#oh to have an icemaker
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veevil · 1 month ago
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Consider: Siren Erik chewing on ice cubes like a dog. Chomp chomp chomp. Then drops it and it slides under the fridge and then Charles steps on a puddle later with socks on.
Charles and his fancy ass would have one of those fridges that has an ice maker and Erik would use it as a little ice snack machine.
I also feel like Charles would be one of those people who have sensitive teeth and the sound of Erik cronching on ice would make him shiver.
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bratdotcom · 5 months ago
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Confetti on The Carpet
( Fiddleford McGucket x reader || he has a surprise for you ♡ I couldn't find a good quality picture of him for the life of me I am sorry anon 😭 )
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You open your door to find Fiddleford holding... something behind his back.
"Honey, what is this?" You look down at the box in his hand, equal parts curious, equal parts cautious. You smile to yourself, preparing for whatever he is going to give you.
Fiddleford had a tendency to show his appreciation through gifts. Whether that be oddly specific machines, to things that reminded him of you. He once gave you a bandaid he found on the floor because, in his words, you "always knew how to put him back together."
"A surprise, hon." He replies, fighting the urge to smile. "You mind lettin' me in? Don't want anybody else to see this thang besides you. Your eyes only, y'know. Confidential stuff.”
"Confidential stuff?" You repeat, somewhat more worried about the state your dorm would be in after this. "Nothin' that's gonna explode or anything like that. Trust me." He chuckles, eyes crinkling as he laughs.
You wouldn't say it out loud, but hearing the way Fiddleford laughed always let your guard down. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. You notice the box in his hands wasn't as big as you imagined. It wasn't making any humming sounds either.
"Remember when you showed me that ad ya saw in the paper? The one about the icemaker that couldn't be shipped here 'cause we don't got the money?"
"And also because the Dean is an ass about international shipping." You add, wondering to yourself where he was going with this. "And yes, I do remember."
"Well, guess what I got for ya in here." Fiddleford couldn't hide his laughter to himself, he was giggling now, sounding as if he were proud of whatever he put inside the box he held out with his hand.
"Go on, open it." He says, tempting your curiosity.
You take the box from his hand, feeling the weight of its contents. It was light. Was he joking with you, or did he actually make something? Fiddleford always liked making excuses to see you. It gave him time off of working on equations when he didn't feel like quadruple checking them.
Sitting on the carpet, you pat a spot across from you for Fiddleford to sit down. You grab a pillow from your bed for him to sit on. You knew how much he complained about back pain. At the age where he shouldn't even have back pain.
"Thank you, honey." He uses the pet name like it was your actual name, holding his lower back as he sits down.
You tug on the ribbon that held the box together. The box quickly comes apart.
You almost jump out of your seat on the floor when confetti practically explodes out of a compartment on one of the box's walls. "What the hell?!" You exclaim with a laugh, making Fiddleford clutch his stomach in laughter.
"Gah- I knew you'd fall for that!" He snorts, adjusting his glasses against the bridge of his nose.
You weren't even mad. You probably should've seen this coming. Whatever. You still haven't figured out what was inside the box.
Wiping away the stray confetti, that would be a pain to clean later, your eyes set on a penguin shaped...something. "Fidds, honey," you hold the penguin shaped object towards him. "Just what exactly is this?" You ask, raising a brow.
"It's a shaved-ice maker!" He exclaims proudly, most likely because he made it from scratch. "Since it's almost summer n' you complained about how they haven't fixed the air conditioning in your dorm, I made this for ya!" He adds at a pace you can barely keep up with. Hearing him talk so happily about his creation makes your eyes soften.
You place the penguin shaved ice maker on the carpeted floor. You lean in to hug him. "Oh baby, what would I do without you?" You say, trying not to laugh as you speak. You move his glasses out of the way to kiss the bridge of his nose.
"I honestly don't know!" He replies, glasses perched on the top of his head. He can feel himself go red already as you run your fingers through his hair.
"Exactly. You spoil me, honey." You say in agreement, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
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queen-mihai · 1 year ago
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Oh my family had a laundry list of stuff that was considered "rich people stuff"
Marshmallow fluff (yes. That's what I said)
Definitely the icemaker in the door thing, although we got one later in my childhood (cuz my parents started having money, you see)
Anything that was specifically branded "Oh you got *Levis* jeans? Geez, where's the yacht, Rockefeller?"
Jewelry that wasn't passed down, unless specifically it's for your spouse, in which case you can spend a Mint.
A pool of any sort other than a kiddie pool
Idk but there was a lot
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o0shrinking-violet0o · 1 year ago
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I bet u have tons of nasty dirt on icemaker.... What's the nastiest shit they ever did to u??
oh, hm, ummmm...
i'm not sure i feel comfortable answering this with the tone youre using towards Ice and our consensual activities!!
but i think it is safe to tell the story of one of my favorite things theyve ever done to me!! they invited me over to their house, which is soso cute and cozy btw, and then they got me to smoke some of their really good halo with them! i didn't use very much at the time so it got me reeeally high really quick hehe, but Ice kept pressuring me to smoke more, started touching and pinching me, undressing me even while i whined n tried to fight back, it was soooo ughh (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)⁠♡
n then, once i was so high i was barely conscious, they made me think they were gonna rape me, rubbing their huge, well, you know, around my hole.... they attacked me!! stabbed me so deep that i needed stitches the next day, but i was so gone that i didn't even notice how bad it was, i just used the last of my energy to scream and cum!!! i cant even describe how erotic it was or i'll have to embarrass myself begging them to do it again, omg 🥺
but YEAH, I LOVE what Icemaker does to me and we'll both tell anyone that, even if it does make my face hot!!!
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longroadstonowhere · 3 years ago
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I posted 2,405 times in 2021
810 posts created (34%)
1595 posts reblogged (66%)
For every post I created, I reblogged 2.0 posts.
I added 38 tags in 2021
#hm - 7 posts
#caine - 6 posts
#but still - 5 posts
#bright colors tw - 4 posts
#) - 3 posts
#you know - 3 posts
#that makes sense - 3 posts
#long post - 3 posts
#oh wow this wasn't written even a year ago yet - 2 posts
#nice - 2 posts
Longest Tag: 140 characters
#but anyway because of that i finally looked up tokyo crazy paradise (which i was aware she'd done before skip beat but hadn't looked up yet)
My Top Posts in 2021
#5
so i’m not gonna lie, about forty eight hours ago i assumed i was gonna have a miserable birthday
work is incredibly rough right now (coworker is retiring and therefore the entire department is being reorganized, and probably not in a way i’ll like), it’s been over a year since i’ve been able to hang out with most people in person, and i was hitting a bad patch of depression as well
but events in the last.... thirty two? hours have led it to being a really great one, and it just
it feels real nice, ya know?
7 notes • Posted 2021-04-27 23:55:29 GMT
#4
first vaccine appointment booked!!!!
8 notes • Posted 2021-04-14 14:14:35 GMT
#3
so
things at work have been kinda rough recently for a variety of reasons (short version: parts manager retired in april, one of the techs was brought in to replace him but is functioning eighty percent of the time as a service tech still, and one of two service dispatchers quit about a month ago), and it’s all led me to realize that, even after these difficulties settle down (whenever that happens), i don’t think i’m gonna want to be doing this job for a significant chunk of my future
of course, whenever i think ‘i don’t want to do this’, my immediate thought is ‘what else could i be doing?’, and in regards to job stuff, the only other kind of thing that has remotely interested me (that pays a living wage, at least) is working in a library
there are various factors involved in this thought process, which is why it’s mostly been a hypothetical thus far, but what with how things are going with the current job, i’ve been thinking about it much more seriously the last week or two
basically it boils down to the following pros and cons:
pros: - libraries are non-profit so i wouldn’t have to care about selling things to people ever again - i fucking love books and stories and folks who agree with that sentiment are also likely to work in libraries, so a very decent chance i would get along easily with theoretical new coworkers - i would still be interacting with people but it wouldn’t be about whether or not their icemaker is functioning, so less likely to make me internally judgy about people’s problems (or at least i’d have new problems to be internally judgy about) - decent odds i could find a job with a closer commute, which is always the dream (i miss my fifteen-minute-at-most commute to the newton store) - libraries are probably less high-strung than retail? i’m sure there’s a lot going on behind the scenes, but not on the same level as what i’m currently dealing with - if i get a master’s in library sciences, i stand a good chance of making a decent amount of money, and having a master’s would mean i’m less likely to be on the chopping block when budget concerns start rearing their heads
cons: - job searches suck no matter what, and i have no idea how to navigate the whole ‘leaving one job because i found a better one’ scenario (including all the nitty gritty stuff like ‘what do i do with my retirement fund’ and ‘updating my health care information yet again’) - current job offers a fantastic dental plan and i finally don’t hate going to the dentist, wouldn’t want to lose that if possible - most library positions (definitely higher level ones at least) require a master’s in library sciences, which means taking on student debt (an onus i’ve managed to avoid thus far), and also doing more schooling which i’m not sure i’m up to - if i don’t get a master’s, i’ll have less opportunity for movement within the field and i’ll have less job security - i’ve been with my current company long enough that i’m getting paid a decent wage and i’m likely to get a raise soon, plus the vacation benefits are decent for retail - (i don’t think i can underline enough just how much job searching sucks)
i don’t have any major plans to move on this yet - if nothing else, my sense of honor demands i stay at my current job until after the winter holidays are done - but it’s certainly something i’ve got in the back of my head at all times
11 notes • Posted 2021-09-24 00:33:19 GMT
#2
oh shit, just remembered this is the clock moving forward weekend
don’t forget to change your clocks tomorrow night
15 notes • Posted 2021-03-12 18:47:31 GMT
#1
man
now i’m kinda hoping nuts and dolts kiss before the bees, if only because from now until the end of eternity ruby will use it in every argument she has with yang ever again
‘ruby you left all your dirty dishes in the living room again!’ ‘you’re just mad because i was brave enough to kiss my girlfriend before you confessed to yours’
126 notes • Posted 2021-02-08 20:20:33 GMT
Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →
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boreothegoldfinch · 3 years ago
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chapter 6 paragraph ix
Was that a movie or something? I wondered. Three Rs? Where had he come up with that? Though I’d done a fairly good job of putting the afternoon’s events out of my mind, Boris had thoroughly freaked me out with his parting comment and I sat downstairs rigidly for an hour or so with War of the Worlds on but the sound off, listening to the crash of the icemaker and the rattle of wind in the patio umbrella. Popper, who had picked up on my mood, was just as keyed-up as I was and kept barking sharply and hopping off the sofa to check out noises around the house—so that when, not long after dark, a car did actually turn into the driveway, he dashed to the door and set up a racket that scared me half to death. But it was only my father. He looked rumpled and glazed, and not in a very good mood. “Dad?” I was still high enough that my voice came out sounding way too blown and odd. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked at me. “There was a guy here. A Mr. Silver.” “Oh, yeah?” said my dad, casually enough. But he was standing very still with his hand on the banister. “He said he was trying to get in touch with you.” “When was this?” he said, coming into the room. “About four this afternoon, I guess.” “Was Xandra here?” “I haven’t seen her.” He lay a hand on my shoulder, and seemed to think for a minute. “Well,” he said, “I’d appreciate if you didn’t say anything about it.” The end of Boris’s joint was, I realized, still in the ashtray. He saw me looking at it, and picked it up and sniffed it. “Thought I smelled something,” he said, dropping it in his jacket pocket. “You reek a bit, Theo. Where have you boys been getting this?” “Is everything okay?” My dad’s eyes looked a bit red and unfocused. “Sure it is,” he said. “I’m just going to go upstairs and make a few calls.” He gave off a strong odor of stale tobacco smoke and the ginseng tea he always drank, a habit he’d picked up from the Chinese businessmen in the baccarat salon: it gave his sweat a sharp, foreign smell. As I watched him walk up the steps to the landing, I saw him retrieve the joint-end from his jacket pocket and run it under his nose again, ruminatively.
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artyrogue · 4 years ago
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Blind Date Gaming: The Addams Family
You all know PRANG, my Pseudorandom Number Generation matchmaker? Well, it recently gave me this weird questionnaire to try and set up a date more suited for my odd personality. I happily filled it out, hoping for a real connection to be made with my next game date. We fed it through the sketchy scantron machine attachment that somehow got grafted to PRANG's chassis and, after an ear-splitting buzzing that may have made me slightly deaf, the results were printed out. They dictated that I needed a real family game. I guess that triggered something special in PRANG, as it quickly flipped around and grabbed what I can assume totally wasn't the first title in its game list with the word 'Family' in it: The Addams Family!
