers” away from their own repairs, or when I needed to enter my phone’s IMEI to prove I owned my phone, or how I had to enter a six-digit code to prove I read the repair manual, which not only suggests you need three pages worth of tools but also a jar of sand in case your battery catches fire — one of many not strictly necessary items that don’t come with the kit. Apple also only includes instructions on how to use its own special tools for repairs, so a more low-key or inexpensive DIY approach is off the table.

What surprised me was the price tag.

$69 for a new battery — the same price the Apple Store charges for a battery replacement, except here I get to do all the work and assume all the risk.

$49 to rent Apple’s tools for a week, more than wiping out any refund I might get for returning the old used part.

A $1,200 credit card hold for the toolkit, which I would forfeit if the tools weren’t returned within seven days of delivery.

Let’s be clear: this is a ridiculous amount of risk for the average person who just wants to put a new battery in their phone. And it’s frankly weird for Apple to insist on you covering the full value of the tools. “It’s not like when you rent a car they make you put down $20,000 as a safety deposit,” my colleague Mitchell Clark points out.

I should also mention the Pelican cases landed at my door two days before the battery arrived, so I only had five days to do the job before that $1,200 deadline.

Screenshot by Sean Hollister / The Verge

My shopping cart. Get a load of the fine print.

The more I think about it, the more I realize Apple’s Self-Service Repair program is the perfect way to make it look like the company supports right-to-repair policies without actually encouraging them at all. Apple can say it’s giving consumers access to everything, even the same tools its technicians use, while scaring them away with high prices, complexity, and the risk of losing a $1,200 deposit. This way, Apple gets credit for walking you through an 80-page repair, instead of building phones where — say — you don’t need to remove the phone’s most delicate components and two different types of security screws just to replace a battery.

Shipping two 40-pound Pelicans can’t be cheap

To me, those giant Pelican cases are the proof. It would cost Apple a fortune to ship 79 pounds of equipment to individual homes all over the country, even with corporate discounts. The Verge is obviously far, far smaller than Apple, but it would cost us upwards of $200 just to return those cases to their sender. Yet Apple offers free shipping both directions with your $49 rental, plus a dedicated support team to validate your parts and facilitate returns. (Though, apparently, it doesn’t do the latter anywhere near its Silicon Valley HQ: when I took the support team up on its offer of picking up my battery, they told me they didn’t have a driver within 250 miles of my location, and I should just drop it off at the nearest Home Depot.)

I don’t think Apple expects anyone to seriously take it up on the offer of self-service repair kits. It stacked the deck in favor of taking your phone to an Apple Store, where it can tempt you to buy something new instead. The real victory will come months or years down the road, though. That’s when Apple can tell legislators it tried to give right-to-repair advocates what they wanted — but that consumers overwhelmingly decided Apple knows best.

https://emake.gr/apple-shipped-me-a-79-pound-iphone-repair-kit-to-fix-a-1-1-ounce-battery/

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lady-snavely · 4 years

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Sands of Time: Part Four

Put Your Foot in Your Mouth

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Fem!OC

Warnings: mentions of death, swearing, mutual pining, all the fluff

Two days later Jade had a note taped to her work locker. Kiyoko had called and asked that Jade please please please call her as soon as she was in. Concern etched across her face, Jade hurried out to her coworker. "Margaret, do you know if Kiyoko said anything in regards to what she needed?"

"Something about the study group tonight I assume. I didn't take the call, Denise did." The older woman replied without turning from her monitor. "Can you run to the supply room and grab more paper for the printers?"

"Yeah, sure thing." With a small shake of her head Jade took the portable and called Kiyoko as she began her shift.

"Shimizu." The answer was swift, to the point and professional.

"Kiyoko, this is Jade from the library. I had a message that you needed to speak with me. Is everything okay?"

“Yes, everything is good, thank you for calling me back so quickly."

