#plus a lot of business busy work that keeps getting heaped on by my manager and it's SO MUCH and deep sigh

[queenerdloser]

it’s been such a long week and such a long day & basically im ready to collapse but thank god my hardest day is over and now i can sail through the rest of the week hallelujah

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 4, We Interrupt This Program

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: [Y/N] is still recovering from one of the worst migraines they’ve ever had and they have the scars to prove it… Wait. Those scars weren’t there before and they certainly weren’t from passing out on the sidewalk a few days prior!

Word count: 9,361

Warnings: Mentions of (not super graphic) death and mental illness. Also Reader being just a little horny on main, but what’s new; almost 9.5k words and they’re simping for most of them. Lots of dorky fluff and also talking about insecurities.

Tag list: @madamevirgo​ @ravennight41​ @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard​ @badasspolygenderfriend​

~~~

    In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, voices were conversing.

    “[Y/N] [L/N]…” one started.

    [Y/N] [L/N]. Age twenty-five. Born to Killian and Alice [L/N] in [city, state] but Dad wasn’t in the picture. No siblings, no living relatives. They wanted to go to school for botany but Mom was diagnosed with early-onset dementia while they were still in high school, so they changed their career path to neurology in hopes of finding a way to help her. She still lives in their hometown.

    “Oh, wait,” another voice chimed in, almost indistinguishable from the first, “I know this one. Oh, God.”

    [Y/N] was an Honors student, at the top of all their classes. A degree in neurology with phytotoxicology on the side. They took an internship in Europe one year and somehow found themselves in Sokovia. HYDRA was still laying low at the time, caught wind of them.

    “Wait,” a third voice, this one easier to differentiate from the other two. “They’re HYDRA?”

    The second voice responded, “Former.”

    [Y/N] had no idea what they were getting into. HYDRA, always good at hiding in the shadows; they brought [Y/N] in under the guise of an assistant job studying new forms of neural regeneration. A job that paid well enough to live comfortably and even send a little extra home, while developing something that just might solve all their mother’s problems? It was a dream come true. 

Fortunately for HYDRA but unfortunately for [Y/N], they were very good at their job too. They helped HYDRA develop all kinds of nasty stuff. Nanobots that changed brain chemistry, near foolproof brainwashing tech— They even helped develop special toxins, one of the world’s deadliest poisons. All the while, thinking they were doing something good.

“How is that possible?” the original voice asked. “How could they have been so oblivious?”

“One-track mind?” the second voice offered, “Plus misinformation on HYDRA’s part and ‘routine health checks’ with something a little extra mixed in.”

“They were tested on?”

“A victim of almost everything they’d helped create, except the fatal stuff and anything that would disrupt business as usual. IVs and shots full of toxins, nanobots being released into their room while they slept.”

The third asked, “What changed?”

“Wanda.”

[Y/N] stumbled upon Wanda and her brother by pure accident. They’d been late that day and in their hurry, ran through a wrong door to where HYDRA was keeping Sokovian volunteers for testing. The twins were the youngest in their group, [Y/N] was only a couple of years older and the youngest in their division. It was a match made in heaven, really.

“Try hell,” the first voice suggested with a scoff.

The other voices offered their murmured agreements.

“So they knew each other,” the third voice said, “Before.”

That’s when [Y/N] started pulling at threads and HYDRA’s costume began to unravel; their one-track mind had switched gears. There was something too weird about the whole thing, these Sokovian civilians had stories that didn’t line up with [Y/N]’s own. 

“And they believed them?”

They believed Wanda. She and her brother were just two more Sokovian citizens suffering at the hands of war and wanting to help their people. They had no reason to lie. They had more reason to be honest to [Y/N] than HYDRA ever did, actually. It was just a bonus that for Wanda and [Y/N], being around each other was like being a moth drawn to a flame.

[Y/N] may have been naive but they were far from stupid. When they figured out what was going on, they wriggled their way deeper into HYDRA’s ranks under their own disguise of loyalty. They became a full-fledged HYDRA agent, tasked with assisting in neural and poisonous weaponry. They weren’t able to protect Pietro and Wanda from testing, obviously—not that Wanda would have let them; she and her brother still believed they were being tested on for the greater good—but they did their best to stay nearby and keep the Maximoffs’ sanity intact for as long as they could. They even managed to save a couple of the other test victims by injecting them with temporary poisons that lowered their heart rate to the point of appearing dead. When the bodies were dropped off, the poison wore off not long after and some of the victims were able to escape. No side effects to be seen.

“I have a question,” Original voice said abruptly. “Why do we know this much information on one person? Like, this is some in-depth, intimate stuff. Why do we know that [Y/N] and Wanda had the hots for each other since day one?”

Second voice answered, “We’ve done extensive research on [Y/N]. The result of an investigation on the person who caused the apprehension of an entire faction of HYDRA after successfully poisoning them.”

The tests that were done on [Y/N] were not without their outcomes. They gained the ability to transform almost any matter into almost any other form.

“Huh,” Third voice hummed, “That reminds me of a series of disappearances a few years back. One house was replaced by rose bushes and another—get this—burned down because the roof had been turned to lava. Whoever it was, they either stopped on their own or died. What were they called?”

“The Alchemist,” Second stated simply, much to Third’s dismay. “And those were incognito HYDRA agents.”

After Pietro died and Wanda disappeared—not really disappeared, just left with the Avengers—[Y/N] had a choice to make. They were far too deep into HYDRA’s work now, the awful things that they had done were beginning to weigh on them, as Wanda and her brother had been just as grounding for [Y/N] as [Y/N] had been for her. After she was gone, they had a hard time dealing with the horrible business going on around them. So they did what they knew how to do; they mixed up a combination of poison and nanobots.

[Y/N] had fully committed to perishing with the rest of their coworkers but apparently, the poison hadn’t been quite strong enough. They’d made a miscalculation in a time of poor mental state and woke up the next day to hear that not all of the HYDRA agents had died either. At least the survivors had been taken in for the time being but that just wasn’t enough for them; they’d had a right to be concerned too because HYDRA had a habit of getting themselves out of sticky situations. This case was no different. 

[Y/N] most likely felt responsible for having a hand in HYDRA’s dirty work, for not doing more, and they must have felt even more responsible when they learned that HYDRA was a much bigger problem than they could have ever imagined.

First blurted, “Well, what happened next?”

Second answered, “They went after agents until they got caught, the only way they knew how.”

The second miscalculation that they’d ever made got them caught. The agent put a gun to [Y/N]’s head and pulled the trigger.

“So are they dead too?” First asked. The voice seemed to quiver.

The third voice hemmed and hawed a bit before saying, “They must have, with the way all this weirdness had been going. Oh my god, poor Wanda, not one dead partner but two—”

Second spoke over the other two voices’ rambling, forcing them to calm down and listen. “They didn’t die, though, they—”

The voices started cutting out like the dream was a TV program being interfered by a poor connection and static.

“—Found by—Barely alive—Hospital—Braindead—Westview—Find a doct—”

Suddenly gunshots sounded, one followed by several more, and the darkness cracked and shattered, revealing blinding light behind it. A silhouette walked silently through the wall of light; it was Geraldine—no, Monica—poised with a gun in the outfit she helped deliver Maximoff twins in. As she walked forward, crossing from a plane of burning white to one of void black, the image of her warped and distorted until it changed. Monica, looking much more modern, in a uniform that included a bulletproof vest and a lanyard with S.W.O.R.D. printed at the top, moving carefully towards a broken and bleeding body on the ground with another in a heap behind her. The image distorted and changed again, and the first body was sitting on their knees and looking up defiant defeat. The person they were looking at was no longer Monica but a bulky figure in a dark outfit with straps in the form of an H across their chest, the body that had been laying in a battered pile behind Monica just a moment earlier. The H-adorned assailant held a still-raised gun to the kneeling person’s forehead.

[Y/N] could only spit at their feet before another gunshot sounded and the image disappeared to black.

You woke up sweating and choking on your breath. Your brain, throbbing with a pain that shot through it like a bullet, didn’t register fast enough that you were standing instead of laying down so when you flailed, you threw yourself off balance and fell forward. Catching a quick glimpse of your surroundings on your way down told you that you were somewhere outside and that it was the dead of night. You tried last minute to brace yourself for a concrete-laden impact.

    You were instead greeted with soft fabric and arms wrapping tightly around you.

    “Goodness, [Y/N], are you quite alright?”

    You squinted at the striped sleepwear for a moment before looking up where Vision’s worried gaze and whirling irises were waiting for you; it took your eyes a moment to fully focus as the pain in your head faded but left a faint ringing behind. Then you looked around at your surroundings; not only were you outside but you were standing in Vision and Wanda’s driveway. Your gaze settled on a particular section of the house’s exterior where you vividly remembered a vaguely human shape exploding out of its walls. 

    You were standing in the exact same place you had been when it happened.

    “[Y/N]?” Vision said again, drawing your attention back to him.

    “Oh, cosmo, I’m sorry,” you said but your throat was too dry and you had to stop and clear your throat halfway through. Being in Vision’s arms, you were keenly aware of the fact that you were both in your bedwear and that yours had been sweated through. You slumped against him, partially to hide your embarrassed face but also because you felt like you hadn’t slept at all.

    “Vis?”

    “Yes, my favorite teacup?”

    You snorted softly at that. “You don’t even drink tea.”

    “Oh, I know,” Vision lilted back. Then he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I do like the patterns and the daintiness of them though.”

    That time you laughed a bit. Feeling his warm breath against your scalp and his strong arms holding you safely in place against him, you almost instantly melted into the embrace. You wrapped your own arms around him and pressed your face into his chest. “What are we doing outside?”

    “Ah, yes, about that. You appeared to be sleepwalking again.”

    You groaned. “Again? This is a nightmare.”

    One of Vision’s hands moved to run itself through your hair and down your neck. “That accident you had the other day certainly did a number on you.”

    The accident. In other words, that time where you walked off in the middle of a conversation with Vision, Agnes, and Herb to mumble at a wall and then faceplant onto the sidewalk. Not only was your nose still recovering but your mind and dignity as well.

    “The only time I’ve slept well since is when I fell asleep on your couch,” you whined. Then you lowered your voice and grumbled into Vision’s chest.

    Vision chuckled. “What was that?”

    You looked up at him and scowled. “The four of you are over here in your stupid, big, warm, cozy house. Meanwhile, I’m across the way, alone and uncomfortable, with only Bernard to keep me company. Bernard’s terrible company.”

    “Truly,” Vision agreed, grinning slightly. He loved your strange, cute, not at all challenging struggles.

    The both of you turned to give the lawn ornament in question a pointed look. Bernard seemed to glower back.

    “Well,” Vision said as he pulled away from you a bit, “why don’t you come inside then? Wanda’s up with the babies anyway. You might as well join us, especially if it means you’ll be able to sleep better.” Not taking no for an answer, the synthezoid was already tugging you towards the lit-up porch.

    You were too tired to argue and, quite frankly, you didn’t want to, so you allowed yourself to be pulled along as you admired the soft cotton of Vision’s matching pajama set.

    “Oh, my.”

    “What?” You looked at Vision’s face again only to catch him staring at a spot above your eyes. The porch light glinted off the gem embedded in his own. “What, do I have something on my face?”

    “No,” Vision responded slowly, “but you must have done something to it. You have quite the scar.”

    Your eyebrows raised. You moved away from him to look at your reflection in one of the windows and surely enough, you had a raised scar on your forehead, near your hairline. You gingerly pressed your fingers against it; it certainly wasn’t new.

    A seemingly random thought popped into your head. Is that… a scar from a bullet?

    “What on earth did you do to yourself?” Vision asked. Him walking up to stand directly behind you and press his hands to your neck, under the collar of your shirt no less, was more than a little distracting. “You’ve got one back here too.”

    You reached back to where Vision was touching and when he removed his fingers, you could feel a similar scar at the base of your neck.

    You thought again, Bullet… exit wound…? 

    Something about the dream you were having earlier called out to you but you couldn’t remember anything about it. When you tried to think about it further, the excruciating pain came back in waves and you had to steady yourself on the windowsill to prevent yourself from collapsing.

    “Huh,” you said instead, “I have no idea.”

    “They don’t hurt?” Vision questioned. “They’re not just… odd raised bruises perhaps? Welts maybe?”

    “No, I don’t think so. They don’t hurt at all, though.” To make a point, you pressed down hard on the raised scar on your forehead, watched the skin turn a few shades lighter before releasing the pressure and dropping your hand again. Under the thick, stiff tissue, you barely felt the pressure at all.

    Vision thoughtfully hummed, placing his hands back on the curves of your neck; you prayed to whatever deities existed that you didn’t make any sounds you’d regret.

    “Well,” your partner said, “I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

    A pause. Your eyes stayed trained on the window’s reflection, specifically where you could see Vision’s fingers gently cupping your neck.

    Then he abruptly leaned down and pressed a kiss on the scar tissue, missing a pulse point by a hair. “We should head inside then.”

    You had to take a solid minute to recover from the shockwave of tingles that briefly made your veins turn into lightning. Then you shuffled after Vision into the ever so inviting house.

    Stepping out of chilly darkness and into a home of cozy furniture and warm light that turned the entire place a golden brown felt like walking into another world. An extra added layer of comfort to the usually perfect home was the slight disarray of baby equipment almost everywhere that wasn’t the floor itself, most of which you had gone out and bought during the babies’ day of birth and all of which Vision and Wanda appreciated; somehow, you had prepared for the babies’ accelerated growing on a panicked whim better than the Maximoffs. Tiny baby blankets and stuffed animals were strewn about and each visible part of the house—the living room, the dining area, and the kitchen, although the kitchen was partially blocked off by a drying rack of baby clothes and swaddles of various patterns and sizes—had a designated Baby Tray. These trays, perched on whatever flat surface had been previously free of decor or clutter, held bottles, nonperishable treats, diaper-changing equipment, teething toys, a mini first aid kit for each, and other useful trinkets; the new parents had apparently completely forgotten that almost all their house’s rooms were openly attached to each other and that, if one singular Baby Tray was designated to the dining area, it would take the same amount of about five steps to get to it from either the living area or the kitchen. It was almost comedic, the number of baby care items that were laying anywhere but the floor or in proper storage because, according to Vision, god forbid something gets a speck of dust on it and have to be washed or, according to Wanda, one of the babies be without their favorite toys easily accessible at every given moment. The only thing allowed to touch the ground, aside from feet, was a playpen that now replaced the usual coffee table in the living room area and a play mat in the babies’ room with its attached toys for the twins to play with. A final touch to the hominess was the soft light that you could see streaming out of the baby room’s open door, and the gentle voice of Wanda, singing a Sokovian lullaby, fluttering out of it. 

    It felt like coming home.

    Vision stepped away from your side to clean up somewhat, picking up a few toys and folding baby blankets and onesies to move them aside in case you wanted to make yourself comfortable on the couch. Standing inside now, you could much better make out Vision’s dark blue terry robe over a pair of bright yellow pajama pants that no doubt had a shirt to match hidden beneath dark blue fabric. The yellow of his pants matched the yellow gem that was embedded in his forehead, glittering with an unused power that you had yet to experience and that felt warm whenever you went to place a kiss on it. Poking out from the hems of his robe and pants were perfectly human hands and feet, despite their deep red color that matched the rest of his body; you found the continued presence of fingernails when not in his human disguise—absolutely unnecessary to his design, he’d pointed out when you initially asked about them—weirdly cute and continuously felt the urge to grab nail polish and paint them to match either the color of the gem or the same silver as the plating that started at his scalp and trailed down beneath the collar of his shirt. You briefly wondered how far that plating traveled across his body before mentally kicking yourself.

    The greatest thing about this still-fresh reveal of Vision’s inhuman identity—aside from the fact that he was no longer hiding something important from you, obviously—was that you now knew that he wasn’t just difficult to make blush but rather he quite literally couldn’t blush. You wondered what else he could and couldn’t do, only to mentally kick yourself again. 

    I can’t tell if I’ve gotten worse or better since I’ve started dating them, you thought.

    Oh, your brain responded on its own accord, so much worse. 

    Shhh!

    Vision was still puttering why while you stared and inwardly argued with yourself. At this point, he’d cleaned up most of the chaos and moved the stuffed animals and now-folded blankies to sit neatly on the dining area table.

    “Vis,” you said.

    Before you could continue, the man perked up and looked in your direction. “Yes, duck?”

    You blinked. “You make my heart go rainbow-colored. Anyway—” You broke off into a laugh when Vision went flustered, his hands flapping about while he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “Did I win this round?”

    Sometimes Vision got into the habit of ending all of his sentences around you and Wanda with a pet name. When you had first noticed this feat, you’d decided to start doing the same, just to see what would happen. He noticed and began purposely doing it back, where he had previously done it unintentionally, and now doing the occasional back-and-forth conversation that ended in pet names more than punctuation was somewhat of a competition between you two. 

    Vision scoffed at you, picked up a plushie, and tossed it at you. “Not fair!”

    Being in the house that was beginning to feel more like home than your own, around your partners and their sweet baby boys, seemed to shield and reenergize you from the exhaustion you felt after first waking up that night. You caught the stuffed animal, a plushie of a wizard, grinned and tossed it back at him. 

    “Oh,” Vision chirped, catching the plush wizard again, “I see how it is.” He puffed out his chest and gave you a warning, albeit amused, glare, then picked up a couple more plushes. In a lower, sort of growling voice that made your heart leap out of your chest and into your stomach, he continued, “If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you shall get.”

    You yelped as he started in your direction and dived across the front of the couch to get some stuffed animal ammo of your own. He nailed you in the foot with a cream-colored bunny and you returned the favor with a plushie of a witch in a red dress after taking cover behind the playpen. Now each of you was standing where the other had previously been, with you poking your head over the playpen’s sheer wall and Vision slowly pacing around the back of the couch for his second lap. You pulled the playpen with you with one hand as you moved away from him and the two of you began circling each other. 

    Oh, if Wanda could see her partners now.

    “Oh, Wanda—” you started to stand, only to get smacked in the face with a blue teddy bear; luckily, it was of the very soft variety. You stared at Vision in disbelief.

    Vision stared back, eyes bulging, unsure of whether he should apologize or prepare for an attack. He was too torn to do either, though, and had to scramble back to avoid an onslaught of stuffed bullets flying his way.

    Still aware that it was very late at night, your war-cry was softened, “Revenge!”

    Then your attack quickly diminished, partially because you were running out of ammo and Vision wasn’t throwing anything back and partially because Vision was now floating off the ground and heading towards you, arms full of said ammo.

    Wow, didn’t know it did that, you thought randomly, eyes fixed Vision floating in general, before specifically fixating on the devilish grin he wore while doing so. He looked like a very handsome, well, vision.

    A handsome Vision, if you will, your brain offered. You almost snorted before remembering you had not yet moved to avoid Vision’s floating plushie attack. You stumbled backward and scrambled out of the living room just as Vision started throwing.

    “No no no no no nonononono—” You were choking between laughter and squawking as you got up and began running down the hallway to save yourself. “Not fair, not fair not fair, not fair—!”

    You ran past the baby room and caught Wanda mid-turnaround, saying, “What on earth is going on out there?” You reeled back to pause in the doorway, caught a glimpse of the babies in their one large crib, smiled, went to pant out an answer—

    Only to feel arms wrap around you and drag you back down the hallway. You started to shriek, then forced it into a startled laugh as to not disturb the babies, and flailed around in Vision’s arms as he lifted you off the ground. It was brief, though, because then your struggling caught Vision off balance and the two you tumbled to the ground. There, you both harmlessly pummeled each other until you both were out of breath and snickering, and you somehow ended up with his top half under you but his legs pinning down your own.

    “You can fly?” you bubbled. You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks in your hands. “What the hell?”

    He laughed and nodded, and one of his hands caught your own. He glanced up at you as he kissed your palm and replied, “Yes, just a little.”

    “Just a little—”

    “And his wife can move things with her mind, like the crib she just finished rocking to put the boys back to sleep, and if she has to do it again because of her partners’ roughhousing…”

    You and Vision quickly disentangled yourselves from each other and looked up at Wanda, whose face said serious but whose eyes twinkled with amusement and who looked no less terrifying in a pale pink, puff-sleeved nightgown.

    You got up and straightened your clothes, with Vision following closely behind. “I will very happily take over the next shift because I started it and I’m very sorry.” 

    “What? Nonsense, [Y/N], I threw the first stuffed animal.”

    “I threw it back,” you pointed out.

    “Neither of you better have thrown and hit something,” Wanda warned.

    You glanced at Vision for confirmation; you didn’t exactly see much when you were chucking plushies aplenty and then running from your flying boyfriend.

    Vision nodded. “Nothing at all, although I did make the evaluation that we do have a plethora of plushies and baby blankets.”

    “I thought I was the one who pointed that out when you first gave me the shopping list, but okay,” you huffed under your breath, then grinned with Vision lightly bumped you with his hip. “So, the babies having a bad night?”