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Man, computers are too complicated for simpletons like me. Well, let's get datin' and see if this is a match! I started the game as what I can only imagine is a chubby, tiny clone of Gomez Addams. I mean, why else would all of the house decor be the size of 2.5 Gomezes? (Is that a unit of measurement? Well it is now)
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He's small, but can jump like 3 Gomezes in the air! He's like the Jack Russel's of 90's characters
So you run around your house looking for sub-areas, throwing daggers that go about 2 Gomezes in front of you before disappearing. Enemies lurk at every step, and boy are they horrifying! Mostly in how crappily they are programmed and placed. Bats flap to your level and never deviate, pretty much ensuring you get hit. Ghosts constantly spawn and may be right on staircase tops, meaning you get hit as soon as a map loads. You can jump on some enemies to stun them but like you have no indicator what can and can't be given the ol' hop-treatment.
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I'm not sure if this guy wants a hug or is holding a really heavy invisible box
None of this would be an issue if you didn't have limited ammo. From the get-go, your knives are all you have. In a boss fight and run out? Well, go commit suicide, because you can't do anything. Fun! The bosses are alright, though. Most are too easy, but they are definitely interesting. Like in one case, there's this bear that cannot attack you if you jump behind it. In another, the Grim Reaper's best weapon is spitballs? I feel like there's some lost lore here in the Addam's Family universe that needs fanfic-ing.
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Still waiting for this model to be offered at Build-a-Bear Workshop
When you beat a boss, you rescue a family member and get a cool new item. Usually, they're weapons of some sort, but some instead help you to traverse the world. While this could have been a nice progression system, there's really only one place where this is required, and instead progress is tied to how many family members you have rescued. Only THEN do random doors in your own house become accessible. I think Gomez needs to install those doors with open-able locks that constantly prevent my toddler from dying alone from starvation in most rooms of my house because she doesn't know how to unlock locks she's already locked us out of.
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Your gratitude is well-received, Lurch my man. But can we talk about what the heck some frozen water is going to do besides get my pockets wet in like 5 minutes?
There are also small potion powerup things that transform you into typical movie monsters, but none are really super-interesting. Regardless, I get through a bunch of ho-hum platforming levels, collect my fam, electrocute my brother some more (as is tradition), and make it to the final level! This level is akin to the final level in Super Mario Land 2 in that it is long, filled with neat traps, and pretty rough. I do like the decor, though, what with buzzsaws, unmarked falling spike chandelier things, and amazingly large guillotines.
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I may be an Addams myself because these little death traps actually made me smile a bit. Very cute, level designers! I like your chops!
So after I boogie down his gauntlet of Super Meat Boy paraphernalia, I at last make it to the final boss's room. And he's...some...guy? This is probably a dude from the movie, but I haven't seen it in years, so I have no clue. But like legit all he does is stand, jump, and throw knives. Well, two can play that game! No really, I mean like, that's literally all I do, too. En guarde!
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Oh hey, Troy McClure is in this game, too!
So we have the lamest version of the Dark Link fight from Zelda 2 ever and I end up on top. I save my wife from what appears to be some killer soup stock? Sorry honey, I won't get to experience your umami tonight, we gotta bury this businessman's corpse and stop Lurch from overheating the fridge's icemaker. Oh, but where are my manners, caramia? Let's catch that ending sequence first! What should we do with the rest of the Addams Family now that we have secured their freedom?
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I like that, of all action verbs at their disposal, they chose 'throttle'.
Brilliant. Well, that was a quick jaunt. Not great, but also not horrible? I probably wouldn't try to date it again, but that's more because I feel I've experienced all it had to offer. Gomez should either find some super mushroom or hire a better home decorator who isn't a giant? But knowing the Addams Family, they probably know literal giants. Whatever, he probably need a stool to reach his toilet, but that is all his choice. As for you, your choice is whether or not to take this Sprite of Passage. (I'd say do it! You earned it!)
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I feel like the manager made the enemy designer give him 2 pitchforks because he wanted the boss to at least appear SOMEwhat spoopy, but didn't have the heart to tell the designer to start over
BONUS: I feel like sharing this music track from the game because I think it's absolutely baller: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YlTNNOeX-E0&list=PL5YdbMaKCdoiF4XkX-ac-4M9QU1UPjlmq&index=5
Also, because I am amazed that it exists, someone's piano cover of it! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5XODMmPGh4
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justfandomwritings · 5 years ago
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Unpopular Things I irrationally enjoy.
The other day, I posted a list of unpopular opinions, things I disliked that most people liked or wouldn’t really think to formulate an opinion on. Today, I have for you the exact opposite, a list of things I like that are not very popular. I thought I would do this because I like a bit of positivity to balance out the day.
Not many of these are things other people hate, though there’s a few. Mostly, this is a list of things I like to an irrational degree that most people are entirely apathetic towards, don’t like, or like but to an incredibly minor degree compared to my deep appreciation/love. Hopefully, you’ll see some of these and think “Oh, you know what, now that you mention it, that is awesome.” 
In honor of @ginghampearlsnsweettea​, who had a lot of opinions about my unpopular dislikes, here goes:
Maps
Cosmic Brownies
Wood Cuttingboards
Gardens with a Doorway
the Noise the Icemaker Makes
Modern Impressionist Paintings
Microhistory Books
ASMR
the History Channel
Fabric with Word Prints
Baskets on the Backs of Toilets
Unscented Candles
Driftwood
Snowglobes
the Folio Society
Forgottenbooks.com
Reading the Terms and Conditions
Sleeves with Thumb Holes
the Color Grey
Hat Racks
Star Wars Episode 3
Star Wars Rogue One
Thor 2
Dollar General Fast Bites Chicken Sandwiches
Stained Glass in Cathedrals
Honey 
Weird Shaped Coat Hooks
Jesse Eisenberg
Card Stock Paper
Book Awards
Nikon
Tile Floors That Look Like Wood
Windows Laptops
Window Seats
This Reddit Post
The Sword in the Stone
Printing Pictures on Canvas
Sprayed Edges of Pages on Books
the Smell of Hair Detangler
Children’s Toothpaste (for the flavors, not the characters on the package)
Cheese Blend Gardettos
Happy Hippos (the candy, though I have no objection to the animal being happy)
Spurious Correlations
Biathlon (watching, not participating)
Old Alarm Clocks
Weird Shaped Pitchers
Board Games About Lying
Small Hydroponic Gardens
The Wind in the Willows
Miniature Pop Figurines
Boxes That Look Like Books
Pears
Honeysuckle
Applebees
Travelling by Train
Archery
the Stargate Series and its Spin Offs
Whiteboards
Antique Locks
Booktube
Minor League Hockey, Soccer, and Football Games
Runts (the candy, not the term for the smallest in a litter)
Companion Novels and Novellas
Embossing
Yarn
Walls Where the Paint Is a Pattern
Lemon Pez Candy
Windows that Open Out Instead of Up and Down
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fourmarksmage · 4 years ago
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it’s been a long ass week (reasons below the cut if u want the very boring saga of my refrigerator) but I’ve obtained most of the costume pieces for both mine and my boyfriend’s costumes for halloween, so hopefully i can relax at home and get my focus going on replies this weekend instead of running around shopping
so basically, over the weekend i put in a service request that our freezer wasn’t working (everything would melt then refreeze) and on monday maintenance came in and was like “oh you have it set too cold” (????? excuse ???) but if it was still a problem, make a note they already came in
WELL
ON WEDNESDAY
I WENT TO GET ICE FROM THE ICEMAKER TRAY AND STUCK MY HAND STRAIGHT UP WATER. the whole thing was running but it wasn’t fucking cold
so i had to not open the fridge at all  to make sure as much cold stayed in and get our important stuff stored in our friend’s fridge a few floors down.
So I got a whole new fridge yesterday and had to wait until today to properly have a fridge with temperatures stabilized 🙃🙃🙃
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ladyseaheart1668 · 6 years ago
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Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 27)
Description: Everyone starts to settle back into routine. But the danger is far from passed. 
tagging: @xo-endlessmayhem-xo ; @princesstopgun ; @mysteli
Chapter 27: Spectre of the Hydra
Jake
Every so often, when I'm pulling up to the beach house after a day at work, I'm struck all over again by the grandeur of the place where I'm currently living. There was a time I might have actively rebelled against living in opulent splendor. Having grown up in more modest surroundings myself, the time was such luxury would have felt suffocating. And if Alodia weren't living in this place with me, I think it still would. But her presence could make a damp, moldy cave into a home for me, and it can certainly do as much for a waterfront mansion in California. Besides, there's no denying that it's gonna be an amazing place to raise our kid.
I park the car and make my way around to the front door. I hang up my keys in the foyer and wander into the kitchen to grab a cold glass of water. With temperatures squeaking past eighty degrees Fahrenheit, it's unusually hot today for October, even in southern California. Through the dining room window, I can see Varyyn on the deck, doing some kind of Vaanti tai chi or something. Another advantage to this place is that the property is enclosed enough that Varyyn can actually enjoy the beach for awhile without drawing attention to himself. I fill a glass with tapwater, top it off with a couple cubes from the icemaker in the freezer door, and make my way out into the balmy autumn air. Varyyn pauses when he sees me.
“Good afternoon, Jake. I didn't realize it was so late already.”
“It's almost seven. Either of our spouses home?”
“Yours is. The last I knew, she was resting. Diego called to say he will likely be late tonight.”
I nod in acknowledgment and go up to the bedroom I share with my wife. Alodia isn't in bed when I get there, but I can hear the shower going in the bathroom. I tug off my work clothes and hang them up, lying down on the bed in my boxers to wait for her. She emerges within a few minutes, a bathrobe wrapped around her body, her wet hair hanging loose around her shoulders. She grins when she sees me.
“What, no rose between your teeth?” she quips.
“Oh, you thought this was for your benefit?” I tease back. “I was just waiting for a shower.”
She chuckles, shrugging. “Well, you know you're basically a piece of meat to me.” She makes her way to sit on the edge of the bed and bends to kiss me. “Mmm, you taste like afternoon coffee.”
“You taste like toothpaste. Much more pleasant.” I tug lightly at the edge of her robe, folded over her swollen breasts. “Is this for my benefit?”
“If you tread lightly. They're still tender.”
I withdraw my hand to find hers. “Probably for the best at the moment. I'm guessing I don't smell much better than I taste. I've been sweating in a business suit all day.”
“I was sweating through dance classes most of my day.”
I prop myself up on my elbow, looking at her with concern as I reach out to tuck a strand of wet hair behind her ear.
“Are you sure you should be dancing right now?”
“Relax, Top Gun. I'm mostly marking. Not doing anything River and I can't handle...” She trails off, averting her eyes. Her profile settles into a frown. I sit up, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“...You okay, Princess?”
“I...went into the poolhouse earlier...”
I exhale slowly. The poolhouse. Where we've been keeping the trunk we got from the crystal planet. The trunk containing the Andromeda idol.
“...Did you...?”
“No. ...I didn't want to alone. ...It's active, though. It was calling me. It's calmed down now, but...I could feel it.”
“You know it's gonna keep up until you touch it.”
“I know. But as long as I can—ung!” She cuts herself off with a sharp gasp, pitching forward slightly and clutching her belly.
“Alodia!” I launch myself off the bed, kneeling in front of her. “What is it, Princess? Are you okay?”
She raises her head, her eyes wide. “...They moved. ...Jake, our baby moved!” She breaks into a grin, laughing dazedly. “River Skye is alive!”
“...River...?” I let my hand drift to her belly. She smiles a little.
“You may not be able to feel anything yet,” she cautions, even as she opens her robe to place my hand on the swell. I wait for a moment, my hand pressed flat to her belly.
“I...I don't know...I can't tell if I'm feeling River or gas.”
She laughs. “Trust me, I feel River.”
“Hell, Princess, that's good enough for me.” I rise to press my lips to hers. “My beautiful wife. Mother of my child.”
I kiss her again. And I keep kissing her. I want to distract her. I want her to forget about that amber thing in the poolhouse. I know it's ultimately futile. But just for now...just for a little while...
Lila
Five years ago, I woke up in a hospital in Florida. The last thing I could remember was lying on the floor, surrounded by the bodies of Arachnid soldiers. I was satisfied, knowing that I had protected the Selected, that I had covered their escape. I thought I was dead. But there I was, in a hospital bed and a gown with a needle in my hand. On the television set mounted to the corner of the ceiling, I watched Mr. Rourke being led out of a courtroom in handcuffs, shouting about the crystal people coming for us all.
