#thank you pbs for making these tapes exist

[wheels-of-despair]

The Letter Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Evil Woman gets a letter in the mail and says it's not a big deal… but to Eddie Munson, it's a very big deal. Contains: A misunderstanding, a dumb boy, a happy ending. Words: 1.4k

Eddie knocks twice, just to announce himself, before letting himself inside your house. "You don't have to knock, Eddie, you basically live here," they'd all told him several times, but he still felt like they deserved a warning.

Her mom has pulled a chair from the kitchen table closer to the phone mounted on the wall. She smiles and waves at him, gesturing for him to go on to the bedroom where his other half is probably getting ready for their favorite kind of date: Markdown Day at Tape World. They'd raid the clearance bin for new cassettes, then stop by the pretzel place for their usual. He'd get something salty, she'd get something sweet, and they'd split both and wash it down with a shared pop. Perfect.

"Yeah, the letter came earlier this week. She's playing it cool, but I think she's excited. She'll fit right in at Penn."

Eddie feels his blood run cold.

Of course the child of two college graduates is going to college. The thought had crossed his mind a few times, but he was always able to distract himself and banish it. But now…

His feet carry him to her bedroom while his brain spirals.

"Hey! Ready in a sec, just let me finish… oh, fuck it." She slams her textbook shut and tosses it from her place on the bed to the backpack by her desk. She rolls her eyes when it misses, then gets up to shove it into her backpack. She may not be getting a basketball scholarship, but of course she's college-bound.

She could have a real life. A future. A career. She could do anything. Hell, she'd taught him things in a week that the teachers of Hawkins High had been trying to beat into him for years. She's a fucking miracle-worker. Why would she stick around a shitty little town like this? For someone like him?

"Priorities," she smirks, wrapping her arms around his neck. She's so fucking beautiful. How is he gonna keep existing when she's not here? "You okay?" she asks, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. "You look paler than usual."

He closes his eyes and nods. She feels his forehead. If she cared so much, why would she leave him? "You sure?"

"I'm fine. Just tired," he lies. He misses her already. "Ready?"

She kisses the tip of his nose, and he tries not to cry.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand," she grins, grabbing a jacket.

Eddie forces a smile and feels his heart breaking.

*~One Week Later~*

"Switch those two paragraphs around, and I think you're good," you note, passing Eddie his essay back. You're sitting beside him at your kitchen table. Your brother is making a sandwich at the counter. It's the picture of domestic bliss.

"Thanks," Eddie mumbles, sticking the paper back in his English folder.

"We still on for Tape World tonight?" you ask hopefully. Maybe a good deal on some new music would perk him up. God knows he needs it.

"Dunno," Eddie mumbles without looking up, "got a lotta campaign stuff to work on."

"It's Markdown Day," you remind him.

He shrugs and starts gathering his stuff.

"Alright, what's your problem?" You snap the book in front of you shut, making your brother jump instead of Eddie. Oops.

"No problem," he lies, still not looking at you.

"Bullshit. You've been going back and forth between clingy and distant all week. What's your fucking problem, Munson?"

"I don't have a fucking problem," he spits as he starts shoving stuff into his backpack.

"Kay, this was fun, but I've gotta go do literally anything else!" your bother announces loudly as he scampers back to his room with his hastily-made sandwich, leaving his PB&J supplies open on the counter. Like he was raised in a barn.

You wait until you hear his bedroom door slam before you continue your attack on Eddie, who has run out of room in his backpack. (Your lunchbox, Eddie. You shoved your lunchbox in there.)

You put your hand on a folder and slide it toward you, out of his reach. He glares.

"Talk to me."

"I am," he says defiantly.

You consider beating him to death with his math folder.

"Give it," he orders, reaching out a hand for his folder.

You slide it further away from him, daring him to come get it.

"Or don't, I don't fucking care, I'm just gonna fail again anyway." He drops his overstuffed backpack on the floor and stomps toward the door.

"Eddie!" you call in shock. You stand as if you're going to physically stop him from leaving, but your feet don't want to move.

He gets to the kitchen door and puts his hand on the knob, but doesn't turn it.

"When were you planning on telling me about getting into college?"

"What?"

"I heard your mom on the phone, talking about your acceptance letter," he says to the door.

"Oh."

"Oh?" He turns around with an accusatory glare.

"I didn't think it was that big a deal," you shrug. And it wasn't... to you. You knew he was sensitive about the subject. He visibly bristled when anyone mentioned the c-word. You planned on breaking the news to him after graduation. One thing at a time. And right now, getting a high school diploma in Eddie Munson's hand was the only thing that mattered to you.

"Of course you wouldn't think getting into college is that big a deal."

"Eddie, I didn't mean it like that," you say gently.

"I guess moving a few hundred miles away from me isn't that big a deal either."

"What?"

"Don't play dumb, alright? I know you're going to Pennsylvania, where you won't have some dumb loser townie holding you back. Your mom seemed real happy about it."

Pennsylvania? You're going to… you connect the dots, and a laugh escapes you. You clamp your hand over your mouth.

His eyes fill with tears. "Yeah, it's gonna be real fuckin' funny when the love of my life runs off and forgets about me, just like everybody else did as soon as they graduated." This boy is giving you emotional whiplash. He turns around and reaches for the doorknob again.

This time, your feet cooperate. You rush over and wrap your arms around him from behind before he can get the door halfway open, and he tenses. You can feel his sides shaking. He's trying not to cry.

"That's not gonna happen."

"Bullshit." His voice cracks.

"Eddie, that's not gonna happen to us. Look at me."

He takes a shuddering breath and turns around, but keeps his eyes on the ceiling as he tries to blink back tears. You go in for a hug anyway. He resists for a second, but soon gives in and wraps his arms around you.

"I love you," you say into his neck.

Silence.

You thump him on the back. "Say it back."

"I love you, too," he mumbles.

"Do you trust me?"

He pulls back and looks at you with his big wet eyes and nods. You cup his face, kiss him on the tip of his nose, and smile. "Come with me. I gotta show you something."

"What?"

"Just come on," you grin. "Let's go for a little drive."

You scribble a note for your brother, in case he dares to venture out of the safety of his cave before you get back, and lead Eddie to the car.

Nineteen silent minutes later, you pull into a parking lot, find a space, and turn off the engine.

Eddie looks around quizzically at the parked cars, the people rushing by, and the bodies lounging on the grass. Then he looks to you.

"Where are we, Eddie?"

"Isn't this where your mom works?"

"Yeah. But where are we?"

He stares at you blankly. He's lucky he's pretty, because he is so damn dumb. You've never loved anyone more.

"C'mon," you smile, getting out of the car and waiting for him on the sidewalk. He watches you from the passenger's seat for a moment, until curiosity gets the better of him. You wait patiently, then hold out your hand when he approaches. When he takes it, you lead him toward the main building, where your point will be easier to make.

You stop and point at the massive stone sign. "What's that say?"

He huffs out an annoyed breath and reads, "Pennhurst Coll… oh." You see the realization dawn on his face, soon accompanied by a blush. "I'm an idiot."

"You're my idiot," you grin, pulling him close. "And I'm not going anywhere without you."