    “Actually, they were apparently worried about you,” Wanda said.

    That made your head do a confused tilt. “Me?”

    “Ah, yes,” Vision nodded, “We fell asleep with them in the living room and Billy started crying. We woke up to figure out what was wrong and Wanda saw you standing outside.”

    Wanda added, “Tommy started crying shortly after I walked to the door with him like he wanted to make sure you were okay.”

    “Aww,” you cooed, peering over Wanda’s shoulder to see the babies. She stepped to the side so you could walk in and shuffle over to the crib, and she and Vision stood nearby as you crouched down to brush a hand over their little sleeping heads. You continued, much softer this time, “Were the boys trying to make sure I was safe? Are they my little protectors? My little superheroes?”

    Tommy gurgled happily in his sleep. Billy remained quiet but his head leaned into your hand.

    You looked up at their parents with big, awestruck eyes to see them leaning comfortably into each other, watching you with the same level of affection you felt for them and their babies.

    “Heroes indeed,” Vision said. He walked over as you stood up again and lightly rocked the crib; Wanda strolled over to join the group. He continued to the twins in baby-talk, “But no hero-ing until after college, my little honeydews. For now, leave the protecting to your parents.” 

    “Especially this one,” Wanda chirped, making her way over to your side and slipping her arm around your back. “They’re a handful.”

    You faked a gasp, “I’m a treasure.”

    “You’re a putz,” Wanda said simply, with a smirk and a light pinch to your hip.

    You gasped harder and stared at her with utter betrayal.

    “A goof,” Vision chimed in. He slipped his own arm around you, the final piece of your three-person puzzle.

    You gasped harder still— and almost choked on air. Then you looked to the babies. “Bullies! Bullies, both of them! Billy, Tommy, you must protect me!”

    Very enthusiastically, neither baby did anything. 

    “I’ve been betrayed yet again,” you cried, not too loudly, though. You slumped against Vision and Wanda’s waiting arms. “Betrayed by my own brood!”

    “Your brood?” Wanda questioned, quirking a brow. Vision was giggling softly at your other side.

    “Yes,” you whispered, looking at her with wide, distraught eyes, “My brood. My pack. My murder.”

    “Your what?” Vision said.

    “It’s a group of crows,” you explained under your breath, before slumping down farther and continuing your distraught monologue. “I’m all alone! Oh, the horror—”

    “Well,” Wanda said, “We’re supporting you very well a family that has completely abandoned you.”

    You flopped your head back in her direction. You were so far to the ground now that you were practically on your knees, only your arms and shoulders being held by Wanda and Vision. You traced fingers lamely across each of their arms. “So strong, those who once held me…”

    The married couple exchanged an amused but mysterious look.

    “Wanda, darling,” Vision said, “They seem to have gone delusional.”

    Wanda nodded sagely in response. “Clearly lost their mind.”

    You squinted, glancing between them. What were they up to?

    “To the ward with you,” Wanda suddenly announced.

    Then you caught a red glow by your feet, but not fast enough before you were swept up into the air on a cloud of red mist. You burst into startled laughter but quickly slapped a hand over your mouth so you didn’t wake up the children. Once you relaxed—enough to stop laughing anyway, not enough to not be freaking out about being magically escorted out of the nursery—you waved your hands through the red; it felt like waving your hands through the open air. The only thing actually felt was the pressure on the back of your body that was holding you afloat and carrying you out of the room, but when you tried to balance on it and move to a different position, all you did was squirm and twist awkwardly in the air before flopping back down. You craned your neck, mostly to make sure Tommy and Billy hadn’t woken up from your outburst, but you only caught Wanda, hands glowing red, following you out of the room and Vision trailing after wishing his babies a goodnight.

    You looked back at the ceiling for a moment. After you heard the nursery door shut, you asked at a normal volume, “I’m not gonna fall, right?”

    “Not unless I let you,” Wanda reassured you. You couldn’t see her but the teasing tone of her voice made you imagine her with a smirk. A smirk, narrowed eyes, her pretty nightgown floating around her, magical powers that she could definitely use to crush you if she wanted to and you’d probably thank her if she did.

    Wow, okay, I either need to confess my sins or go to sleep.

    “Why?” Wanda asked suddenly.

    “Why what?” you choked back, heat rushing to your face. Surely, she couldn’t read your thoughts…

    “Why ask if you would fall?”

    Oh.

    “Oh.” You started flopping around in the cloud of magic, testing the proverbial waters; you were being taken to the living area now. You heard both Wanda and her husband laughing from beneath and behind you when you settled again. 

    Vision asked through chuckling, “What could you possibly be doing?”   

    You suddenly flung yourself to one of the magic surrounding you, thinking maybe you would fall through, but the magic held. You huffed and laid back again but not before you caught a glimpse of the couch that you now hovered over. You grasped at the magic again, watching it wisp through your fingers but feeling nothing at all. “This is so cool.”

    Wanda’s voice was softer when she spoke this time. “You think?”

    You couldn’t hold back the disbelieving laughter that bubbled up. Suddenly breathless out of sheer excitement of learning more about the people you cared for most, you sighed, “Wanda, baby, you must know that you’re amazing.”

    Then you squawked as the magic suddenly disappeared around you, but instead of falling straight to the couch below, Vision flew up to catch you. He held you bridal style as he gently dropped back to his feet next to the couch, grinning—he very rarely just smiled, it was always a big, happy grin when it was directed at you or Wanda or the babies—and giving you a peck on the forehead when you stared up at him, doe-eyed.

    “Got my own Superman, too,” you said, “Damn.”

    Vision plopped you down on the couch. “Who?”

    “Comic book character,” you responded with a wave of your hand, “Doesn’t matter. You’re far better looking than him anyway.”

You shifted a bit to get more comfortable and watched as glowing red magic started swirling all around you. The magic was misty, red around the edges and glowing orange-white in the center, picking up the scattered toys from your and Vision’s scuffle and tossing them into the playpen, pulling said playpen out of the way and sliding the original coffee table back from its place against the wall, picking up any other stray blankets or baby items and placing them neatly out of the way; it also straightened out Vision’s robe and ruffled your hair. Part of the magic moved out of your line of vision, so you twisted to follow it and saw it taking the baby clothes off the drying rack to fold and put on the counter next to it, then continued watching as it folded the rack itself and moved it out of the way. 

Wanda was now in your sight again too; she was standing still, palms up with magic flowing outward from the red clouds around them, and looking around to see if there was anything else she needed to put away. She was also blushing, from you calling her baby or saying she’s amazing, you couldn’t tell. After staring for probably way too long, probably looking at her with the same starry-eyed, dopey look that a teenager had at their first concert or after a first kiss, her gaze flitted to yours and made a nose-scrunching face at you before finishing her magical cleanup and making her way over to the couch as well.

You slumped back in the pile of throw pillows behind you, covered your face with your hands, and flutter-kicked your feet few times. “This is so cool!”

    You felt a nudge at your feet and you raised your legs so he could sit, then did the same with your head when you felt Wanda’s hand brush across your forehead. When they were both seated, you laid your legs and head on their respective laps and the three of you settled into the comfortable position that had been adopted long after your relationship had started. 

    That is until you quickly sat up again. “Is that how you unpacked your house so quickly?”

    Wanda smiled and nodded. She rested a cheek in the palm of her hand, endeared by your wonderment towards her powers.

    “Is that you unpacked my house?”

    Another nod. 

    “And the magic show was real— Wait.” You scowled. “But all the pulleys and stuff.”

    “That was, ah, my bad,” Vision offered with a raised hand. 

    “Covering for him actually using his powers,” Wanda explained.

    “I knew the mirrors didn’t make sense with you putting your hat through your body!” you exclaimed. “So flight, super strong, and… not sure what to call that last one. What was with you that day, by the way? You acted drunk, but you can’t get drunk!”

    “I swallowed some gum,” Vision muttered, glancing away and rubbing the side of his neck. His other hand waved towards his torso as he continued, “It got all… stuck. Gummed up my gears, if you will.”

    Wanda rolled her eyes at the pun. You snickered at it.

    “I had to magic it out of him,” she added.

    Your gaze flitted back and forth between your two superhuman partners multiple times as you took in the information. Because you were sitting between the two, this involved the turning of your head various times, which made your head swim a bit. You almost wished that they were both sitting to one side of you.

    Instead of suggesting this, you settled your gaze to stare aimlessly ahead and said simply, “I’m dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar people in the world. How the hell did I manage that?”

    “Charisma,” Vision offered, even though you and him both knew at this point how you’d weirdly creeped on him at the office the first day the two of you met.

    “Sheer force of will,” Wanda suggested, but you guaranteed she was remembering how, for the few dates you went on with them, you’d had to be reminded that you were actually on dates and that they weren’t just casual friendly hangouts. 

    You looked between them once more and then you wished you had suggested they sit to one side of you. Despite their steady, comfortable voices, Wanda was in the process of hiding her flustered face behind the curtain of her hair and Vision was chewing on his lip and couldn’t seem to keep his hands and feet from tapping away.

    “Okay,” you said after a moment, patting your thighs to do something with your hands. “I’m grasping that you guys don’t agree with me here. Wanda, go sit by him so I don’t get whiplash from trying to look at you both.”

    You and Wanda quickly switched places. You sat cross-legged on the couch to face them and Wanda and Vision shifted around to sit in a way that allowed them to face you without one blocking the other. After a moment, you waved your hands at them; the cheery air has since faded into something more somber. “What is it? Tell me why you get all quiet like that when I tell you, with evidence, why you’re the actual grooviest people I’ve ever met.”

    There were a few more moments of silence before Vision went to speak first, which surprised Wanda. She looked at him, eyebrows raised high on her forehead, and lightly grasped his wrist.

    “Vis?” she murmured.

    He sighed softly and placed his other hand over hers. “Oh, it’s really nothing dear, I promise. It’s just… Well, you’ve heard how the people of the cul-de-sac talk about us sometimes.”

    “Mean girls,” you grumbled under your breath with a nod, “the lot of them sometimes.”

    Wanda seemed to suddenly sag with sadness and both you and Vision reached over quickly to hold her.

    “Oh, darling,” Vision said, “It’s not your fault—”

    “That’s not true,” Wanda whispered.

    “It is true,” Vision said, and this time he said it with a fierceness that was familiar to you, whenever Wanda was being treated poorly by people like the Queen of the Cul-de-Sac, Dotty, or when Wanda decided to get down on herself. He grasped her shoulders tightly, squeezed them until she looked up at him. “Wanda, darling, love, I didn’t exist before I meant you. I mean, I did, of course, I did, but I was just this strange, non-human, non-machine thing that was just… kind of… there. It was you that gave me an existence, Wanda. You made me human.”

    Both you and Wanda stared at him, surprised. Wanda stared because she obviously didn’t fully agree with his opinion of her. You stared because of course, you were dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar, and most romantic people ever. 

    Get yourself a man like that, you thought. Then after a moment, Wait, that is in fact also my man. 

    “And you—” Vision said, turning his head in your direction.

    “Oh, I’m next?” you stammered. “I thought it was Wanda’s turn.”

    Vision still held Wanda but also reached over to tightly grasp your hand and bring it to his mouth. “I just wished we could have confessed to you sooner. I just hate, hate, hated lying to you and now you’re involved with all this too—”

    The synthezoid with the English accent looked up at you with eyes begging forgiveness as if he’d committed one of the worst sins imaginable. You let out a hoarse laugh and ran your thumb across the side of his hand.

    “I’m sorry,” you said, still chuckling as you wriggled closer to your couple, “but as much as you might like to think you’ve subjected me to something I didn’t sign up for, I’d like to point out that I’ve been about a month ahead of you. I was here before you.” You felt a nagging urge to look at Wanda and repeat the last sentence, and there was something extra special about saying it that second time like there was a double and then a triple meaning behind it, but the way you both furrowed your brows afterward made it clear that neither of you really knew what those meanings were.

    Not yet, anyway.

    You cleared your throat and removed your hand from Vision’s grasp to place it on the back of the couch. “I moved into this town with no husband or wife, no family, nothing but a pile of letters and a new deed to a new house that happened to be the smallest in the neighborhood. My first week here I told one man in front of the entire night watch that I thought the joke he made about his wife was distasteful, and then the week after I tripped and spilled wine all over his wife. Agnes brought because she thought I’d be a form of entertainment and we somehow ended up becoming friends over a flask that she hid in a pocket sewed into the inside of her skirt.” You offered a look to Wanda again while you mentioned that Agnes never thought your “for the children” jokes were all that funny, though. “I’ve dealt with the comments and the rumors and the ‘what’s wrong with them, they don’t have no kids!’ People are weird and they’re mean and they’re fun and they suck. You want human, dude? You got it. If I was still bothered by comments that are nothing but a bummer, I think I’d be trying a little bit more than wearing clothes that I enjoy over the clothes that are expected of me, telling Dotty she needs to stop being awful before she gets frown lines, or, you know, pining over two people—a married couple nonetheless—until I somehow seduced them with my staring at them from around corners and just generally horrible, awful attempts at eye contact.”

    The married couple in question chortled at that.

    You used your hand on the back of the couch to hoist yourself up on your knees so you towered over Vision just slightly.

    “Here’s the thing, sunshine,” you continued, “I’m not in your boat on this one, you dorks, you’re in mine. I was here first and I don’t give a fuck.”

    Wanda gave a sudden laugh. “What language.”

    “Has he not told you about the time I said ‘Fuck you’ to a plastic bird in my garden?” you asked. “Multiple times? His name is Bernard and he’s plotting to kill me, I swear.”

    Wanda’s troubled expression was split by a wobbly smile.

    You threw up your arms in the dramatic fashion that you knew the two people in front of you loved and hollered—then quickly quieted back down to not disturb Billy and Tommy in the other room—“All this for my rambling putz ass to say, who cares about what’s outside this house! You two, and your kids, and I are the only people that matter here. Here being the house, Westview, whatever! Everyone else? Nonexistent.

    “Also, just to clarify,” you paused to wave your arms around, gesturing at the entire house, “Love it here. Love this shit.”

    You suddenly caught Vision’s slacked jaw in your hand and gave him a peck on the cheek. “This face? Love it.” You moved to peck a spot of silver on his skull. “Love this too.” You pecked the gem on his forehead and swore it glowed brighter in response. “Love this.” You pecked one of his ear plates. “Love these goofy things.” You pecked the tip of his nose. “Love this and the fact that you have it even though you don’t technically even need to breathe. Oh, speaking of which!” 

You lifted one of his hands with one of your own and tapped on his red fingernails with your other. You caught a glimpse of his face now that yours wasn’t directly in front of it and noticed him trying to hold back a giddy smile—and failing—while he watched you from underneath red lashes; your whole body would have tried to twist itself in knots under that look if you weren’t too busy swearing to kiss those eyelids and lashes too, at another time. Instead, you pecked each fingertip of the hand you were holding. “Love these ‘useless to my design’ things too. You know what, just speaking of hands—” You dropped Vision’s hand, which made itself to your waist as you went to grab Wanda’s; you were vaguely aware that you were practically leaning into their laps at that point but that could be dealt with when you weren’t trying to make a point.

When you went to touch her, she let you hold her wrist but quickly squeezed her hand into firsts before you could hold it like you had with Vision’s. She was looking away.

    You pressed a kiss to her whitening knuckles. “Wanda.”

    She looked at you, her perfect face distorted by a deep sadness that almost shattered your heart on the spot. She tightened her first further. The deep emotion appeared to make her slip back into her natural Sokovian accent when she spoke again. “You don’t know the pain it’s caused.”

    “I’ve done my fair share,” you affirmed even though you weren’t quite sure why. Then you kissed her knuckles again. “And maybe I don’t, but I know what good it’s caused, that you have.”

    Her face twisted into an ugly grimace. She asked hoarsely, “Like what?”

    “The first time I saw your face, I wanted to go to space, grab the moon, shrink it down—so it looked like one of those cool little lava rocks, you know? But prettier—and get it put on a ring,” you offered, then kissed the back of her hand and whispered, “and that’s after I found out you were married to a very attractive man too…”

    Vision snorted. Wanda cracked the smallest of smiles.

    You whispered lower, “And I may or may not have even been interested in marriage before that…”

    That time Wanda rolled her eyes; you smiled and grabbed her other clenched hand to share the attention with. You continued, “You’re also so nice, like so nice. You are so kind and care about what people think so much, it’s almost buggy—and bordering on self-destructive but that’s not what we’re talking about— And I sort of get it now, you know, but wow, making your magic show worse for the sake of people’s sanity? Wouldn’t even be on my radar.”

    Another little smile.

    “I’d be like, ‘Who wants to see me turn this entire table into a rosebush! Dotty’s rosebush specifically; Dotty, I stole your rosebush.’ I actually did steal a rose from her bush that day.”

    Wanda blinked and you noticed the lines of her expression weren’t as deeply etched into her face anymore.

    “That was Dotty’s?”

    You grinned and nodded, then kissed both of her hands. “Also, I love your hair and the way it perfectly frames your perfect face, and I love your little nose scrunches, and I love your eyelashes and the way you look at me from under them sometimes, and I’d kiss all those things but I’m not going to because I gotta get these stubborn, always-working, never-wanna-take-a-break, always-somehow-perfect-nails-having hands to relax before they hurt themselves even though it’s very clearly hard enough to make who woman who owns them do the same. Oh, I did I mention that smile—hoo, Wanda, that foxy smile…”

    Wanda was blushing now and bringing up her smile made it happen again, just slightly. You took advantage of the moment anyway and flung yourself back onto the couch with a hand over your heart. “Be still, my pounding heart!”

    Vision, who was watching by your and Wanda’s sides, laughed a bit. Wanda herself rolled her eyes again; the smile didn’t disappear afterward.

    You sat up again and pointed at Vision, now that he’d brought attention to himself again. “And I don’t know whether you heard any of the stuff this guy said! You made him exist? You made him human? What? You two also do this thing where you just look at each other and have a whole conversation, I don’t know if you guys know you do that or not. You do, though, and I don’t know if either or both of you are psychic but if you are and still love me? With my unhinged brain? Migraines and all? I wouldn’t understand, even if you explained it to me.”

    Vision offered, “Neither of us is psychic but anyway, please continue.”

    “Have anything to add?”

    “You’re doing wonderfully.”

    “Thank you.” You looked back and Wanda, noting that her face had almost completely softened now, as she was too busy being flustered to be sad at this point. You quickly scooped her hands before they could curl into fists again placed kissed on each of the crescent moon-shaped marks now dug into their palms. “Your magic rocked your babies to sleep. Your magic cleaned up all their and put it all in one nice, neat place. You floated me around the house with your magic and even protected me from falling when I was wriggling around up there; bet that was fun for both of you to watch. Vision said earlier that that was your job, to protect me, and while I don’t fully agree because I consider it the other way around, is that not what you did?”

    “I thought it was cute,” Wanda replied softly to the second to last sentence you said. She watched as you gave her hands a few more pecks.

    “So, you agree then,” you said, “that your magic protected me and also made me cuter?”

    She laughed and the sound made your heart soared, performing an aerial performance in your chest. She tried to wriggle her hands free from you but then you scowled and tucked them protectively under your chin.

    “Gotta say it. Gotta say your magic made me cute.”

    “I’m not saying that.”

    You shrugged and got comfy, laying your head in her lap with her hands still hidden. “Have to. Otherwise, no hands for you. Oh, did I not mention how good you are to your kids yet? You’re so good—”

    “Okay, okay, okay,” Wanda forfeited through a wet laugh. Hearing said laugh, your head shot up in concern, but the woman was smiling as she snagged your hands back; what she chose to do with them next was grab your face and place a kiss directly on your mouth.

    It was quick and soft and sweet and absolutely none of that prevented the fireworks that went off in your skull and your chest and your stomach and your veins that made tingles shoot all the way down to your toes. She pulled away as quickly as she had moved in and you blinked; your brain was still short-circuiting, like a robot—like a Vision with his gears all gummed up, and your dazed brain thought that was a very funny connection, so it repeated the joke verbally.

    Luckily, Vision was close enough to the level of dork that you were and he laughed at it with you.

    It took a deep breath and a head shake to de-gum your brain—if only Wanda could magic that—but after the excitement wore off, you felt sleepiness start creeping in and decided to make your final push. You curled a hand around both of your partners’ necks and brought their faces closer to nuzzle your noses together; they responded by each of them wrapping an arm around your waist and returning the affectionate action.

    “So, in conclusion,” you stated, which caused Vision to laugh lightly and Wanda to grin just slightly, “I love both of these perfect faces.” You kissed each of their noses. “And these funky, magical brains.” You kissed Wanda at the base of her hairline, then Vision just below his forehead gem. “And these equally funky, magical hands.” You grabbed the hands not looped around your waist and kissed the back of them. “And both of those babies, and this house, and y—”

    You sucked in a sudden breath to stop yourself so hard that you almost choked and you reeled back to the other side of the couch only to drag Vision and Wanda with you. The three of you tumbled into a flustered heap on the couch and over their shoulders, you could see early morning light filtering through the windows. This barely registered, though, as you were too busy focusing on the fact that you almost L-worded them on a silly, tired whim. 