Things were a little bit of a blur when I got out of the hospital. I gave them a false name as a precaution, and it stuck. As far as the Selected knew, Lila Sethi was dead, so that was what everyone else assumed. I made my way to my apartment before they could clear it out and broke in to gather a few personal affects, and that was the last of Lila Sethi. It was easy enough to start again. Sure, there were a few rough months while I scraped some money together, but I know how to get by on the streets. I stole, I begged, I did chores, I even turned a few tricks. And eventually, I found myself working retail in New York for a little over minimum wage. I never seriously considered going back to Rourke International. Now that Aleister and Estela were in charge, I doubt I would have been welcome.
I'm not sure what exactly possessed me to ever visit Mr. Rourke in the hospital. Maybe I just felt sorry for him. I know what it's like to lose everything. Once I believed he could give me back what I had lost. The man I found in that hospital was so different from the one I had known, that I only pitied him more. When I gave him the phone disguised the the hairbrush, one of the things I had managed to recover from my old life, I think I was hoping that having someone friendly to talk to would keep him from losing the last of his humanity. I didn't hear from him for years. Then Alodia came back.
I shouldn't have agreed to observe her. I mean, it was harmless enough at first, but then she discovered she was pregnant. I shouldn't have told him. But I didn't know how to hide it. I don't really know what he's planning. The revival of Project Janus, I guess. But exactly how he'll do that without the Island's Heart or the Endless...
… I think he means to use Alodia. But there isn't any proof that she has any power outside of the island, especially now that the time bubble has been destroyed.
Maybe that's the best I can hope for. That she doesn't have any power left and that Mr. Rourke will realize that before he hurts anyone.
No. Dammit, Lila, don't be stupid. You know that's not good enough. The best you can do now is to get out! Cut him off. Don't answer when he calls. He can't hurt you. He can't hurt you and he doesn't care. Just forget about him. Live your new life, free of his influence.
… My phone is ringing. I know who it will be before I even look at the screen.
“No,” I growl to myself, clapping my hands over my ears and screwing my eyes shut. “Don't answer him. You were free before. You died free! Stay free! This is your second chance!”
The ringing stops, and I open my eyes. My phone has gone dark. Then a missed call notification pops up on the screen. I hesitantly lower my hands from my ears. I realize that I'm trembling. My fingertip leaves streaks on the screen as I hastily delete the notification before I'm tempted to call back.
Block him, Lila. Just block him.
My screen lights up again, my phone trilling a ringtone. In my teenage years, I saw many people who were addicted to drugs. Heroin. Cocaine. Meth. Opiates. I watched their minds and bodies drive them mercilessly towards the next fix, sometimes driving them to death. Some addictions didn't reach the body. But an addiction in the mind could be just as deadly. Pot, pornography, gambling. At fourteen, I was the one to identify my foster-brother's body when his gambling debts landed him in hot water with the wrong people. It's his face in my mind when I tap the green button on my phone.
“...H-hello?”
“Lila, dear. Listen carefully. I have a job for you.”
Kenji
“A Halloween party?”
“Yeah! Seriously, what's with those faces? It's a great idea?”
Mid-morning on a Friday, Grayson and Tahira sit across from me in a booth at the Grand. It's the perfect time for a business meeting. Not even the cleaning staff are here at this hour. I just can't believe that they both look so skeptical.
“It's not that it isn't a great idea,” Tahira says quickly. “It's just...Halloween is a week away. And logistically, that's cutting it kinda close.”
“Hey, you can let me worry about the details. The Grand remains the biggest party scene in Bayside, and we're missing out on huge profits if we don't take advantage of such a big party night.”
“Halloween's on a Tuesday,” Grayson points out. “Most people will be working the next morning.”
“That doesn't stop most people,” I retort. “...But, I can see your point. Maybe we can run the specials all weekend. Half-price drinks, half-price admission for anyone in costume, that sort of thing. Maybe we can get a band or two to play for a few hours each night.”
Tahira nudges Grayson lightly. “...We both know the Hartfeld students like to drive up to Northbridge for Halloween weekend. It's a big money opportunity. And the whole reason for reopening the Grand was to revitalize Bayside. I don't think we can avoid to miss many opportunities.”
Grayson sighs. “...Is this really what you want to be worrying about right now, Tahira?” he asks softly. Tahira and I exchange a glance. Grayson has been welcomed into our confidence, and he fits in so easily that it's sometimes easy to forget that he hasn't lived with the whole double-life thing as long as Tahira and Eva and I have.
“Don't worry about me, Grayson. I've gotten good at balancing Tahira and Dragonness.”
“Right...of course.”
“Listen, Grayson. With everything you're going through, no one's going to expect you to make an appearance.”
“But maybe I should. To show them that I don't intend to let my Dad retake the company. That I don't intend to let him dictate my business decisions, and that I'm still committed to revitalizing Bayside, not bulldozing it.”
“Hey, that's the spirit!” I say encouragingly. “Hey, the way I figure it, with everything we've been through lately, we all deserve a few nights to cut loose. Especially you two.”
Craig
It's been way too long since Zahra and I really had some proper time alone together. And with both of us off for the day on Sunday, we spend Saturday evening plotting the perfect day in. The fact that Sunday is rainy and chilly just makes it better. We stay in bed having sex until at least noon. When we finally leave the bed, we take the blankets with us to curl up on the couch, drink coffee, and play classic video games while we wait for the pizza we ordered. For awhile, there is nothing else in the world but me and Zahra, cuddling under a worn-out comforter while our sprites whale on each other on the screen.
“Oh, you still comin' at me, Player Two? You're about two hits away from dead, you might as well just lie down and accept your fate!”
“Nuh-uh! Power up! Boom! Health bar restored, and now you're at half!”
“What?! Where the hell did you pick that up?!”
“Not my fault you were too distracted to notice when it fell from the sky!”
“Yeah, well screw you! I'm gonna beat you anyway!”
“Oh, yeah? How do you figure that?”
“'Cause I always do!”
And of course, thirty seconds later, she does, with a massive bolt of lightning. I groan, letting the controller fall into my lap.
“Daaaamn. Gorgeous woman who has sex with me and beats me at video games? I'm so in love with you, Zahra.”
She blushes, which makes me smirk. I always feel a little smug when I can get her to blush. Predictably, she covers it by swatting me.
“Shut up and kiss me already, loser.”
I do as she tells me, then pull back with a grin. “Okay, I'm bored with that game. Let's play Jump Bros Racing instead. Then at least I'll stand half a chance.”
By the time the pizza arrives, the combination of the gray day outside, the lamps inside, and an hour or so staring at the TV screen has my vision all wonky. I blink and rub my eyes, trying to force them to see colors properly again as I stumble to the door. I thank the delivery guy, push the tip into his hand, and go back to the couch, balancing two large pizza boxes on my hands. The smell of cheese, sausage, green peppers, mushrooms, and pepperoni reminds me that I haven't eaten all day. My stomach rumbles. Zahra, who picked up her phone while I was getting the pizza, snorts.
“Jesus, Craig. Your stomach growls louder than you fart.”
“But not louder than I burp,” I retort. She snickers and pushes on my head.
“Got a text from Kenji. They're planning a big Halloween weekend bash at the Grand, and he wants my band to play. He's offering $300 since it's short notice, and he'll throw in another $50 if we agree to do two nights.”
“Dope. You gonna do it?”
“Well, obviously, I'll have to talk to everyone, make sure they can all make it, but for that kinda money at the Grand, I think I'd be an idiot not to. ...Only problem is, we haven't really had a rehearsal since...well, since before the Catalyst reunion. Just with the way everything's been so crazy...”
“Yeah...it kinda has been. ...But hey, today is about forgetting all the crazy, right? Let's concentrate on eating this pizza. Then we can marathon Seven Crystals until our eyes bleed.”
“Oh, God, yes!” She tosses her phone aside and dives for the top pizza box, pulling out a hot, gooey slice. She sucks the point into her mouth and chomps down, tearing it off like a wild animal devouring its prey. I can't help grinning.
“Are you aware that you're the sexiest thing on two legs?”
She pokes one leg out from under the blanket and pulls up the leg of her pajama pants. “Two legs that I haven't shaved in two days?”
I pretend to examine the dark, stubbly hairs on her calf. Then I imitate her, poking my own leg out. “I haven't shaved my legs in two years!”
“You shaved your legs two years ago?”
“Uhh...no. I guess not. So, I haven't shaved my legs in...ever. But you can still be my leg-hair buddy, even if you're not as hairy as me.”
She laughs, putting her leg down and taking another bite of pizza. “Eat your pizza, scrublord. I need my Player Two if I'm gonna get through Seven Crystals.”
Estela
Until I'm back in it, I sometimes forget how much chilly air can feel like pain. These past months, I went right from San Trobida to La Huerta to Northbridge and southern California in high summer, and then back to San Trobida. It was still summer when I returned to Northbridge to help my brother investigate Silas Prescott and his machine. Now a true New England autumn has officially crowded out summer. That's the other thing I've learned to dislike about the transition from summer to winter in the northeastern United States. Unlike the change between the tropical and frigid zones on La Huerta, this one comes on gradually, and I end up feel like the proverbial frog in a pot, not recognizing the change until one day I walk outside and my extremities start going numb.
Even with a jacket, scarf, and gloves, I can still feel it nipping at me as I make my way down the sidewalk in the early afternoon sunshine. I wouldn't even be out in it, but I needed a change of scene. I head toward Michelle and Quinn's apartment. I know that Michelle and Sean will both be at work about now, but maybe Quinn has a little time to spare. I could use some company right now besides my mother.
Much to my relief, when I arrive at my destination and press the buzzer, Quinn's voice sounds on the intercom.
“Who is it?”
“Hey, Quinn. It's Estela. I hope I'm not interrupting anything.”
“Nothing that can't wait. Just a sec, I'll buzz you up.”
I hear the soft buzz and the click of the lock, and yank the door open. Blessed warmth wafts over me as I step inside the lobby. The feeling is returning to my digits by the time I reach Quinn's unit. She's waiting for me with the door propped open. The smell of cinnamon and cloves drifts into the hallway.
“Come on in. I was just making some cider. Want to try some? It's nice and warm, just off the stove.”
“Anything warm sounds heavenly right now,” I reply, slipping off my coat and hanging it in the closet. “Sorry to drop in unexpectedly. I hope I'm not intruding.”
“If you were, I wouldn't have let you in,” she replies, waving a hand dismissively. “Sit down. Take a load off.”
I obey, sitting down at the kitchen table. Murphy immediately jumps up into my lap, cooing. I rub his cool, silky ears around the bases, and he trills with pleasure. Quinn ladles cider into two mugs printed with brightly-colored cartoon characters, and joins me at the table, sitting across from me. I cup the mug between my hands, letting the heat of the cider penetrating the ceramic warm my hands.
“So what brings you my way?”
I sigh. “I needed a change of scene, I suppose. Some space to think in.”
“Perhaps you're also looking for someone to share your thoughts with, since you seem to have sought out company.”
I take a warm, sweet sip from my mug. “Perceptive, aren't you.”
She smiles a little. “I try. So what's on your mind?”
“...Mom is talking about going back to San Trobida. To spend time with my Tio.”
“...How is she going to explain her ressurection to your Tio?”
“She hasn't decided yet. She has promised to leave Alodia out of her explanation. I'm mostly trying to decide whether I want to go back with her.”
She raises an eyebrow. “That's in question?”
“Should it not be? The Catalysts are all here in the States...”
“We've mostly been in the States for the last five years, but you've never felt the need to leave San Trobida for more than a visit or business. Even if you've been forced to delay, as far as I knew, you never questioned eventually going back.”
I snort a little. “You make me sound like the slightly estranged or...independent sister. You know, the one who breezes in a few times a year to give presents and then disappears again.”
She chuckles. “You know I don't mean it like that. We're family, the eleven—the twelve—of us. But we're not in college anymore, not all living in one place. And that's okay. We have lives and families outside of each other, as we should. That's the whole reason Alodia gave herself up, was to give us that. San Trobida has always been your home. It's where your blood family is.”
“Except for my brother. And my nephew.”
“True. Still, it's where the family that raised you is.” She frowns slightly. “And I would have thought you would want to stay with your mother. And your boyfriend must be missing you.”
I am quiet for a long moment. I take another long swallow of cider, and place my mug back on the table.
“...I love my mother. I will always love her. But it's been eleven years. I'm not the same person I was when she died.”
“...Is she not able to accept that?”