Jade listened as she picked through the supply room carefully. For as organized as the shelves on the floor were the supply room drove her a bit crazy with as haphazardly things were quite literally just tossed inside. One of these days, she vowed, she would get the room organized.

"All ten of you?" Jade paused her search as she thought. Did they have anything else going on this evening? No, no group readings or reservations in the meeting rooms. No other study groups, it was Friday after all, most other students would be going home for the weekend or going out to parties. Finally, Jade nodded into the receiver. "That won't be a problem, Kiyoko. I'll prepare a meeting room for you as well so you can all work in peace and at the same table. How does that sound?"

"You're sure? We all aren't out of classes at the same time so some will be trickling in later than others."

"Don't worry about it," Jade reassured. "I'll take care of everything."

True to her word, when the first wave of students arrived a handful of hours later, Jade escorted them to the room she'd prepared. Inside she had an assortment of drinks and snacks as well as extra pens and notepads ready for them. Kiyoko had mentioned a longer session tonight, so why not? There were even a few books scattered around the table.

Kiyoko gave her a grateful smile but said nothing as she circled the table, glancing at the available titles as she went. After the third book she turned a frown towards the group still by the door.

"Midterms are around the corner so I pulled some of the more fact dense and helpful material for your respective fields of study," Jade explained when she saw the look.

"You remember each of our programs?" Iwaizumi cocked an inquisitive brow at her.

"Now, now, Iwa-chan," Oikawa scolded lightly. He even went so far as to pat Jade on the head like a dog who performed a trick correctly. "Be nice to the girl."

"I am nice," Iwaizumi snapped. The two bickered like an old married couple on occasion but deep down everyone, Jade included, could see that they cared greatly for each other.

"It makes sense if you think about it," Yaku said as he settled himself into a chair. "We've been coming here regularly for a year. Clearly Jade was being observant and thoughtful."

Iwaizumi grumbled incoherently but nodded his thanks to Jade as Oikawa dragged him through the room.

"Thank you for the kind words Yaku. You know where to find me if you need anything at all." Jade was quick to duck out of the room before anything else could be said.

Over the course of the next hour and a half most of the remaining students showed up and were guided back to the meeting room. Each was just as surprised as the last by the books already in the room. Each thanked Jade profusely for her thoughtfulness.

She was just coming back from showing Akaashi and Bokuto the room and awkwardly accepting their thanks when Kuroo and Kenma entered the library.

"You're actually going to study with us, right?" Kuroo wondered with a glance at his friend.

"I guess," Kenma replied, though his tone held no commitment. "I feel pretty confident about my grades though."

"And yet you're here," Kuroo smirked. "Why won't you admit that you like hanging out with everyone?"

"Because I don't."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Please, not again," Jade stopped the friendly banter before it could go any further. Nonetheless she smiled and beckoned them to follow when the boys turned their attention on her. "Come on, everyone else is already here."

"It's not Monday, is it?" Kuroo asked without moving. A frown soured his face.

"No," Jade dragged the word out in mild confusion. "It's definitely Friday and I would appreciate you not try to make the week longer than it already needs to be. Hello Kenma."

"Hey." He didn't even look up from his phone, but Jade had expected that. She watched him for a moment with a small smile before looking up at Kuroo again.

"Why would you think it's Monday anyway?"

"You always dress up on Monday's," he replied with a shrug. "Got a hot date tonight or something?"

Jade was not amused. "Would it matter if I did?"

Kuroo frowned. "Don't be like that, we know each other well enough, wouldn't you say?"

"Not at all," Jade replied a bit too quickly.

"Enlighten me," Kuroo suggested, "why'd you dress up?"

"It's not like I'm even all that dressed up." Jade glanced down at herself in an outfit that wasn't simply jeans and a blouse like usual.

Kuroo continued to frown down at her. After a moment of silence she huffed and rolled her eyes. "Listen, I need to restock returns," Jade gestured over her shoulder, "the others are in the first meeting room down that way."