A Note From Wheels: Honestly can't remember if I've ever mentioned it, but in my mind, Evil Woman's mom has always been a college professor. 😂 EW will be attending Pennhurst because it's cheap (well, free, since Mom's got the hookup) and close to Eddie. 🥰 I'd imagine Pennhurst is not a very prestigious university, so Mom could probably get Eddie in if he wanted to go. (He absolutely does not.)

[anna-neko]

gonna absolutely be that "old lady shaking her walker, and screaming how olden days were better" for a minute here.....

There is a very specific thing I very much miss, and its the... well... lack of streaming. Scheduled programming! (be it both visual or radio. .... the radio one is whole 'nother rant, fuck ClearChannel/Viacom etc etc)

now don't get me wrong - i freakin luv the ability to watch some ancient b/w telly, carefully pumped pixel by pixel into my phone from the library server at 2:45am....

but its the fact Boring Dystopia today doesn't let you escape algorithms & their endless grey sludge

so like... TV! My set cannot pick up regular airwaves signal w/out additional "digital bunny-ears" or something similar. Most stations have switched to digital signals years ago, this is fact.

Back in the day you could flip on the telly, and have the choice of a few local channels. You got your usual local affiliates: FOX, WB, ABC, UPN, NBC, CBS and of course PBS. plus that one endless shopping network

Even as background noise you'd still end up getting all sorts of good stuff with different ads, local news flashes, whatever sitcom was running would have "on the next..." and you'd be like "heeeey, Friends is still making new episodes? and this channel still shows it?" Might hear about some movie didn't know existed because it was mentioned as scheduled for Saturday 8pm eastern, 7 central in that last ad-break, but the visuals in this tiny clip looked neat so might try to see it.....

what can i do today tho... Lets see, there's the option of a bunch of streaming shit. It requires a quick app d/l (again, don't get me wrong, TUBI and PlutoTV are a+ "thank fuck u exist" kinda things) buuuuut ... you can't just leave it be. Even the ads are somehow ... grey formless sludge. The same 3-5 shitty things that are determined by algorithm, never any variation. No news-teases, no trailers for movies coming to theater/streaming soon.... who'da thought would miss the damn Wendys new breakfast deals or local (local) car dealership promos

but no, with a streaming 'oooh wait, 'app' you gotta either scroll thru the shitty UI menu to pick what you wanna watch specifically... or in case of Pluto chose a channel.... Which will be just One Thing on a loop too (like a channel of nothing but Addams Family. nothing but The Walking Dead franchise. nothing but SailorMoon episodes) If you chose an episode of a show, and put away the remote it will just keep jumpin to next episode of same until it runs out...

.... i miss times of day influencing what was on. The kinda shit running during "primetime", early morning cartoons, early-noon little kids targeted shows, mid-afternoon soaps and bullshit talk shows, vs "middle of the night" The silly station eye-catches (TNT...dun dun dun, we know drama), ads for gushers mixed in with quick weather updates as the channel hopes you'll tune in at 10pm for the News. I miss discovering new (new to me!) shows or movies but flipping a channel. Disney Channel used to air ANCIENT b/w Alice Comedies or those utterly ridiculous 70s bebi Jodie Foster movies at 1am. AMC was full of old movies (pre-70s stuff mostly), TLC stood for "the learning channel", MTV and VH1 were 2 distinct separate entities showing actual ~ try to contain your shock ~ music videos. and if u were hella lucky, you'd glitch into (or it was free preview month) MTV2 which was for the alt rock vids!

_________________ No i don't miss the ancient shit like TV set that had round knobs and the numbers only went to 13. The horrid static noises. I don't miss VCRs (needing to rewind, hoping the tape hasn't demagnetized, or deteriorated frm too much use etc) . Fuck, don't even miss Blockbuster w/ their exceptionally ruined DVDs that wouldn't play past a certain point and them just goin "oh well, sorry...." and doin fuck-all

whoda thought would be missing an actual structure of some sort, running all sorts of diverse shit in pre-programmed blocks on set schedules. There was a human touch, the human element to it

[bincue]

own all the lain tapes now ^_^

[liron-ao3]

Destiel AU Oneshot

"Are you sure about that?"

Castiel raises his eyebrow in slow motion and Dean chuckles. "Okay, okay. I got it."

He puts the paint roller against the wall in what used to be Charlie's room and rolls the first stripe of green over it between the meticulously taped lines that Castiel made to set the borders of the blocks and lines of colour that will emphasise the features of the room.

"It looks pretty dark," Dean says. "Are you really sure about the hunter green?"

Castiel rolls his eyes. "I didn't spend hours comparing different shades of green while you strolled through the junk yard for Baby's latest spare part to second-guess my choice now that it's on the wall. It will look perfect with the grey bed and Claire's pictures."

Dean smirks and resumes painting the column his boyfriend had told him to put on the wall. "Oh, yeah, that was the hard part," he teases and he can sense Castiel's soft smile behind him as he steps closer and presses a kiss to the nape of his neck.

"You have no idea how many greens exist in your eyes alone, love," Castiel says softly and it's unbelievable how Dean's partner can make him blush even after all these years.

"Sap!" he says to distract from his flustered state.

"You love it," Castiel speaks against his hair and puts his arms around Dean's middle.

"If I make a mistake it's all your fault," Dean chuckles and it vibrates into Castiel's chest, layers itself warmly around his heart.

"Okay," he says and pinches Dean's butt, chuckling about him jolting forward, nearly rolling the brush over the outline of the tape. "I make lunch. Sandwiches okay?"

Dean hums and leans back to place a kiss on Castiel's temple. "Thank you, angel."

Castiel walks out of the room and leaves Dean to his work and his own thoughts. One day more and he'll be a parent. Kind of. It's weird after all these years. He used to be a father to Sammy. But this time, he's an adult with a good job, a steady income, a nice flat, and a lovely man at his side. It's already so much more than he ever imagined to deserve.

And now, Claire. Petulant, smart, tough, infuriating, sweet Claire, who Castiel found dumpster diving behind the Gas-N-Sip. She had been prickly first until he offered her fresh food from the store and allowed her to roll out her sleeping bag in the staff room. As the manager, he had a bit of latitude after all.

It took some time, but she learnt to trust him not to take advantage of her vulnerability. Castiel's own experience with living on the street surely helped. Him being gay, too. It's why she had ended up homeless after all. Her holier-than-thou parents prefered pretending that their lesbian, underaged daughter didn't exist at all over accepting her for who she is.

Dean's painting green stripes on the wall to make a perfectly fine room even better for their camouflage loving, artistic foster daughter. And isn't that the strangest thing?

He takes a brush to paint the narrower lines by hand when Castiel calls him to grab a bite. He cleans his hands on a rag and nods, satisfied with his work.

Dean places a kiss on Castiel's cheek and bumps his shoulder against his when he sits down next to him at the breakfast bar. He bites into his BLT as Castiel enjoys his usual PB&J. They eat in silence, sharing soft smiles now and then. It's probably the calm before the storm, but it's their little piece of heaven.

They both have been through a lot, but they are blessed with having each other, with secure 9 to 5 jobs that pay the bills and leave room for more, for being both sober and loved just the way they are.

Just five years ago, Dean wouldn't have thought this to be possible. The year with Lisa had been the longest he could ever hold on to a relationship, Castiel managed even less. Two seemingly lost causes.