“It isn't that exactly,” I reply. “She understands that time has passed and I've grown. The problem is that we don't relate to each other the way we used to. I've gotten so used to living without her, having her back is a shock, even taking out the shock that comes just from the fact that she's alive. She understands that. That is, she grasps the concept. But trying to work with that...figure out who we are to each other now... It's like...when your parents realized that you were really and truly cured. Remember how you were always saying that treating you like a sick person was a habit they had to break? Treating you like a sick person and arguing with each other about it?”
“Yeah. ...They were glad I was healthy, of course. But they'd spent so many years stressing about my health that they couldn't let go of it right away.”
“It's a little like that. ...Of course I want her in my life. But I have to figure out how that works with the person I am now. And I'm not sure living under the same roof is the way to figure that out. And as to my boyfriend...he isn't. Anymore.”
Quinn looks up sharply, startled. “What?! When did this happen?!”
“Right about the time we introduced you to Rochelle.”
“But...that was weeks ago. Why didn't you say anything?”
I shrug, keeping my eyes on my cider mug. “We had other things to concern ourselves with. Besides, I...needed time to process.”
“Are you...okay?”
I shrug. “Well, I'm hardly walking on air, but I'm not bitterly torn up, either. I suppose in the end, we simply didn't have enough in common to sustain the relationship. At first it was intense and passionate, but once that initial thrill wore off...” I sigh. “...Honestly, the fact that there's a large part of my life he'll never understand...that no lover could really understand...”
“No lover except another Catalyst, anyway,” she says softly.
“Right. ...I had hoped him being part of the resistance back in the day might have made that part easier to deal with. Maybe it would with the right person...”
“Sometimes it takes time to find that right person,” Quinn says softly. “Believe me, I know. But hey, that's true for everyone, not just Catalysts. We come with a little more baggage than most...but that would have been true even if we had never gone to that island.”
I smirk a little. “So, you're saying that I'm not so special?”
She laughs, and I know it's because she enjoys my teasing. It took me awhile to learn how to playfully rib my friends the way they had always done with me and each other. But I've gotten the hang of it for the most part.
“I'm saying you're normal, silly.” She reaches across the table and takes my hand. I raise my eyes to meet hers, dark brown on sapphire blue. “Let yourself feel bad as long as you need to. As long as you know underneath it all that it's not the end of the world.”
“Oh, I know that well enough,” I quip ruefully. “We've both lived through the end of the world.”
“Yeah, we have. And you're a strong, beautiful woman with everything going for her. You'll bounce back from this.”
I smile, squeezing her hand. “Thanks, Quinn. You're pretty good at pep talks.”
“Well, I try. Now, how about we get some cupcakes started while we try to talk through your other problem?”
Lila
All right, Lila. This is going to be easy. Just walk right in. If he's awake, hand him the note. If he isn't, just leave it under his hand and walk out.
I have my disguise, a nurse's scrubs and ID badge, bearing my picture, but the name of a nurse on staff here who happens to be off today. It should be easy. I shouldn't be hesitating so much. I never used to have trouble doing exactly what Mr. Rourke asked me to do. Well..hardly any trouble. I believed in him then. I believed in him, and I put aside any scruples because I believed he was doing good for the world. Saving every lost little girl like me. I don't believe in him anymore. So why can't I walk away from him?
The note in the pocket of my scrub pants isn't long, but it feels very heavy. Uncomfortably bulky. The edge of the folded paper pokes into my thigh. I've read it, with permission from Mr. Rouke: “An old friend sends his regards. If you are serious about your goal, you'll need more than the dragonness. We can help each other.”
It's signed with the sigil of the Hydra, and a weird symbol that Mr. Rourke says will alert him that there is more information written in disappearing ink, and that he will need to heat the paper. That will reveal Mr. Rourke's contact information, and possibly more.
It doesn't feel harmless. In fact, it feels like it could be very harmful. But I can't walk away. But I can't walk forward, either.
Do something, Lila! Choose something!
And before I quite realize what's happened, I'm at the door to Silas Prescott's hospital room, where police officers are standing guard. I flash my badge, and they read the name, checking it against the list. The nearest officer gives me a curt nod, and I slip inside.
Silas Prescott is asleep, his heart monitor showing his pulse in a steady blip. Before I can change my mind again, I slip the note out of my pocket and gently lift his hand to place it underneath. He doesn't even stir. He must be sedated.
I turn away from the bed, lingering in the room just long enough to give the impression that I did more than just slip a note under his hand. Then I leave. I have to get out of here. Get out of this place. Get away from Silas Prescott. Get away from Everett Rourke...
But it looks like my escape may be delayed. Because not three yards outside the room, with my eyes on the floor and my mind a million miles away, I run headlong into someone coming in the other direction. A white-coated doctor studying a clipboard. We both recover ourselves, straightening our clothes and mumbling apologies. Then, our eyes meet, and we both freeze.
...I have just run headlong into Michelle Nguyen.
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pendragonfics · 8 years ago
Text
Ninety-Ninth
Paring: Steve Rogers/Reader
Tags: female reader, female pronouns, receptionist reader, Fourth of July, basically a Steve birthday fic nobody requested and I wrote anyways, fluff.
Summary: It's one day until the fourth day of July, and that means two things. America turns red, white and blue, and your boyfriend Steve Rogers celebrates his birthday.
Word Count: 1,700
Current Date: 2017-07-04
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To say that you’d been planning this ahead of time was an understatement. When Sharon told you that she’d heard that Steve didn’t like celebrating his birthday, you made sure to get in there and do it. Namely, do it right. As a receptionist, you had superpowers of your own – to sense when people were thinking of doing things even before they did them, your customer service voice that could divert even the angriest of people from their sinister plans. Working behind a desk was your life, but since moving in with the Captain America, he’d become that title. Apart from all the press on every detail of your lives, and the worry of being targets from enemies of the state/Avengers, it was a daydream come true.
But back to what really matters. Planning the perfect birthday…for months. But it was the day before, and still zilch.
You’d heard from Vision that Steve preferred not to be around loud noises (observing people happened to be a habit of the android he’d never shaken off from his days as JARVIS), and Tony mentioned once over brunch with Pepper that if Steve could go anywhere for his birthday than the Smithsonian he’d buy out a local charity and donate a million dollars to it too. So, that was your plan: no loud noises. No Smithsonian. No lavish things that would make America’s golden boy shy away and disappear into the night.
But it still didn’t give you many options. It left you staring at your notepad beside the computer at your desk at Stark Tower, frowning over how many times you’d scribbled out the things that you’d ruminated, and then redacted.
“Looks like whatever’s causing that is giving you a headache,” Natasha gives a small smile, and peers over the desk to see your notepad. “Good. It’s not a phone. I would’ve asked if you were having relationship troubles, but it’s more like…Ferris wheel?” The redheaded assassin frowns too. “What are you using that for?”
You shake your head. “Birthday ideas.”
“Ah,” She nods knowingly. “That backfired on me too. I planned the party in ’12, he hated it. Of course, everyone was Ukrainian, or didn’t speak English.” She laughs, recalling it. “Made for an awkward taxi ride home.”
“Well, I’ll be sure not to take him to any restaurants like that,” you make a note.
Natasha shakes her head. “Oh no, it wasn’t a restaurant. It was at an old friend’s house.”
Saving the day, Dr Bruce Banner enters the foyer, with files in his hands. He often came down with important things to send away to science journal publishers, or letters for his long-distance fiancé Betty in Virginia. When he wasn’t being green on missions with your Steve, or hidden away in his lab, he often had afternoon tea with you. He never failed to bring a new exotic tea to share.
“Dr Banner!” you grin, standing to accept the parcel he holds. “If you were turning ninety-nine, and didn’t like to celebrate it, what you do to celebrate?”
The scientist frowns, but hands you the files. Pausing, he runs a hand through his curls, and widens his eyes. Struck with an idea, he blurts, “When Betty didn’t want to make a big deal about the big three-oh, I bought a bottle of champagne, a rent-a-movie, but we only watched half of The Great Gatsby when power cut off.”
Natasha laughs. “Only because you forgot pay.”
Bruce shakes his head. “Only because I’d been away on a mission for almost a month! You can’t just call up the power company when you’re undercover in southern Mongolia.”
You nod, considering it. “Might pay my power bill, but that’s worthwhile. Thank you, Dr Banner.”
At this, FRIDAY alerts you on incoming people to Stark Tower. While it’s wonderful having an Avengers base in upstate New York (yes, it was confidential material, and yes, you were in on the know), it was nice being located where you could walk five minutes and buy a coffee, or ten and be home in your studio apartment. But your Irish-lilted AI (and quite frankly, a rival for the position of receptionist when you were rendered useless) alerted you of arrivals, and at this, you shoved the notepad under the desk, away in the draw.
“Hey there, Shellhead, Capsicle,” she greets, smirking.
Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s normal if I nickname everything I touch, but with you, it’s plain mean, Widow.” He walks up to her, punching her arm playfully. He’s a great man, Mr. Stark. Quite frankly, the man is slightly misunderstood, needs a good night’s sleep, and less access to alcohol than he has. But you’re not his mother. “_______! How’s my favourite paper-pusher?”
You shake your head at the title, “I’m your only paper-pusher.” Beside him, Steve stands there, hands in pockets. You wonder if Tony has just dragged him around New York while he looks at cufflinks or something, because he looked kind of down. “You still on for our lunch plans, Steve?” you ask him.
He nods. “Sure thing.”
---
When lunch comes around (which takes too long a time from when you last spoke to Steve) you have your food in your lunch bag, brought from home, and head up to the roof level. Tony only allowed the both of you to eat up there when he realised it was the chance to play matchmaker, back when the both of you were just strangers to one another who seemed to get their blush on when near one another. Stark was yet to rescind that privilege, and you both took advantage of it. Eating in a fancy restaurant? Anyone could do that with their boyfriend. But eating on the roof of the Stark Tower? Fan-friggin’-tastic.
“Any talk in your office?” Steve wonders, sitting down on your usual bench. He’s got a sandwich, probably bought at the deli down the way.
You shake your head, but then remember, “The old delivery guy, Stan has been replaced. I think his daughter just gave birth, and he’s off to New Jersey to meet his grandson.”  
Steve nods. “That’s nice. I’ll be sure to tell him congratulations when I see him next time.”
Unwrapping your lunch, you nod, and add, “What about you? What’s the gossip with the Avengers?” You take a bite of your homemade burrito, and add, “Nothing confidential. I don’t want to be fired.”
Steve laughs, shuffling closer to you on the bench so your shoulders touch. “I taught Thor and Bucky how the icemaker worked, but it ended up with Buck just putting vodka in it.” He chuckles. “I don’t think any of the people who’ve had ice in the last day can drive for at least a week.”
You snort, almost spluttering your burrito onto the floor. “Oh gosh! That backfired!”
Steve grins. “It’s okay. I might have had something to do with it.”
Nuzzling your head into his side to hide your smile, you laugh at that remark. Of course, he did. Everyone believed that Steven Grant Rogers was an angel wrapped up in a flag and American ideals. He sure as hell wasn’t. He liked to ride his motorcycle fast, and ignore orders from Fury, and most of all, stand up when people could not for themselves. If anything about the current politics was anything to say for itself, he would fight everyone until there was equality for everyone. It was a good thing you had Pepper and S.H.I.E.L.D. alter his itinerary many times to avoid The White House.  
“You coming to mine for dinner tonight?” You ask Steve.
He nods, looking from the New York City skyline to you with the same look in his eyes one might have if at the Grand Canyon for the first time. “Sure. You’re cooking, or me?”
You consider it. “I was thinking takeout. How do you feel about pizza?”
Steve beams. “Won’t miss it for the world.”
---
Dinner goes well, and so does desert (some frozen yoghurt you had stashed in the back of your freezer) and you’re asleep by nine, snuggled together on the bed watching one of those movies the TV channels plays by random. But when daybreak breaks over the city, the alarm clock, still set to go off at 7:00AM sharp, plays the daily news broadcast.
“Goo-ood morning New York! It’s me, Ralph, here with Sammi for a fantastic, fine Fourth of July Tuesday here in New York. It’s going to be a great day of 73, I can tell you – with highs of 83, and some cloud. Here’s Sam for the news update –,” before Ralph can go on, you slap your hand over the alarm, and turn to face Steve.
His eyes are fluttering open, showing the baby-blues that you love so dearly. “Morning,” you whisper, leaning across the sheets close enough to see the few freckles on his skin. “Happy birthday, Stevie.”
A small smile stretches on his face, remembering what the date was. “Happy birthday, America,” he whispers back, his arms moving to hold you against his bare, warm chest. “I’d bet you’ve got something planned for me today. I saw you talking with Sharon.”