"You're an idiot," Kenma said after Jade had left them.

"Hey, I noticed she was dressed differently from usual, didn't I?" Why was he getting defensive?

"You could've just complimented her outfit then. Or even asked her if it was a special occasion instead of assuming she only dressed up because she had a date."

"I bet she does have a date."

"That's – you're an idiot." Kenma repeated. He lightened the insult by smiling faintly as his friend.

"Am not," Kuroo huffed, pretending to be more offended than he truly was. He even went so far as to cross his arms and turn his head away.

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are you two going to join us sometime today?" Having poked his head out of the room at the sound of their voices it was Akaashi who saved Kuroo and Kenma from each other. Just as Oikawa and Iwaizumi had their senseless bickering so did Kuroo and Kenma. Both stemming from decades of friendship and an understanding of one another that only those sort of friendships came with.

She restocked books with an angry sort of gusto that befitted her mood. How dare he assume she only dressed up today because she had a date! Maybe she decided to doll herself up for fun or, you know, just for shits and giggles. And damn him for being right too! Jade's first date in far too long and, if she were being honest with herself, she only got the date because Nyra annoyingly set up a profile on some stupid dating app without her knowledge.

Regardless of her annoyance with Nyra and now with Kuroo, Jade was both excited and incredibly nervous about tonight. A well and true blind date that she'd only been told about this morning and details were still coming in by the hour from her sister. What if the guy was a total weirdo or a creep? What if he wasn't a Tree Nymph, but really one of the dark Fae that her father had warned her from a young age to stay away from? Tonight would go one of two ways; either very well and Jade would agree to a second date or utterly disastrous. Should the latter come to fruition, Jade had already decided that her parents would lose a child.

Jade wasn't asking for Prince Charming. No, she didn't want Mr. Perfect. She didn't even want a knight in shining armor. She didn't need saving. She could slay any of her demons on her own. What she wanted was a partner in crime. She wanted insecurities and flaws. She yearned for intellectual conversations and challenges and a fan of books. An animal lover, not just cats and dogs, but all animals. She hoped for someone who would go for a walk in the rain with her and who held her when she cried over a book at two in the morning. She wanted Tetsuro.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Oh, Margaret, I'm sorry," Jade shook away her thoughts to focus her attention on her coworker. "I was daydreaming again."

"Do that on your own time." Margaret's tone held no amusement. "It's six now, so I'll be going home. You can handle the last couple of hours on your own, can't you?"

"Of course." Jade fought the urge to roll her eyes and only just held back the animosity in her voice. She'd been working with Margaret for over a year now and closed rather frequently on her own. More often than any of her other coworkers but that was by choice. So naturally she could handle the end of the day customers that came through. "Have a good weekend, Margaret."

Margaret left without another word, something she typically did. In her old age, Margaret didn't see the point in replying to send offs. They get drawn out and tiresome, she'd explained to Jade once. And thought it hadn't sat right with Jade who was she to say otherwise to someone so set in their ways?

Another hour passed and Jade had topped off all the printers of paper, she'd checked in and restocked books as they came through and even helped the mother of an eager pre teen find a handful of books to begin his journey into the world of familiars and dragons and spells. She read a bit, eager herself to begin yet another book. It was her third that week.

There was still two hours before closing and Jade hadn't heard or seen anyone from the study group since storming away from Kuroo and Kenma. Hesitating only a moment she knocked on the door frame alerting them all to her presence. "Just checking in to see if I can help with anything," she explained when all eyes turned on her. "I can take away any books or grab new ones?"

"We'll take care of putting everything away," Sugawara gave her a simple smile.

"You look lovely by the way, Jade." Oikawa leaned back in his chair, dangerously close to toppling over, in order to make eye contact with her. "That color really brings out your eyes."