    Despite the awkwardness of the moment and the unspoken words, no one made a move to remove themselves from the warm, cozy entanglement. One of both Wanda and Vision’s arms was pinned under your back, keeping them solid in place against you while simultaneously and successfully enveloping you in between them; your own arms, which had instinctively wrapped protectively around their shoulders in the tumble, kept them in a similar state. Wanda’s hair fanned found and covered the three of you like a blanket, and you were keenly aware of her breath softly wafting over the exposed skin of your neck from where her head now rested on your shoulder. Vision’s rested slightly lower, on your chest, and you felt a quickened pulse where his gem pressed into your neck, but you couldn’t be sure whether it was yours or his. 

    You stared past their shoulders and watched as sunlight shone through the curtains and dappled the ceiling. You tried to figure out whether you were stupider for stopping yourself from finishing that sentence or for not saying it at all.

    Then you felt a kiss being pressed to your clothed shoulder.

    “You’ve said so many things that you’ve loved tonight [Y/N],” Wanda murmured, her hot breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “What’s two more?”

    “I—” you started, then bit your tongue again. There was something about saying that phrase that made you worried; you felt like if you said it now, the happy little world you lived in would begin to crumble, like it would all end far too soon. You sighed softly and said instead, “I don’t know how I would live without you.”

    There were a few moments of silence where you watched more sunlight filter in and wished you could take it back because what a way to talk a big game and then not follow through—

    Then Vision’s head appeared above you and he pressed a dizziness-inducing kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he nuzzled your nose with his own as he murmured, “I love you too.”

    In almost the same moment, Wanda was mumbling the same phrase against your jawline. 

    Sleepy and hazy-brained you couldn’t do much else but stare at Vision like a lovesick puppy that struggled to say that L-word, then snuggle back down with both him and Wanda when they relaxed against you again. That seemed to be the last of what needed to be said, though, because everything was cozy and warm and golden brown in your home again and, one by one, the three of you fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

    In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, you heard the vaguely familiar First Voice finish chewing something and then go, “Aww…”

[hops-hunny]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 1

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: None for this chapter!

A/N: Nothing major happens in this chapter, this is sorta just like the beginning stages.

(Y/n) let out a load groan, hand searching aimlessly for the alarm clock on her side table. “Where is it?!” she continued to slap her hand around on her table, many objects falling to the floor before her hand finally landed on the right one, the rooster noises ceasing as her hand collided with the big snooze button. She rolled over, sighing as she stared at her speckled ceiling. “Perhaps I really should take the time to learn how to use the alarm on my phone.” it wasn’t that she was bad with technology persay. It’s just if it was produced after the year of 2008 you could forget it. Could you really blame her though? During all her years at Hogwarts, she had never made the switch her fellow classmates made with modern technology. Sure she had a smart phone but the only thing she could manage to do with it is call, text, and make notes in the notes app (something she had just recently learned as well).

Unwillingly, she crawled out of bed, stretching as she let out a large yawn, bones snapping and cracking like a New Year’s firework. She made her way to the bathroom, looking into the same mirror she always did, watching the light in the center flicker the same way as always. Life for (Y/n) was seemingly unchanging. Day after day, month after month, was spent exactly the same. She’d wake up, get ready for work, and then travel a few blocks down the street to open the bakery. Her bakery.

It wasn’t that (Y/n) didn’t enjoy what she did. She happened to enjoy her job very much. All her friends at Hogwart’s had encouraged her, giving her the push she need to travel the journey of opening her own business. It was something she had always wanted to do but her parents begged her not to. In their words they didn’t want ‘an over zealous and unrealistic’ daughter on ther hands. However, their rude words simply were fuel to the fire. During her 5th year, she began to busk tables at various shops in Hogsmeade. It was hard work, balancing long shifts at 3 different shops and still maintaining decent scores in each class. But, she knew if she couldn’t handle that then there was no way she’d be able to handle running a bakery. So day in and day out she’d work, and work, and work and by the end of her 7th year she had a decent amount of money saved up! 

The first issue had been finding a place in a good area that would gain traction and attention while the second one was finding someone willing to sell to someone fresh out of school with no prior business experience. She’d spoken to many people in various different places, some good, and some bad before she finally had been blessed with the chance of meeting Mary and her wife Denise. It was a miracle really. (Y/n) was short on the money, exponentially so however, Mary had sold to her anyways. She said she saw a passion in the girl that she hadn’t seen for a very long time and that it was something she wanted to help foster considering she had had her time to live her dreams and explore passions of her own. So with that, a handshape was exchanged for a beat up envolope filled with the entirety of the girl’s life savings. She had invested every nickel and dime she had ever earned into the place and she prayed it wouldn’t blow up in her face.

Which brought her to where she was today: a proud owner of a highly successful business. And of course, with great business comes a nice chunk of money which caught her parents’ attention. They had began to call her everyday but when that they didn’t work, they showed up at her shop unannounced. At first, she had felt warm inside. Her usual cold and distant parents had come to visit her! However, when they started crunching out numbers and percentages, that short lived happiness was replaced by irritation in which she quickly kicked them out, placing a charm on the building that when they’d attempt to enter (if they really, truly, had the balls to come back), their bodies would be flung right back onto the sidewalk into the heaping piles of trash on the city side walks. Now, (Y/n) was by no means wealthy, but she made a nice amount of money to be engaging in something she enjoyed so heavily, which is why she was confused where they had gotten the idea she had money to share with the main two people who were the cause of her insecurities. Plus, every extra dollar she had she put right back into the shop. Paying her workers, building maintenance, ingredients. She wasn’t a fan of having too much money, her family had shown her what that could cause (and how easily you could lose it all). 

Yet still sometimes she found herself wishing she could live the lavish lifestyle her parents once did. She mainly dreamed more so of the more engaging parts instead of the status and power that came with it. As she frosted various different cakes with thick buttercream, her mind would wonder to vivid imagery of beautiful hotel rooms, with breath taking views. Michelin five star meals, coated in delicious cream sauces. Endless adventure waiting to be discovered.

And yet here she was, sitting at a table as she stuffed her face with a raspberry marzipan cupcake. It was a Wednesday, first one of the month and as per usual, her and Twyla were set together, sampling cakes, chocolates, and other treats for the upcoming days. Wednesday had been the official day  they had chosen due to the slowed flow of people that would come in. (Y/n) liked to have a different theme each day of the week. The customers lived for it and she had massed a group of frequenters who came each day, wondering what the theme would be that day.

“You know boss, I’ve gotta say it. Working here and sampling all these cakes with you is giving me quite the ass!” Twyla said, turning around as she wiggled her ass in the girl’s face for emphasis. (Y/n) giggled, rolling her eyes as she swatted at the girl, missing as she jumped away from her last minute. “Hey! You gotta take me out to dinner first for that.”

“Just because we’re sampling cakes doesn’t mean that the store is closed! Anyone could walk in at any moment and would you really want that to be their first experience here?” she asked, eyes scanning the silver platter in front of them. She decided on the new dessert flavored chocolates she had been working on. Popping it into her mouth, she let out a moan of approval.

“I mean, I dont’ see why not! We’d definitely make a lot more money with a cake like mine!” the blue haired girl said, sitting down as she grabbed a chocolate as well. “Besides, I don’t think those little noises you’re making would help the scene.” she stated, snickering as the girl across from her tensed up.

“It-it’s not like that! The chocolate- it just- I just- ugh!” she stuttered out, huffing as she crossed her arms over her chest, pouting at the girl. “If you’re gonna keep being mean we can end this process. Just tell me what you think of the blueberry pie chocolate so I can know if we’re adding it to tomorrow’s spread.”

“Oh come on (Y/n) it’s good! Every first Wednesday we sit here, you overly critique yourself, then me and Tiana end up picking out our favorites for the next day!” Twyla was right, even their patterns for trying new things remained the same. (Y/n) wiped her messy hand on her aprons, sighing as she stood up to go back to her position behind the counter. Her employee followed, grabbing the platter to put back into the kitchen before joining her boss behind the counter.

“You’re right. I swear everyday is beginning to feel the same.” She opened her notepad, beginning to take inventory of the sweets they had in the display counter. “I’m grateful for everything I have, I really am. But sometimes I just wish I could have something, anything….”

“New?” the green eyed girl added, catching the (h/c) haired girl’s attention. She nodded, looking at the girl who had snuck a cookie out of the glass case. “I feel ya, girl. Everyday feels the same. Sometimes even when new people come in, I can already tell how they’re going to be. How they’ll act, what they’ll order, what method of payment they’ll use.” (Y/n) eyed the girl up, raising a brow.

“Are you sure you’re not just using legilimens?” she questioned, watching as the girl shifted on her feet, scratching the back of her neck.

“Okay so maybe I do sometimes. But a lot of the times I don’t! Like the other day this weird guy came in and- woah. (Y/n) I don’t wanna freak you out but I have a feeling those hotties in suits across the street are going to be walking in here soon.” Twyla said, in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. The shorter girl followed her friend’s gaze, looking out the glass doors across the street. Three unfamiliar men were crossing over, all in suits that she could only assume cost as much as four months of rent. However, the one in the middle really caught her eye.

Before she knew it, the bell chimed and the three of them made their way in. They looked very out of place in the brightly decorated shop. The one in the middle looked the most important, towering over the other two men. He had dark slicked back hair, an eyebrow piercing, and tattoos that were visible on his neck and hands (which had a few beautiful looking rings on them (none of which were a wedding band…)), yet his hazel eyes held a soft look to them. To his left was a redhead boy, freckles danced all along his face. His eyes were bloodshot from god knows what. He had tattoos as well (not as many as the middle man) and a few unique ear piercings. The guy to the hot tall guy’s right was attractive too but not nearly as serious looking as the other two. In fact, he was humming a song under his breath, a smile causing the tattoo on the right side of his face to crease. 

As she went to open her mouth to greet them, the man in the middle eye’s grew wide, his mouth gaping as he stared at her. He walked closer, examining her face closely which caused her to grow confused.

“I’m...I’m sorry. Do I know you?” she asked.

“(Y/n)?” she gasped at the sound of the familiar voice, her notepad and pen dropping from her hands. She made her way around the counter, staring up at the tall man.

“Neville?!”

NEXT||

TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @beewitchedlou @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically

[exn0bisstudios]

You called us to love and cherish Vittore Simone and the response is a resounding FUCK yes. 💖💖💖Prince of my Heart, Light of my Life, Song in my Soul. I cannot wait to romance him, all the characters are LOVELY, but he’s quickly become my favorite.

With that, and how angsty his route is gonna be 🥺 I was wondering if you would bestow us with some cute/fluffy facts about him (either while in a relationship with MC or just general cute nuggets 💕) ??? thank you I love you muah

Which makes me so, so happy!!! I love all of my characters, but as I have said a million times now, V, in particular, has a very special place in my heart. So, I'm always pleased to see him getting love, hehe

But yes, of course, I will provide some Vittore Simone fluff! Since his route indeed will be a nightmare (haha, get it? Nightmare? Er...), I'll give you solo fluff and relationship fluff!

Cute Facts:

Despite his lifetime of training to control and mask his emotions, he's never been able to break the habit of tucking his hair behind his ear when he's feeling bashful or nervous. If he's feeling especially timid, he'll keep making the tuck motion even when his hair is already securely in place. As a bonus, his other big tell is that he'll twist his curls around his fingers when thinking.

He adores music and usually has a pretty constant internal soundtrack going. It's pretty normal to catch him quietly humming/mumbling a tune to himself or tapping out a rhythm with his foot or against his thigh with whatever he's holding. He also loves to dance, and sometimes you can see a notable rhythmic grace to his footwork like he can't help but move his body to whatever song he's got going in his head.

He's left-handed and has been known to pout when confronted with things that have been designed with only right-handed people in mind. Then he'll stubbornly insist on trying to conquer the right-handed contraption anyway. For example, he once spent an entire day mastering right-handed scissors instead of just going out to get one for left-handed people.

Despite all the nasty rumors about him (and the generally negative opinion of him among the aristocracy), he's very well-loved by the people who actually work for him. He universally treats anyone in his employ with respect regardless of their social status. He is a very fair and generous employer in business and personal contracts (like his household staff). The team that manages his estate especially adores him, and most speak to him informally and treat him more as a friend. None of them had ever seen a nobleman roll up his sleeves and help with the cleaning before, that's for sure.

In-universe, no one but his mother called him "V." After her death, he's never allowed anyone else to use the nickname, insisting on "Vittone," if not his full first name (Vittore Simone). However, he secretly hopes that one day he'll get to hear someone he loves call him "V" again.

Relationship Fluff:

The man is a hopeless romantic; the type who has memorized heaps of love poems and sighs over stories about star-crossed lovers and soulmates. Considering he never expected to find love in his life, he supplemented by consuming every piece of romantic media he could get his hands on. If he does find love, his partner should prepare for 24 years of pent-up romance to be poured into them. He's not going to serenade you in public or anything. Still, he will softly whisper some obscure but heart-achingly moving verse in your ear as he holds you close.

It's easy to forget how young Vittore Simone is because he is technically one of the most politically and financially powerful people globally and carries himself appropriately. That façade of calm, absolute power is something he relentlessly keeps in place. The only person who ever really gets to see him drop the mask, to see him admit to who he really is - a curious 24-year-old who still has a lot to learn - is his partner. The intimacy of that exposure is something he cherishes.

Sometimes he gets distracted while he's working and daydreams about his partner. There have definitely been a couple missives accidentally sent out that had little dumb hearts doodled on the corners of the paper. He'll never admit to this, though - too embarrassed.

He wants to make dinner for (or with) his partner as often as they'll allow him. He's actually a very accomplished cook. He likes the idea that he can do something with his own two hands to pamper them rather than just spending money to spoil them (which, to be fair, he also does). Plus, he likes the intimacy of sharing a casual, home-cooked meal.

He likes to leave his partner little flower messages, especially when he gets caught up with work or has to be away for a while. He'll arrange to have a bouquet sent, and make a little game out of letting his partner figure out what each flower means by conveniently leaving flower language books lying around. He just wants them to know that even when he's not there, he's thinking of them, and he loves them.

[evakuality]

Mia, episode four

1.  Hanna staring deep into Mia’s face as she talks = not loosening my conviction they should be together.  But either way, I like this little scene.  One thing I think Druck does well is translating the ideas of all the russ-stuff from the og into its own thing that makes sense in its own context.  These suggestions really are all terrible, though.  I’m not at all surprised that Jonas and Matteo are taking the mickey out of it (side note - I missssss themmmmmm).  I know I’m seriously anti Alex and so I’m not feeling even remotely charitable, but I really dislike the way he’s walking in all ‘I have a much better idea than you guys’ and acting as if he’s better than them.  Plus, then they ended up using it and... ugh.  I just... I really hate William and poor Alex is bearing the brunt of that.  It’s probably not his fault; I just brought a whole lot of baggage into this viewing.

2.  I do love that Leonie is still ‘in charge’ in this way.  It’s a nice continuity from s1.  And she’s not perfect in any way; a lot of her little mannerisms and the way she acts and speaks from s1 are still here, but she’s mellowed a bit.  It’s not as directed and petty; she just likes being in charge and running stuff.

3.  Wow a lot is going on in this first clip.  Amira is getting her voice heard like a boss here!  (sidenote #2: she is stunning in this outfit with this makeup etc).  It’s obvious that she’s pretty used to Mia and her very set opinions (a bit like Leonie but she does it in a different way) and knows the only way to get what she/they need is to basically steamroll over every attempt Mia makes at speaking.  I like the point that Mia’s principles aren’t as important as the people who wouldn’t be able to pay the larger price.  Like, I get it - she’d rather not have anything to do with Alex (me either tbh) but Amira is also right.  Excluding him on principle isn’t fair to the bulk of the students.  However, ‘he shows up with all his money and his damn poster and now he’s a nice guy?’ - I mean, exactly.  Still.  There are other considerations and it shouldn’t be black and white.

4.  Oh, this walkway/ramp thing again.  My beloved setting returns!  Honestly, I really really love this school building.  It’s got so many little corners and changes and different spaces and this space in particular is used to really good effect.  Like rn, Alex has the high ground and while Mia is trying to stand up to him, it’s ineffectual because they’re having to use high angles on her vs low on him.  He still has the power.  And even when they come together, and there’s a seeming meeting of equals, he’s still got the high ground, even if just barely.  And as he walks away with his insufferable smirk, he regains that high ground even more (do I like this plot at all?  No, but I do like the film techniques used to explore it). I just really really love the way the camera works in these spaces.  Unlike a ‘normal’ school, this one has so much depth and variety even when they reuse the same spaces.  None of the times this thing is used is the effect exactly the same even when it seems similar.  Hmmmm, now part of me wants to look at every time it’s used and see how it’s done.  Somebody stop me.

5.  Yikes - I’m only 6 minutes in and I already wrote an essay.  Okay, let’s try to be more brief as we continue.  Oh.  Mia alone and in a nice space with warm tones around her (unlike the other two scenes this episode).  I do like these moments when we hang out with our mains and I’m glad we’re starting to get that more with Mia.  Very interesting that she chooses to fold and iron her clothes as a reaction to the ‘mega geil’ comments about Alex.  Clearly she’s starting to feel out of control about the whole business with Alex and the things he’s saying to her, and this is one way of her reasserting her control.  She likes having things under control and we see it coming out in these odd ways now that she’s found something that is out of her control.  She clearly gets some peace out of it, but it’s so rigid that you can tell it must be about to crack soon.  Nice touch with Hans bringing the comic relief.  I love him so much!!

6.  Lol, Matteo looks super disgusted by this chirpy conversation about Hans’ affliction.  I like that his characterisation is still traceable.  He’s not AS low and isolated as he seems in his season (the benefit of perspective I guess), but he’s still slumped and isn’t as engaged in the things around him - here and even with Jonas earlier.  It’s just nice to see because I know his season came pretty close after Mia’s so it’s good that it doesn’t seem to come out of nowhere.  Continuity - Druck is good at it.  Also how uncomfortable he is when the discussion turns to what gay penises look like - clearly he already has some ideas about how himself and equally clearly he doesn’t want to talk about ‘gay’ anything when it might be connected to him.  Little does he know, his phone already gave them ideas.  But I do like him already being the biggest Hanna/Jonas shipper - like, he’s so determined to make up for his interference that he’s fully trying to interfere again, and it’s a nice segue into ‘why does anyone spend a whole evening stalking someone’ - yeah, we see you Mia.  You’re more intrigued by Alex than you care to admit.  I enjoy these little seemingly unimportant clips of them just hanging out that actually advance the plot or characterisation.

7.  Hanna: Mia, please come to this place to save me from being alone with Jonas.  Mia: I’m on my way (despite not wanting to go at all) - are we seriously telling me she’s not at least a little bit in love with Hanna?  Seriously.  The need to help Hanna out is strong in this one.  But also... more mirror reflections, but this time she’s more centered (not entirely but more so) and her whole face is in shot.  Things are ‘coming together’ so to speak.  And ion hindsight, I can’t even seem to spot Jonas?  Is he even there?  Was Hanna trying to get Mia there through stealth????

8.  Yikes, this thing they’re doing where they say stuff about each other is a bit brutal.  Amira’s ones are mostly pretty awful, and targeted at her religion.  Very interesting that for the others, they seemed more focused on who they are rather than ‘what’ they are, but it’s not the same for her?  Like, I know we explore this a bit in her season but there’s been so much through the whole 2 seasons so far that I feel even more like we lost the opportunity to truly explore that more.  RIP the s4 she deserved!  

9.  I don’t like Alex still (he’s still too arrogant and irritating for me) but I do like the quiet slow way Mia is warming up to him.  She doesn’t want to, but you can see her re-evaluating him and starting to recalibrate her thoughts.  Like it’s not rushing and he is at least a little more interesting than William and has more charisma so I can see why she would become intrigued once she shifted her perspective.  Unlike William, who remained gross through the entire thing.

10.  So Mia’s desperate need to be in control and have everything perfect even extends to Alex’s place and his stuff?  Considering she still thinks she doesn’t like him, she’s taking a lot of trouble with his space.  Suuuuuper awkward alone times here though I do like this shot of Mia exploring Alex’s place and the camera just sort of following along with that and taking in what she sees.   Being this tight on her really plays up how ‘tight’ her PoV is and how she’s not seeing outside the bounds of what she wants to see.

11.  This is a very very long clip, but there’s something charming about it too.  Alex is... hmmmm, not exactly a good guy as yet (he’s still doing some quite douchey things), but he’s starting to open up and be real while still trying to protect some stuff that’s and that’s a lot more believable than William was.  I know he was supposed to be like that, too, in a lot of ways, but I never found him convincing.  Not the way Alex is.  I don’t like him (this is genuinely not a type of guy that appeals to me at all) but I can see why he might win Mia over.  Which I never did understand with Noora.  We shall see - there are things from later in Noora’s season that fill me with incandescent rage, and if those happen then I can’t warm to Alex properly at all.  But for now, I can see why Mia might be won over.  Even if I can’t forgive him for the way he treats Kiki and acts like he’s the only one with all the right answers.