“I talked to a lot of people,” you shake your head, and add, “But no. No plans. It’s all up to you, Mr. America.” You kiss him on the tip of his nose, and then on the cheek. “Unless your plans are to stay in bed and snuggle a while.”
Steve grins, and holds you tighter. “Sounds like I’m going with that plan, doll.”
You smile, sighing into his chest. To say that you’d been planning this ahead of time was an understatement; it’s been in the works for ages. But when it came to it, it wasn’t just a date. It wasn’t just a birthday. It was Steve’s birthday, and if asked, you’d say that Steve was your world. For sure. And how he spent his birthday was completely, and utterly up to him.
“I love you,” he grins, going to kiss your cheek.
“I love you too,” you smile, and move your head so he catches your lips instead.
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vintagesugg-blog · 8 years ago
Text
conceal
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Word Count: 1,250
Rating: PG-13
“Bloody hell Joe,” you groaned, leaning closer to the mirror, examining the marks your boyfriend had left everywhere on your neck. They were darker than usual, and they went down your shoulders as well, a few even grazing your collarbones.
“I’m sorry love, I got a bit carried away,” he mumbled, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You rummaged through your makeup bag, frustrated. You hadn’t necessarily planned on you and Joe having sex at his sister’s house, but after the impromptu water fight yesterday, which had left both you and Joe in see-through, soaking wet white t-shirts, the hormones were kicking all day until you could finally escape up to the spare room.
However, the lack of planning had left you without your thickest concealer, which you usually used to cover up. Joe had a habit of leaving the purple marks, and they weren’t seen as professional at work.
“Do they hurt?” Joe’s voice came from behind you again. He was pressing gentle kisses to the few he had left on your shoulder. You could tell he felt bad.
“No, of course not. Believe me, they felt good, I just didn’t really come prepared to cover them. And with us all having breakfast later...”
“Well, my sister is a beauty blogger you know. I’m sure she’s got a billion tubes of that stuff,” he pointed towards some of the concealer in your bag. He was right; she was sure to have a color correcting kit and everything else in her makeup storage upstairs.
“Okay, here’s the plan. You go downstairs and put a spoon under the coldest water you can get, then bring it to her makeup room upstairs, okay?” You gave him a quick kiss and sent him on his mission.
Joe was very quiet as he went down the stairs. Zoe and Alfie seemed to be asleep still, so he crept to the kitchen, doing as he was told with the spoon. It was only then that he realized that Nala was pawing at his leg. That meant she was out of her crate.
Which meant someone was awake.
“It’ll get colder if you stick it in the icemaker for a minute,” Zoe’s voice came from around the corner. She walked into the kitchen with a bit of a smirk.
“I was just, um, uh… I was just washing it,” Joe mumbled, almost dropping it in the sink.
“Right, and last night you two were just testing to see if the headboard would break through my bloody wall,” she teased, taking the spoon from her younger brother and sticking it in the freezer. He couldn’t find the words to say, his cheeks felt like they were on fire.
“Don’t get all embarrassed Joe, I expected as much. You two were basically eye-fucking all of yesterday afternoon.”
“ZO!” He groaned, wanting nothing more than to run from the room.
“Oh enough, it’s not a big deal. Alfie didn’t even wake up. I don’t mind, honestly, as long as you two are being safe.”
“Can we please not have this conversation?” He had never wanted to have this conversation with anyone, much less his older sister.
“I’m glad you two are happy okay? I’m not going to make a big deal out of it. Now, start getting everything out for breakfast, Alfie will be down in a few minutes. I think Y/N might need a little help,” she gave her brother a smile before grabbing the spoon and heading upstairs. 
“Need some help?”
You spun around, not expecting your boyfriend’s sister rather than him. You instinctively reached to cover your neck, but when you saw the spoon in her hand you dropped it in defeat.
“Hey Zo.”
“My god, he really did go to town, didn’t he? Here.” She rolled her eyes as she tossed you the spoon, tsking a bit in her motherliest way before closing the door and turning on some music. You sat with the cold metal pressed to the worst of the hickeys and watched as she began to rummage through her extensive makeup collection, pulling out all sorts of bits.
“I’m sorry,” you said, ducking your head a bit as she came to sit on the ground in front of you, snatching her ring light and clicking it on.
“What is it with you two and apologizing for having sex? Do you honestly think that I mind?” She began to dab some color-correcting yellow to cancel out the purple, and you simply tilted your head to the side and let her work. She would do it ten times better than you anyways.
“He’s your little brother. Is that not weird for you?”
“Look Y/N, if he’s going to be having sex with anyone, I’m glad it’s you alright? And the fact that you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other just shows that you love each other. Alfie and I used to be like that. Why do you think I’ve got such heavy foundations still?” She smirked a bit, continuing to cover up all the spots.
“Really?”
“Uh, why do you think I used to wear high collared shirts so much? I’m basically a pro at this by now – can’t show hickeys in main channel videos then can we?”
You instantly felt more relaxed, and you began chatting about other things, from the weather to the breakfast you had planned in a little bit with Poppy, Sean and Mark. She went ahead and did your whole face, and you were amazed when you looked in the mirror. There wasn’t even the faintest trace of the marks.
“Told you I was a pro,” she winked, laughing at your bewildered expression. “Now, I’ve done your makeup which means I get to pick your outfit. C’mon then!”
 You tried not to laugh at Joe’s expression when you came down the stairs. Zoë had picked out a cute pair of shorts and a tight crop top with a really cute design that was a bit flashy, as to distract from your neck if any of the makeup decided to rub off.
Zo began to giggle and so did you, scooting over to kick the boys out of the kitchen.
“Do you know what they’re on about?” Alfie asked.
“No idea,” Joe responded a bit too quickly, practically darting out of the room before he broke and ruined the whole thing. It wasn’t until Poppy, Sean and Mark came round that you left the kitchen to join Joe on the couch. Alfie was editing, his headphones on, completely oblivious.
“How in the hell?” He whispered, moving your hair away from your neck to examine it.
“Basically, your sister is a wizard. And, she doesn’t care what we do in her house, apparently.” You smirked a bit at him, kissing him quickly, careful not to mess up your lipstick.
“Yeah, you’re damn right she is. And that’s probably a good thing, considering we’ve got two more nights here and she put you in that,” he gestured to your outfit, which you had to admit was quite sexy. “I think my sisters got an alternate agenda.”
“I’m not complaining,” you teased, giving his another kiss.
“Oi! Can’t hear, but I can still see!” Alfie exclaimed from behind you.
“Sorry Alf,” you grinned, pulling Joe back to the kitchen to help set the table for what turned out to be a non-awkward, very enjoyable breakfast with all your mates.
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lxiewrites · 8 years ago
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Arseholes and Articles
Ch. 3 of Altea High
Keith slouched in the surprisingly comfy chair in Shiro’s office. He knew Shiro was talking to him. The intense look on his face and the moving mouth were indicators but, honestly, he can’t tell you what the flying fuck he was saying. Something about fitting in or making friends he’s sure, but he just can’t focus on the current topic right now. What he’s focusing on is how that guy just casually… checked him? Like he wasn’t afraid of getting seriously injured? He knew his clothes were smoking, it’s not like this guy couldn’t have seen that. That was essentially a goddamn warning sign. Do Not Touch.
In nature many creatures had bright vivid colors to warn off predators from eating them or coming closer.
Nearly setting himself on fire is his goddamn warning to others.
Normally, people aren’t stupid enough to get close enough to get themselves burned but apparently there’s one.
He…honestly, just can’t…fathom…? The guy was obviously scared of him, at least near the end when he was being an asshole. Why else wouldn’t he just simply walk past him to get to class? But then why did he shoulder-bump him out of the way? Is his stupidity and ego bigger than his self-preservation? Is he just stupid?
Is he stupid?
Keith concludes that he's just stupid. But that stupidity is so damn familiar. He doesn't know why but this special brand of stupid and ego-tripping reminds him of someone he knew before. Some scrawny kid in middle school that didn't know when to quit while he was ahead. He had some semi-fond memories of this boy and several indifferent ones and just one where it was so bad.
He wonders if this guy could possibly be his brother.
“…eith. Keith!”
Keith’s eyes crossed as Shiro snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Wha?”
The older man sighed. “You didn’t hear a word I said didn’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“No, you said something about making friends and… stuff.”
“Keith.”
He threw himself back into the chair; arms limp at his sides. “Fine. I have no idea what you just said.”
“What’s got you so distracted?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled, he eyed the magazine on the table advertising something about the new product from Empire Industries. “Everything’s just fine.”
“Is it about—“ Keith swiped the magazine, releasing a wave of flowery sample perfume. He paged through idly, though nothing really kept his attention for long. Temper Gummies for Kids! New Formula! The artificial cherry actually doesn't taste too bad from what he remembers. Which Season are You and Your Powers? He's apparently a Fall. Are YOU the Quantum Commander’s Type?! No. No he's not. The Commander is too anal for him. Power Enhancement: Three Short Steps. Psh. He has no issues in that area.  He could feel his cousin’s stare before he continued. “…About what happened at the Garrison?”
He sighed and threw the gossip rag back onto the table. “No, Shiro. It’s not about the Garrison.”
“Are you sure? Because you have a lot better control over your powers than you did back then. It might feel like you don’t but you do.”
“Yes, Shiro, I’m fine.”
“You’ll make a lot of good friends here too. Lifelong friends.”
“Oh my God, Shiro! Stop being such a mother hen! What if I don’t want any friends?”
His cousin just looked at him in that really annoying way of his, like he knows something or…something. “Trust me. Even if you say you don’t want any they’ll come find you. And you will never get rid of them.”
“Hunk!” Lance shouted as he burst through the door of the classroom. Spotting the Samoan he sprinted over grabbing his arm.
“Oh my God, Lance! Why are you so cold?”
Lance ignored his friend’s complaint and continued to chant his name. “Hunk! Hunk! You will not believe who I have to babysit for the rest of the year!”
His friend simply maneuvered his arm out of the icemaker’s grasp and looked back at his worksheet where he was solving the chemical equation. “Uh, like a kid? Is it Melody? Cora?”
“What? No, nonono not actual babysitting, but yeah, gotta watch the girls this weekend. But that’s not it. I’m talking about the thing Allura’s making me do.”
“Hey, nerds, what’s Allura making you do?” Pidge slid in across from them moving aside the Bunsen burner and beakers to make way for their laptop. They curled their little legs under them on the stool to get a little height and immediately started tap-tap-tapping away on their computer, their fluffy blondish chestnut hair the only visible part of their head.
“She has me being a representative of the school or something and helping one of my fellow peers assimilate to a public school setting or whatnot. Basically I have to babysit the new guy.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
Lance threw his hands in the air. “I know right?!”
“I mean that she thinks that you would be a good representative without messing up.” They grinned over their computer the light from the window glaring from their glasses. Lance told them to spring for the Anti-Reflective lenses.
“Oh, real funny coming from you. May I remind you of who somehow kept setting the sprinklers off with the bells?”
“Hey, I got it fixed by the end of the day!”
“Not before it soaked ev-er-y-one, but I got out of my math test that day so thanks for that. “
They rolled their eyes at him. “Of course. Next time I’m charging.”
“So who’s the guy you’re babysitting?” Hunk interrupted whatever Lance was going to quip back before the conversation derailed even further.
Lance slapped his hands on the table like he needs its support for the bomb he was going to drop on them. “Oh. My. God. Oh my God. I completely forgot, but it’s just, oh my—“
“Yes, oh my God and baby Jesus, get to the point Lance.”
Lance just glared at Pidge before sticking his finger in their face until they go cross-eyed before booping their nose. “Shush, you.”
He looked at each one of them in the eye for several seconds before saying, in a hushed conspirial tone, “It’s Keith.”
A moment of silence.
Pidge and Hunk looked at each other before looking at Lance again. “Uh, we don’t know who that is, buddy.”
Lance threw his hands up again. “How can you not remember, Hunk?! I can understand Pidge because I don’t think they were in the Garrison yet, but my bro? Remember? Keith? Keith. Keiiiith.”
“Bro, just because you keep saying his name does not mean I’m going to remember.”
“Keith Kogane? He was in our class? For, like, years? Know-it-all, show-off, arsehole?”
Pidge quirked an eyebrow, “One, isn’t that a swearword? Just because you say it like a British person doesn’t mean it’s not a swearword, Lance. Two, this Keith guy sounds familiar but give me a sec.” She ducked down behind her technical shield.