"Oh, thank you, Oikawa. Anyway, it's been pretty dead here tonight so you guys don't have to be so quiet that even a Brownie would be jealous of you. Folklore says they perform chores for Humans at night in exchange for staying at the home." Jade explained when she was met with confused looks. "Right, so, Bokuto, you can resume your usual antics."

"No! No. Absolutely not. Bokuto, don't you dare." Jade took Akaashi's uncharacteristically loud response as her opportunity to go back to the check out desk.

Oikawa didn't let her get away that easily though. Leaning against the counter he propped his chin in his hand. "Spill, what's his name? Where are you going? How did you meet?"

"This is the first time I'll be meeting him," Jade admitted with a sigh. She fell back into her chair, seemingly exhausted.

"Oh, a blind date," Oikawa sang. "How mysterious. Who set you two up?"

"It's only a blind date for one of us. Nyra, my sister, decided I've been single for too long and set up a profile for me on one of those dating apps."

"That's awful kind of her to help you get your feet back in the water."

"Is it though? I don't even know what she wrote in the about me section so how do I know this guy she agreed for me to meet is even there for anything more than just looks. It's shallow."

"Well, I think you're stunning and anyone who says otherwise is a liar."

"Thank you, but your word is far from gospel, Oikawa," Jade snorted a laugh. "And I don't think your boyfriend will appreciate you complimenting me so openly. He may get the wrong idea."

"Don't worry about Iwa-chan." A dismissive wave of his hand and a wink her way easily turned Jade's scowl into a half smile. "There it is. I'm sure if this mystery man gets to know you tonight he'll see just how wonderful you are."

Jade was used to Oikawa's flirting. She knew it meant nothing but even on his best days he never went this far. With one eyebrow raised in question she cocked her head to the side. "What do you want?"

"Told you she would catch on!" Yaku cackled from the hall.

"Yeah, you aren't that sweet!" Iwaizumi added.

"So mean, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa whined his mantra but regained his composure quickly. He flashed a smile at Jade filling her with dread before his request was even heard. "Would you be a dear and order us some bento boxes? We'll pay of course."

"You know we don't allow food in the library."

"Please Jade."

Oikawa sounded like a child begging to stay up past his bedtime. Jade's scowl returned as she stood, making it back into the meeting room before her chair stopped spinning. "Did you draw straws or just send him because you know his whining irritates me?" She asked no one in particular.

"Yes," Kuroo nodded with a mischievous grin.

"That's not a proper response to her question," Kiyoko remarked. "I did try to dissuade this, Jade but I was overruled. I apologize."

It's not that she didn't want to not break the rules. She herself ate in the library all of the time. But they didn't need to know that. Still, they had been here for a good long while now. "You'll eat with the door closed and put the studying away, you all need a break by now anyway and you'll wash your hands afterwards." Vigorous nods answered her stipulations. "I know one of the guys at the shop nearby, let me call him up real quick. Put your requests together and I'll order for you."

"I knew you'd come around!" Oikawa hugged Jade quickly before returning to his seat.

"I'm sure you did," Jade grumbled. Sometimes she was such a pushover.

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#haikyuu x oc #kuroo tetsuro x oc #kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu!!#snavelywrites

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codeavailfan · 4 years

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jsmlwriter · 7 years

Text

Halo Haze Re

Summary: Unexpected was an understatement. Tsuna's plans for his life hadn't included a strange baby, getting shot or ending up in boxers. Loudly asking Kyoko-chan on a date was totally off the agenda and so was promptly fainting afterwards.

Each time Tsuna uses his dying will flames, he passes out and sees a horrific future...one where his family and friends are dead, he’s cursed to wear an orange pacifier, and he finds a tall, dark, zombie man with curly sideburns who’s wrapped in a dark cloak, bandages and piercing chains.

Author's note: Names of a Japanese origin will be presented (Surname, Personal name). Otherwise, they will be normally written (Personal name, Surname).