Dean runs the back of his hand over his mouth and takes a gulp of his water before he grabs Castiel's right hand, their matching black rings clinking together as he laces their fingers together. Castiel smiles at him quietly and it reminds him of the one after he came out to him and Castiel in return.

The lines around his partner's eyes are a little deeper now. From all the laughing, Dean is sure. Looking at them flushes the butterflies in his stomach. Dean never thought that he might have this. Not after Lis and Ben. But here he is.

Later, when they peel off the tape after the paint has dried, Dean grabs Castiel and presses him against the wall, kissing him breathless. They chuckle into each other's lips, enjoy their closeness and the feel of their hands in each other's hair.

And then, Castiel pulls him into their bedroom and undresses himself slowly. Dean knows that he does so just for him because Dean enjoys Castiel's body in other ways than Castiel enjoys Dean's. It leaves him breathless in a completely different way that Castiel trusts him to respect his boundaries while he pushes his own.

Castiel is so beautiful in the moonlight flooding through the window, tree shadows from the park framing his body as if he were a wood nymph. He looks ethereal. Dean is overwhelmed by the love pouring through his body, tightening his heart and somehow making it grow two sizes at the same time.

"Marry me," he blurts out.

Castiel turns around reposefully, an amused eyebrow raised as high as it can possibly reach. "We don't have to be married just because we're going to be parents," he states in his usual matter-of-fact way.

"I know. But I really want to."

The corners of Castiel's lips twitch into a fond smile. "Okay," he says, a slight tremble in his voice.

"Okay," Dean repeats and pulls his fiancé into his arms. They kiss for a long moment before they undress and cuddle up under the covers.

"I love you, angel," Dean whispers into Castiel's chest.

"I know," Castiel says and Dean can hear the pride in his laugh when he receives a chuckle in return.

Yes, with this man, he can grow old together.

This oneshot is a timestamp for the series "Chasing cars". You can read it on ao3.

[lucy-268]

Photographs and Memories

A/N: This meets a couple of challenges. First a request from @openheart12​; next, @wackydrabbles​ where the requirement was to use I can't believe you remembered (noted in bold); and finally, @julychoiceschallenge​ run by @samgtt700 where the challenge for July 17 is moon.

A/N 2: I actually did my own moodboard for the first time with some coaching and encouragement from @oofchoices​, so thank you again!

A/N 3: This doesn’t actually fit in with my chronological series as I’m envisioning Charley as an attending and they’ve been together for a while at this point.

A/N 4: I gave Ethan a bit of a backstory here and named his mom Karen. I also gave her an older sister and a niece.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters belong to PB

Series/Pairing: Open Heart  - Ethan x f!MC (Charley Valentine)

Word count: 1514 (oops, but at least it’s under 2,000)

Request is from here

Alan was still on the phone when Charley stepped outside onto the deck. Ethan was stretched out on the Adirondack chaise staring up at the night sky. She settled herself on his lap and curled against him. She could tell that he was still annoyed.

“Looks like a full moon tonight. If I’m remembering my astronomy correctly it’s the Hunter’s Moon.”

Ethan kissed the top of her head, and she could feel him smile. “It’s also the Harvest Moon this year.”

“Showoff,” Charley teased, snuggling closer.

He shifted, wrapping his arms and jacket around her as protection from the cold October night. He nodded his head to the corner of the deck. “See where Jenner is lying? I used to have a telescope set up there. I spent many nights out here looking up at the sky.”

They settled into a comfortable silence, watching the night sky. Finally Charley had to ask. “So, your Aunt Nancy was your mom’s older sister?”

“I can't believe you remembered that! I mentioned it once during your second year. Yes, she was. And we don’t discuss her any more than we do my mother.”

“But-”

“No. Nancy made a decision to not have anything to do with me or my dad when my mom left.”

“You’ve never even met your cousin Lisa? Has your dad?” Charley shivered.

Ethan pushed up, displacing her from his lap. “It’s time to go in. I don’t want to be responsible for you freezing to death.” He called Jenner as they walked to the door. The dog got up and stretched, plodding to the door. “Tonight, please, girl.”

Charley stepped into the kitchen and opened the jar of dog biscuits. Ethan held open the door and Jenner trotted into the kitchen and sat up, waiting for her reward. “Good girl.” The dog took her treat and headed for her cushion by the fireplace.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Lisa. Thank you for calling.” Alan disconnected the call and turned to Ethan. “She’ll be here around ten to drop the boxes off.”

“Fine.”

“Ethan,” Alan began.

“I said it’s fine, Dad. Lisa has nothing to do with mom leaving and Nancy pretending we didn’t exist. It doesn’t mean I’m going to consider her family or even a friend, but I can be civil for as long as she stays to drop off a box or two. She can even stay for a cup of coffee for all I care.”

——————-

Charley woke alone the next morning and the sheets on Ethan’s side of the bed were cool so he had been up for a while. The blanket at the foot of the bed was messed up so she knew that Jenner had been in with them sometime during the night.

She showered quickly and dressed before heading to the stairs. She crossed the threshold of Ethan’s childhood room, scanning the walls and shelves of his past. On the shelf were all of his high school yearbooks. She went to pull out his senior year when a voice stopped her. “I brought you coffee.” Charley turned to see Ethan leaning against the doorjamb, smirking at her.

“One of the times when we come down here, I’m going to spent at least a day in here going through your past.” Charley took the coffee mug out of his hands and preceded him down the stairs.

“I would be more than happy to let today be that day.”

“I’m sure you would, but we don’t want dad to have to deal with Lisa by himself. It also isn’t fair to Lisa,” Charley reminded him. “Do I smell bacon?”

“You do. There’s also pancakes.” Ethan glared at her as she turned at the bottom step. “Don’t even say it.”

“You are a fabulous cook. You could’ve been a world class chef! How can you not make pancakes?” Charley gave Alan a hug as he turned off the stove. “Good morning, Dad. Why didn’t you teach him how to make pancakes?”

Alan smiled, handing her two plates of pancakes and bacon. “I couldn’t teach him all my secrets; he’d never come home to visit me.” He grabbed a third plate and they sat at his kitchen table.

Jenner padded over, sitting next to Charley resting her chin on Charley’s leg. “Don’t give her bacon,” Ethan warned as Charley handed the dog half a strip.

Afterwards, Charley cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher, listening to Ethan and Alan discuss Lisa and Nancy. “So, you’ve never met Lisa, either, Dad?”

Alan shook his head. “No. The last time I saw Nancy was about a month before your mother left. She was still living in Waterbury and she had just found out she was pregnant with Lisa. After your mother left, I reached out to Nancy and she told me that she didn’t know where Karen was, she wasn’t interested in ever speaking to Karen again, nor did she want anything to do with either of us. That surprised me, because she had always adored you.”

Charley leaned against the counter. “That sounds strange. She never said why?”

Alan thought for a minute. “No, but-“ He was interrupted by the doorbell.

Ethan reached the door first and opened it to a short blonde with ice blue eyes staring up at him.

“Um,” she stammered, looking at him trying to balance the boxes. “I’m looking for Alan Ramsey? Is this the right place?”

Ethan grabbed the boxes out of her hand. “Yes. Come in, please.” He kicked the door shut after she entered.

“I’m Ethan.”

“I thought you were too young to be Alan.”