Lots of long clips in this one with a whole heap going on.  It would have been something to go through this live, I’m sure.  I found lots of little moments in this one to like, and I like how Druck has managed the characters and the interactions to make it feel natural.  Considering that I really cannot stand the og of this and that one was very long, I think they’re doing a fairly good job of keeping this one engaging and a decent pace even if I still dislike one of the characters.

[inyourwildestdreamslove]

Tell Me No Secrets: Chapter 8

Pairing: Steve Harrington X Reader X Billy Hargrove

Begins in Season 2.

Summary: You thought you escaped the world of science experiments and torture when you walk out of that lab. However, high school has other plans, somehow you end up as unlikely friends and love interests to the two most desired boys in school. Not to mention monsters from another dimension and a little girl named El from your past that just won’t seem to leave you alone. Maybe that lab wasn’t as bad as you thought, at least there people left you alone.

Masterlist

The Complication

You could feel the agitation rolling off of you in waves. After explaining to everyone that you’ve been followed for the past few days by an agent everyone had thoroughly freaked out like you knew they would. The anger was unexplainable and seemed to come out of nowhere and the pacing is the only way to keep yourself under control. 

‘This is why I like to handle things myself,’ you think as you continue to pace. The room was still full of your friends as they argued about what the best course of action would be. It started with a guard detail and now Dustin is suggesting some kind of elaborate security device. 

You whip around to walk the other way when a sharp pain goes up your side. You cry out, startling everyone in the room as you sink to the floor half in surprise and half in actual pain. Another sharp pain follows quickly after and again and again, before you know it you are curled up on the floor attempting to protect yourself from the phantom assault. A sob wracks your body as you actually feel one of your ribs crack a sharp pain pierces your hand and your nose. A few minutes later the assault is done and you just lay in a heap, your body throbbing and everyone in the room in various stages of panic and chaos. 

You lay still and suddenly your vision is blurry and you are gazing at a living room you’ve never seen before. A man is casually leaning against the counter as you drag yourself up and shuffle to the bathroom. You lay your head against the door, the cool wood feels good against your forehead. You don’t pay attention to anyone, it’s not until Steve puts a hesitant hand on your arm that you are brought back to the room around you. You blink taking in the familiar couch and the familiar faces of your friends. You flinch away from him and he backs up hands in the air. 

“It’s okay…”

You shake your head and get unsteadily to your knees your hands go to your throbbing nose when you pull away you expect to see blood but there is nothing there. You blink in surprise before you press on your rib expecting pain, but there isn’t anything there other than a phantom throbbing. 

“What happened?” you ask shakily.

“We were kinda hoping you could tell us that…” Steve says hesitantly. 

“I don’t know…”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” questions Hopper’s tight voice. 

You gaze down at the floor before you glance up at Max, “What does your living room look like?”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just… what does it look like?” you ask again as you put your hand to your head attempting to soothe your throbbing head.

She begins to describe the beige walls and the TV in the corner. The window that opens up to the kitchen. You gaze unseeingly at the carpet as you recall every detail about what just happened to you. 

“I see…” you say before you stumble to your feet with Steve and Melanie on either side to steady you before you walk wordlessly to your bedroom. 

“Okay… what just happened here?” questions Hopper as he gazes at where you just were. 

“We don’t know…” sigh Melanie, “She did that the other night.”

“When?” questions Elle. 

“A few nights ago… I-I don’t remember exactly when…”

You can still feel the residual pain aching in your muscles as the water from the shower beats down on you. You don’t feel like dealing with anyone as you ponder what you think is happening. You inhale a shaky breath as you picture the living room and man leaning casually against the wall watching you get up. There is no emotion, dead eyes watch you as you make your way towards the bathroom. A moment later water is scalding your skin as you gaze around at the green tiles surrounding you, with a blink you are back in your own shower. Groaning you force yourself from the shower and into bed hoping against hope that you are able to get a good night’s sleep. You have a feeling you are going to need it for tomorrow. 

The next morning dawns and before you can even think of riding your bike to school Steve is in your driveway and much to your surprise so is Dustin.

“Why are you here?” You ask in confusion as you lock the door behind you.

“I’m taking you to school, it’s too dangerous for you to ride your bike there,” says Steve as he crosses his arms. 

“He’s right! You need protection,” interjects Dustin.

You furrow your brow at the duo in confusion, “Okay…” Mostly because you know that attempting to argue with them at seven o’clock in the morning is far more hassle than it’s worth. Also, you decide not to mention that you are more than capable of dealing with anyone that comes your way, but they enjoy being heroes and who are you to take that from them? Plus you simply don’t feel like riding your bike today. 

When you pull into the parking lot at school you don’t think much of the fact that Steve gave you a ride until you get out of his car. You feel eyes on you instantly as whispers flare up all around you. A particular pair of blue eyes catch yours though. 

“What do you think she’s doing with Steve?”

“Wasn’t she with Billy last week?”

“What are they doing with the freak?”

“What do they see in her?”

“It has to be a bet! You know they’ve been competing for King status…”

“Has to be a bet.”

“Hey! Don’t listen to them okay?” You hear Steve’s voice in your ear suddenly. 

You whip your head around to face him and notice the way his hand is on the small of your back and the way he guides you into the school. 

You blink attempting to refocus yourself as you try to block everyone out. You don’t have time for their rumors, you have more important things to do. You wave Steve off when you get to your locker insisting that you would be okay. 

“Are you sure?” he asks in concern as he leans against your locker door, his eyes searching yours. You are beginning to understand why so many females like Steve. He has the uncanny ability to make himself look like a puppy and is quite endearing if not a little slow. 

“I’m fine, Steve, I’ve somehow managed to survive without you my entire life up until now. I think I can handle first period.”

“I just…”

“Go!” you shoo him away much to the scandal of the female population that was trying not to be obvious they were eavesdropping and even more so for the ones who didn’t care if you knew they were. 

You don’t see Steve again until lunch when he plops himself down in the chair next to you. 

“So… How are you doing?” asks Steve as he pours little packets of hot sauce on his burrito.

You roll your eyes, “I’m fine Steve…”

He doesn’t look convinced as he regards you with concern, “Yesterday was pretty intense…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say coldly. 

Steve has become rather bold rather quickly because he doesn’t seem to care whether or not you want to talk about it, “Maybe you should though! You should talk about it!”

“What good would that do?” you ask seriously as you attempt to concentrate on your math homework. 

“You were scared… Hell, I was scared! You just started to scream and writhing in pain for NO REASON.”

“Would you keep your voice down!” You ask in an angry whisper, “Everyone at this school already thinks I’m some kind of freak, I would rather possession not be added to the rumor mill, especially when it involves both you and Billy.”

“Sorry! Geeze! I’m just trying to help!” he hisses back at you. 

You fix him with an angry stare, “Perhaps in private would be better, you never know who is listening.”

“Ah… right…” he looks thoroughly chastised as the two of you make your way out of the cafeteria and to your science class. 

“We still need to work on our project…” Steve grumbles as you both pile yourselves into the classroom. 

“We can finish it up tomorrow after school,” you say decisively.

“Tomorrow? Why not tonight?”

“I have things to take care of tonight.”

“What things?” He asks almost defensively.

“Things that don’t concern you,” you mutter emotionlessly.

“Hey! You aren’t going after any more-” he asks, clearly offended.

“Steve!” You growl.

He lowers his voice to a whisper as he leans in, “-any more of those guys are you?”

“No… this has nothing to do with that…”

“You know friends trust one another right?” he asks in annoyance. 

“Then you should trust me,” you say calmly as you look towards the front of the classroom as your teacher enters the room. 

You hear him scoff from beside you, but you decide to ignore him, mostly because you know it annoys him when you do. 

***

You can feel Billy’s gaze on you as you read the assigned material for your English class. Agaitiation rolls off of him in waves as you attempt to ignore him, but how can you when you know what you know?

It’s when the bell rings that a message floats between the two of you, landing softly in his mind, “Meet me behind the school.”

His eyes widen as he gazes at you like you are out of some horror movie, but you ignore the way the shock travels up his body and ricochets through his mind. A few minutes later you are standing before him as he leans against the wall.

“What’s this about?” he asks confidently, his voice doesn’t reflect the fear in his mind. 

“Lift up your shirt,” you say while crossing your arms. 

“Sweetheart if this is what you wanted all along…”

“No. Now lift up your shirt,” you say emotionlessly.

He rolls his shoulder and his jaw before he straightens, “What if I don’t want to.”

You tilt your head to the side, “What happened last night?”

He leans his head back and regards you with narrowed eyes, “That’s none of your business.”

“It’s my business when I’m a crumpled heap on the floor of my own house,” his eyes widen at your statement, “Now, lift up your shirt,” you say forcefully.

He holds your gaze as he angrily untucks his shirt from his too-tight jeans and pulls it up to reveal black and blue ribs. His side is all manner of colors some bruises are almost healed while others are fresh. 

Shame sets you on fire as you regard him and it takes you a moment to realize that shame doesn’t belong to you. 

You merely nod at him, “Thank you.”

He drops his shirt back down and refuses to look at you. His shame is replaced with anger, mostly because he doesn’t know what else to do with himself. 

“Oh yeah! And what’s that gonna do huh?! You think you can fix this shit?! Fix my fuckin life?!”

“You would be surprised at what I can do…”

He snaps his head up to look at you his breath catching in his throat. 

“Let’s go,” you say as you breeze past him into the school.

“Where?” he asks bewildered.

“To take care of this.”

His whips around as the door goes to slam in his face, he catches it at the last second as he attempts to tuck his shirt back in before following you down the hallway. 

The ride to Billy’s house is silent as he chain-smokes cigarettes, the smoke flying out the open window. The ride is loose and fast and despite the fact that he wants you scared, you know better than to actually be. He pulls into the driveway and the two of you make your way up to the front door. You look around at the perfectly manicured yard before you enter the living room you were in last night. 

“He uh… won’t be home for a couple of hours…”

“It’s fine, I can wait,” you say calmly while you pull out the book your class is reading for English. 

“So you can really do it huh?” he asks as he sits down next to you on the couch. His elbows are on his knees and his hands have formed a fist under his chin. He’s wound as tightly as a wire about to snap. 

You regard him quietly for a moment before you answer, “Yes, I can.”

“How?” his voice is rough as if he is holding back tears.

“You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t actually want answers to.”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eyes before he gets up and lights another cigarette taking a long drag. 

“You should do the reading,” you murmur softly.

“What? Why?” He asks, almost outraged you would suggest such a thing. 

“It would be best if he thought us to be working on an assignment.”

He nods absentmindedly before he puts the cigarette out and reaches for his bag. He pulls the book out and settles down to read it, but even though his eyes are moving he isn’t comprehending anything. After staring at the same page for several minutes he closes the book harshly and slams it down next to him on the couch. He runs his hands through his hair messing it up before he inhales a large breath then exhales. You watch him while he does all this in mild confusion. 

“Do you doubt me?” You ask calmly.

He lets out a forced laugh as he shakes his head, “I don’t know what to think sweetheart.”

He looks up at you and his eyes lock with yours. They are a deep blue and remind you of the turbulent sea in a hurricane, this time though you think you can see a little bit of sun hidden in the depths. As if for once he has hope.  

The door opens almost violently and if you hadn’t felt the waves of anger rolling off of the male before he made his way into the house you would have been startled. 

“What’s going on here?” Billy’s father asks, you see right through his forced cheery facade and see for what it is a very dangerous question. 

“We were just uhh…” Billy stalls in shock, clearly not expecting him yet. 

“Working on an English assignment, we were paired up in class,” you finish easily for Billy regarding the man before you carefully. 

“Right…” Billy trails off looking anywhere but at his father. 

“I see… Will she be staying for dinner?” He asks, completely ignoring you. 

“No, our assignment shouldn’t take that long,” you say calmly before you dutifully go back to your book. 

‘Assignment my ass… Like I’m going to believe this isn’t his next whore…’ The thought flits across your mind, but you just keep your face blank giving nothing away. 

Billy catches your eye looking nauseous. You merely nod your head towards the book before you go back to your own. 

You hear the heavy boots of his father as he walks into the kitchen but you make no move to do anything. 

Billy’s leg begins to bounce with his nerves. 

Abruptly you stand and regard the man as he returns from changing from his work clothes. He stalls in the hall and just looks down at you in confusion. 

“You’re going to stop hurting Billy. You will not hurt anyone in this family,” you say seriously, the order hanging in the air. “If I find out you’ve hurt any of them there will be consequences. Now you are going to forget this conversation ever happened.”

His eyes are blank and unseeing as you turn back to a bewildered Billy. 

“That’s it?” He asks in bewilderment. 

“Yes,” you say calmly, “I would like to go home now.”

He blinks up at in confusion.

“You have to take me there,” you supply in place of his obvious confusion.

“How do I know this worked?!” he asks in bewilderment. 

“You don’t… yet. Also, don’t say anything to anyone,” he blinks at the order vaguely wondering if you used your power on him. 

With that, you turn and walk out the door with a very confused Billy following dutifully after you. 

***

The next morning, before you even step out of your front door, you can hear the arguing. 

You roll your eyes as you gaze between Steve and Billy with Dustin and Max standing off to either side, both looking equally exasperated by their ride to school. 

“Why are you both here?” you ask in annoyance regarding them both with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. 

“I”m taking you to school!” They chorus before they return their glares back to one another.

“This is becoming excessive…” you murmur more so to yourself than the group surrounding you.

“Look, you don’t need to be riding your bike to school with…” Steve trails off looking imploringly at Billy.

“What? What’s going on?!” asks Billy in obvious annoyance around the cigarette between his lips. 

“Nothing that concerns you…” you say regarding Billy calmly. 

“You heard her! Nothing that concerns you!” Steve echos tauntingly. 

“Enough, Steve,” you reprimand. 

Billy scoffs from your other side, “You heard her Harrington, enough,” he says with a triumphant smirk. 

Steve whips around in a fighting stance to regard Billy.

“ENOUGH! Both of you!” you exclaim in annoyance, “I don’t know what’s gotten into either of you, but I can take care of myself just fine. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

“Yeah,  but that doesn’t answer the question of who’s taking you to school, sweetheart?” Billy interjects indicating the two cars before you. 

“Who was here first?” you ask in annoyance. 

“I was!” They both chorus and you just cross your arms with a sigh.

You look to Max and Dustin for the answer and Max raises her hand, “We were here first.”

You nod decisively, “Billy can take me to school, Steve, you can take me home, okay?”

Billy smirks triumphantly and Steve just regards you in surprised betrayal. 

“But it’s Hargrove! What if his bad driving kills you?!” Steve yells in annoyance. 

“Billy has been giving me many rides to and from school, I’ll be fine.”

“He has?!” Steve asks following you to the passenger door of Billy’s car.

“Yes Steve, he has, long before you did,” you say patiently. 

Steve just squeaks in indignation as you shut the door effectively ending the conversation. 

Flying down the road towards school Billy has a Cheshire grin on his face, “You know you could have just told Harrington you wanted me to take you…”

You glance at Billy out of the corner of your eye, “I honestly didn’t care either way.”

“Sure sweetheart… Sure…” he says with confidence dripping from his voice. 

Max scoffs in the back seat, “You know she’s too smart for you right?”

“What did you say?” he growls back. 

As the siblings begin to bicker back and forth you notice it, the buzzing.

“Quiet both of you!” you exclaim shutting them both up momentarily.

“Don’t tell-”

“Hush!” you exclaim the order hanging in the air as you turn your head this way and that trying to get a read on the buzzing in your head. 

Your eyes widen as it starts getting stronger and there you see a vehicle sitting at the intersection not fifty feet away clearly waiting for someone. You narrow your eyes as you regard the car. 

“Billy,” you murmur turning to look him in the eyes, “Floor it, if they catch us we might as well be dead.”

He just nods, the barest hint of fear in his eyes as he lays his foot down on the gas pedal, his car roaring to life.

Notes: I know it’s been forever and day actually since I updated this but I love it very much! Please drop some love and tell me what you think. Also, I intend to redo the taglist for this story since it’s been so long. So if you would like to be tagged please send me an ask! 

[until-theend-oftheline]

Growing Home

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warnings: Home remodeling, pregnancy,  

Word Count: 1100ish

A/N: This is thought of as part of my LLL Universe, but if you don’t wanna read them all it can still be read as a one-shot. It’s in January 2020.  

Betaed by: None. Mistakes are all mine

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

The past few weeks had been hard. Sebastian had been traveling a lot, shooting Falcon and the Winter Soldier and doing promotion for The Last Full Measure. You had been working on your solo album mostly from home or other studios in and near New York City. Meanwhile, your apartment was under construction. Sebastian and you had bought the apartment next door. It was much smaller than yours, so it was affordable and less expensive than buying a bigger place. Plus neither you nor Sebastian really wanted to leave your dream home, just because it had proven too small for your growing family. It had been your luck that the young couple next door, had been ready to move on a few months ago and Sebastian and you had made an offer on their place they had happily accepted. They just moved out a few weeks ago and now there was a huge hole in your wall between the two. 

Your living room was a complete mess, which meant keeping the kids out of there for the time being, which with their energy levels was hard, especially on the days Sebastian wasn’t home. Luckily for you, he had been this weekend and even if he was as tired as you, he had insisted on giving you some time off this weekend. He had taken the kids to Coney Island, while he had sent you off to a spa for the day. He had bought pizza and you had spent the evening watching movies in your bed with the kids jumping around between you. When it had been time for bed, Sebastian had taken them to get their bath while you cleaned up the room and now you stood in the doorway to Isabella’s room, leaning against the wall. 

You smiled watching your little family, sound asleep in a heap on Isabella’s bed. Sebastian was lying on his back, with both kids sprayed across his chest. His hand was lying over the edge of the bed and beneath his hand was the book he had been reading them. You bit your lower lip, to prevent yourself from laughing. He was such an amazing dad and you had the most perfect children in the world. You quietly tiptoed over to the bed and squatted down next to it. You ran your fingers through Alex’s hair and kissed Isabella’s forehead. You smiled as Sebastian steered slightly, feeling you next to him. 

He sleepily blinked a few times looking at you, making you smile wider as you reached out to him, caressing his cheek. 

“Hi,” you smiled as Sebastian seemed to realize where he was. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he whispered, but you just shook your head, still smiling. It didn’t matter. He was tired and it wasn’t like you hadn’t fallen asleep reading your kids to sleep a million times too. 

“It’s fine. I’ll help you free,” you whispered with a grin and Sebastian’s face lit up in a huge grin. 

“Yeah. I might need that,” he whispered back, as you gently lifted Alexander off him. Sebastian managed to shift himself out from underneath Isabella, and stand up. You gently placed Alexander back onto Isabella’s bed. You knew you should probably have put him in his own room, but you also knew the little boy would just wake up during the night and wander into his sister’s room anyway. Isabella didn’t mind, she loved her brother more than anything and proving that she instantly wrapped her arms around him in her sleep. 

Sebastian smiled, wrapping his arms around you as you stood back up. He pulled you back against his chest, resting his chin against your shoulder, spraying his hands out across your growing belly as he watched your sleeping children with you. 

“We should probably get Isa a bigger bed if her little sister is gonna wanna sleep with her siblings too,” Sebastian whispered, amusement and love clear in his voice. 

You bit your lip, trying to prevent yourself from laughing and waking up the little ones. “Probably.” 

You wiggled yourself loose of Sebastian’s hold, taking his hand. “Come on. I want company in my bed too.”

“Do you know?” Sebastian grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at you, making you pull a face at him as you dragged him towards the door. 

“Dork.”

“Yes,” Sebastian whispered, closing the door behind the two of you, before quickly spinning you around and pushing you up against the opposite wall. 

You gasped in surprise, which only made Sebastian’s cheeky grin grow as he leaned towards you. He stopped a few inches from your lips to whisper. 

“But I’m your dork.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes, you are. I love you, Seba.”

“I love you too,” Sebastian answered, before gently pressing his lips against yours, kissing you and made you forget the world around you. 

Sebastian’s thumbs caressed your stomach, as he pulled back, looking down at you with a smile. “Did you enjoy yourself today?”

You hummed in approval, nodding. You ran your fingers into his hair, smiling as he leaned into your touch. 

“I did. But maybe next time we can all do something together or we can leave the kids with your mom and do something just you and me?” you suggested. You had loved the spa day, but you had missed Sebastian and the kids. Especially with how busy Sebastian had been lately, you didn’t want to miss a single moment you could spend with him. 