Target 001

Sawada Tsunayoshi was not an ambitious individual. He had not created an outline of his future life. He had no plans to achieve anything other than survive school at the moment. Tsunayoshi was a no-good loser and everyone knew it. He knew it. His Kaa-chan, Nana, knew it. His entire school and community knew it. Despite his uselessness, Tsuna like to have some kind semblance of a routine in his life. Wake up. Go to school. Fail classes. Fail sports. Get picked on. Stay after everyone else left to clean. Play games. Avoid homework. Sleep. Or something similar. His life was relatively simple. Curve balls were not welcome. His life did not need a-

"HOME TUTOR!?"

"Hai!" Nana affirmed, showing the young teen the unfolded piece of paper. "There was an interesting flyer in the mailbox." She turned it around and read it out loud. "I will raise your kid to be the new leader of the next generation. Grade and subject doesn't matter. Reborn." She beamed. "Isn't it great? I've never seen a promotion like this before."

He got up off of the floor of his room where he'd been laying and reading comics and stood up, facing her in disbelief. "It smells like a scam!" Tsuna shrieked. Who sends out shady stuff like that anyway? Schools like that don't just send out tutors to anyone, especially loser people like him. Tsuna inwardly grumbled. Now Kaa-chan would spend the rest of the week pestering Tsuna about the delusional so-called home tutor. Stupid scam flyer. How'd they get Tsuna's information anyway? He couldn't recall sending any letters or reports to anyone and there'd been no exams for something like this at school lately.

"It's probably a tutor from a professional business school for young men," his mother continued, lost in her own thoughts now. "I've wanted a teacher like this for you."

"Don't create your own image of him!" he huffed, turning away before facing towards her again with insistence. "I refuse to have a tutor, okay! I'm not good at anything I do anyway!"

"Ciaossu."

Tsuna and Nana simultaneously glanced down, where the small voice had come from. Among the mess of CD cases, candy wrappers and gaming accessories, there was a baby standing in the middle of his bedroom. He was small, adorned in an all black suit and black boots, wearing a black fedora with a thick orange stripe running across the sides of the cone. The infant had black spiky hair and curly sideburns and wore a sun yellow pacifier around his neck. And was that a chameleon on the brim of the hat? The baby carried a brief case with him and he looked foreign.

Ano...

"I arrived three hours early but as a service, I'll evaluate you now," the baby announced. Tsuna blinked in confusion. What was this kid talking about? And the way he spoke didn't sound like a normal baby.

Nana put her hands on her knees to get a better look at their sudden guest. "Hey, whose kid are you?" she inquired softly.

The kid looked at her with bright eyes and a small smile, giving her his full attention. "Hm? I'm Reborn, the home tutor." Talk about coincidental timing.

Tsuna choked back his laughter and Nana smiled in amusement.

"I was wondering what kind of person created that crappy flyer," Tsuna lightly mocked. "It's this baby!?"

The baby glanced at him. "So you're Tsuna."

Tsuna's laughter was no longer contained. "I'm sorry but there's nothing I can learn from you!"

A boulder seemed to knock into Tsuna's stomach. The baby's foot?! Caught off guard and completely winded from the sheer force of the blow, Tsuna gasped. His legs no longer supported his body and he tumbled to the floor. The next thing he knew, Tsuna's arm was being pinned behind his now arched back. Just who was this baby? Kaa-chan looked at the visitor in surprise.

"Let's get started. This is Tsuna's room, right?" Reborn prompted. Nana nodded, getting over her shock rather quickly. "Very good. I am going to evaluate my new student and get acquainted with him."

Nana hummed in delight, happy that her son was receiving much needed help now and left the boys on their own in the room.

As soon as Nana left, the baby let go of Tsuna and let an unforgiving gravity pull him back down to the ground. Tsuna's head smashed into the floor, granting him starred vision. "I-iteee," he moaned. He pushed himself off the floor and knelt down shaking the dizziness away. "What was that?" This kid didn't have normal strength but he was still a kid. Was Tsuna that weak? That it only took a baby to defeat him? The thought was kind of depressing. Tsuna blinked and then looked up in irritation, ready to confront the little devil.