Alan spoke, “Please, sit and make yourself comfortable. I’m Alan, and that’s Charley, my future daughter-in-law.”

“Oh, you’re engaged? When are you getting married?” Lisa looked from Ethan to Charley. Charley laughed and Ethan looked startled.

“We’ve only really just begun talking about maybe getting married, someday. Alan just thinks we should do it already,” Charley laughed.

As the four visited, Lisa told Alan and Ethan that Nancy would mention them from time to time but said that her mother had always felt Alan wouldn’t want to hear from her again.

Ethan asked, “Did she ever say why she wanted nothing to do with us?”

Lisa thought for a while. “I think she was really angry with Aunt Karen. She said that when grandfather died, Karen wouldn’t help mom plan the funeral. Then, she just disappeared. Mom said that she was so lost when her dad died and then her sister left. I think that mom was just mad at everyone about everything. I think she wanted to reach out and didn’t know if you would talk to her again.”

Alan said he wished he had known; he would have loved meeting Lisa and seeing Nancy again. “After our last conversation I didn’t feel like I should call her. I guess I hoped she had called me.” Alan asked her, “Do you need any help with your mom’s things?”

“No, I don’t. After clearing out her parents’ house, she never really accumulated much stuff, so I don’t have a lot of ‘things’ to deal with. Her stuff was mostly clothes, a bookcase of books, and a few pieces of jewelry. Oh, there is her kitchen.” Lisa laughed. “She loved to cook, so she had a lot. But I don’t have much, so that works well.”

Lisa nodded to the two boxes she brought. “I found these in her bedroom closet with your name and phone number. She left me a note saying she hoped the phone and address were still correct. I didn’t open them, she had them taped.”

“Do you want to see what’s in them?” Alan asked.

Lisa checked her watch. “No, it’s for the two of you. I need to get back to Connecticut and it’s a two-hour drive.” She left with a promise from Alan that she’d keep in touch.

After she left, Alan got a knife to open the boxes. He handed it to Ethan. “Care to open them?”

Sensing he was about to refuse, Charley grabbed the knife and wrapped Ethan’s fingers around the handle. “Open them. Please.”

Glaring at them both, Ethan set one of the boxes on the coffee table and opened the first box. He lifted out a photo album and handed it to Alan who flipped it the pages. “I haven’t seen these photos in years. Karen was always sending her parents pictures of Ethan.” There were three photo albums in total. Alan flipped through the first, Charley looking over his shoulder.

She yanked the book out of his hand. “These are baby Ethan! I – I need these!”

Ethan tried to grab the album out of her arms, but she held tight and clutched it to her chest. “No! I’m keeping this!”

“It’s for Dad,” Ethan began.

Alan interrupted him and grinned at Charley. “She can have them. I already have plenty of baby pictures.”

Charley smiled at Ethan and he gave up, knowing he would not win this round. He leaned over and kissed her. “Whatever you want.”

My tag list:  @oofchoices​ @openheart12​  @jamespotterthefirst​  @aylamreads​  @catchinglikekerosene  @choicesficwriterscreations​ @ohchoices​​

[missblissy]

Rebirth (Chapter Five)

Alastor X Human!Reader ((Reincarnation!AU)) 

Prologue || One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Tagged: ((You can ask to be added to the tagged list!!)) @alastors-bambi @peachesandkats​ @riintss @destiny-in-the-universe​ @dadzawas-eyebags @daedaliaaan @putridjoy @shieldagentofthemonth @originofthedragonjim @animals4ever527 @jexinqq @chaotic-pansexual @geekin-about-alastor @keenhumanoidduckeagle @fafefae @honeydrops01010 @itz-kira @xoceanicgemzx @the-monochrome-jester @holdnyvaseline @temmieboi04 @ultimately-purrrfect @lukatherat 

You could still smell the herbs from a few days ago. You were in your kitchen making yourself something to eat. It had been almost two days and there wasn’t a single sign of Alastor or Eon. Your mind was busy with other thoughts anyways. Your father’s surgery went well and he was on a slow recovery. Hopefully, it helped with his condition, but you doubt it would slow down his one-way ticket to the grave. You took a small bite of the PB&J that you made and suddenly you didn’t feel so hungry anymore. 

Instead, you wanted to break down and cry. You leaned on your counter, looking down at the sandwich as tears began to well in your eyes. So much shit has happened these past few days. You moved and now lived by yourself for the first time in your life, you were going to college at the same time while looking for a new job, and demon decided it was going to drop an entire shit load of problems that didn’t even involve you. Just your soul. And on top of that, your father was dying. It broke your heart when you waited with your mother for him to get out of surgery. Your father was a strong and proud man and to see him wither away into a husk, a shadow of what he used to be... It was all too much. You couldn’t take it anymore.

The sobs came quickly. You crouched on the floor behind the counter and held your knees as you cried away. You felt as though the entire world was against you. You were thankful for the few people you had. 

You didn’t want to feel bad anymore so you did your best to dry your tears. As you stood back up you saw something on your counter that wasn’t there before, “Huh?” Next to your pathetic sandwich now laid a thick leather-bound book with a sticky note taped to the cover. You were ready to roll your eyes and dumb the book into the trash, you already knew it was from Alastor.

That’s when you felt the hairs on the back of your neck start to rise while a familiar dry static energy began to fester within your home, “Go away!” You yelled, “I’m not your wife! I don’t know you! And you don’t know me!” You were talking to the air, but you knew Alastor was here. You could feel his energy. You could even feel his eyes on you, even if he wouldn’t show himself and choose to hide, “Just because you could guess my favorite food and color doesn’t mean I’m still your wife! So what if we have similar taste in stuff! I’m not her! You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know my family, my friends, you don’t even know my birthday! You can’t name a single thing about me other than what you can guess off the top of your head!”

You wanted to cry again and when a tear dripped down your cheek, you tell he was gone. The static fizzled away into still air and the feeling of eyes on your vanished as well. The book was still there though. You kept telling yourself to just throw it out but another part of you wanted to see just what kind of gift Alastor had left you.

You sniffled and ran the back of your hand over your eyes to clean away the tears. You pulled the book into view and read the note. At first you couldn’t believe it, but... Alastor had very... very... pretty handwriting. It was perfect and drawn with pen and ink well. 

The note said: 

        I think I went about this all wrong, (Y/n). I should have given this to you in the beginning. I’m sincerely sorry. This used to belong to your former self. It’s your diary. To unlock it, you must use your blood. Just a pinprick should work. I hope this helps and answers the questions you’ve been looking for.

       - A   :) 

Was this for real? And he had to just add the smiley face? Ugh... You rolled your eyes and looked over the book. It didn’t even have a lock on it, so why the hell was he talking about using your blood?  When you opened up the book, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Every page was yellow and blank. Nothing was in the damn book! Was he just playing a sick joke on you?

There was only one way to find out. You flipped deep within the book and towards the middle. You took a kitchen knife from your silverware drawer. You cringed in pain as you pricked the tip of your finger and watched the blood pitter-patter onto the pages. Nothing happened at first and you were ready to burn the book and get some more herbs to make sure Alastor didn’t come back.