The Cuban planted his elbow on the table, his pointer raised toward the sky. “One, it totally isn’t a swearword because it doesn’t count if we’re in America. Two, mi mamá is not here. Three, okay, do your diddly bop. Four, c’mon Hunk! You have to remember him, he was a total jerk!”
Hunk gently led Lance’s four fingers out of his face and onto the counter. “Okay, Lance, the guy sounds a little familiar now that I have more than his first name. Wasn’t he, like, really quiet though?”
“It didn’t stop him from showing off every damn—“
“Language.”
“Shut up, Pidge, damn isn’t a swear and you know it.” Lance didn’t miss a beat as he continued. “ –Second. Ooh, look a flame here, a fire there, I can set myself on fire I’m soooo cooooooll.” Lance mocked, voice high in a poor impersonation of Keith’s own voice. “And he just had to get perfect grades and be the absolute golden boy to every teacher. Iverson loved him.”
“Ugh, Iverson was a jerk.” Pidge’s nose wrinkled in disgust.
“I know right, he was all ne, ne, ne, and blah, blah, blah, and there's no eating in the classroom. Ugh.” Hunk griped.
“But anyways,” As much as he loved bashing Iverson Lance needed to get them back on track. “Keith was a jerk to me. I mean, anyone who was in Iverson’s pocket had to be a jerk, come on.”
“Yeah, but buddy, didn’t you make everything with him into a weird competition? I think a lot of those fire shows were because you pissed him off dude.”
“Well, I might have found when he dropped out.” Pidge turned their computer around to face the both of them. “Here’s an article from 2013 when you guys were in 7th grade it was actually deleted from the original source but I found it. ‘Local Boy Devastates School with Fire Abilities.’” They hummed a bit when they skimmed the news article. “Wow. He really did some damage didn’t he. No wonder he dropped out, I’m surprised no one pressed charges... Shiiit. His parents are Penance and Hoshindo?! Dayum.”
Hunk’s forehead wrinkled with sympathy. “Two supervillian parents? That’s gotta be hard man.”
“I think him mom only turned to the dark side that year. She was always nice whenever it was parents day.” Lance frowned in possiblecompassion; he was still a major jerkwad before his mom decided to go all Winter Soldier on the superhero community.
Lance remembered the day Keith had that accident. It actually wasn't that much later after his mom was incarcerated the entire school was talking about it at the time. Thinking about it soured his stomach and made him feel colder than when he used his powers. Red covered his cheeks in shame. He remembered the fire engulfing the fire starter, how it licked up first his arms and haloing his face, illuminating his eyes as they turned into a lava gold. The rest of him followed quickly. So very, very quickly until it spread. It spread across the carpet, melting lockers, igniting homework and stray paper until it finally hit the janitor’s closet, the little flame of the DANGER: HAZARDOUS MATERIAL sign the first to warp coming alive for the briefest moments before everything was light and sound. The only thing that saved twelve-year-old Lance that day was the amount of power that he even didn’t know he could produce, forming an incredibly thick but small ice dome around him. It protected him from the heat and the fire well enough but not from the energy of the explosion that fractured his protection and threw him against the wall.
He shuddered out of the brief foray into his memories.
Yes, he would always remember the time he got Keith Kogane expelled.
Ch.1 Ch.2
Ao3
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disneytva · 8 years ago
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April 2017 Programming Highlights
Saturday, April 01
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Junior
Miles from Tomorrowland “Who Stole the Dinosaur? / Nine Minutes ‘Til Bedtime”
(8:30 – 9:00 A.M. EDT)
“Who Stole the Dinosaur?” – Space Trader Dashiell Scamp needs the Callistos’ help getting a dinosaur off his ship.
“Nine Minutes ‘Til Bedtime” – When the Stellosphere goes haywire, Miles and Loretta must fix it before their parents come home.
TV-Y
Saturday, April 08
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Junior
Miles from Tomorrowland “Chasing the Stormchaser / Galactech: Loretta‘s Lost BraceLex”
(8:30 – 9:00 A.M. EDT)
“Chasing the Stormchaser” – Miles and Loretta interview a stormchaser but soon become part of the story.
*ABC News Meteorologist Ginger Zee recurs as Dr. Z.
“Galactech: Loretta‘s Lost BraceLex” – When Loretta can’t go on a school field trip, Miles volunteers to collect data for her BraceLex.
*LeVar Burton (“Star Trek: The Next Generation”) recurs as Dr. Consilium.
TV-Y
Saturday, April 15
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Junior
Miles from Tomorrowland “Gamechangers / Goon Baby Goon”
(8:30 – 9:00 A.M. EDT)
“Gamechangers” – Miles and Loretta learn how to create their own holo-game.
*Whoopi Goldberg (“Star Trek: The Next Generation”) recurs as The GameMaster.
“Goon Baby Goon” – Gadfly creates a Baby Goon, a toddler who threatens the ship.
*Mark Hamill (“Star Wars”) recurs as Gadfly.
TV-Y
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Doc McStuffins Toy Hospital “Get-Well Gus Gets Well / Triceratops Trouble”
(12:00 – 12:30 P.M. EDT)
“Get-Well Gus Gets Well” – When flying Pegasus toy Get-Well Gus crashes and breaks off one of his wings, Doc outfits him with a prosthetic.
*Christopher “Ludacris” Bridges (“The Fast and the Furious”) guest stars as Get-Well Gus.
“Triceratops Trouble” – Doc and the toys have trouble diagnosing a triceratops train that can’t get enough traction to move.
TV-Y
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Tangled: The Series “Fitzherbert P.I.”
(7:30 – 8:00 P.M. EDT)
Eugene sets out to find a role for himself in the castle and decides to be a royal guard.
TV-Y7
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Elena of Avalor “Captain Turner Returns”
(9:00 – 9:30 A.M. EDT)
When Naomi’s mom gets a new job in their old kingdom, Naomi and Elena try to convince her not to move the family away from Avalor.
*Julie Nathanson (“Sofia the First”) guest stars as Naomi’s mom Captain Scarlett Turner, and Rich Sommer (“Mad Men”) recurs as Naomi’s father Captain Daniel Turner.
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Mickey and the Roadster Racers “The Impossible Race / The Happiest Helpers Cruise!”
(10:00 – 10:30 A.M. EDT)
“The Impossible Race” – Cuckoo Loca enters her first Roadster event.
“The Happiest Helpers Cruise!” – The Happy Helpers become cruise directors on Valentine’s Day.
TV-Y
Original Series – Series Premiere on Disney Channel
Puppy Dog Pals “Hawaii Pug-Oh / A.R.F.”
(10:30 – 10:55 A.M. EDT)
“Hawaii Pug-Oh” – When Bob says he’d love to feel the sand on his toes, pug puppy brothers Bingo and Rolly go on a mission to Hawaii.
“A.R.F.” – Bob introduces the pups to A.R.F., a robotic dog he created that is programmed to clean up their messes.
TV-Y
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Puppy Dog Pals “The French Toast Connection / Take Me Out to the Pug Game”
(10:55 – 11:20 A.M. EDT)
“The French Toast Connection” – Bingo and Rolly travel to France to get Bob some French toast.
“Take Me Out to the Pug Game” – The pugs chase Bob’s prized baseball across the city.
*Famed sportscaster Bob Uecker guest stars as a baseball announcer.
TV-Y
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Tangled: The Series “Challenge of the Brave”
(7:30 – 8:00 P.M. EDT)
Cassandra and Rapunzel enter the Challenge of the Brave, a gathering of warriors from across the kingdom, to test their courage.
*Danny Trejo (“Machete”) guest stars as Wreck Marauder.
TV-Y7
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Puppy Dog Pals “The Go-Long Retriever / Pot O‘Pugs”
(10:30 – 10:55 A.M. EDT)
“The Go-Long Retriever” – Bingo and Rolly try to get away from a self-fetching stick that begins chasing them.
“Pot O‘Pugs” – When Bob says he needs a pot of gold, the pups search for one at the end of a rainbow.
TV-Y
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Puppy Dog Pals “A Pyramid Scheme / Special Delivery”
(10:55 – 11:20 A.M. EDT)
“A Pyramid Scheme” – Bongo and Rolly travel to Egypt to find the Great Pyramids.
“Special Delivery” – The pugs try to deliver a Mother’s Day card for Bob.
TV-Y
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
The Lion Guard “Ono the Tickbird”
(11:30 A.M. – 12:00 P.M. EDT)
Ono must fill in for a rhino‘s “seeing-eye bird” while the Guard helps the rhino and tickbird resolve their differences.
TV-Y
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Tangled: The Series “Cassandra v. Eugene”
(7:30 – 8:00 P.M. EDT)
Rapunzel is tired of the constant bickering between Cassandra and Eugene and decides to send them off on a scavenger hunt in hopes it will be a bonding experience.
*Ron Perlman (“Sons of Anarchy”) guest stars as The Stabbington Brothers.
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Elena of Avalor “King of the Carnaval”
(9:00 – 9:30 A.M. EDT)
Esteban’s childhood friend, Victor, returns to Avalor during the kingdom’s Carnaval celebration and convinces Esteban to help him rob the royal treasury.
*Acclaimed Emmy and Tony Award-nominated actor Lou Diamond Phillips (“La Bamba”) guest stars as Victor Delgado.
TV-Y
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Puppy Dog Pals “Design-A-Dog/ Ice, Ice Puggy”
(10:30 – 11:00 A.M. EDT)
“Design-A-Dog” – Bingo and Rolly accidentally chew Bob’s childhood toy.
“Ice, Ice Puggy” – When Bob’s icemaker breaks, the pugs go to Antarctica to get him ice.
TV-Y
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Sofia the First “Day of the Sorcerers”
(11:30 A.M. – 12:00 P.M. EDT)
After a secret meeting of sorcerers, Cedric must choose between taking over the kingdom and maintaining his friendship with Sofia.
Original Series – Episode Premiere on Disney Channel
Tangled: The Series “The Return of Strongbow”
(7:30 – 8:00 P.M. EDT)
When Eugene‘s old friend Lance Strongbow sweeps back into town, he tries to drag Eugene back into his thieving ways.
*Tony Award-winner James Monroe Iglehart (Broadway’s “Aladdin”) guest stars as Lance Strongbow.
TV-Y7
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cajunquandary · 8 years ago
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THE EYES ARE WINDOWS (Michelle’s 2K Follower Challenge)
Pairing/Characters: Eventual Dean x Reader, Sam, mentions of Benny
Word Count: 5400
Warnings: Alcohol use, flashbacks to implied rape and torture, mentions of PTSD, canon level violence, light cursing, mention of Alzheimer’s.
Prompt: “I’ll keep fighting. I’ll keep swinging til I got nothing left.”
Summary: Dean Winchester begins to investigate a strange case in a small town in Louisiana, meeting a local hunter. Expecting a simple salt-and-burn or demon, the actual culprit was not what the local hunter could have prepared for.
A/N: This is for Michelle’s 2K Follower Challenge, @luci-in-trenchcoats. If any of the above triggers affect you, PLEASE, please don’t read this. It’s not too angst-y and ends with lots o’ fluffy goodness.
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(Not my gif)
Louis and Christine’s was especially packed, even for a Thursday night in the college town. You shouldn’t have been surprised—fraternity guys and coeds loved $2 shots as much as any hunter. You quickly secured one of the two high-top tables left for yourself and your research. Halfway through your double whiskey on the rocks, you hardly noticed the din from chanting students or the scruffy looking man who had slid into the opposite seat. Last week, Alexandria had a mysterious string of deaths that you were sure was the aftermath of voodoo performed by an angry civilian. Pretty run of the mill for Louisiana, and nothing you hadn’t come across before. In fact, I’d be damned if it wasn’t little old Miss Maxine Martin causing trouble for the nursing home again. Alzheimer’s is difficult for anyone, but when those who spent their lives dabbling in voodoo develop it…
“So are you going to sit there and ignore me all night? What’s a pretty little girl like you doing reading that crap anyway?” You nearly jumped out of your skin as the gravelly voice caught your attention, shutting the laptop and stowing the newspapers with it.
“That depends. Are you going to buy me a drink?” You leaned back in your chair, finished the whiskey, and folded your arms. He motioned for another round, then leaned back mirroring your body language.
“You still didn’t answer my question. What’s a girl like you doing reading about voodoo in a place like this?” His lips remained turned up in a smug, flirty fashion, green eyes glinting in the dull light of the bar. Freckles faintly littered his nose and cheeks. You wondered how many were…wait, what was his question? “I see we got off on the wrong foot. Name’s Dean. Winchester.”