Zzzzz.

No way. The baby was asleep already?! Was that even possible? The boy's irritation grew. "Hey, wake up!" Tsuna snapped, shaking the small figure awake. "I won't forgive you just because you're a baby!" A small hand shot out and grabbed Tsuna's tie. Huh? Suddenly, it was whipped around and tightly yanked at his neck. Tsuna flew backwards into the ground again. As he sat up, the world was spinning and a dull ache coursing through his body. What is this kid?!

"I have no openings," the baby stated while Tsuna regained his bearings. "My true line of work is assassination." The baby snapped open the brief case and in a few seconds assembled a gun. Reborn smirked at Tsuna. "My real job is to make you a mafia boss." Assassination? Tsuna's head was still reeling. And Tsuna was a maf- Hiiieee?

"Wha...?! A MAFIA BOSS?" Tsuna cried.

Surreal needed a new definition.

"I was assigned by a certain man to train you to become an astounding mafia boss," the baby explained, unaffected by Tsuna's blatant freak out. "The method by which your training will occur is left up to me." Was this baby's head okay?

"Hey just a minute!" Tsuna blurted. "How old are you supposed to be anyway?"

"Right now, I am perceived to be five years of age."

Tsuna frowned. "You look like you're two."

Click. Reborn aimed the gun at Tsuna's head. "Should I shoot you once?"

"Wha- HEY! Is that thing real?!"

"Very," confirmed Reborn. Tsuna kind of doubted that.

"Yeah well, I don't get any of this mafia story you're talking about. Just who's idea was it to send you over here and say all of these things?" Perhaps someone had paid this kid to do all of this as a joke. Some people had a very twisted sense of humor.

"You are heir to the Vongola famiglia, the largest family organization in Italy." Out of nowhere, Reborn produced a piece of paper that showed some sort of family lineage. The gun-wielding kid pointed to a name towards the top. Tsuna couldn't read it, it wasn't in kanji. "This is Giotto, Vongola Primo, the founder of Vongola. Only his descendants are valid candidates to take over as head of the famiglia." Reborn moved his finger towards the bottom of the page where Tsuna's own name stood out to him. "You are the great-great-great-grandson of Vongola Primo, making you eligible to become the next Vongola boss. The other three candidates died, leaving you as the final candidate."

"But I don't want to be a mafia boss," Tsuna protested.

Reborn ignored him. "With my customized training program, even a no-good student like you will become a boss with the potential to lead the Vongola to greatness. Your training begins-"

~Grumble~

Reborn's stomach interrupted his speech.

"-at another time. Later!" With that, Reborn spun around and marched out of Tsuna's room, closing the door behind him.

Tsuna collapsed backwards, aghast with the sudden information thrown at him. Just what in the world?

Decimo...a single voice whispered in his head. It spoke to him as if it were one of his own conjured thoughts, without any male or female identity. Deh...chi...moh...Decimo ka?

And then, without warning, as if someone had decided to grind his head between two rocks, pain and pressure wrung through every nerve in his brain and poured through each vessel of his bloodstream. His room twisted and warped. Blinding light filled his vision and a sensation of burning heat pressed against his chest. Tsuna felt as if an electric shot of a million volts had were zapping through him. He opened his mouth to cry out but his voice jammed in his throat and his airways clogged. The blinding light faded to a void of black. Empty, energy sucking darkness.

Decimo...Decimo...Juudaime!...Brat...Vongola...Bossu...Dame-Tsuna...TRASH!...Boss!...Tsunayoshi-kun...Decimo! Decimo! DECIMO!

Gone.