But after a minute or so your blood soaked into the page and words began to appear. The looked like they were written in gold. The ink was metallic and shiny. You brushed a finger over the words and felt the little rise and fall of the ink and space between each letter. It took a second for the page to fill with words. Okay... maybe he wasn’t lying and this was your past self’s diary. You went ahead and began reading the passage you had randomly opened up too. 

1939, December 29th:

     This castle I call my home is nothing but chains holding me down. I have spent the last... some 2,000 years at this post. I didn’t know that serving as the Gatekeeper of Hell was a “forever” kind of deal. I guess that's what you get for letting Lucifer be your boss. I wish every day that I could leave this castle. But soon again I will! The seventh year of my new sentence is coming up and I will be free to roam for another 365 days. Then for the next 6 years, I will be trapped in this castle again. 

     At least I have Alastor. This empty castle isn’t so empty with him around. He fills the hallways with songs and music, with smells of food I never knew existed. He makes me laugh, something I haven’t done in a long time. He makes me smile and when I cry he doesn’t run in fear like everyone else in my afterlife. 

     It’s been six years since I made that life-changing deal with an even bigger Devil than Lucifer. It’s been six years since Alastor manifested at the gates of Hell and offered me the salvation and freedom I craved. No, he wasn’t the deal maker. The spirit that was attached to his soul was. Eon. I sold what was left of my soul to him just so I could see the world again. 

     In just a few days I’ll be able to walk out of this castle and go where ever I want again. The first thing I’m doing is marry Alastor at the top of a pile of corpses that belong to every enemy I’ve ever made. I can’t wait to taste the blood and tears of them all. I will kill all of those fools who dared to call me a cry baby, to call me weak, to say my emotions meant nothing. Every time I shed a tear I turn into a monster and monster is what they will see. I will rip their heads from their necks. I will take their hearts and squeeze every drop of blood until there is nothing left. And I will do this with Alastor by my side, cheering me on as I finally get the justice and revenge I’ve so deserved.  

The words started to fade slowly and disappear again. You couldn’t believe what you were looking at. Once the passage was finally gone and the pages were blank again... You slammed the book closed. This was a dangerous thing. A tempting thing. 

It called to you like a song in the night. You could feel your entire soul reach out and try and open the book back up and read every word. Something about this book filled you with fear, curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite put together.

After several moments of fighting with your own thoughts, you decided that you’d read some more. You flipped the book back open. You choose a spot very close to the end and pricked your finger again. The blood splashed onto the page and soaked in much quicker than last time.

1996, February 4th: 

     Today I laid waste to another sector of Hell. When I came to my castle home, Alastor was waiting for me. I know I write about him to much, but he is everything that matters to me. This entire book could easily be mistaken for a stalker. Good thing I cursed it to never open for anyone, not even Alastor. I love him, but even I must keep my secrets too. That and I don’t want him to know how much I obsess over him. 

     For starters, it’s our anniversary. He always tells me, “I never wanted to get married! I never thought I would! Marriage was a waste of time in my opinion -Blah Blah Blah-” Same old stuff, then he’d leap into some musical number about how I changed that and how much he loves me and how happy he is to call me his wife. 56 years later and he’s still the same dork he’s always been. Sure, he likes to act tough, mean, scary and evil, but deep down inside that psychopath... is another even bigger and weirder psychopath. But that’s what I love about him. He’s such a strange creature. But I love him. 

     I love that stupid little tail of his that wags when he sees me or how he’d flip his tail all the way up as he danced around the room. I love that he chooses to sleep just because it’s a pastime I enjoy. Though he’ll always remind me, “You know, we don’t have to sleep, right?” Yeah, but I still liked to cling on to my humanity. And most of all... I love when he cries with me. It’s so hard for me to fight my black tears and to not let them stain my face. For so long, I never saw an emotion escape him. He even thought it was weak of me to be so emotional and we got into many arguments about it. However, he saw that it was just my nature to be like this. Now that we’ve spent 5 decades together, he shares all my emotions. The high and especially the lows. He’ll weep, shed tears, and tell me it’s okay. He’d kiss every single black tear away even when I turned into a monster... I have to remember though, I don’t turn into a monster. It’s just my natural demonic form that I suppress and hide and hold back. Alastor says he loves it more than the my... human look I take on. Maybe one day I’ll be strong enough to love myself the way he loves me. 

     I know... I know... I need to shut up about this man. But I can’t. He’s a person deep down inside. A messed up one, but still a person. He knows my pain, he’s seen my struggles. His life wasn’t much different from mine. We were both... innocent for so long until a darkness we couldn’t control grew from our pain and suffering. We joke about how we’d have gone to Heaven if only things were different... Is it bad for me to wish they were sometimes? What if we met when we were alive and still human? Would he still have become a cannibal? Would I still have committed suicide? If only we could have been there for each other sooner rather than later... 

The words started to fade again just as you had finished the passage. This book... It was going to answer a lot of questions. You felt an unknown connection to it. You slowly closed the book, deciding that for you’d put it away for now. You weren’t going to throw it away either. 

Something about the way your past self wrote about Alastor, about how much she loved him, it slowly changed your opinion of him. It got you thinking about how Alastor must have felt to have lost you. He spent 22 years searching for you, looking all over the planet and heaven above just so he could be with you again. It was romantic in a twisted way. You still couldn’t bring yourself to feel much for the demon other than anguish and pity. You felt sorry for him because you were not the same person. And you were beginning to learn that, yes, there were many things similar about you and your past self, such as your name and your looks, but you never had the same struggles.

You walked over to your bookshelf and squeezed the large leather book into a spot that barely fit. You had to get to your classes soon. You really didn’t have the energy to do anything and you were incredibly depressed. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as you looked at the spine of the diary. You wanted to reach out and grab and keep reading and the thought of leaving it at home oddly upset you more. You knew you couldn’t bring it with you though. Not many people would be too pleased to see some girl cutting her finger dozens of times to read some magical book. You’d probably get thrown in some kind of crazy house. 

So, with a sigh, you tore yourself away from the book’s gaze and grabbed your bag. As you got to the door, you took one look back at the book. You stood there for a second longer than you should have then turned and gone out the door. 

_______________________________________________

 1933, March 3rd: 

     I couldn’t believe it. He’s here. I never thought he’d make it here but he is and he’s wandering around the castle. Alastor had finally died. He didn’t even wander through purgatory. He manifested before my eyes just in front of the gates. 

     I already love him but I will not say that allowed or anywhere else in this book. I can’t help but love him because he is letting me make a deal with the deadliest deal maker to have ever wandered to this side of the planet. 

     Eon. A spirit not even from this world, universe or dimension. He’s from a world so distant and far from this one that we know very little about him, other than that people wall him The World Destroyer. Apparently, it’s Eon’s goal to consume every soul in every universe and dimension. Lucifer warned me that making a deal with this creature would end in horrible ways. It didn’t seem that it ended that bad for Alastor, seeing as he was the one who summoned Eon here and sold his soul for the chance at unlimited power in the afterlife. 

     None of that matters now. I’ve made up my mind. I want to leave this castle and I want the ability to control my afterlife and what happens to me. I must go, Alastor is waiting for me and I can not wait to leave this castle wage war against all of those fools who laughed at me, all over those Overlords who think they're better than me. Alastor just wants to kill and feed souls to Eon, he wants to create chaos and topple over those in power so he can make his mark among the legends.