“Y/N Y/L/N.” You leaned forward, thanking the waitress for your fresh drink. After a moment, you recalled why the name sounded so familiar—Dean Winchester, a legend among hunters—and smiled. Having only met a few other hunters in your brief time in the life and being a sucker for their stories, to hear some from a legend was an opportunity that left you giddy.
Several hours and many drinks later, you and Dean had become familiar with the scariest, funniest, and most bizarre hunts you’d been on, and briefly discussed your families.
“So, Y/N, what made you start hunting?” You always hated that question. It was a long and painful story, best left untold to other hunters. There was a reason you hunted alone. Well, not completely alone.
“Hey Y/N, I see ya found a nice beau, but we closed an hour ago, cher. Do you need me to walk ya home?” Everette, the bartender and a friend of yours, gratefully interrupted, while giving Dean the classic ‘stink eye.’
“No, thank you, Ev’, we were just leaving. I’ll see you tomorrow night,” you smiled and slid not-so-gracefully from your seat. After a quick hug and polite nod toward Dean, he walked away to finish closing up.
“Mind if I walk you home?” Dean asked, taking your arm in his.
“Not at all.”
The walk was not too far to your simple little apartment, and you discovered along the way that Dean was in town for a string of recent suicides that had been kept from the news. Apparently they were all young men in their twenties and thirties. Some had grown up here, like you, and others were just passing through, but all walked themselves miles to the outskirts of town to an old farm house that had been abandoned twenty some odd years ago. He had already spoken to the former owners who said nothing weird ever happened while they were there, and only left because they couldn’t afford the mortgage anymore. Since then, the home and land had been in the bank’s possession and had never been resold. “What’s been weird is that none of the locals want to talk about the house. There’s more to this, but I can’t find it.”
“Where exactly is this house, Dean,” afraid you already knew the answer. You wiggled your apartment’s key into the lock until the door was freed. Normally this took a few minutes of wrestling and bargaining with the door, but you were thankful that this time it gave easily. Your spine was crawling and every hair on your body was standing on end in anticipation of his answer.
“Cute place.” Dean looked around and found the bathroom, unaware of your shaking hands closing and double locking the door. “Mind if I..?” he pointed towards the bathroom. You nodded, and he slipped away. Not but a moment later, Dean burst out of the bathroom and tripped on the mat. “Did you—uh—do you know you have a pluming problem? The sink just shot water out of the side at me while—um—never mind. Not important.” Dean’s eyes cast downward, his face flushed and sporting a sheepish grin.
Laughing and allowing some of the tension to leave your shoulders, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and pick up the silver pocket knife you’d accidentally left behind, placing it protectively in your pocket. Dean laughed as well, and flopped into your armchair.
Picking up where he left off, Dean replied, “The house is on Magnolia Way, right off of the highway, close to campus.”
Silence flooded the room, like molasses suspending everything in place. Dean tried to read your face, but you didn’t notice, staring out the window and into another life, a painful memory. The icemaker in the fridge released all of its contents onto the kitchen floor before you could get pulled too far away and you jumped up to clean it, Dean helping to gather the stray cubes. You pushed the memory away and focused on the mess at hand.
“The last one!” Dean said excitedly as he pulled a half melted cube from beneath the counter, popping to his feet quickly. Too quickly he realized, hitting his head on the corner of an open cupboard.
Knowing very well that neither of you opened it, you closed it quickly and turned him around. Grinning, you offered, “Want some ice for that?” He wrapped his arms around your waist and twirled, both consumed in a fit of laughs.  Oh, how his arms, his scent, his laugh, and the way the corners of his eyes scrunched were intoxicating.
“There’s something you should know,” you pulled away from Dean, grabbing the dishtowel to fidget with. “About me, about this apartment.” He raised his brows in question. “I don’t usually bring strange men home from bars—“ Dean looked mildly offended at being lumped in with such a crowd, but then nodded in understanding and leaned forward, kissing your forehead.
“I get it,” he cut you off. “You need your space, and I need my beauty rest. Meet me at the diner at 6am. You’re buying!” And just like that he had sauntered out your door, leaving the small space feeling empty.
You shrugged, and prepared to shower and sleep. “You can come out now, Armand.” The ghost of the young man appeared next to you, looking rather agitated. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice! I tried to tell him—“
“He a hunter! You cain’t let’im know I here! He send me to tha gret beyond. Then who watch you back, boo?”
“Well, I wasn’t the one causing a scene. Rest up, I’m gonna need you tomorrow. We caught a case here in town, and I need to wrap it up quick to go take care of the case in Alexandria. I think Miss Maxine is at it again, bless her poor little old heart.”
Armand disappeared again with a disgruntled “Hmph.”
You don’t know what had gotten into you that night. Maybe it was the stress from finals, or the pointed comment from your only girlfriend about you being a recluse, or maybe it was the lukewarm, charged air of the stormy season that made you restless. Whatever it was that had led you here, to the frat party, wearing a sweater and blue jeans (leaving everything to the imagination, unlike some of your fellow party goers,) and standing in a corner of the pulsating room clutching your glass of mystery punch, it was a mistake. Amy invited you, of course, but she had already run off somewhere, maybe doing karaoke, maybe beer pong. Who knew? A strapping freshman new recruit to the fraternity (dignified by his wearing nothing but a trash bag) grinned down at you. He seemed nice enough after chatting for a bit. He was studying microbiology with a minor in business, and wanted to save the world. As a junior with only a few credit away from graduation, you knew that he would no doubt change his studies and views several times before the end. His excitement, however, was infectious, and you followed him to the patio, reminding yourself that you were supposed to be relaxing and having fun. The kid was scrawny, you could take him and a buddy in a fight and win. Thanks for the training, Dad. There was something off about him though, and the other members. Maybe it was their eyes. Most of them had very pretty eyes, ranging from bright blue to amber, but something was off about their eyes. Yeah... That’s it. Their eyes don’t catch the light. No reflections. Hm. Must be the bad lighting.
The kid started to ramble about the stars, and a few partygoers ran past, playing drunk tag. You looked up and marveled the same, then the stars faded and darkness took over.
You fell out of bed, a mess of sheets and pillows on the floor, sweating and shaking. You grasped for the alarm clock behind you. 4:56am. Too late to go back to sleep now, if you even could. You sighed. After turning on the shower to warm up, you turned to gather your clothes for the day—a dark grey flannel and black BDU pants you saved for particularly difficult jobs. One quick rinse and two cups of coffee later, you twisted your hair into a bun, not caring how it looked, grabbed your bag and walked out the door. Halfway down the hall you heard a loud crash. “Crap. Sorry Armand!” You scrambled back through the door and put the pocket knife in your pocket, glad that the crash was only a few pans spilling out of the cabinet to the floor. Sometimes when Armand got really mad he would end up breaking things.
“Woah. Mornin’ sunshine. Just roll out of bed?” Dean had a mouthful of pie. Apple, by the looks of it. His eyes lingered for a moment at your head, surely debating whether or not to mention the mess.
“Yeah,” You have no idea, you thought. “Isn’t it a bit early for pie?”
Dean looked completely offended at this. “Are you kidding?” He said between chewing the mouthful.
You shook your head. The waitress set down pigs’n’blankets, eggs, bacon, and pancakes, followed by another with coffee for you and two orange juices. “Uh, Dean? Did you order all this?”
“Yup. Hm. I’m used to ordering enough for me and Sammy.” He dug into the eggs.
“Where is Sam?”
“He’s off in Alexandria. There’s a little old lady there causing some trouble, and he is helping the staff of the nursing home keep her away from the voodoo crap. Well, when he isn’t being hit on,” He winked. “What can I say, older ladies have a thing for him.”
You almost spat out your coffee laughing. “That’s the case I was about to work when you interrupted my research the other night. I’ve had to go over there a few times. Miss Maxine is always getting herself in trouble. It’s sad, she was an incredible lady back in the day. Scary, but cool. I’m now friends with her daughter. Tell Sam to tell Miss Betty that Y/N says hello, she should give him less fits.”
Dean had amusement in his eyes and a mouthful of pancakes as he texted Sam.
Surprisingly you and Dean had almost cleared your plates completely. The only mishap during breakfast being Dean’s coffee spilling in his lap. Armand could have been worse and had trays of food fall on Dean, so really it wasn’t that bad.
Dean thought that the string of suicides might be ghost or demonic possession, it was an odd one. He had already interviewed the families of the victims and visited the places they were last seen alive the day you met him. In fact, that’s half the reason he had been at Louis and Christine’s. All of the victims had passed through there. You absentmindedly wondered if you had ever seen or met them.
The plan was to take Baby to the house and scope it out for any activity, sulfur, EMF, etc. Simple enough, but you were terrified of what you might find, terrified of the personal demons you would have to face. There was a reason this town didn’t talk about it—the atrocities that occurred there had brought the town to its knees. The town leaders had done everything in their power to keep it out of the papers as to not instill panic. It was only a twenty minute drive, but you didn’t remember falling asleep.
The room was dark with only a few tendrils of light sneaking through the boarded up windows. It was like waking up from a strange dream… but ropes dug into your wrists and ankles, and there was something wrapped around your mouth. Your eyes struggled to focus, and your head ached uncomfortably. You heard a bird outside, the wind. Then the blood curdling scream from beneath the floor boards. It seemed to stretch on, panic rising, threatening to close your throat in fear. You looked for a door, it was closed. Before you could consider getting your binds off and attempting escape through the window, the door flew open, the shuffling and thumping and screaming downstairs fading. There in the doorway was the freshman who spoke about the stars, looking much taller and stronger than he did last night. Was it last night? The light caught his hazel eyes—there was still no reflection. It was as if the light was sucked into them, and nothing escaped. Maybe it wasn’t bad lighting after all. Mama always said the eyes are the windows to the soul. This is my fault—shoulda known. Dammit! The kid pulled you sharply by the binds on your ankles, dragging you down a hall and a flight of stairs, your head, shoulders, and back taking the brunt of it. You were in the basement, if you could tell by the cold, damp, stale air and tiny windows by the ceiling. Your eyes wandered from the windows to the ceiling and stopped, taking in the blood spray. Based on the layers, you and the screamer were not the only victims. You and the kid were surrounded by people in black hooded robes. Seriously? How original. You shouldn’t have rolled your eyes—your ear was met with a swift kick and blinding pain. Your head lolled and you felt blood trickle down your neck as they hoisted you up, suspending you by your wrists from the rafters. Those who were cloaked circled you, chanting with deep, low voices. The kid laughed maniacally, lifting his arms as if this gave him more power, then spent unfathomable time carefully slicing into your skin. This you could take, focus on, and despite the blood loss, you knew you could recover fairly quickly. What happened after the sun set until it rose again, you wouldn’t recover from. You refused to cry out, but cried the same, praying for release, to pass out, for death. No relief came.
“Y/N… Y/N! Hey, you okay?” Baby was parked, Dean was crouched down next to you from the outside, his hand on your shoulder and concern in his eyes.
Unable to move for a moment from the paralyzing sensation that these dreams bring you, your eyes drifted to the house.
“I can take you back to town. C’mon, you don’t need to be out here right now.” Dean moved back towards the driver’s seat.
“N-no I’m good, I swear. Just didn’t sleep well last night. Too much whiskey,” You lied. You grabbed your bag and followed him towards the house. With the front door completely boarded up and wrapped in Police tape, Dean decided to entire through the first floor window. Knocking off the half-rotted boards was easy enough, and you set them to the side as he climbed in, EMF reader in one hand, gun in the other. You set the old board in the grass far enough that if you needed a quick escape you wouldn’t land on them upon exit. Turning and standing, the basement window caught your eye. It was the one with the crack running jagged and crossways through it. How many hours, no, days, had you looked at that crack?
Dean’s voice pulled you from your trance. “No EMF yet, and I don’t smell sulfur. I’m gonna check the basement. You comin’?” He poked his out of the window.
“Right behind you.” You followed him in, clutching the little knife in your pocket tightly, and it warmed in response. You knew you could face this. Dean wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and Armand, even though he was a pain in the butt, was fiercely protective of you, helping you through the last three years of recovery.
You followed Dean carefully down the stairs, keeping an eye out for any movement, ectoplasm, or other indication of what was killing these men, trying not to focus on the familiar notches in the walls. As you closed the distance, you jumped and fell, back hitting the stairs, as Dean’s EMF reader went from zero to sixty in no time flat. You smacked your forehead with your palm, realizing that you should’ve left the knife in the car. The EMF was picking up Armand. But it was too late.
“Woah. Jackpot,” Dean turned and gave you that million dollar smile.
“Hey Dean, I left something in the car, I’ll be right back.” You ran to Baby, Armand appearing.