The pain and pressure were suddenly absent. The voices in his head vanished with a faint echo. His vision cleared and the world had righted itself. Tsuna's hands were clenching knotted sections of his naturally gravity defying hair and he was lying on the ground, breathing heavily. There was something digging into shoulder blade. Probably his gaming controller, left on the floor, and he took no notice of it. He laid there, wondering what had just happened. He didn't know what to make of any of that, of what to think or do next. The remaining fogged darkness in his mind dispersed and he closed his eyes as his next thoughts crept into his head of their own volition.

I was assigned by a certain man ('Nono' something extra supplied) to train you to become an astounding mafia boss...

Reborn's earlier explanation echoed in Tsuna's mind and oddly, it felt like Tsuna had heard it before. To say Sawada Tsunayoshi was beginning to panic was putting it lightly. In less than an hour, his day had turned completely weird and he never wanted to experience that kind of pain again. He continued to lay on the ground, not knowing for how long, breathing in and out, in and out. Doing any homework now was out of the question. He didn't even feel up to playing some games or listening to music.

Tsuna decided he needed some air.

He pushed himself up with relative ease and left his room.

He headed down the stairs to go outside and clear his head from this entire...day. "Kaa-chan, I'm headed out," he called.

"Tsuna, what about dinner?" Nana offered.

"I don't want it," said Tsuna. "I'm going to eat out so can I have some money?" He reached the bottom of the stairs. "And about that tutor..." he looked at the kitchen and stopped. Eh?

Reborn was sitting at the table, enjoying a meal prepared by Nana. His mother smiled cheerfully. "Reborn-kun's contract states that he'll be living here until your grades go up."

HIIIIEEEE?!

"Eh, why are you following me? Don't you have to go to grade school?"

Tsuna was walking down the street, hands in pockets and feeling put out that this so called home tutor was trailing after him.

"Assassins don't go to grade school," Reborn stated simply as if it were common logic.

"Tch, quit the assassin act already," Tsuna grumbled. An unbidden image of Reborn in a costume disguise that nobody else could see through flashed in his mind. Reborn, in black graduate robes, solving a seemingly impossible math problem. Tsuna paused and blinked. A quiet voice, similar to Reborn's, echoed in his mind, introducing himself as Riboyama-sensei. Tsuna glanced down at Reborn with an odd look. Had he met this kid before?

"Tsuna?" Reborn inquired, noticing the odd look. Tsuna opened his mouth to say something but a figure with short golden brown hair caught his eye. His brain ceased all logical thought. Immediately, he dashed off behind a nearby corner, in terror. Reborn gave him a questioning look and turned to see what had scared his newly appointed student off. To Tsuna's chagrin, he made no effort to hide. A young girl, Tsuna's age approached him. The girl, Sasagawa Kyoko, noticed the infant and crouched down to address with the adorable figure.

"Ciaossu," Reborn greeted.

"Kawai! How cute," gushed Kyoko. Tsuna's mouth dropped open with a silent gasp of disbelief as the two began interacting. "Why are you wearing a suit?" she asked.

"Because I'm in the mafia."

Tsuna sweat dropped for the both of them. Seriously? Reborn decided to say that? A haze of new thoughts suddenly entered his brain.

"Cause I'm a hitman."

"Hey, Reborn! Don't say such things in the middle of the day!" he protested. SLAP! A girl from another school...Haru...pain...confusion...annoyance...

"What are you teaching him!? An assassination technique!? Babies are angels with pure white hearts!"

Anger...fear...misunderstanding...more pain...

Tsuna shook the scene away. Was that a...memory? It certainly felt like it, like a deja vu again but he couldn't recall anyone he knew named...Haru?

Miura Haru. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did.

"Waaah," Kyoko-chan exclaimed. "How cool!"

Tsuna felt his heart drop. Wha-! He couldn't tell whether her response had been playing along with the joke or she actually believed him. Either way thought, the popular Sasagawa Kyoko already liked the little brat.