     I want revenge. 

Your eyes were heavy, they even had little dark bags under them. You had spent the last three hours reading the diary. Your finger was a dark purple color and you felt light-headed. You sat in your living room at the edge of your couch.

Almost two weeks have passed now since Alastor disappeared and left you this book. There was nothing coming from him. Normally you could tell when he was hiding somewhere in a dark corner or in the shadows. You’d feel his static energy wave off him, but there was none of that. Nothing. Not a single haunting. Had he finally given up? You weren’t sure. You didn’t think so. You cleansed your home but Vanderlinde said that you’d have to do it every couple of days, which of course you didn’t. You completely forgot to do that the second Alastor left the book for you. 

The book, however, was everything you may have asked for. You learned how Alastor had given everything to your past self. He loved you more than anything and you wrote about that often. He grew a rose garden around the castle your past self was trapped in every six years just so you’d smile. He murdered and tortured those who wronged you. He’d cook all of your favorite foods, even if they were mostly sugary pastries and candies, which you found out he hated. You learned so much about Alastor. He loved cooking, singing, dancing, making people smile and entertaining others to the point of laughter. He drank coffee every morning with you on a balcony overlooking the little empty Kingdom the two of you shared. He’d stand from the tallest tower and sing love songs to you while you worked at the Gates of Hell. He taught you to play the piano, how to better defeat your enemies, how to use Voodoo magic against the living and even the dead, he shared stories of his life and family and home, his dreams that never came true and his hopes that all but died until he met you.

You quickly learned that not every passage in the diary would show itself to you. You covered several pages with your blood but nothing ever happened. The only passages that would reveal themselves were the ones that mentioned Alastor. You weren't sure this was his doing or not because the book said that even Alastor couldn’t open it. 

You were very dazed and confused, you lost a lot of blood in this process. One more passage, you told yourself, then I’ll stop. Suddenly there was a knock at your door. You almost jumped out of your skin, “It’s open,” you called, knowing exactly who it already was. 

Sage kicked open the door and rushed in, “Where is he!?” She yelled as her eyes darted around the room, “Where is that talk show shit lord!?” She just got back from the hunt she was on. She texted you this morning that she’d be over as soon as possible

Maybe it was the lack of blood or the massive wave of depression that’s been with you for the last two weeks, but you couldn’t bother to get up from the couch. You just closed the heavy book and muttered, “He’s not here anymore,” Why did you sound so defeated when you said that?

Sage was a little stunned by your state, “Are you okay?” She closed the door behind her and came to sit next to you on the couch. She was your best friend, more so than you were with Vanderlinde. However, you felt some kind of betrayal that she never told you about this huge secret part of her life. Ya know, the whole demon hunter slash witch thing? Yeah, that kind of upset you. 

“I’m fine. Just... a lot is going on right now,” You confessed, “Not so much the demon haunting my house thing. Alastor hasn’t shown up since Van and I cleansed this place. It’s more so... just life and shit,” It wasn’t a total lie. You were stressed about your father and still not having a job. Your bank account was starting to get dangerously low. 

That’s when Sage noticed the book in your lap. She pointed to it, asking, “What’s that?” 

“Just a diary I’ve been keeping,” Again, not a total lie, “Nothing cool,” 

She didn’t say anything for a second and you wondered if she knew you were trying to cover up something. Eventually, Sage just shrugged and said, “Okay, well, I brought some stuff that might help you out if that dumb ass shows his stupid face again,” Sage took the backpack off her shoulders and set it down next to your feet, “There’s even a little guide book in there that I made for you. Basic magic stuff that anyone can do. Rituals, cleansings, crystals, herbs, blessed water, and bones. Pretty much everything you’ll need,” 

“Thanks,” You mumbled as you pulled the bag closer to you. You didn’t think you’d need any of that stuff seeing as Alastor kind of gave up on bothering you. The first sign of a fight and he turns tail. From what the diary told you- that was very out of character for him. You had a feeling he’d be back but you weren’t sure when or for what, “Hey- actually, I have question,” You peered at your friend. There was something bubbling in your mind that you had been wondering about. You knew the internet wouldn’t have this answer so maybe your friend did. 

She gave a small smile and said, “Okay, shoot,” She seemed more than happy to help. 

“Um... Would you actually know how to... summon a demon?”

[becuzpurple]

NUMB

(this is a re-posting of an old story I started almost 2 years ago, but never completed. This is the introduction, and I have 2 more chapters to repost within the next few days. I’ve just started continuing to write the story, so, in hopes that I follow through, I’m reposting the existing parts now. I hope you enjoy this, and please shower me with positive comments and likes, because that will definitely encourage me to keep writing, lol!)

Samantha Jean Kinney needed to start over in a big way.  She’d been in a bit of a rut, just going through the motions of everyday life, feeling slightly...dissatisfied but unable to put her finger on why, exactly.  After an unexpected blow to her personal life, she decided it was the perfect time for a much-needed fresh start.

Life is weird.  Bad things happen.  Wonderful things happen.  Do we control these things, or is it fate?  Maybe it’s both, or maybe it’s neither.  In any case, I don’t want to let life just pass me by any more.  I want to take it by the horns and enjoy the hell out of it...to be kind, be generous, and make the most of what I have.

I want to really live, rather than just exist.

---

INTRODUCTION - No Returns

November

I was in shock.  How could I have been so wrong? I loved him so much, and I believed he loved me right back.  How could I have not seen this coming?  How could he have done this to us?  

I thought Brandon had been under pressure because of work.  I knew things were really busy at the law firm, and his client-load was heavy.  For the past several months he’d been working long hours and not getting enough sleep.  But I understood.  I was supportive.  If he needed time to unwind or be with friends, I encouraged it. On the flip side, if he needed my shoulder for emotional support or my body for physical comfort, they were his.  I was there for him, damnit.

Not that I was his doormat.  I had my own life, too, and I didn’t put it aside for him.  But I thought we were sharing, blending our lives.  I thought we’d eventually get married.  We lived together for almost 2 years, for god’s sake.

So when I returned home from a long Thanksgiving weekend visiting my parents (he said he couldn’t come because of work) to find our apartment virtually wiped clean of his existence...calling it a complete shock would have been an understatement.  He’d taken the majority of the furniture and all of the electronics. He left me the older sofa, the bedroom set, most of the kitchen supplies, and the cat.  My own personal belongings were untouched, thank goodness.  

He left a note taped to the refrigerator door spelling out his reasons.  As far as I could tell, it was mostly lies, exaggerations, and ridiculous accusations used to justify his actions.

“There’s no point in maintaining a relationship that brings no returns…”

“I’m sure you’ve been with other men…”

“We don’t have the same interests or goals anymore…”

“I hate your fucking cat…”

No person is perfect and no relationship is perfect - we’re all works in progress.  I’d always put effort into Brandon’s and my relationship - it was a priority to me.  So, I was baffled as to why the first I’d heard any of this was literally AFTER he left. I guess I really wasn’t as important to him as he was to me.  He pretty much came right out and said it, didn’t he?

I never cheated on him, nor even considered it.  So, naturally, his accusation led me to wonder if he’d been cheating, and if he was deflecting his own actions onto me.

I wondered exactly what his goals in life were, and when and why I stopped fitting into them.  Or if I ever did, for that matter.