“You assume I don’t have plans for both of those already,” Sebastian smirked, leaning down to brush his lips over your jaw before kissing his way down your neck. 

You moaned slightly, tilting your head to the side to give him room. His attention made it hard to focus on what he had just said. 

“You what?” you asked, feeling him smile against your skin, but he didn’t answer he just kept kissing you, running his hands down your body, teasingly squeezing your ass. 

“Seba!” you scolded with amusement in your voice and he started laughing resting his forehead against your shoulder, before pulling back to kiss you. 

“It’s a surprise. Two surprises really. I promise you’ll love it,” he said quietly, rubbing his nose against yours. 

“I hate surprises,” you sulked and Sebastian grinned, kissing the small pout on your lips. 

“No, you don’t. You’re just nosy,” Sebastian teased you, making you roll your eyes at him. You stood on your toes, kissing him deeply. You loved how Sebastian instantly pulled you closer, as close as the bump between you would allow. 

“If you’re not gonna tell me… Distract me,” you wiggled your eyebrows at him taking his hand and leading him towards your bedroom and Sebastian swallowed deeply. 

“Anything you want, honey.”

Reblogs spread my work and make me happy. Got a favorite part/line? Did something touch you? Do you relate in some way? Please tell me and make my day.  

Sebastian Stan Tag Team

@feelmyroarrrr​ @sleepretreat​ @roxyspearing​ @jewels2876​  @hellaqueerangelofthelord​ @danijimenezv​ @rumoured-whispers​ @becs-bunker​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @blacktithe7​ @grace-for-sale​ @averyrogers83​ @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​ @sorenmarie87​ @docharleythegeekqueen​ @erosbellarke​ @the-wayward-robot​ @super100012​ @myfanficlibrarium​ @winchesters-favorite-girl​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @igotkatiepowers​ @dottirose​ @deathofmissjackson​ @miraclesoflove​ @badassbaker​

[13thwarrior]

Sales Secrets Blog: Happy Ears

Deborah Tamburri

Sales Strategist | C-Level Sales | Complex Enterprise Engagements | Change Management |Small to Medium Business Solutions | Off-Road Enthusiast

Referred to as ‘Happy Ears,’ this behavior is the death knell of any aspiring sales professional. The term conjures the image of large, floppy appendages fluttering in the breeze of your prospects commentary. A ridiculous image and a curse, ‘Happy Ears' must be overcome in order to be successful. Born of enthusiasm, training your Happy Ears is a rite of passage travelled by every single sales professional. While the lesson may have humiliating and disastrous consequences I hope your ‘Happy Ears’ debacle doesn’t rob you of a fabulous sales career.

Recognize the problem. You have Happy Ears when you truly believe every call you made today will end in a sale. You have Happy Ears when day after busy day you find yourself no closer to any finished business. Yet on a cloud of euphoria you tell management all about your success/activity. Upon answering the first few questions from management the cloud of euphoria dissipates and you’re faced with reality. Do they have a budget? Do they have a timeline? You don’t know. Shoulders slouching you return to your desk, frustrated and demoralized.

Happy Ears is the result of enthusiasm without discipline and training. Don’t be demoralized. Learn a few simple skills and you’ll soon close your best quarter ever.

Skill One

Don’t confuse activity with accomplishment

Suppose you were assigned the job of moving 300 head of cattle from low to high pasture. Would you simply jump on a horse and start chasing cows? If this is your strategy then you run a high probability of running cows straight into a gully of water and mud from which none of you would return. The strategy of activity doesn’t get you where you need to go. Cows, like prospects have their own agenda and it is not the same as yours.

A successful delivery of cows AND customers requires a map with specific directions from point A to point B. That clear map is the difference between activity and accomplishment, which leads to:

Skill Two

Set Goals

Have a specific goal for each and every prospect communication. It isn’t enough to just get your prospect to talk to you. You must have an agenda, which will lead to either qualification or disqualification. Once qualification has occurred each subsequent communication must drill down on the specifics of your prospects needs, process and fit for your product or service.

Skill Three

Qualify, Qualify, Qualify!

Lets say you’ve got a funnel full of ‘interested’ sales inquiries. By qualification you understand that your goal is to eliminate those companies that aren’t opportunities as fast as possible. The sooner you do that, the quicker you’ll find the ones that are most likely to convert into customers. The biggest mistake you can make is to keep working leads that will probably never convert. My mental image for this process involves sitting in front of a beautiful Christmas tree heaped with wrapped presents. I KNOW for a fact there is a diamond tennis bracelet in the pile of presents. By qualifying out the non tennis bracelet packages I bring myself closer to the goal... LOTS of diamonds! KNOW that there is a sale in the pile of prospects.Get the facts. Size them up, eliminate and move on.

A variation of a SWOT Analysis was developed by Peter Caputa of Hubspot is called GPCTBA/C&I (Goals, Plans, Challenges, Timeline, Budget, Authority, [Negative] Consequences and [Positive] Implications). This valuable and consultative method sets up the sales team to add value to their prospect’s decision-making.

Another method is called BART, Budget, Authority, Revenue and Timeframe. Your goal is to understand as much as you can about these four facets of your prospect’s project. Use your communications to answer those questions!

Skill Four

Actively Listen….

Active listening happens when salespeople listen and respond to their customers in ways that build trust and mutual understanding. This is the Holy Grail. You can’t fake empathy and interest. For active listening to occur, a salesperson must concentrate on and comprehend what the customer is saying, respond thoughtfully, and remember what has been said.

When a customer feels like a salesperson is actively listening, they will be more likely to buy because active listening builds rapport. Plus, active listening helps salespeople overcome barriers in the form of negative salesperson stereotypes, like being someone who talks more than he/she listens or someone who is only interested in meeting quota and making money.

[caprice-nisei-enjoyer]

Goblincore Quarantine

I’m a little tired of suggestions about “keeping things normal” during the quarantine. Maybe they help, I don’t know. But they rub me the wrong way. In response, I present two tips for making your quarantine a little more goblincore.

These tips have not been evaluated by experts, amateurs, or anyone in between.

1) Make yourself a nook or hoard. If you’re working from home, lots of people will tell you to dedicate a space to serve as your home office. I say nuts to that. Do you like your office? I don’t like mine. It has fluorescent can lights, and everyone’s crowded together in this open office plan that makes me feel guilty if I want to switch over to Youtube for a brain break.

Instead, gather up all of the things you use for work, some good shinies (I have a painting my wife made), plus anything that’s good for breaks. Put them all in a comfortable part of your house, easily accessible, maybe at a desk? Then, whenever you need something, want something, or want to keep something in mind, bring it to your nook. Eventually, you should find yourself atop a small hoard of things that are important to you. The advantage to this system is that, whenever you feel yourself with the slightest bit of executive function, you can reach out and find something to do (maybe even something productive if you’re lucky). Obviously, this can get a bit crowded, but that’s goblincore babey!

When choosing a location, think about what things are most important to check in on during the day. It’s my job to do the dishes so that we can cook meals at home, so my nook is near the kitchen. Don’t block walkways though!

2) Wear your most comfortable clothes all the time. To me, this is peak goblincore. I don’t give a shit about looking good, or impressing people. Honestly, I mostly want to forget that I’m a person with a body most of the day. To that end, I wear the clothes that make me happy.

Sheltering in place with someone who criticizes your fashion sense? They’re the one who looks dumb. You’re too busy living your best life.

You can wear one set of clothes for: eating, sleeping, working, working out, walking the dog, doing chores, howling at the moon, anything! If you’ve got someone you trust, let them know that they’re free to sniff-check you and tell you to wash your clothes anytime. If not, set a hard maximum for changing your clothes and having a shower. You’re probably pretty sedentary, and you don’t want a butt-rash taking over your lovingly heaped-together nook.

3) Sneak longing glances at the forbidden outside. This might sound a bit like “make sure to get outside”, but I prefer to see things a little differently. It’s a pain to get outside. I have allergies, but there’s an infinite number of valid reasons to prefer to be indoors. So, consume the outside in manageable chunks.

Hiss at an unexpected beam of sunlight through the blinds, but then approach it cautiously and let yourself peek through it to sate your curiosity. When it rains, go to a window, and open it just a crack, so you can listen. When forced to leave your house, skulk around, sticking to the shadows and keeping your distance from others. If there’s a local nature site that’s open and uncrowded, plan a trip that will get you in and out unnoticed (with shinies?).

In general, do things your way! We don’t live in a society any more! Live it up!

[toothlessturtle21]

Cold Blooded

So as some of y’all know, I’m a fanfic author, so I figured why not publish some of my oneshots on Tumblr? So, here’s the first one in a (maybe) series of oneshots being posted. Enjoy!

---

Jay's talking gets him into a lot of trouble, sure, but when he's faced with a mob boss who wants to work with him to resurrect his dead father, his chatter might be his only weapon. (Mafia AU) (tw: kidnapping, guns, mentioned death)

All of his life, Jay had been told that his excessive blabbering was annoying. His friends and his family were not safe from the chatter, everywhere and all the time. And god forbid  that he was nervous, because butterflies in his stomach seemed to equate to words spewing from his mouth like a fountain. So when he found himself tied up and blindfolded after a nasty run-in with some gang members, what else was he supposed to do?

"So, uh, what kind of wood is the chair I'm in made of? It feels pretty strong, but I also can't see the color to make any guesses," Jay quirked his mouth, and one of the men nearby grumbled, having put up with his incessant rambling for the better part of the hour. "Is it grainy? I can't really tell through my pants, but if it is you guys should really sand it. Splinters are no joke, even if you're wearing gloves. They always wait until you're least expecting it and then ouch, there's wood in your hand."

His company was silent, perhaps hoping that he would shut up if left unanswered. After a few beats of silence, Jay tapped his feet on the floor, an uneven rhythm that was in no way musical. He tried to think of some beat to mimic that would take his mind off of his situation. He hummed some jingles, some pop songs, and even snuck a little bit of some showtunes in there before a harsh slap to the cheek stopped him, causing Jay to cry out indignantly.

"Hey, I'm just messing around! What's the big deal anyway? You guys are the ones who nabbed me off the street, why should I listen to- mmph!"

A hand was slapped over his mouth very quickly, accompanied by a sharp shh. For once, Jay decided to listen, and heard another man in the room on the phone.

"Please sir, he's driving us insane, can't we just..."

Silence for a few minutes. Jay's heart raced at the thought of there being a man higher up waiting to get his hands on him, despite his current situation already being pretty undesirable.

"Wait, really?"

Muffled words from the other side of the line were audible now, and the man with him laughed a little, obviously relieved.

"Thank you, boss! We'll get him to you right away."

And just like that, Jay was in the air, the chair he was tied to lifted by some thug, and he squawked in surprise as he was gripped roughly by strong hands, the grunts talking amongst themselves as they brought him along. Finally, they stopped, and set him down onto a tile floor, judging by the sound of the legs hitting the ground. One ripped off his blindfold, and they immediately scurried away, leaving Jay to blink his eyes like a newborn kitten to adjust to the light.

"Ah, so you're the famed Ninja of Lightning. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Walker."

Jay finally found his sight, and discovered he was in an office, of sorts. The walls were a circle, bookshelves lining the room, except for the one area where a cabinet full of guns stood. The furniture was elegant, smooth curves and a sleek black sheen to everything made for a very intimidating look.

What was even more intimidating, however, was the figure perched on top of the desk at the far back. He looked to be young, black leather clothes contrasting with his stark white hair, combed back into a feathery undercut. Clear blue eyes stared the ninja down, and Jay felt his skin crawl under the scrutiny.

"Oh, don't tell me they harmed your vocal chords on the journey over, I've heard so much about your jabber," The man slid off the desk, striding over with quiet steps. Now that Jay was closer, he was quite tall, most definitely taller than himself.

"No, they didn't," He managed to squeak out, clearing his throat afterwards. "And how do you know my name?"

"I know a lot of things," The man shrugged. "For example, I know that you were born and raised in a trash heap, your favorite food is blackberry pie, and your name is James."

"If you know so much about me," Jay's cheeks burned from hearing his birth name and from the insult towards his parents' livelihood. "Then who are you?"

The man thought for a moment before answering, almost as if questioning himself. He seemed to finally decide on an answer after a few tense moments.

"Call me Snake."

"No offense, but you don't really don't look like a Snake," Jay blurted, and the man raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I mean, you have a pretty blue, black, white color scheme going on, and snakes are usually green. You seem more like an Spider or Shark to me than a Snake. You don't give me slimy vibes."

"Thank you for the feedback," Snake nodded, stepping back a little. "I suppose I will keep that in mind for the next time I have to choose a persona to give to strangers."

"Was that a joke I heard?" Jay asked, and Snake's expression never wavered. The blonde looked at his gun cabinet for a split second before returning his gaze to his hostage.

"So, Mr. Walker, it has come to my attention that you are especially skilled in robotics, correct?"

"I mean, yeah, but-"

"What do you normally create?"

"Small robots, mostly. Y'know, can sweep things, stack bricks, charge phones, and..." Jay trailed off, mentally slapping himself. "Actually, it's none of your business what I do. You're the one who organized my kidnapping, I'm not telling you anything!"

"Hm, just as we were doing so swimmingly. Very well then," Snake walked away, returning to his desk. He once again avoided the chair, choosing to stalk Jay from his desk like a bird of prey.

"Also, consider changing your name to Falcon. Still fits better than Snake."

"I thought we had moved on from my name, James," Snake smiled amusedly. "Although Falcon does have a nice ring to it, thank you. Perhaps I will keep that one in mind."

He pulled his legs up, crossing them on his desk. It was then that Jay noticed the portrait sitting next to his knee.

"Hey, who's in the picture?"

Snake's expression darkened, and Jay's heart picked up once more at the thought of his last words being so lame.

"Perhaps you don't understand your situation. You are in no position to be asking questions, especially ones about my personal life. As far as guests go, you have been treated rather graciously, Mr. Walker. Although I do consider myself rather forgiving in the face of insubordination, I too have a limit."

Jay went quiet, at least for a few moments, but a sudden bird cry followed by a black shape swooping past his face made him shriek, and Snake laughed at his expense. He held out his arm as a black bird rested on him, and Snake gently took the note from its mouth.

"You really are quite entertaining. I might keep you just for that."

"Usually my jokes are a little more thought out than- wait, what do you mean by keep-"

"Hush, I am trying to read, James. Do be polite."

You could hear a pin drop as the man read, cool blues scanning the page. He bristled as he hit the bulk of the letter, presumably receiving bad news.

Snake scoffed, and snatched a lighter from beside him on the desk. He lit the flame, and held it up to the paper.

"Burning letters is so much safer than texting, wouldn't you agree? Plus, fire can be oh so fun to play with if done properly."

"I'm not really a big fan of fire. I guess I just don't like heat."

"I would be inclined to agree. Ice is often much more effective, anyway. It is a silent killer, with much less destruction than fire."

"Um, killer?"

"I run an organized crime ring, do you think I reached where I am by playing nice and holding hands?"

"How did you weaponize ice?" Jay asked, and then quickly backpedaled. "Uh, sorry, no questions, I'll stop."

"There are many ways, but I will indulge you with my personal favorite," Snake released his bird, the avian flying out the small window it had come in from, and stalked towards Jay. He touched a gentle hand to his bound arm, and Jay felt his breath quicken at the contact.

"I am the master of ice. Blood is half water. If I were to concentrate right now, I could freeze your veins and arteries, leaving you stiff like a doll. My ice does not melt easily, and so it creates a wonderful display if presented properly. Of course, the victim would need to be positioned correctly, but that is beside the point."

"You're sick," Jay strained against his bonds, suddenly comprehending the danger he was in. "Is killing people a game to you?"

"Not necessarily. If I kill by necessity, then deaths are quick and painless. If they have wronged me greatly, however, I enjoy watching them writhe to the best of their ability as they feel their blood freeze under my grasp."

"Then why am I here? I haven't wronged you, as far as I know, and I'm not already dead. What do you want from me?"

"I want your expertise. I am interested in your abilities. You are skilled at creating artificial life, James. While I have trained myself in many areas, capturing the essence of a living being is something I've yet to grasp."

All of a sudden, the puzzle pieces clicked in Jay's head. The color scheme, the white hair, the obsession with birds and robotics, and the ice all suddenly brought back memories that Jay forgot that he had.

"...Zane?"

The blonde smiled sadly, and then let out a small, hollow laugh.

"Ah, so you do remember. It's been a while, I know."

"Yeah, since we were toddlers."

"Are your parents well?"

"As far as I know, yeah, they're pretty good. How about your dad?"

Zane scowled, resting his chin on his hand.

"Dead. Killed in one of your little endeavors fighting Garmadon. Tasteless, really. My father deserved a death more fitting of the great mind he was than rubble crushing his body."

"I'm so sorry," Jay bit his lip, dread filling his bones. "So, uh, you're a gang leader now?"

"In a way, yes. I was already rising to power when he died, and his passing only drove me further. And now we are here," Zane gestured to the Lightning Ninja, still tied up. Jay's fingers twitched from their bound position.

"So why didn't you tell me your name off the bat?"

"What would be the point in that? None of the men under me know my name, so why I would I tell a stranger?"

"Fair, I guess. So why am I here?"

"Considering that you killed my father, I feel it is only right that you bring him back too."

"I'm the master of lightning, not a necromancer!" Jay writhed in his bonds. "And I haven't killed anyone. You're insane!"

"I'm not insane, I'm insulted you would think that way," Zane frowned. "You recall how I told you that my ice was especially cold, correct?"

"Yeah? What's that got to do with anything?"

"I have his body frozen downstairs. My ice takes an incredibly long time to melt."

"You what?" Jay shrieked. "I'm going nowhere near a frozen corpse!"

"You won't need to," Zane reassured, although his tone was anything but lenient. "I have brought you here for your mechanical skill. Together, we can bring my father back to life."

"And if I say no?"

"I have a cabinet full of guns to my side as well as the power to freeze your blood, and you're tied up at my mercy. We may have met in our earlier years, but familiarity has never stopped me from killing before."

"Uh, okay, noted," Jay said hurriedly, annoyed at himself for forgetting his situation. "So you want me to help you bring your father back to life by building him a body? But what about his memory?"

"You leave the software to me. You're here for the hardware."

"Ok, ok," Jay nodded slowly, although his mind was going a mile a minute trying to figure out how to escape. "Can you untie me though? I can't exactly build if I'm stuck here."

"You just called me insane and have been nothing but resistant this whole time. Why would I let you roam?" Zane sneered, crossing his arms. "However, I can release you to some extent, since you will be working for me."

And with that Zane untied and retied him so that his hands were still bound, but had enough wiggle room to work. Zane kept a length of rope knotted around the middle, to prevent the Lightning Ninja from breaking away.

Jay's cheeks burned at the thought of being led around like some pet, although he supposed his captivity could have been more humiliating. At least Zane was holding him by the wrists and not by some borderline kinky rope collar.

"What, don't like it?" The blonde laughed genuinely, albeit a little cruelly. He glanced over Jay, almost as if reading his mind. "I could change the positioning, if you'd rather. I was trying to spare you some dignity."

"No, it's fine," Jay looked down and away, refusing to make eye contact with the man currently holding him on a leash.

"James, if we're going to be working together, you need to be able to look at me."

"Don't call me James."

"Why not? If you call me Zane, I feel as though me calling you James is just as personal. Although I do request that you call me Snake in front of the others. I have worked for a long time to reach my status, and I would hate to have my persona crumbled by one pesky ninja."

"Fine, I'll call you Snake, just don't call me James."

"You are in no position to bargain, but I suppose I could allow you this one reward."

"Don't call it a reward, I'm not your pet," Jay hissed, and Zane raised an eyebrow threateningly. Jay gulped. "Sorry."

"Now then, shall we get started?" The blonde purred, and Jay bit his lip to stifle a snarky comeback. His stomach decided to respond for him in the form of a growl.

"Uh, actually, do you have any food?"

"Pardon?"

"I haven't eaten in a while, and nerves makes me extra hungry once I stop feeling anxious. Do you have anything to eat?"

"I'll have someone grab some food for you."

"Thanks," Jay said quietly, and silence fell over the pair, Zane staring off into the distance as if calculating something. "I really am sorry about your dad. I remember him being pretty nice."

"The last memory I have with him is the day before he died. He was telling me about his newest plans for building a robot capable of passing the Turing Test. It was shaping up to be a wonderful project, I would have loved to have seen it."

"Yeah, that would've been really cool. I wish I was better at programming, y'know? People like hardware and stuff, but it's really the code that makes a machine cool. Like, I wish I had a fraction of the capability that your dad had. Wait, if you're planning on bringing him back, that must mean that you're pretty good at coding too, right?"

"I suppose so. But what does this have to do with resurrecting my father?"

"If you miss him more for his inventions than his company, maybe you shouldn't be bringing him back."