“Hey, don’tcha leave me out her! What’tif tho boys comen back and findju? Huh? You don needta be out her anyway! Les go home, cher, please.” You knew Armand had been through the same ordeal as you but hadn’t been lucky enough to survive it. After all, this is where the knife came from. In life, it had been his. Armand was a local young farmhand fond of attending the parties at the college, until the night he was taken a few months before you.
“Y/N, whatch out!” Dean yelled, and shot Armand with rock salt.
“No! Dean, NO!” You held up your hands in defense, Armand seriously pissed off and back behind you, hiding from the Winchester. “Armand is my friend. Please, I tried to tell you, let me explain.”
Dean slowly lowered his gun. Was there a tear welling up in one eye? He turned slightly, and it was gone. You had heard about Bobby, so hopefully Dean would understand.
“Y/N… you need to let him go, it doesn’t matter wha—“
“You listen to me, Winchester. Whatever is killing those guys, it’s not Armand. He protects me. In return, I protect him. He and I, we have history with this place. Bad history.”
Dean turned his gaze to the house, and back between you and Armand. The sun’s last rays rested in the trees, leaving the house shrouded in darkness.
“Okay, fine. But you owe me an explanation. Now.” Dean stormed back to Baby.
You couldn’t remember ever being this hungry or tired—no, you couldn’t even remember hunger or a time when your bones didn’t strain and ache. There was only numbness, inside and out. You watched without interest when the kid received his own cloak. You felt nothing when they all scampered about, something about police? You couldn’t quite make it out. You just stared at the crack in the window. You liked the way it caught the rain, when it caught the sun, or the glint of candlelight. You liked that window; it was broken like you.
When the police had come and arrested or shot the cloaked people, you just watched. Suddenly they didn’t seem so big anymore. But it was all distant. You fell in and out of consciousness as you had for… how long? That was the day Everette knew he loved you. He cut you from your bonds, covered you and carried you out. He was there when you woke in the hospital. Shortly after, he retired from the force and opened a bar, named after his parents. Said his twenty years were time enough, and he was too old and tired to be carrying pretty girls out of basements. It was time for the young men to do that.
They had held you for a week, some kind of imitation ritual. From the bodies the police found, the victims were both male and female. Whoever was unlucky he guessed. Many victims couldn’t be ID’d and were cremated, including Armand. Everette had given you Armand’s pocket knife when you were finally ready to go back to your apartment. You had thanked him even though it wasn’t yours. It was six months before Armand showed himself (and nearly killed you in fright), but you grew very close even though you never met him in his mortal life. It was a year before he could move things. Two years after the event, you started hunting monsters with Armand by your side. Monsters weren’t as scary as people. In fact, Armand proved himself a better partner than any mortal human could be, with his invisibility, telekinesis, possession, super strength, and ability to see the supernatural beings shrouded from your view. He even helped you send the crossroads demon those men had sold their souls to for strength and power back to hell.
While you relayed your experience to Dean, you failed to notice the weight lifted from your pocket.
Dean sighed and pursed his lips, a hand running through his hair. “Look… Y/N, I’ve been to hell. From the sounds of it, you’ve had a taste as well. But Bobby… ghosts don’t stay good. They lose themselves over time, some slower than others, but it happens. They go vengeful. Especially those who died violently. You have to destroy the knife. Let him go.”
“But—“
“Do you really want a vengeful spirit on your hands? Because he’s getting there,” Dean started to raise his voice gruffly. “These victims—“ Dean was interrupted by a horrible scream.
You froze. “Armand, what was that?”
You got no answer, and instinctively reached for the knife, finding nothing. “Armand! It’s gone!” You turned to Dean in panic. You both jumped out of Baby, armed now with rock salt, guns, and an iron crowbar. Dean ran down the stairs to the basement with you shortly behind. There was a young man, beating himself into a wall. It looked as if someone had also thrown him down the stairs. Startled, he turned to us, staring right down Dean’s shotgun barrel. There was the tiniest black teardrop rolling down his cheek. Dean shot the man with rock salt in the chest without further hesitation, sending Armand out of him. The man slumped down in the corner and moaned, hurt, but alive. Armand growled, the room shook like an earthquake, dust raining down from the rafters.
“Burn it, NOW!” Dean yelled and swung the crowbar through Armand and dissipating him. The ghost was attacking viciously, throwing a bench, glass jars, wrapping dean with bloodied rope. Dean struggled to get free, but managed to toss you his lighter and keep Armand distracted as you lit a small, extremely hot fire with debris under the stairs. You frisked the victim for it, finding it in his hand. You threw the knife in, crying “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Armand,” over and over, until the room was quiet, and warm, strong arms were around you.
Neither of you spoke on the short drive to drop the victim off at the hospital. His injuries weren’t too bad, considering.
Dean was cut and bruised, had a busted lip and a few rope burns. You didn’t realize you were staring on the way back to your apartment, but you had memorized the angles of his profile, the way his brow furrowed, and all those freckles. It had been so long since you’d let anyone into your life. Especially men. Armand had kept them at bay…
“It’s not your fault you know,” Dean put Baby in park and shifted a concerned gaze to you. “Even Bobby possessed and tried to kill in the end. Armand held out for a long time. He protected you. Those men—all he saw was your captors. I don’t blame him. Or you. You gotta know that. Those hunts you talked about—you both saved lives. That’s worth somethin.”
“Dean,” you said quietly, “I can’t live here anymore. Armand was mine. He’s been by my side for three years. He always ate all the cereal—do ghosts even eat?—but I swear he did, and he always messed up the laundry, or changed the TV channel at the good part. He always had my back on a hunt, kept me safe when I walked at night. I can’t stay here. He’s gone. This town, my home, it’s all foreign now. How did you do it Dean? How did you come back from hell, and purgatory, and keep going? This world? It weighs on you. And after a while…I don’t belong in it.”
Dean muttered a son-of-a-bitch under his breath. “Okay. You got to listen to me. You got to keep fighting. When you want to stop, fight harder. Me? I’ll keep fighting. I’ll keep swinging til I got nothing left. You’re gonna do the same. Now you’ve got a choice. Get out of this life while you can. If you don’t you’re gonna die bloody. We all do in the end. What’s it going to be?”
His words gave you strength. The sun started to peak on the horizon, spreading light pinks and yellows at the edge of the trees. You watched it, the sun now blinding your eyes with the first rays. You turned to meet his gaze. He was so beautiful lit up like that. If it weren’t for a little blood here or there, you could surely count those freckles. The green folds of his irises were lined with flecks of gold. Peace slowly rolled over you with the warmth of those rays, reflecting off those beautiful eyes. Mama always said the eyes are the windows to the soul… and his is the most radiant, beautiful soul I’d ever seen.
“I’ll fight too. I’m a hunter. And if I go out bloody, that’s okay,” you said with steely resolve. There was a strength in your chest, one you hadn’t felt since before the last three years.
“You know, you remind me of someone I used to know. From purgatory.”
“Oh, you mean Benny?” Dean’s jaw dropped. “Close your mouth or you’re gonna catch a fly, Winchester. Benny would swing through town occasionally. He and Everette could talk for hours over nothing, and I loved to listen. He spoke about you the most.” You grinned at the memory. It was no wonder Benny spoke so highly of Dean, or how Dean’s soul radiated warmth and beauty. You understood the intoxication and the draw that every beast in Purgatory had felt towards Dean. “I miss him, haven’t seen him around in a long time.”
Dean cast his eyes downward. “He chose to go back to Purgatory. Didn’t even let me talk him out of it. He went back to save Sam, and chose not to cross the threshold. Kept talking about it’s purity…” He trailed off. “I won’t let you do the same, so don’t even try.”
Dean waited while you packed your duffle bag with clothes, and a few pictures of your family, and other miscellaneous items from your former life in a small box, left the key in the lock of the stubborn door on your way out. Standing in the middle of the hallway, you waited to hear Armand make things crash because you didn’t grab the knife, but smiled sadly and walked away when there was only silence.
Sam met up with you and Dean at the diner for breakfast. He was a lot taller than you expected.
“Uh, you smell like old lady.” Dean turned up his nose and Sam plopped down next to you, disheveled and tired looking.
“And you smell like moldy basement, jerk.”
“Bitch.”
The waitress brought another feast.
“You must be Y/N. It’s nice to meet you and um—Miss Betty says for us to take good care of you or she’ll let Miss Maxine turn me into a faut carot?”
“What, a fake carrot?” Dean asked with a mouthful of—apple pie or pancake? You couldn’t tell anymore.
You laughed, “No, Sam, she threatened to turn you into a large black grasshopper.”
Dean hummed humorously through his mouthful of—okay it’s definitely pie—and nodded, raising his eyebrows jokingly at Sam. Sam huffed and crossed his arms. “She said both of us, Dean.” Sam lifted his eyebrows right back. “Said she would know otherwise.”
The brothers caught up, and you filled in the details for both cases that the brothers couldn’t. Bellies full, you all retired to the motel to catch up on much needed sleep, Dean taking the couch. You didn’t dream this time. It was discussed that you would return to the bunker with them until you got back on your feet. Before you left town, though, there was someone you had to talk to.
Everette was shining glasses at the bar, preparing for the busy weekend night ahead. “Bonjour mes amis!”
“Hey Ev! This is Sam and Dean, Winchester.” He nodded in greeting. He knew who they were, knew the whole time. Dean was more than a legend among hunters and those who knew of the supernatural world around them, like Ev. Dean had a reputation regarding ladies, which is why Ev had given him the nonverbal warning. “Ev, I’m leaving town. There’s nothing left for me here.”
“Well boo, it’s about damn time! C’mere,” He walked around the counter to pull you into tight embrace. “You get on out of this Bayou and make somthing of yourself. And don’tchu worry, I’ll come check up on you.”
You held tightly to him as the finality of your leaving struck in you an odd sense of calm and excitement at the same time. “You better. Take care, Ev.” You traded sad smiles, Everette threw a few hairy eyeballs towards the boys, and before you knew it, you were on the road to Lebanon, Kansas. Sam slept some more in the back seat, obviously exhausted from his case, leaving you and Dean in the front. He reached for your hand, and you smiled.
“Dean?”
“Hm?”
“Me too. I’ll keep fighting, til I got nothing left.”
He unbuckled your seatbelt and pulled you closer. Now in the middle, you refastened your belt and leaned on his shoulder, the time spent in your hell washed away by his warmth. He held you close, and didn’t let go. Not when you got to your new home, or during the tour of it, and in the night when the dreams would come back, he was right there to push them away again, and so were you for him.
A/N: Thank you so much if you actually made it all the way through this! Here is a bonus gif (not mine).
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kcowgill · 8 years ago
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2/11/17 1.06 miles Ugh YTD: 133.84 miles 407 days in a row
Saturday was pretty much a waste. Don’t get me wrong - I got a ton of stuff done around the house. Cleaning, dishes, laundry, light decluttering. Oh, and shutting off the water supply to the icemaker* in my fridge since it had sprung a leak and soaked the hardwood flooring in my kitchen for ~24 hours. Possibly more.
My wife had woken me up at 5:00am on Saturday (recall we had both been completely wiped out Friday evening and slept most of the evening and night due to what I’m thinking was norovirus) complaining about the damaged floor.
“It’s 5 in the morning. I’ll do it later”
“But the floor’s ruined!”
... grumble ...
So I pulled out the fridge (from the nook that was built around it by a previous owner) and determined that the thing that was leaking was the hose where the icemaker gets its water supply. Shut off the supply under the sink and the leak stopped. Mopped up the surface water and pointed a box fan at it hoping to evaporate the moisture in the floor.
My wife went back to bed, but I was up and couldn’t go back to sleep so I just got busy.
Both of us decided we probably weren’t quite well enough to go to taekwondo, so we stayed home. And honestly didn’t do much else. My wife was still wiped out so wasn’t very active, and I just toodled around the house taking care of various things. Finally got out of the house for a mile a little before dinner, which was the first I’d eaten since Thursday night.
* It’s not a big deal to have shut off the water to the icemaker though - it’s the kind where it shuts itself off if the produced ice has piled up high enough to raise an arm - an arm that’s been broken (due to poor design?) for years. I bought a replacement arm some time back but never got the tuit to install it. Because honestly it would’ve been a pain. First I’d have to reorganize all the stuff in there, and probably deal with the stuff in the ice tray that’s been sitting there since I can’t make ice. Then I’d have to find a place for all the food while I work on it. Which means I’d have to lie on my back on the floor trying to get at this thing in a fairly small space. Just easier all around to go without ice :)
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