And my cat?  Really?

I sat down hard on the sofa - the sole piece of furniture left in the living room, and considered crying.  But I couldn’t summon tears - yet.  PB appeared and wrapped himself around my legs once before jumping up on my lap.  At least I had something living and breathing to hold on to, even if it was only my somewhat apathetic cat.

I wasn’t sure what to do.  Part of me wanted to call him and demand he tell me what the actual fuck was up his ass.  I wanted to defend myself and refute his ridiculous claims.  Yet I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was so gutted.  

I didn’t call.

I was too numb to do anything, to be honest.  I sat there for a long while, trying to wrap my head around everything, but all I felt was shock.  It hadn’t sunk in, despite the evidence all around me.  I knew he’d been unhappy lately, but I never imagined it had anything to do with me.  I thought it was a temporary, work-related thing, and that he’d eventually work through it.  And he let me think that while he was planning this.

Fucker.

Eventually I got up, scrubbed my face, pulled my hair back into a messy, loose ponytail, and changed into my most comfy flannel pajamas. Ambling into to the kitchen, I wondered if he left me anything in the refrigerator, and was relieved to find a bowl of leftover pasta.  I warmed it in the microwave and opened a bottle of red wine.  I didn’t bother with a glass.

I could do worse than wine and pasta, right?  It’s comfort food.  

I thought I’d sit and watch something on TV while I ate - something that would make me laugh, because god knows I could use it.  But then I remembered that he took the TV and all the TV equipment.

Double-fucker!  It’s fine, though.  I have my laptop and Netflix.

But the goddamn twatweasel took the router, too.

And that’s when the tears finally came.

(NEXT CHAPTER)

---

A/N:  Notes and likes and reblogs and comments are welcome and wanted!  I need your feedback, please!

[spideycents]

B-Roll // Shawn Mendes - 4: rolling

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

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trigger warning: sexual harassment

---

"Maybe I'll just see you guys at lunch," Shawn suggests as we're climbing out of the van. It's stopped on the street outside a massive high school gym.

"Yeah maybe," I shrug. "Depends on how busy things get."

"I won't be busy," Michael chimes in. "I'll probably be on my third plate of pasta."

"Unless it's chicken," I laugh lightly.

"If it's chicken, then I'll eat salad," Michael says flatly.

Shawn's looking back and forth between the two of us. "Chicken's bad, eh?"

"Very," I say simply before Michael can go off on his long rant that I've heard a billion times.

"Man, guess I won't eat chicken today then," Shawn laughs lightly.

"Oh no," Michael cuts him off. "It's not your chicken. Crew food is always super bougie and delicious and amazing and sometimes you guys have lobster and chocolate fountains and basically crack. It's the extras food that's dogshit. It's like school mystery meat."

"Someone probably ran over the extra's chicken on their way to set," I add. "A month ago."

Shawn grimaces. "Crazy."

We nod.

"It's the worst," Michael continues. "Always has been. Always will be."

"I don't know," I shrug. "I think I've accepted it and kinda like it now."

"Well then we'll trade today," Michael says. "You can eat extras catering while I get crew."

I cringe. "I think I'll just bring you a brownie and we'll call it square."

Shawn chokes back a laugh and I look at him.

"Cause brownies are usually square," he smiles.

I roll my eyes, but a hint of a laugh sneaks it's way onto my face.

I'm about to say something really stupid about puns, but I'm saved by someone yelling for Shawn over by the gym.

We all look over and see the guy who was with Shawn in the parking lot this morning. He's waving him over. I can see base-camp across a practice field by the gym, so Shawn's trailer must be over there.

"Well," he turns back to us. "That's my cue."

"It was nice meeting you," I smile at him and hold out my right hand. He takes it in his. His handshake is strong, but it doesn't hurt. It's just...secure.

"Yeah, you too," he smiles back.

"See ya around," Michael nods at him.

"Let me know if ya get the bad chicken and maybe I'll bring you a burger, man." Shawn tells him.

Michael laughs lightly. "You got it."

"Break a leg," I tell him.

"Thank you," he smiles again and turns away. "See ya."

"See ya," I say softly as he turns away and heads over to his friend.

"Fuck, it's cold!" Michael exclaims, already walking quickly toward the gym doors. Blue signs taped to orange cones have arrows printed on them that say Extras Holding is that way.

We drop our things at our usual spot in holding.

Michael collapses into a folding chair. He pulls a hoodie out of his bag and bundles it up then sets it on the table in front of him.

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Nap time already?"

He nods.

"Are we not gonna talk about what just happened?"

He shakes his head.

"But-"

"Shhh." He folds his arms under the hoodie and buries his face in the fabric.

I roll my eyes and look around the gym. There are tables set up for breakfast, but nothing's been put out yet. There's a bright orange water cooler on a table against the wall by the door where we came in, but that's about it. No one's come by to set out boxes of fruit and granola bars and gummies yet. I'd kill for a PB&J station right now.

My stomach's actually starting to hurt, I'm so hungry. I should've grabbed something from home. Michael managed to down an iced coffee before we left, that'll honestly hold him until lunch. All I got was my water bottle.

If I don't have real food in five minutes, my inner Hulk might be unleashed.

Maybe crew crafty's been set up by now. I won't get in trouble if I ransack the cart. I have email proof that I'm part of this movie.

God, they need something more solid and tangible, like ID badges or something. Walkie-talkies with our names sharpie'd onto a piece of tape is so half-assed. I don't think I get one of those anyway.

I wonder where crew crafty is...

Close to set? Maybe? Probably?

I don't know.

Should I ask someone?

Can I ask someone?

I look like a fucking child. No one is gonna believe I'm crew. That PA definitely didn't.

Maybe I should pull up that email and have it ready to flash to anyone who questions me.

I wander out of the gym, into a big open hallway. The makeshift signs taped to the walls have arrows pointing toward holding, set, catering, base camp, and the bathrooms.

Thankfully, those are right by the gym. I make a mental note of the location of the women's room and head outside, toward catering and base camp.

There are no real parking lots at this school, which explains why we parked at a gravel lot behind some church a few blocks away. The only parking spots line three of the four streets surrounding the school. This part of the city is a grid system, which should mean we're downtown and near a parking garage or two, but we're basically in the suburbs. Like the old suburbs. The houses around the school are all one story, maybe two, not big at all and look like they were built in the 60s or 70s. Which they probably were.

I leave the school through a row of three sets of glass doors. I walk through the middle set and push both doors open in a grand double door exit because I'm extra like that.

I head for the large practice field behind the school and make a bee-line for base camp.

I wonder if Shawn's made it to his trailer yet.

Since they can't park any trailers on the grass field, they're all in a gravel lot in the corner farthest from me. Except for all the semis full of costumes and the makeup trailers that flood out onto the street. As I trudge across the field, which is slightly muddy since it's been raining a lot this summer, I notice another parking lot behind the gym. I see steam rising from a small village of tents, which can only mean one thing.

My pace goes from tired trudging to Usain Bolt Olympic sprinting in three seconds flat.

I lurch to a stop when I reach catering. I'm panting, but I can't tell if that's from the running or my hunger or both. The cooks are in a frenzy, getting stuff ready for breakfast. Everything smells so amazing that my mouth waters. I'm about to dive my face into a griddle covered in bacon when another smell catches my nose.