Zane didn't say anything, but his eyes bore holes into Jay's head, blue iris filled with cold fury. If looks could kill, Jay's blood would already be solid. Just as Jay was about to backtrack and retract the statement, sensing that it did way more harm than good, Zane yanked Jay towards the side of the room, holding fast to the rope while rifling through the cabinet holding his guns.

"Z- Zane, wait, what are you-"

"Shut up."

The room was silent except for Jay's panicked breathing and his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Zane pulled out a handgun, the sleek black barrel glinting in the low light of the room.

"Are you religious, Jay?"

"N- No."

"Then pick a god and pray."

Zane loaded it quickly, and pulled Jay closer before he could react, pressing the weapon against his forehead. Jay felt tears form in his eyes, the realization that he was about to die making his muscles spasm and he kicked out, landing a hit on Zane's knee but also handicapping himself, his shaky limbs betraying him as he fell to the floor.

"No-! Don't, please, I'm sorry, just please don't shoot!"

"Too late. We cannot work together, and now that you know who I am I cannot leave you alive."

"I won't tell anyone, I promise! I don't want to die!"

"Neither did my father, and yet you still killed him anyway."

"I- I think I understand why you want him back."

Zane kept the gun pointed at his head, but allowed him to continue.

"You feel like you have no one left for you. Sure, you have your cronies and whatever, but you're just lonely. And you don't have to be," Jay offered, and squeezed his eyes shut just in case the next feeling he knew was a bullet going through his brain. Seconds passed, and nothing happened. The rope around his wrists was still pulled taught in Zane's grasp, but nothing changed.

After a few more moments, Jay slowly opened his eyes to see the gun still pointed at him, but the expression on Zane's face had changed into one of uncertainty.

"What do you mean I don't have to be? I have nothing left."

"You're the master of ice, right? I'm sure Sensei wouldn't mind another student, if you're willing."

"You- you want me to join you?"

"Okay, if I'm being honest, maybe not. You did just almost shoot me. But maybe you could make some friends. It wouldn't do any harm to lower your guard a little."

Zane looked away, and the hand holding the gun shook.

"Damn it," Zane muttered to himself, voice broken, and roughly untied the ropes holding Jay's wrists together. "Just go."

"You're letting me leave?"

"Just get out before I change my mind," Zane mumbled, throwing his gun down on his desk and sitting with his head in his hands. "You're right."

"Hey, woah," Jay couldn't believe his own actions even as he performed them, but he walked towards his captor and rested an easy hand on his shoulder. "I mean, thanks for letting me go, but take care of yourself, alright? We may on opposite sides here, but I'm sure you can be a nice guy if you set your mind to it."

Zane looked up, gaze weary.

"I'm not sure about the truth of your statement, but I appreciate the sentiment. Goodbye, Jay. Perhaps this will not be our last meeting."

"Maybe not," Jay pat him once on the shoulder before walking away, finding his way out pretty easily. Sure, he could run back to his friends and storm Zane's hiding spot if he wanted to, but something told him that would just end up with Zane putting a bullet through his own head instead of Jay's. As he was greeted by the cool night air, he decided on two things.

One, he needed to go back and talk to Zane again sometime, as he was still sure that there was a good guy down there somewhere. And two, never before in his life had been so thankful for his chatter.

[shibalen]

1/2! Hi! could I have a male romantic hq matchup if thats ok? w a dark box + a jewellery box pls! I'm 5'5, she/her w long dark brown hair w the front half of my right side dyed white, green eyes + tan skin! I'm super bubbly, loud, naturally v flirty + my love language is physical touch! I LOVE working out + I'm a HUGE foodie. I'm stubborn + impulsive, luv rain/storms, coffee + PDA. I'm emotional, confident, bold, giggly, energetic + observant! I ramble but I'm a gd listener + v playful!

2/2 im v playful + luv teasing! I'm spontaneous, optimistic, passionate + ambitious but I tend to overwork myself. I'm empathetic + love comforting others, it takes a lot to make me super angry too! I'm pretty straight forward - I try my best to be upfront about my feelings! I LOVE autumn/winter, cooking, BOBA + outdoors (but also love cosy nights at home) I really value honesty + loyalty. my ideal type is someone tall, protective + doesn't mind physical touch! (I also luv late night adventures)

Sorry I ran out of characters but I just wanted to say thank you so much in advance! I literally had notifications on so I didn't miss your matchups being open lmao <3 a nickname incase u need it is Ains btw!

♡︎ matchup for @hvnlydmn

hello, dear! aww, i'm so happy you think my matchups are something worth not missing. thank you for requesting, hopefully you enjoy this!

haikyuu: i match you with . . .

osamu miya !!

• under that calm exterior Osamu is competitive and has a small wild streak in him. you would do good in bringing out that side of him more often with your extroverted nature !!

• he finds your boldness and passion endearing and will help you keep your feet grounded in cases your impulsive tendancies might cause trouble for you.

• while your external demeanours differ, you hold the same core values which is incredibly important. like you, Osamu prefers being honest and will understand your point of view even though he might have a different opinion.

• that being said, you're both extremely patient and heated arguments take place only once in a blue moon. even then you manage to work out your differences quite fast.

• maybe it's because of your profile pic but i get the feeling you were a fan of Atsumu first, being part of the cheering squad in high school.

• you had no problem approaching either of the twins despite their popularity. they liked your confidence and energy so quickly accepted you.

• at first you wanted Osamu to help you get closer to Atsumu, but oops, along the way you two ended up falling for the other instead ! your personalities complimented each other, plus you had lots of common interests !

• i love how your first impression dynamic is the fun ray of sunshine x the quiet chill one even though y'all can be equally chaotic and observant ♡︎

• Osamu puts action over words and likes showing you his affection through small, casual touches as you go about your day. locking your fingers, putting his arm around your waist or shoulders, caresses of your cheek/head/hands.

• also, giving you massages after a tough day !! it's sweet and intimate while you can talk about anything and everything, or say nothing at all ♡( ◡‿◡ )

• insists being the one to brew you coffee. he knows his coffee is the best and it's what you deserve.

• playful teasing 23/7 (including snack breaks) just saying. having a brother like Atsumu has had its effects.

• Atsumu and you sometimes gang up and lovingly bully him. don't worry though, even against the two of you Samu can stand his ground (or be petty and give you a cold shoulder to tease you even more).

• though if someone else starts crossing the line while they're teasing you, Osamu will lowkey throw hands. he won't make a scene but anyone with the guts to brother you should be prepared to face pain the consequences.

• your dates often consist of visiting new restaurants/food booths, home-cooked dinner dates or picnics + hiking. sometimes he'll join working out with you.

❦︎ darkbox, timeskip

• it started with the little things: missed calls, skipped dinners, forgotten good-mornings. with Osamu busy with the restaurant and you having your hands full with your own job, your schedules only seemed to drift further apart.

• but then the words you exchanged irl became less frequent and finally the physical touch between you faded nearly into nonexistence because you hardly even saw each other.

• it was like a ticking time bomb. Osamu and you were aware of it but neither of you knew how to stop it.

• though you talked through messages and calls it just wasn't the same. stressed and worried, you did your best to remain calm, however this only made things worse.

• to you, it felt as though Osamu didn't care about your relationship anymore since he always looked and sounded the same, ever so nonchalant. yet in truth he was trying his hardest to look composed so you wouldn't worry.

• in the end, you both saw it best to take a 'break' until your careers became stable again. the saddest part: you did it for the other though neither of you wanted to.

• to forget your depression you became more involved in your work than before, up to the point of overworking yourself.

• meanwhile, Osamu, too, drowned himself in exhaustion. no matter how stoic he appeared it was clear he was all but focused. he kept wondering if you were okay, eating properly, getting enough sleep, or even if you wanted to start seeing someone else.

• worries if you'd rather have broken up with him for good because he wasn't good enough.

• thank goodness Atsumu, being the better and smarter twin™, called his brother out on his bs. too bad Osamu was a stubborn bastard and took forever to realise he loved you too much to be taking some 'pause' from you.

• his blood ran cold and his heart dropped to his stomach, however, when you weren't answering any calls or texts for days. you always answered him after a day at most.

• gosh, he was so anxious something had happened to you that he cancelled everything to rush to your place.

• it turned out you were taking a a week off from the world after too much work and getting sick. all well and good but the boy almost stumbled to his knees from the relief.

• instead, being himself, he just went: "stupid. ya really have a talent for getting yourself into situations like these."

• but thankfully you knew what he meant and how to comfort him. obviously you both fessed up that despite the problems you didn't want to be apart from each other again.

• from that incident onwards you agreed to always openly talk about your feelings. even if it meant being a little selfish, you knew the other would always be there for you ♡︎

𑁍 jewellery box

— favourite memory with you:

after a loss at an important game, you were the one to cheer him up. it was mid-autumn so the nature was filled with colours. you invited him out to rake leaves and jump into the heaps. Osamu thought it was ridiculous at first but couldn't help but smile at your sweet attempts to help him. you weren't together yet back then but it was definitely the moment he realised he felt something stronger for you than friendship ♡︎

— favourite activity to do together:

cooking and taste-testing! it's just so domestic. he gets to cook and spend quality time with you—what could be better? also, image standing in front of a stove, just cooking, when he comes up to you from behind, quietly wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles your neck.

— favourite place to kiss you:

your forehead and neck. he jokes you're too short for him to reach your lips when he actually just loves the intimacy of it, same with your neck.

— favourite nicknames to call you by:

short-stack, plum, Ains. just your own nickname or something silly/teasing. he doesn't think having a nickname is that important.

— favourite thing about you:

how empathetic and understanding you are. many have gotten the wrong impression of him of being aloof before, so he loves you for caring to look further than meets the eye. not only with him but everyone else as well.

runner up: Kotarō Bokuto

this is my first time writing the extra additions so feedback is warmly welcome. remember to take care ♡︎

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Pluralistic: 29 Feb 2020 (EFF dream-job, Medicare For All Bond Villain, Bloomberg's Sackler connection, Tory housing crisis and more!)

Today's links

EFF is hiring a new tech projects director: It's a once-in-a-lifetime dream job.

Bond villain monologue, Medicare for All edition: "No, Mr Bond, I expect you to sign a binding arbitration waiver."

FUCK TRUMP AND HIS STUPID FUCKING WALL: A 26% alcohol habanero spirit from Empirical Spirits.

Mike Bloomberg helped the Sacklers launder their reputations: Just helping out the "Friends of Mike."

Bernie Sanders is the only candidate with a climate plan as big as the climate crisis: No one ever asked how we'd pay for WWII.

Cutting the UK housing subsidy led to massive homelessness payouts: Tories are always swallowing spiders to catch their flies.

This day in history: 2012, 2016 (leap years!)

Colophon: Recent publications, current writing projects, upcoming appearances, current reading

EFF is hiring a new tech projects director (permalink)

There are lots of ways techies can help EFF – contributing code to our projects like Certbot, Privacy Badger and HTTPS Everywhere and/or joining up and writing a check. But right now, there's a rare chance to work directly to make profound change with us.

That's because EFF is hiring a Tech Projects Director.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/02/eff-seeks-tech-projects-director-lead-awesome-technical-team-and-help-us-save

It's a huge gig, the kind of thing that only comes up once in a very long while. You don't just get to oversee the impressive roster of EFF projects, you also get to set future priorities.

"Some people join EFF having been burned by unfeeling tech companies or corporate law jobs, and coming to EFF can feel like coming home – a place where everyone genuinely wants you to be successful, where we do our best to leave drama at the door even as passion is welcomed."

I've been with the org for EIGHTEEN YEARS and this is so, so true.

Even if you're not right for this gig, keep checking in with our help wanted page.

https://www.eff.org/about/opportunities/jobs

We're growing fast, first because the world is severely messed up, and second because our member-donors recognize how well situated we are to make a difference and they're funding us to expand.

Bond villain monologue, Medicare for All edition (permalink)

We're all familiar with the Bond villain setup: "Mr. Bond, I see you've ingested my poison."

But what follows in Matt Haughey's "Monologuing" is a fabulous satirical take on the Medicare For All moment.

https://a.wholelottanothing.org/2020/02/28/monologuing/

"No, Mr Bond, I expect you to…"

Locate in-network doctors on our website

Cross-reference with the benefits PDF you were sent last month

Create a login

Verify your last three home addresses

(before the poison hits)

Call your doctor and agree to see a physician's assistant so you can get treatment in less than 3 week

Agree to a $100 urgent-care co-pay

Pay $1200 for the ambulance to the ER

"Do you expect me to talk?"

"No, I expect you to continue to wait on hold because your call is very important to us and may be monitored for quality assurance purposes."

FUCK TRUMP AND HIS STUPID FUCKING WALL (permalink)

"FUCK TRUMP AND HIS STUPID FUCKING WALL" is "a habanero spirit made from a base of pearled barley, Belgian saison yeast, and koji. The clear product is rectified with a habanero vinegar that gives it a 27% ABV. This imparts an intensely fruity habanero profile without any of the heat."

It actually sounds delicious.

https://us.empiricalspirits.co/products/fuck-trump-and-his-stupid-fucking-wall

It's $85 plus $35 S+H in the USA for 750ml.

Serving suggestion: "With red grapefruit juice, topped with sparkling water and cornichon as garnish"

I'm a little bummed that they take out the capsaicin, as I love spicy booze.

My current favorite is a spicy, sugar-free Old Fashioned:

2 shakes Hellfire bitters 2 shakes Angostura bitters 1 jigger decent bourbon Orange zest (wipe over rim, squeeze into glass, then drop in the drink) Serve over a whiskey rock in a lowball glass

Mike Bloomberg helped the Sacklers launder their reputations (permalink)

The Sackler family became some of the world's richest billionaires through the actions of the family business, Purdue Pharma, which committed a string of felonies as it conspired to addict the world to its killer opioid, Oxycontin. The company's bribery of doctors, scientific frauds, and corruption of its regulators allowed it to kickstart the opioid epidemic, which has so far claimed 200,000 US lives, more than were lost in Vietnam.

And yet, until very recently, the Sackler family was primarily known for its art philanthropy, firehosing its money and name over some of the world's most prominent art institutions. As the family's role in corporate mass murder came to light, artists demanded that institutions remove the Sackler name. It worked! Nan Goldin's stunt of showering the Guggenheim with Sackler opioid prescriptions was just one of many amazing actions.

https://www.newyorker.com/news/our-columnists/nan-goldin-leads-a-protest-at-the-guggenheim-against-the-sackler-family

The Louvre also removed every mention of the Sacklers from its spaces.

https://www.france24.com/en/20190721-sackler-name-removed-louvre-opioid-crisis-france?ref=tw_i

But you know who DIDN'T ditch the Sacklers as they were becoming social pariahs? Guess who expressed rock solid billionaire class solidarity with the poor, beleaguered plutes when their reputation laundry failed them?

Mike Bloomberg, of course!

As @propublica reports, when the Sacklers worried about their collapsing reputations, they knew who to turn to: the ex-mayor whose return to his news organization meant that reporters who chased billionaires were sidelined.

https://www.propublica.org/article/bloomberg-sacklers-opioid-crisis-public-relations

While Bloomberg had been mayor, his newsroom created a "billionaires team" that investigated the doings of the super-rich, including the "Friends of Mike" (FOMs) whom everyone understood to be untouchable under Bloomberg's management.

Upon his return, he heaped scorn upon these investigative reporters: "Why is that news? Why do we have to probe into that stuff?" Mike's return to the newsroom created "a culture of not wanting to upset billionaires."

So naturally the Sacklers turned to him! And Bloomberg obliged. After meeting with Mortimer Sackler, Bloomberg gave the Sacklers crisis communications advice and helped them his old mayoral press secretary, Stu Loeser. According to Bloomberg, Loeser was perfect because of his new communications company's "political instincts and deep connections."

Loeser went on to work with the Sacklers as they pushed out the story that opioid addiction was the fault of weak-willed criminal addicts, not corporate drug-pushers.

Loeser now works as a Bloomberg presidential campaign spokesman.

With Bloomberg's help, the Sacklers were able to continue to leverage their philanthropic donations to shore up their reputations, particularly by embarking on joint projects with Bloomberg Philanthropies. Bloomberg posed with Sackler heiresses at the opening of the Sackler Wing of London's Serpentine Gallery (which eventually took the Sackler name off the building), and then served as chair of the Serpentine Sackler Galleries.

His news organization ran multiple, glowing stories about the Sacklers' generosity, and continued to work closely with the Sackler families, even as they were committing a string of crimes.

For example, money laundry to the tune of billions.

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-purduepharma-bankruptcy/sacklers-reaped-up-to-13-billion-from-oxycontin-maker-u-s-states-say-idUSKBN1WJ19V

Fraudulent misrepresentations of the company's role in the opioid epidemic.

https://www.propublica.org/article/data-touted-by-oxycontin-maker-to-fight-lawsuits-doesnt-tell-the-whole-story#167506

And giving some of the weirdest, most risible, most terrible testimony in the history of corporate criminal depositions.

https://arstechnica.com/science/2019/02/sackler-behind-oxycontin-fraud-offered-twisted-mind-boggling-defense/

Just more Friends of Mike!

Bernie Sanders is the only candidate with a climate plan as big as the climate crisis (permalink)

The climate crisis is an existential threat to our species (and many other species besides). It turns out that Keynes was more prescient that we knew. He proposed that you could start an economy by paying half the unemployed to dig holes and the other half to fill them in. Instead, we spent more than a century subsidizing our ancestors to dig up fossil fuels and now we'll have to pay our descendants to spend 200-300 years getting all that carbon back into the ground.

If we don't, our civilization will collapse and our species may go extinct. There's no time for half-measures. That's why Bernie Sanders's version of the Green New Deal is such a big deal.

https://www.technologyreview.com/s/615292/bernie-sanders-has-an-audaciousand-hugely-expensiveclimate-plan/

He's the only leadership candidate whose plan actually confronts the scale of the crisis.

The $16T (yes, TRILLION) plan includes $2.5T to convert all US energy to renewables, "ending subsidies, mountaintop-removal coal mining, and the import and export of fossil fuels."

He'll also ask the DoJ to investigate criminal frauds committed by energy sector companies that spent millions to delay action on climate by pumping out disinformation along with their CO2.

The budget also includes $2T for a retrofit of our homes and workplaces, $1T to retrofit roads and other infrastructure.

There's $3.6T to convert the US's vehicles to electric, $85B for charging stations and $100B to improve electric car manufacture.

There's $900B for mass transit and high-speed rail, and $150B to improve emissions from aviation and marine transport.

In all, the plan creates "20 million jobs, while offering wage guarantees, job training, and other assistance to displaced energy workers."

As James Temple writes in MIT Tech Review, there are some odd quirks, like a rejection of carbon capture, but these are issues in the margin that administrative agencies staffed by independent experts (not corporate shills) might tweak.

But this is the plan we need. Remember, no one ever asked how we'd pay for WWII, and a Nazi victory would have merely put half the human race in mortal peril, while the climate crisis threatens us all, and without the hope of regime change down the road.

The purpose of the economy, the justification for markets, is that they promote human prosperity and progress. Scratching in flooded rubble for canned goods and drinking your own urine is not "progress." If our spreadsheets can't figure out how to allocate capital to heading off an extinction-level event, we need new spreadsheets. As our friends at Prager "University" like to remind us, "facts don't care about your feelings."

Cutting the UK housing subsidy led to massive homelessness payouts (permalink)

Margaret Thatcher sold off council houses to create more Tories, on the theory that home ownership made you a Conservative. But the end of council estates just meant that private landlords were able to gouge local governments for substandard housing for poor people. Predictably, this only worsened, with rents spiraling for poorly maintained, dangerous housing. Eventually, David Cameron got a genius idea: he'd cut how much money families could spend on private rent.

After all, this was much more politically feasible than ordering landlords to provide decent housing at a fair price. Landlords make campaign contributions and vote Tory, and a majority of Tory MPs are landlords themselves.

https://www.thelondoneconomic.com/news/corbyn-tried-pass-law-make-homes-safe-last-year-conservatives-rejected/14/06/

By contrast, council tenants vote Labour and are (by definition) too poor to bribe politicians. Just as with Thatcher's selloff, the outcome of Cameron's policy was totally predictable to anyone whose wealth didn't depend on their denying it.

People couldn't pay their rent, so they became homeless.

You know what's more expensive than paying rent for poor people? Helping homeless people. The savings from Cameron's cruel policy of limiting rent subsidies were totally wiped out by the millions more that local governments had to pay to find temporary shelter for the wave of homelessness Cameron had created.

That's not all, of course. Voter turnout among affected households plummeted, and when they did vote, it was in the Brexit referendum, where the housing benefit cuts strongly correlated with a Leave vote: "We also observe that a one standard deviation increase in the level of exposure to the cut in a district is associated with up to a 2.2 percentage point greater level of support for 'Leave'."