Kyoko gave Reborn a beaming smile and stood up, heading off. "Well good luck," she said with a small wave. "Bye bye."

"Ciao ciao." Reborn responded.

When Tsuna had decided he needed some air earlier, this was definitely not what he'd been planning. The self-proclaimed hitman turned to him with a glint of something (bad, bad, run away! his thoughts supplied) in his eyes. Reborn smirked.

"You have a crush on that girl, don't you Tsuna?"

"That's not any of your business!" Tsuna denied. Just how did the kid know how he felt towards Kyoko?

"I've mastered the art of mind reading," supplied Reborn.

Wait, what?! He hadn't said that out loud. Tsuna was feeling an edge of frustration seep into his mood. "That's enough, alright? Just leave me alone," he yelled.

"No."

PAIN! His body was forced to be spun around. His arm was twisted and wrenched back behind him. Unwelcome tears filled the corners of his eyes. "I-ta ta ta-ah-ow-ow OW! I give! I give!" he shrieked. His arm was immediately let go and Tsuna stepped away from the satanic hitman in apprehension, rubbing his now sore shoulder and arm. The guy was definitely not a normal baby.

"Have you confessed your feelings to the girl yet?" the hitman prompted not so innocently.

"No, of course not!" Tsuna admitted.

"Why not?"

Tsuna didn't want to go into a whole explanation for the kid but he relented. "Kyoko-chan is our school's idol. A loser like me isn't even her league. Telling her how I feel would be useless."

The home tutor cocked his head to the left. "That kind of thinking is so pathetic it's fantastic. You really are a Dame-Tsuna."

"Hey," Aside from the insult, "how do you know that nickname?"

"Gathering information is a basic skill. Now go confess your feelings to her."

Tsuna frowned. Didn't this baby get it? "No way, that's too scary and she'd never say yes."

Reborn tilted the brim of his fedora down. "Then it looks like it's finally time," he said cryptically.

"Huh?" Time? Time for what?"

Suddenly, the point of a real looking gun was pointed at his face. Click. Tsuna's mind wiped blank and overwhelming feelings of trepidation, terror and excitement settled in his chest.

Come die in an instant. A well known infant with a sadistic sense of humor.

Come die in an instant. An unfamiliar man in a suit and fedora with a strangely recognizable aura.

Come die in an instant. Reborn. Vongola. Flames. Dying will. His dying will. Death. His death. The future...? Reborn!

"Die." Reborn chirped.

Dread. "Huh!?" To be fair, that was the only comprehensible response Tsuna could choke out at that moment.

"H-hey, that's a toy, r-right?" You know it's not, it whispered.

"Come die in an instant."

Tsuna stumbled back. "Hey..." he mumbled. "W-what are you doing?"

Reborn hesitated only for less than a moment. Something had just happened, he thought, with Tsuna. He pushed the inhibition away. "You'll find out when you die," he said. And pulled the trigger.

The bullet plunged deep into the fore of Tsuna's skull. A light blood splatter flew from the wound while the young teen's eyes widened and he fell, fell, (falling, flying) back, to the ground.

I'm...I'm going to die...I'm parting with the world...

Dead. He's dead. A coffin. The sniper. Blood. Iron. Screaming. Sad. Why were they sad? Death. There was death. Dying. He was dying! Juudaime! No, Boss! TSUNAAA!

His friends. His family. No, he hadn't told them...hadn't told them how-how much he'd miss them...how proud he was of all they had accomplished...that he loved them...that he wanted to protect them...protect them...because he...he needed to do something. He was dying. He should have...should've told them how much they mean to him...with a dying will.

His body ungracefully landed with a soft thud and the world faded to black.

#katekyo hitman reborn #fanfiction #this chapter is still in rough draft form #in need of much editing and a finishing scene #khr #tsuna #reborn #vindice!reborn #arcobaleno!tsuna #post curse of the rainbow arc #time-traveled memories #halo haze re

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