Nicotine.

Oh god, it's foul and unpleasant and completely ruins my appetite, so now I'm really pissed off.

There's a small group of smokers huddled around a loading dock that's just past catering. I'm so annoyed that they're standing so close to the food. They're gonna make their awful smells seep into the food. I swear, if I eat pancakes that taste vaguely of cigarettes, I will shove their lighters up their butts.

No pun intended.

There's a door that goes back into the gym, but to get to it, I have to pass the smokers.

I get some weird looks from the caterers while I quickly make myself a cup of coffee and grab some eggs, bacon, and toast, but no one comes up to me and yells at me or demands proof that I'm really crew.

I try to hold my breath while I walk past the smokers, but my lungs haven't been under this much pressure since middle school cross country.

I hate this.

The smell's going to cling to my clothes.

This sucks so much.

I hate nothing more than this god awful, putrid stench.

I try to take in long deep breaths in the clean air that still smells and, oh god, kind of tastes like bacon. Fucking shit. I'm so fucking hungry!

I don't want to make it too obvious that I'm holding my breath or speed walking, but I want to get by the smokers as quickly as humanly possible without full on running.

"Lyla!"

Oh god. Oh please no.

"Hey! Lyla!"

I look over at the group and waving back at me is Jake, the literal bane of my existence.

Fuck him.

"Hi Jake," I call back and walk over to him, but still keep a wide berth between us.

Take note of the space I'm not closing. Let this conversation end before it even begins.

He smirks at me and I notice his gaze fall down my legs and back up my body for an agonizing second, then he looks back at my eyes. "How you been?" he nods.

Really?!

A slight shiver makes me turn my neck and raise my shoulder slightly to force it down.

I hate this.

I hate him.

Rot in hell.

"I'm great," I say, faking enthusiasm. "How are you?"

"I'm good," he nods again, but it's more like a bro nod rather than a flirt nod. "Living the dream."

I choke back the feeling of something rising in my throat.

God, I forgot how much he says that. I hate that stupid phrase.

I laugh lightly, but it's in that moment that I realize everyone else in the smoker's group has stopped talking. They're watching us.

They're quietly taking long, slow drags, the soft glow briefly illuminating their faces. They're shrouded in shadow until the light catches their eyes and I know they're looking at me. I don't want an audience. I didn't sign up for this.

The stench of the smoke is still so foul and it's taking every ounce of self-control I have to not scrunch up my nose or cover my face with my hand or my shirt.

"What are you booked as?"

Why is he still talking to me? For once, I want him to be the douchebag that he is so I can go inside and get the hell away from him.

I don't understand. Usually, after we've exchanged the pleasantries, he looks bored and it's clear he's lost interest in me, but he's still looking at me intently. I don't think his eyes have left me once.

I feel a flush rise in my cheeks.

I don't want to deal with this right now. Especial not here, exposed and self-conscious. We're not doing this right now

"I'm not an extra."

Stop responding, Lyla. Walk away. Go inside.

His eyebrows raise in surprise and I have to fight the impulse to roll my eyes so hard, it gives me a headache.

"I'm a makeup assistant," I add.

"Oh, really? That's awesome!" Gotta love his fake excitement. "I'll be sure to come to your chair then."

He winks at me.

I'm gonna kill him.

He's not hot enough to get away with this shit. He may have nice eyes and he's tall and in moderate shape, but he's got a weird face, receding hairline, protruding jaw, and disgusting beard that's somehow always greasy.

He's garbage and I'm done with him. Really done.

"If it's open," I say curtly then I turn on my heel and walk back into the gym.

---

I couldn't sleep when I wrote this so if it’s awful, blame global warming.

[whatinthekpop]

Answers

I never do these tag- answer type posts but it is the summer so… here I go. I was tagged by @eloctromagnetic

Rules

.always post the rules 

.answer the questions by the person who tagged you

.write 11 questions of your own

.tag 11 people

What’s that show you keep finding yourself watching old episodes more than the new ones or you keep re watching the entire series even though you finished it like a million times already?

 I kind of don’t like to admit this but it would definitely have to be Boys over Flowers. It was one of the first k dramas that I watched and it is really such a classic. All the actors were perfect in their roles and I am still in live with Kim bum and Kim Hyung Joon because of it. Also it gives a crash course to all the kdrama troupes out there. sighs~ angry mother in laws and  memory loss.

What is your comfort food?

Anything in the kitchen that I don’t have to cook… I have recently found a love for coconut macaroons. 

How do you sleep?

I sleep on my side, my right most of the time.

What Youtuber were you obsessed with a long time ago and kind of forgot they existed/haven’t kept up with them?

Probably KevJumba, especially when I started getting into kpop and found out he knew Jay Park.

Do you watch more kids shows/cartoons or more adult shows?

Well I mostly watch kdramas which are directed towards a teen/adult audience.  When I am with my family adult shows, and sometimes I watch PBS shows like Odd Squad which is too funny.

Did you get bedtime stories? if yes than which ones? If no, then what was your bedtime tradition as a kid?

I don’t remember to be honest. My sister and I always like to listen to Adventures in Odyssesy (stories on tape) to go to sleep.

App/game/video game you can’t stay away from/always talk about?

I think the app that I use the most would be Youtube/Google Play because I am always listening to kpop or watching videos of my favorite kpop stars. Otherwise my language learning app Memrise~

How many years have you been with your best friend?

18 years~ cause it would either be me or my sister. Outside of people who are related to me… EXO is my best friend!!! jk 

Are you/were you a straight A student, mostly A’s student, average student, or you’d rather not talk about it student?

 I would rather not talk about it, but I am a mostly A student. I hope it stays that way/ gets better.

What’s a song you could never get tired of?

Wolf by Exo…. jk. Besides Jamaican music which is golden a song I could never get tired of would have to be(there are so many) Nobody by Wonder Girls or Lonely by 2NE1. RIP to those girl groups *cries* I almost forgot all of the soundtrack to HAMILTON AND IN THE HEIGHTS! I will never be done listening to them, they are still good no matter how long I don’t listen to them.

Are you a “fan-girl” around/ when it comes to celebrities? If no/not really which celebrity do you think would make you fangirl?

Well I have never met an actual celebrity but I am fangirl #kpopdon’tstop

My life story but I am getting better at controlling myself and being awesome!

soo… @hoonysworld, @keeith, @kai-saurus @yellowseul, @arielledouglas @autummnnaa @slaykpop @pretty-pebbles @nieida @ohoratinyourheart @aireclaire

My questions

1. I can’t cook, but what dish or treat are you really good at making?

2. What song do you listen to when you need to calm down or a chilling out?

3. How did you first find out about kpop?

4. UTZ or Lays, if neither what snack do you like/

5. If you are home for the day do you stay in pj’s or change/?

6. If you are home alone do you blast music and what song?

7.What is your favorite variety show/drama?

8. If you never heard of kpop what music would you be listening to?

9. Have you ever learned a choreo, if so what? If you haven’t what is your favorite choreo?

10. Do you have a favorite subunit, like Orange Caramel or Triple H?

11. Outside of Korea, if you could go to any city in the world where would you go and what would you do? #PATHCODE. 

Have fun and thanks for the love.