https://voxeu.org/article/housing-insecurity-homelessness-and-populism

The inability of the British private sector to build affordable housing and the unwillingness of the public sector to fill in the gap has produced a ghastly quality of life. In Camden, £1500/month gets you a 27sqm "flat" whose bed is literally a mattress wedged next to the toilet.

https://www.cnn.com/2020/02/29/uk/london-renting-compared-berlin-gbr-grm-intl/index.html

And yet, Greater London has never had a better ratio of bedrooms to people. It's just that HALF the beds in the region are empty on any given night. But with 60% of the UK national wealth represented by property in the southeast, the last thing the Tories want to do is fix this misallocation, which has been such a boon to the ownership class.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/feb/14/great-housing-disaster-danny-dorling-review

This day in history (permalink)

#8yrsago In Minecraft, a fountain of cats at the top of the world https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=iNw2YcAK9Wc#!

#8yrsago Smithsonian building archive of printable 3D scans https://www.cnet.com/news/smithsonian-turns-to-3d-to-bring-collection-to-the-world/

#8yrsago Finance industry bemoans hard times in an era of reduced bonuses https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2012-02-29/wall-street-bonus-withdrawal-means-trading-aspen-for-cheap-chex

#4yrsago Crapgadget apocalypse: the IoT devices that punch through your firewall and expose your network https://krebsonsecurity.com/2016/02/this-is-why-people-fear-the-internet-of-things/

#4yrsago Press looks the other way as thousands march for Sanders in 45+ cities https://web.archive.org/web/20160314104804/http://usuncut.com/politics/media-blackout-as-thousands-of-bernie-supporters-march-in-45-cities/

#4yrsago FBI claims it has no records of its decision to delete its recommendation to encrypt your phone https://www.techdirt.com/articles/20160226/14181133727/fbi-claims-it-has-no-record-why-it-deleted-recommendation-to-encrypt-phones.shtml

Colophon (permalink)

Today's top sources: Alice Taylor (https://twitter.com/wonderlandblog), Naked Capitalism (https://nakedcapitalism.com/) and Slashdot (https://slashdot.org/.

Hugo nominators! My story "Unauthorized Bread" is eligible in the Novella category and you can read it free on Ars Technica: https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

Upcoming appearances:

Canada Reads Kelowna: March 5, 6PM, Kelowna Library, 1380 Ellis Street, with CBC's Sarah Penton https://www.eventbrite.ca/e/cbc-radio-presents-in-conversation-with-cory-doctorow-tickets-96154415445

Currently writing: I just finished a short story, "The Canadian Miracle," for MIT Tech Review. It's a story set in the world of my next novel, "The Lost Cause," a post-GND novel about truth and reconciliation. I'm getting geared up to start work on the novel now, though the timing is going to depend on another pending commission (I've been solicited by an NGO) to write a short story set in the world's prehistory.

Currently reading: Just started Lauren Beukes's forthcoming Afterland: it's Y the Last Man plus plus, and two chapters in, it's amazeballs. Last month, I finished Andrea Bernstein's "American Oligarchs"; it's a magnificent history of the Kushner and Trump families, showing how they cheated, stole and lied their way into power. I'm getting really into Anna Weiner's memoir about tech, "Uncanny Valley." I just loaded Matt Stoller's "Goliath" onto my underwater MP3 player and I'm listening to it as I swim laps.

Latest podcast: Gopher: When Adversarial Interoperability Burrowed Under the Gatekeepers' Fortresses: https://craphound.com/podcast/2020/02/24/gopher-when-adversarial-interoperability-burrowed-under-the-gatekeepers-fortresses/

Upcoming books: "Poesy the Monster Slayer" (Jul 2020), a picture book about monsters, bedtime, gender, and kicking ass. Pre-order here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627?utm_source=socialmedia&utm_medium=socialpost&utm_term=na-poesycorypreorder&utm_content=na-preorder-buynow&utm_campaign=9781626723627

(we're having a launch for it in Burbank on July 11 at Dark Delicacies and you can get me AND Poesy to sign it and Dark Del will ship it to the monster kids in your life in time for the release date).

"Attack Surface": The third Little Brother book, Oct 20, 2020.

"Little Brother/Homeland": A reissue omnibus edition with a very special, s00per s33kr1t intro.

[shan-joed-blog]

Wisdom from Years of Android Development

Source of Information: Android Classes In Pune

I still keep in mind that day back in 2014 once I chose to begin Android growth, and this was among the greatest decisions I required in my entire life. It's been approximately two and a half a year today and that I had the opportunity to understand and un-learn a good deal of items in Android.

Originally when I began, I did not have a mentor or someone who could direct me to do things the ideal way.  I have done a LOT of errors and wasted a great deal of time later rectifying them.

Afterwards, after one and a half a year, I have the opportunity to use some really gifted and expert Android programmers, who advised me and allow me to shape matters in a far greater manner.  Both these stages helped me find out a hell lot of stuff in the tricky way.  

It's been quite a while I have been attempting to assist other programmers in a sense possible for me personally, indirectly and directly.  

In the following guide, I'll be sharing a few of the gems I have gathered lately.  It may help a person to get started quicker rather than repeat the mistakes which I did.

Disclaimer: I could largely be focussing on Android plus a few notions of product and programming development within the following guide, so if you aren't acquainted with some of them, you may rather not read any farther.  Others, just dip.  :--RRB-

Do not Reinvent the Wheel

Originally I had a lousy notion of not utilizing open-source libraries. Whatever I wanted, I only wanted to make it .  It has was severely a terrible thought.

When you've got a problem whilst creating your program, and if this problem was solved by another person earlier and in a fantastic way, why don't you use this? You may save yourself a good deal of time.

Focus on the core business logic of your program.  If you wish to create network calls on your program, you do not have to earn a Retrofit yourself.

Bonus: Android Arsenal keeps a record of nearly all of Android libraries made. Go take a look.

Pick Libraries Wisely

You will find lots and a lot of open-source libraries out there in Github that you use at no cost.  But do not get too excited and begin using libraries .

Assess the amount of celebrities that library gets, the greater the better. Assess whether the writer of the library also have established some other popular libraries too.  Verify the topics (both closed and open ), which may provide you a clearer idea of how powerful and secure the library is in creation.

If you're able to spend the time, then you ought to dip into the code of the library and assess yourself whether its really worthwhile.

You only wish to make certain that the code you're likely to use is dependable, bug-free and high quality.

Pro Suggestion: Try any library hosted straight from the command line with Dryrun.

If you aren't doing this, START today.

Whatever code you're in a position to write now is simply because you've read and heard something, somewhere, someday.  It is only a manifestation of what you know.  You may just grow and improve your self by studying and learning from other's work.

The fantastic thing about Android is the fact that it's an entirely open-source platform.  Dive in the code and assess how they've implemented the frame.  There are hundreds and hundreds of open minded libraries in Github.  Simply select a library and find out the way the programmer have employed it.

Bonus: here's a curated collection of a few of the greatest libraries and here's a list of nearly all accessible Android programs out there.  You're welcome:--RRB-

Should you compare coding together with composing, then coding criteria is similar to your own handwriting.

Since you'd be studying more of the others code, other folks are also studying a great deal of your code and you do not wish to frighten the shit from these, do you really?  And if you're working within a business and cooperating with other programmers greatly, do take particular care of it.

Write brief, readable and clean code which you and people reading your code will like thoroughly.  Your code should read as a narrative.

Do not complain if you compose a bit of code along with your coworkers do not speak to you for a couple of days.

You Want ProGuard, YesYou Want It!

ProGuard not just minifies your code, but it also obfuscates your code which makes it tougher for reverse-engineers to comprehend, replicate and control it.

Its free and comes bundled with all the Android SDK, and there's simply no reason for you to not use it.

I've observed many developers releasing their program in the marketplace with no ProGuard.  It shouldn't require more than a couple of hours to get a not-so-skilled hacker to control an the program published without Proguard.

Pro Suggestion: But if you'd like top-notch protection, then ProGuard is just like a cardboard at the same time you want a secure, and here it's, DexGuard.

Use a Suitable Architecture

You may thank yourself for choosing a suitable structure in the first location.

It's possible to utilize MVP (Model-View-Presenter) structure that may decouple your code to various easy-to-manage layers thereby enhancing code flexibility and significantly reducing maintenance period.

There's a good demo job for you to begin.  And if you're having trouble grasping it, here's a thorough guide for the novices.

Bonus: Do provide a check out this, this and most significantly this.  Every one these can help you in executing MVP on your undertaking.   User Interface Is just like a Joke, Should You Need to Explain It, It Is Bad

Should you work for any company playing the use of"only" a Android programmer, you likely won't have to be overly concerned about that, since there really are UI/UX designers to look after this.

However, if you're a single programmer, you have to get this directly in your mind.  I've seen programmers creating really great programs with good performance, however, the UI looks horrible along with the UX makes it a hassle to use.

Layout a clean, easy and gorgeous interface that's easy on the eyes.  You shouldn't just think as a programmer, instead you need to focus on igniting the concealed designer in you.

Attempt to make a lasting impression in your customers by designing a gorgeous UI, so they return to your program more frequently than others and often convert more (purchase your premium variant ( possibly ).

You ought to find a kick by eliminating elements from your own design, instead of adding.  Keep it minimal and clean.

And there's this book you probably would really like to see if you want to know more about design.

Analytics Is Your Very Best Friend

If you would like to produce a really amazing program, then you have to heavily rely on analytics programs to assess the operation and utilization of different sections of your program.

By analytics, I refer to both the collision reporting and program usage monitoring and you want both of these.

Anything you do, you can't ever make something ideal.  When actual users will begin using your program on various Android apparatus and on different Android variants available, you may also find a few of the greatest written code to drop flat on the floor.

Crash reporting programs can allow you to monitor and fix themone crash at one time.

You also will need to begin thinking like a marketer and also examine the use of various elements of your program.  This is what's going to allow you to bridge the gap between what you've created and what your customers' actually desire.

Pro Suggestion: I strongly suggest looking for the crash reporting tool in Instabug.  You're going to appreciate it.

Make a Marketing Ninja If you're a single programmer, you need to consider beyond being"a programmer" and need to understand marketing too.

I've observed great products fail because of lack of suitable marketing, and also the not-so-good ones become hugely successful only because of fantastic advertising.

If you're seriously interested in your work and need it to reach a huge audience, you want to spend your time and cash in properly advertising your program. But prior to beginning your marketing and advertising campaigns, make certain your program is totally stable with all attributes prepared.  You need maximum conversions out of each penny you pay, right?

Spend some time exploring who your opponents are and how you can overcome them. Identify the ones you're able to compete quickly as well as also the ones which you need to keep aside for a long term struggle.

Pro Suggestion: This is an inexpensive market evaluation instrument, I really like to use.

It Is Time to Boost Your Program

This is something which the majority of us don't do, however, you need to and you want to.

Write code which runs fast, takes less memory and absorbs less apparatus storage.

An unoptimized program works well under ordinary conditions, but when placed to various stressful circumstances, it may show you its true colours.

Bear in mind, a very small leak can sink a large ship.  Spend some time on knowing how the Garbage Collector works in Java, produce heap dumps and examine your live items.

Pro Suggestion: Use Leak Canary to discover your memory flows.  It can save a great deal of time by accomplishing this job for you.

Save Over 5 Hours Each Week with Gradle Builds

It is very very possible that you're utilizing Android Studio to create Android programs and utilizing Gradle as your own build platform.  Gradle is excellent but its slow and it becomes much thinner than a snail as soon as your job size begins to increase in proportion.

I recall the countless hours I've wasted just sitting and awaiting the Gradle assembles to complete.  On hefty workouts, I wasted around one hour just Gradle assembles and that is like 5 hours each week draining the gutter.

However, there are ways to speed this up too.

It is possible to stick to this and this article to greatly enhance your construct rates.  My construct time fell from 4 minutes to less than 30 minutes following appropriate optimization.

Evaluation, Evaluation and When You're Finished, Test Again!

There isn't anything more significant than testing.  This is something which needs to be on very top of your list.

Test your program as completely as you can.   Create various stressful scenarios for your program and see whether it can endure.

I'd formerly made the mistake of publishing my program from rush and did not spend appropriate time analyzing it.  I had been waiting for my customers to confront bugs, report it and then I'd go and mend them.

You may spare a day, or 2, or per week by cutting time from studying, but will most likely have to spend over double afterwards.

Make a visionary.  Sow today, reap afterwards.

There are a massive assortment of all Android devices with different display sizes and hardware specifications from plenty of different apparatus manufactures that personalize the OS for their heart's content.

Added to this are the a variety of Android variants at which Google adds/removes API performance from nowhere to raise your workload further (an example here).

By way of instance, not just one Android programmer has completed a program without using SharedPreferences API.  It is so common, however it had been broken up in Samsung Galaxy S using Android 2.2 (bug report ).

Spend additional time creating different designs for different screen dimensions.  Evaluation on various apparatus, having different variations, different specifications and from various OEMs.

Never presume something could work, simply as it appears so.

Start with Git, Now!

If you're still not utilizing Git, go right ahead and begin using it straight away.

Once I began Android advancement, I was unlucky enough to not understand exactly what the fudge Git was.  I used to replicate my whole project regular and keep 1 backup in my hard disk and another from the cloud.  Seems foolish?  Yes, it was.

Git can radically enhance your workflow.  If a person asks me to mention a tool I use everyday and can not quit using? It is Git and Git each time.

And likely after using it for a couple of days you'd fall in love with it and wish to understand how Git works tirelessly, so here it's prepared for you.

And after some time, you'd be starting a large project your self and get confused about how you should keep a suitable branching model, so that you go.

Bonus: If you're only starting out and can not manage to pay the monthly subscription fee for keeping private repositories from GitHub, it is possible to attempt BitBucket which permits you to do this free of charge.

Make It Hard for the Hackers

The open minded nature of Android is exactly what makes it susceptible to attacks.

You do not need it to happen for your program, right?

You ought to be aware of how to safely store API keys everywhere on your program. If you're managing sensitive information from those consumers, then you have to understand how to encrypt themwhat algorithm to select (secure yet quickly ).

It's also advisable to keep the encryption keys safely in the host or locally (if desired ).   If you're storing sensitive information in the database, then think about obfuscating it.

If your program includes a premium version that gets cracked and has published at no cost.  You'd incur a critical reduction in company, right?

There are many things you can do to stop your program from becoming tampered. There's not anything like 100% safety. Any proficient and recognized hacker with the proper tools, patience and tools may crack your program.

Whatever you need to do is make it hard, rather very tricky for the hacker to decode it.

A luxury apparatus will hide a great deal of flaws while creating your program. Suppose you're doing something from the UI thread that makes its way to get a laggy UI, however onto a potent device, you might never ever observe that.

A classic, low-end apparatus, dumped with a lot of programs makes it perfect for a development apparatus.  

That is an investment which will pay you eternally.

Whilst creating large and intricate programs, you may face some common issues that have probably been solved before by somebody more capable than you, that is when designing patterns comes in to play.

Here's a Github job that shows all of the design patterns known to humanity.

Looks like a great deal?  It really is not.  You'll begin enjoying them after you dip in.

It Is Time to Give Back

Most of us have a great deal of assistance from folks around us and by the net. Lets declare it.  When you have a issue, the very first thing you'd do is Google that and find the very first link from StackOverflow.  Sometimes you're in a rush and you wind up copying and pasting the alternative in the response with the greatest votes.

Ever believed the amount of libraries you're using from Github free of charge and the way in which they have significantly reduced your development efforts and time.  Its because somebody somewhere has taken the opportunity to construct it and donate to make the community better.

Recall the day, if you had been stuck in knowing a challenging idea or something that's completely new to you, and you wind up finding an wonderful blog post that made it super simple for you.  Its because someone skipped a film date and wrote this post.

We're active in our work and also we find it too hard to handle time and do something for others.  But try to get some time each week to donate and make this particular Android community wealthier.

I've attempted to discuss a few of the lessons I have discovered in this brief journey with Android improvement.  I'll continue my trip, find out more and share more.  I hope it will help somebody and makes their life somewhat simpler.

Android Course In Pune | Android Training In Pune | Learn Android Development In Pune

[artdjgblog]

Innerview: Ercan Ucer / Grafik Tasarim (Turkey) October 2008 Image: Giphy Note: Take #2 of a design magazine interview.

​0​1) How do you name yourself other than being a versatile designer? In the past year and a half I’ve come to realize that I’m not really a graphic designer. It’s definitely in there and will always be because design is a poison, like any vocation or skill can be. But, I’ve always approached the way I work as an artist first, and I don’t fancy myself an artist either. I am what I am, though I can’t always be so selfish. Am I an illustrator? I guess there is a collision of the three. Add this to a love for getting my hands dirty, plus a celebration of youth and American pop-culture mixed with Eastern European and post-WWII American Design – B.C. (Before Computer) and the product is me? “Versatile” is too defining of a word for me and way too classy. I simply like to say I make things. Each day is new and I haven’t a clue what I’m going to do. ​0​2) What is the relationship between marketing and your designing process at different areas? (poster, packaging, logo…etc) A design is a marketing tool, no doubt. I haven’t really worked on a large scale setting with this, but I have in terms of marketing on a small scale for rock concerts and prospective CD buyers. Though, a designer plays eye-grabber, a designer is not really a marketer, but I guess it helps to attract attention or sell something. I had friends in college who studied marketing as well as design and they’d probably be more equipped to answering this question. It’s an area I’m not familiar with other than thinking of ways to attract people to get excited for a musical group, a sound, feeling or expression by way of putting a stamp on a poster, CD or logo design. It is a marketing tool especially when working with a client. It certainly is not only what the artist-designer can bring to the “product” (Though, I do think this can apply at a certain larger level with selling something), you’re also working for somebody and trying to sell an image or an item. In the case of a show poster, you’re selling a concert venue or the place the poster is hanging or even the music scene and the city and environment. I think this can be a tricky walk. I’ve been fortunate to have some small success with great clients and great projects to where things work out well. I guess it helps that independent music graphics kind of start out in left field to begin with, to where they are approached more like an art project than a product? Though, I don’t think that the work should not limit itself to a certain kind of audience. I think it’s great when the work speaks to anybody. There are times though where things don’t mix well, whether under the weather by design, client-wise or consumer. It’s just part of the deal. The work isn’t always going to be a homerun. Another deal is the way people interact with communication in marketing. Today I find that technology has a lot to do with people getting information for a rock concert via social networking sites, musician, ticket and concert venue sites. I don’t think that something like the poster will ever be dead, but technology can almost make a poster feel second-rate, a collector’s keep-sake and more for show than for the actual show. Logos are very interesting when it comes to marketing for bands because they are generally slapped onto many-many products. I’ve worked with a lot of music-related designs, but I’ve also made logos varying from a lawyer to an internet-computer company to a church before. So, these different applications encourage me to find new ways to talk to other audiences who come searching for something that isn’t entertainment, but I approach these designs with the same techniques and tools I use with the music graphics. I try to give something unique, and of a new take, to get a double-take. ​0​3) Can you tell us about your working environment and your different feelings or extraordinary events that inspires you? Ever since I was a child growing up on a farm, my working environment has been outside and especially in my bedroom. Working environments also extended to anyplace I had my eyes open. I certainly believe in a home base or comfort zone of operations, but a lot of my more thorough processing happens while out and about and then I bring it back home with me to make. Currently I work out of a basement in my home. I’ve constructed a work space out of wood found in the street. I call it my “club house”. I love it down there despite my continual problem with having a work space that barely has room for me to work in! I collect and store a lot of things around me and still have a lot of my childhood things around me, along with piles and piles of supplies, research and things I’ve found or see the potential in for a future use. I have a mind-set that if I can’t use it today, I can easily use it in 50 years. I’m a major fan of extraordinary events and tend to find humorous and peculiar ones to be more my taste, and more-so in retrospect of the event. I feel to be blessed with a certain quality that attracts odd circumstances, or maybe it’s all in my head? Extraordinary has its own brand of “something”, but more often I find inspiration in places, events and things that are fairly run-of-the-mill and everyday ordinary for anyone, which can give them an added cushion of “extra” for me. On my website I’ve made a list of my history, the things that have been the everyday ordinary for me, but might seem very out of ordinary to others. It all depends on perspective and where you’ve been. ​0​4) When did you discover the impulse that led you being a designer? This impulse to leave behind a paper trail of some sort on my impression has always been kicking around in me. I didn’t fully know it at the time, but I believe it started when I was young as I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t doing or making something. It’s a large part of my make-up. Much of it has to do with my farming background and watching my Dad and his Dad and others always doing or working on something whether it was building fences, planting crops or tending animals. I also owe a lot to my Grandma, for her hands-on making skills and to my parents for allowing me to grow-up fully plugged into the American pop-culture of books, toys, music, movies, video games and sports. Now, I just feed off of my former self and continue to feed for the future. It’s not work to me when it truly works and I enjoy myself. ​0​5)  Is looking at life always from a different angel, the designer’s necessarily ego? Most any area of most any job, skill, talent, business doesn’t come without some ego hurdling. The ego is amped further within the arts. Inflated achievement comes with ease when your voice gets a little loud in a “scene” or beyond. I’d like to think I’m fairly grounded, but it’s hard not to feel the eggs weight the other side when I’m told I could be sitting on a couple of golden ones. Working a day job can help matters, but it can also be a nightmare with time management. I have to just tell myself that I am a man and a man who happens to make things. Still, that can be hard. It doesn’t mean that I’m better than somebody or am a “somebody” because I’ve found a certain something within me. I just enjoy my life and feel very fortunate to even know what I want to do with it. I think one needs healthy doses of reality and a whole heap of humor to make it too. Besides, I have no answers. If you know somebody with it all figured out, have them call me! What helps me is to find comfort and ease is venturing back into my child manner. I’m much more content and find peace when I’m either looking at the world through a certain lense that I might qualify for, or just making and enjoying the act of celebration in creativity. The moment I start to think too much about it all or answer questions, that is when it can get a little dangerous in the head. I’d like to think gaining wisdom through age and maturity helps. I know that my energy and will-power have died some, and of late I’m leaning on this as a benefit. I think I say and do some dumb stuff today, though I’m positive it’s a little less than yesterday! ​0​6) Can you inform us about graphic design’ s one of the important field, package design and your sketches? / Tell me about the sketching and process of packaging. There is a certain amount of image longevity that becomes attached to packaging. I’m not experienced in much more than musical CD packaging, but I think a long life span especially applies to this in the iconic halls of pop-culture, even on small levels. Though, that’s not the reason to put into making something and/or package something but if you can add some meaty eye candy, then so be it. I love poster design because there are endless possibilities to exhaust, many ways to work reach-and-grab-of-the-moment and intuitive, and if something doesn’t work all-around, it’s throw-away and will die soon like house flies. CDs are so different, at least for me, and they can be quite intimidating and intoxicating. Sometimes another designer’s great CD package makes me not wish to do another one, and in a good way! With my own process, I do a little bit of sketching, but more-so the process and evolution of the CD package is the sketching for me. If I’m rewarded with an ample amount of time to work on a CD I usually make it happen in three different sessions, or what I call “incubation stages”. This allows me time to sit on ideas and to come back to them with fresh perspective and clear head, to play or spin off ideas and avenues. When figuring out an image or “look” for an album, I like to at least digest the music or get a track listing. With the way in which I work, I tend to feed off of my day-to-day (sometimes minute-to-minute) emotional handy work. It can be a little strange though as I can easily obsess over wondering the what-might-have-been with something like a CD package or anything. I think that a CD package for me can be extremely different given what day I’m at. I do believe my best packages have come down on me at the last minute, intuitively and usually on the lowest of budgets. And I mean cheap, major cheap. 0​7) What are the benefits of making global designs for the designer? I love a body of work, one that breathes and not only serves as a timeline for the maker, but also for views and observations on life itself. Ideas that can extend globally even, throughout time. I think that a great body of work can extend to anybody, anywhere in the world. And even if it is for some other body like a client, it is always from its original body of the creator. Anything that goes global is still connected to that first breath of singular life. Due to technology, it’s so much easier today to go “global” with designs, even if one does operate on a small scale. I think it’s great to put the work out there, to share, even if it’s not marking up or wrapping up a popular product. In today’s fast-paced world of millions and billions of images and things flashing, it really does mean a lot that my meager things have made it in some strange little way. Even, if it’s just a grin or a double-take by someone looking at a little poster on a wall or in a magazine or a global internet billboard or world-wide magazine and book distribution. Though, a part of me still likes to keep some things to myself. And I’m odd because I personally don’t like to attract attention to myself with graphics on the shirts I wear or product logos on bags and things. ​0​8) Can you explain the relationship between marketing and designing? I’m not sure if I was successful, but I tried to answer some of this in question 2. With this one I’ll try to wrap it into the way that I work, to where my designs act as marketing tools for me, as well as the product they are pushing. Until recently I’ve never had to market myself in conventional practice. For the first six years my work itself was the marketing. Everything from a poster to a package and a logo has been on the same level with causing a “Trickle Down / Word of Mouth” marketing effect. And I’ve been fortunate to keep fairly close relationships with my clients due to a small industry I work in. These clients have brought other clients. For my first two years I was living and working with several bands in a house. I didn’t have to leave and would get new work constantly. At times I’d just make things before I was even asked. Some of the best marketing can come in poster making and that is how I started to gather some attention. Posters have a short shelf life in comparison to packaging and logos, so there is always a new one to tack up. And if a poster doesn’t succeed, then it’s easy to just make another one. It’s just a poster and practice is good. After a while people start getting curious and come looking for you. ​0​9) Does any of your designs have an unforgettable story? The “Whatever Makes You Happy” CD package design I made in my basement in June of 2002 for the band Elevator Division, is one of my most memorable moments. It was a special run of 250 handmade CD packages and my idea came at the last minute. I made an image of a hand shooting off its index finger like a missile that married the themes for the album perfectly, with reflections of war and failed relationships. It was the idea of shooting off one’s options and making decisions. It was fitting for the band-music but also for the national-world climate. Each one was hand-cut from cardboard and stencil sprayed and rubber stamped. Inserts were copied, cut, folded and glued. At the last mist of red spray paint, a crack of thunder shook the massive home’s foundation and I bolted from the basement and out the front door to a down pour of rain. I leapt off the front porch and slid head first down the front lawn embankment and into the street flowing like a river current. The drug dealing squatters of the home across the street were on their front step looking at the fire in my eyes and the red paint streaming from my ears, nose and mouth. It was a high much higher than that of chemical substance. -djg

[prorevenge]

8 years on it still feels gooooood

I started my current job about 8 years back. I had been made unemployed and at as rated volunteering at a small charity shop to keep myself busy, and to help out my friend who was a store assistant there at the time. I was working as an agency worker night shift out at a local milk/cheese factory to cover my bills, but I was there when I could be.

In a short space of time, I had the running of the shop down and was given a set of keys. Shortly after that, on the run up to Christmas, the manager quit and they offered me the job. I was surprised they didn't offer it to my friend, but I later found out that he had been turning up to some shifts high and had been placed on probation. He walked out when I told him they had given me the job.

So, I was the new manager, my official training was delayed as they just wanted me to keep things running until after the Christmas rush, so they sent me to a successful shop in the city to have a crash course. After christmas the shop had been moved into a different area grouping and I got a new Area Manager, who we will call AM.

Cue the start of 2 years of hell. My town is a fairly small, rural town in southern Scotland. It used to be an old market town so there's a lot of farming down here. AM was in charge of a great number of city shops and started demanding that we make as much income as those shops do. I was allowed no creative liberty until I 'proved' myself against AMs ever changing goalposts. One visit she would tell me to rearrange the whole shop, so we would. The next visit - sometimes in the same week - she'd complain that my layout was idiotic and I was an idiot for doing it that way. This went on for 6 months. I was expected to go to meetings in a town that -out of 26 shops - I was the only one that could not get there via public transport and she refused to pay for vehicle rental though I was not insured to use my car for work purposes. I still did it and claimed the mileage back, which instead of allowing me to place it against her Area Manager account - as was done for everyone else - it came out of my shop profits, being marked further against my profits. It was a 2hr drive to the meeting, and the local rental place didn't open until 8am, the meeting started at 9.30am. I was always a half hour late, and this was marked against me in my personal reviews. There were times that I was fasting as part of my beliefs and she mocked them at the meetings. My input was always ignored, the one time my shop actually got top shop for something, I didn't get a little prize when everyone else did. If it was someone's birthday, there was always cake and we'd have a little whip around - like £5 each - to buy them a gift, except me when mine came etc. It was horribly excluding.

While this was going on, she kept on sending me to her favourite shop in the city, to get 'training'. 'Training' seemed to consist of me doing their processing for them. Every day away from my shop was a day my shop suffered as she would not authorise the hiring of a new assistant, so it was being volunteer-run, and I didn't have many volunteers at that time, so nothing got done. I would return to piles of donations heaped on the floor and the rails half empty, end up staying late or sometimes overnight to get it back on track. When AM found out about this she insulted me further saying that it was my failure as a manager if I work an extra 8 hours and only manage to get the shop back on its feet. During this time we were actually making our targets more often than not, I should point out. The shop wasn't failing, but I was made to feel like it was. Certainly we were not doing as well as I knew we could be, but...well I'll get to that.

Every 6 months we had some kind of Personal Development Review, it's an opportunity for the manager to give some feedback on how they think they're doing and for the area manager to give some advice and set out a plan. My reviews consisted of "you're a terrible manager and you should quit, you will never succeed in this business". In my final review before I got transferred to another area she put away her notebook and told me that she had been trying to get me to quit so that she could get someone who was actually halfway useful in the job. It was horrible and humiliating. Once per year, if you got a good PDR, you would be eligible for a yearly bonus and small pay rise. I never got either, despite the shop being ahead on targets. My feedback to her was to please allow me to run the shop as if it was mine and not as if I was a glorified shop assistant, to let me make creative decisions about layout, rota, window displays, POS etc. I was always told that I hadn't shown that I was good enough to do that. She insisted the shop behave and earn like her city centre shops. We never would. I knew it, she knew it.

I couldn't leave the job for a variety of reasons. Full time reasonably paid employment isn't common to find down here, plus my dad had had a stroke and I didn't want to move away while he was still in rehabilitation, and my girlfriend was also down here working, so it is was fine. I'm also pretty good of not bringing work home with me so I still got to relax and enjoy my time not in the shop.

After 2 years, the shop is passed to a new area and a new area manager. AM literally wrote in her handover notes that I was a nightmare to work with and the shop will probably close in a year without significant Area Manager oversight. What she seemed to have forgotten was that the new Area Manager was actually the shop manager the charity had sent me to do the crash course training with. The manager there had been promoted to area and had essentially been given all the shops nobody wanted to work with as a 'new' area. She took one look at the shop, told me that it didn't look like I was enjoying myself. I very professionally told her what had been happening. She said "you know your town, you know your shop, you do you and we'll see what happens".

So I start to run the shop like it's my own, rather than AMs.

Profits rise week one, up 40%. Then 60%. At one point we were consistently 100% over target for 3 months. On every Regional call, AM had to hear about how amazing my shop was doing and how we were regularly the best shop in the Region, and on one week - in the nation (out of over 600 shops).

We kept this up for another 2 years, before our targets got a major readjustment. 4 years since then, we're still making targets, had a couple of record breaking weeks each year, two weeks back we actually made over 400% of what our old targets were.

And every year, at the regional conference, AM shoots me a dirty look and I just smile. She gave us up for dead, tried openly to make me quit, made my work life absolute hell for 2 years, and now I'm outperforming almost every shop in her area.

Bwahaha.

Thanks for reading.

(source) story by (/u/TheMightyCephas)

[morningfears]

Red

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18!

Summary: Period sex with Ash. Pretty straightforward. Obviously there’s blood so, keep that in mind.

Word Count: 2.4k

“Have I told you how good you look today?”

Ashton raises an eyebrow at your question as he closes the refrigerator door and turns to face you. He isn’t sure what’s brought on your sudden appreciation of his looks because he certainly doesn’t feel like he looks good. He’s been practicing in the basement for the better part of the day and he’s soaked with sweat. His face is tinted pink, no longer red from the exertion, and his chest is still heaving as he catches his breath. His hair is matted to his forehead, he’d left his shirt in a soaking heap in the laundry basket, and he needs a shower.

He feels like he looks the opposite of good but when he looks at you, he can tell you mean your compliment.

You’re sitting on the island, legs kicking softly as you stare at him. You don’t even register the fact that he’s looking at you, too busy staring at his sweat slick chest to notice his eyes on you. You have that look in your eyes, the one he only sees when you’re desperate for him, and it makes his lips quirk in a smirk as he realizes why you think he looks so good.

“No,” he hums as he closes the distance between the two of you and places his bottle of water on the counter beside you. “I don’t believe you have. Feel free to stroke my ego, doll.”

“You set me up for a really, really bad joke there but I’m not going to take the bait,” you hum as you still your legs and allow him to settle between your spread thighs.

“What, is it so hard for you to say that you want to stroke more than my ego?” Ashton questions with a grin as he places his hands on your thighs and gently rubs them.

You roll your eyes at his question as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. You can feel the heat rolling off his body and you suppress a shiver as you feel his sweat slick chest press against your front. “It is,” you nod as you wrap your legs around his waist, “but that’s not what I want to be hard.”

“I forget how fucking horny you get when you see me after I play,” he laughs as he moves his hands up to your hips. “Do I even need to ask if you want to shower with me or should I just go start the water?”

You pout at him as you brush your fingers over the tattoo on the back of his neck. You’re barely paying attention to his words, half tempted to just lean forward and mark his chest with hickeys, but you manage to regain some semblance of control as the throbbing pain in your lower abdomen reminds you of why you can’t have what you want. “I don’t know if I should be insulted that you think I’m that desperate for you or happy that you’re willing to drop practicing and fuck me,” you laugh as you meet his eyes once more. “But I’m gonna have to pass on the shower. I will blow you before your shower, though, if you want.”

Ashton’s brows furrow and his head tilts in confusion. It’s not like you to turn down a shower with him, especially when it’s after he’s spent his day working up a sweat playing the drums, and he’d gotten the distinct impression that you wanted him. “I mean, I’m never going to say no to you blowing me,” he assures you, “but what about you? You’re the one about to combust.”

“Fuck off, I’m not about to combust,” you laugh as you move one hand from his neck to slap his chest. “I’m on my period. I was already horny enough, thanks to mother nature, and then you come out of the basement looking like that? It’s completely not fair. I’ll take a shower after you and take care of myself.”

Ashton laughs at your short rant and shakes his head as he moves his hands from your hips to cup your cheeks. He pulls you in for a heated kiss, his lips warm against yours, in an effort to quiet you down and smiles in triumph as you blink up at him. “Do you want to take care of yourself or do you want me to take care of you?” he asks as he returns his hands to your thighs and begins brushing his fingers along your heated skin.

“I mean, obviously I’d prefer you to take care of me but I just told you, I'm on my period. So, I can blow you before or after your shower. It’s up to you. I’d prefer before but, I mean, as long as you let me, I’m down either way,” you inform him with a smile as you trail your hands down his chest to play with the band of his sweatpants.

Ashton rolls his eyes at your words and wraps his arms around your legs to pull you off the counter. He sets you onto your feet and places a hand on your shoulder to turn you around. Once your back is to him, he playfully swats your ass and says, “Shut up, doll. Go start the shower. I’ll be up in a second and I expect you to be in there when I get in.”

“But-“

“But nothing,” Ashton sighs as he nudges you forward. “It’s just a little blood. If you really don’t want to have sex right now, that’s fine. I will gladly take a blowjob before my shower. But if you’re just worried that I’m going to be freaked out by the sight of blood then stop worrying. I don’t care. We can fuck in the shower and there’s no cleanup. Plus, I hear orgasms help with cramps.”

Ashton is afraid that you’re going to be upset with him when you turn to face him and simply stare at him. However, he’s taken by surprise as you bound forward and wrap your arms around his neck. Your lips are on his, pulling him into an intense kiss, as his hands return to your hips. He allows you to lead the kiss as your tongue brushes along the seam of his lips. The two of you stand there for a long moment, wrapped up in one another, before he gently untangles himself from you and swats your ass once more. “Shower,” he laughs as you give in to your temptation and press a kiss to his chest, “I’ll be there in a second.”

Ashton watches as you bound up the stairs with a call of, “I love you,” over your shoulder. He laughs and shakes his head as he reaches for his bottle of water.

Upstairs, you’re simultaneously excited and anxious as you turn on the shower and wait for the water to warm up. You’ve never tried this before but, if you’re being honest, there were a lot of things you hadn’t tried before Ashton. He’d expanded your sexual horizons in more ways than one and it feels right to be trying this with him. He’s never judged you, nor has he made fun of you. He’s been encouraging and kind, loving and helpful, and that thought makes the nerves dissipate as you step beneath the warm water.

It takes a few moments for Ashton to enter the bathroom and you take the time to shower off. You know that he understands there will be blood but you’re still somewhat self-conscious as you watch the pink tinted water flow down the drain.

Ashton can see the hesitation on your face as he watches you from the door. He knows that you trust him, it’s just the social stigma that has been engrained in you for most of your life, and he wants to help you through it.

“I promise it doesn’t bother me, doll,”  he assures you as he plays with the band of his sweatpants, “but if you really are uncomfortable with this, we don’t have to.”

You startle, your eyes widening as you turn your attention to the door. “I’m good,” you nod as you straighten up and smile at him. “I promise. I’ve just never done this before. Most people think it’s weird, you know?”

“I know,” he hums as he pushes his sweatpants down his legs and tosses them into the laundry basket. He crosses the bathroom quickly and steps into the shower with you before he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. “I don’t think it’s weird. It’s normal, it’s something that happens. It doesn’t stop the rest of your life, why should it stop sex?”

“Why are you so fucking rational?” you laugh as you wrap your arms around his neck and allow him to move you so that he’s beneath the water. “Thank you, babe,”  you hum as you move in to press a kiss his chest, “I really do want you and orgasms do help with cramps. Now, enough talking. Fuck me, please.”

Ashton laughs but doesn’t respond. Instead, he pulls you into a heated kiss as his hand dips between your legs. He could tell that your cramps were back full force (he’d seen you rubbing your lower stomach when he entered the bathroom) and he hopes that this is good enough to help with the cramps.

As his fingers find your clit to begin brushing slow, lazy circles over your clit, your hands move between your bodies to find his cock. Ashton groans into your mouth at the feeling of your hand wrapped around his shaft. He pulls away from the kiss and moves to bury his face in the crook of your neck as you focus on the head of his cock. You shudder at the feeling of his teeth nipping at your throat and it only takes a moment for you to mumble,  “Enough foreplay. Fuck, it’s been less than a minute by if you’re not in me in the next few seconds, I will fully take care of myself.”

Ashton laughs at this but he can tell you mean it as you tug harshly at his hair. “I would usually tell you not to rush me,” he breathes as he shifts so your back is pressed to the wall, “but since you’re in pain, I’ll let you have this one.”

You bite back your comment as Ashton lifts you and allows you to wrap your legs around his waist. It only takes a moment for him to grip his cock and place the head of it at your entrance. He pauses for a moment, grinning when you whine, “Ash, please, just fuck me,” before he presses into you. It takes a moment longer than usual for him to sink into you due to the lack of preparation and the sensitivity you feel but when he’s fully seated inside you, you can’t help but cry out.

“Fuck,” you whine as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, “can you stay still for a second?”

“Are you okay?” he asks as he lifts his head to look at you.

“Yeah,” you nod as you wrap your arms around his neck a little tighter.  “I’m okay. Just really sensitive, fuck. Okay,  I think you can move now.”

Ashton remains still for a moment longer just to be sure before he begins to move. He sets a slow, careful pace as he remains mindful of not hurting you. He wants this to be a positive experience, he wants you to feel good, and he knows that going too hard on you would ruin that. So, he’s careful. He fucks into you slow and deep, his cock hitting deep inside of you, and you can feel every drag of it along your walls. It’s overwhelming in the best way and you barely think about it as you scratch your nails along his back and leave angry red marks across his skin.

He leaves one arm supporting your thighs, holding you aloft, as he moves one hand back between your bodies. His fingers find your clit and begin rubbing soft circles once more as he feels you clench around him. He knows you’ve been on edge all day, with the combination of pain and lust you’ve felt, so it makes him happy to feel you melt into his embrace. He crowds you against the wall, his chest pressed to yours as you lose yourself in the pleasure. 

It only takes a matter of moments for you to cum, far less time than he’d imagined it would, and the feeling of you clenching around him takes him by surprise. The feeling of you squeezing him like a vice triggers his own release and causes him to bite down on your shoulder as he fills you with his cum. He can feel you shudder in his arms as he holds you tight to his chest and the two of you relish in the feeling for a long moment.

He knows that you both would’ve stood in the shower for much longer had he not felt the sting of cold water on his back. With the knowledge that you both need to at least rinse off, he pulls out of you and groans at the feeling. He knows that you likely don’t want him to see but he can’t help glancing between your legs to see the mixture of cum and blood running down your thighs. It stirs something in the pit of his stomach and he decides not to dwell on it as the cold water beats at his back.

Instead, he reaches for your body wash and a bath cloth to help you wash off before he uses the coconut scented soap to rinse the sweat from his body. He makes quick work of this before he’s stepping out of the shower and searching for towels for the both of you.

“While you get changed, I’ll go make some popcorn. We can watch Bake Off and you can bitch about Paul,” Ashton offers with a grin as he places a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I really do love you, Ash,” you laugh as you wrap yourself securely in your towel, “orgasms and letting me bitch about Paul Hollywood? What a perfect man.”

“I try,” he promises with a wink before he returns your declaration of love and steps out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

Author’s Note: Happy Kinkmas. I’m trying here. I’ve never written period sex so here we go.