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lyssismagical · 4 years

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take a look at me now, there’s just an empty space

For @ironxprince !!! (@friendly-neighborhood-exchange)

Thank you so so much to my beta Rrobrien

Read on AO3

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @justme--emily @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao

Hurt people hurt people.

Ben used to say that after fights with May. He’d get back late at night to find May in the kitchen, stress cleaning as she does, with Peter sitting on the floor by her feet, refusing to go to bed until he knew his aunt and uncle were okay. His face would fall, tears filling his cried-out eyes, and he’d sweep May into his arms, pressing kisses to his forehead and cheeks.

He wouldn’t use it as an excuse, he was better than that. But it was a reason why, a soft explanation as to why he’d gotten angry about the little things. He was hurting, that doesn’t make it okay, but May always expected it like it was an apology.

Peter didn’t realize how close he kept those four words to his chest until he lashed out at Ned one day.

There hadn’t been anything wrong in particular. A regular lunch day, years after the death of his parents, something he thought he had mostly gotten over. As much as he could, at least.

But Ned had started complaining about how overbearing his mom was being, how much his dad would pester him about his homework.

“At least you have parents.” It was meant as a joke originally. A way to lighten the mood a little bit, but it came out bitter and Ned had flinched as though Peter had shouted it.

“You have May and Ben. They love you loads, Peter.”

“They’re not my parents.”

Added to the bitterness was a hint of jealousy, of longing. He knew it was unfair to May and Ben who loved him to the moon and back, they cared for him like he was their own. But as much as they loved him, they still weren’t Mary and Richard. They weren’t his parents.

He remembered them pretty well. Better than May thought he would. She lost her parents at a pretty young age too, but she only remembers them in snippets, in photographs, not in the specific details Peter remembers his.

Mary wore lavender perfume that would hang in the house no matter how long she was away for business, though Peter suspects Richard would spray it just to make sure it didn’t fade.

Richard had an obsession with old baseball cards. He kept them in photo albums, ones Ben kept in his closet after.

When Peter was really little, they used to make sure to take alternating business trips so Peter never had to stay with May and Ben for longer than an afternoon. His aunt and uncle never minded, but Peter was a clingy kid and would get fussy if he was alone for too long.

The fight with Ned had escalated until Peter cried, which made Ned, ever the sympathetic friend, cry too. And they hugged it out.

But what Ben had said hung in Peter’s head.

Hurt people hurt people.

Peter tries harder to be the hurt person that helps people.

No matter how heavy the hurt gets, stuck in his chest with nowhere to go because burdening others is hurting them, he won’t be that person.

When Ben dies that fateful night, Peter keeps up that mantra in his head. Hurt people hurt people.

He writes off every fight with May, every night she doesn’t come home, every plead to the landlord when May doesn’t make the bills on time, as just a byproduct of her hurting. He never complains, does all his chores, and convinces Delmar to give him a job after school to help take care of the finances.

The call isn’t much of a surprise.

It’s not like Peter ever had much family.

May’s parents died when she was young, Ben’s dad was never really in the picture and his mom had been in a home for a while. There weren’t any other aunts or uncles or cousins. So they shipped him off.

It only took a surprisingly short number of weeks for him to be shifted up to the high-risk category. Everyone thought his late-night escapades superheroing was him being a rebellious kid. They started putting bars on the windows and locks on the door, but he needed to go out as Spider-Man. It was the only thing he had that tied him to his old life. He wasn’t allowed to keep anything, most things went ‘into storage’ which essentially meant that he’d never see them again.

Sneaking out at night, always ending up with cuts and bruises after his late nights, and his never-ending metabolism made it hard to find anything close to a permanent placement.

Weeks turn to months spent bouncing from home to home of people who don’t care. Who will come up with any excuse for his social worker to take him elsewhere. Who will lock him in a storage closet that barely passes as a bedroom like he’s some kind of dangerous animal.

As much as he missed May and Ben, and the safety they had provided, he understood well enough that they weren’t going to rescue him. Who he really missed, was Ned. He didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye before he disappeared nearly nine months prior. He hasn’t had access to a phone or a computer, most foster parents don’t even have the time to get him enrolled in school before they were giving him away.

The only upside is that his social worker, a younger woman who’s obviously in over her head with his case, actually seems to care about his well being. She does weekly check-ins and she always answers the calls to get him removed from homes.

He’s heard from other kids in group homes that most of them don’t care as much about them. That it ends differently for them.

He supposes he should consider himself lucky.

“They’re saying they don’t have any problems, Peter. That’s a good thing,” Elaine, his social worker, says. Her eyes are all wide and hopeful like she thinks this will be the permanent placement she’s been searching for.

He tries not to roll his eyes, shifting on the old dusty couch with a grimace. “The only reason they’re saying that is because they locked me in a room about the size of a pantry and haven’t spoken a word to me in the past week.”

Somehow this makes her light up even more. “But that means they aren’t mean to you, doesn’t it? They’re planning on enrolling you into a nearby high school and they’re financially stable enough to afford to feed you and everything. This is good!”

“It’s good that they pretend I don’t exist? That they didn’t actually feed me despite having the food? It’s good that they lock me up from six pm until six am every day?” Peter doesn’t miss Elaine’s flinch at his harsh tone. “I know how hard you’re trying, but is this really the best you guys can do?”

Elaine sighs, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s a lot of kids, Peter. And not a lot of people who really want to foster a fourteen-year-old kid who’s got a spotty history at best. Unless you want to go back to a group home until I can find a better placement, this is going to have to do. They already want me to give up on your case because of how much trouble we’ve been having. My bosses want to blame you for this.”

“Right.”

Peter wonders about the kid from before, the version of him that was cheerful and gentle and innocent. The kid that would’ve never been so short and hostile with a woman who was only trying to help him.

He wonders if it’s only going to get worse. Even if this particular foster home keeps him around until he graduates, another three and a half years, he’s never going to have a family again. He’s going to be kicked out at eighteen with nothing more than the clothes on his back and hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt to whatever university he applies to.

Whatever happens, he’s never getting May and Ben back. He’s never going to have his family. He’s going to have to resign to living unhappily with these people who are never going to love him the way his old family did.

“Peter-”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m going to suck it up and deal with it. Congratulations, I’m officially off your plate until they get bored of me.”

Mrs. and Mr. Williams were dedicated to their jobs as salespeople, Peter guesses. They needed the extra money from the government, fostering a kid, to pay for their long trips worldwide for business purposes. They didn’t want kids, never did, Peter was like an insurance policy. Which meant he was left home alone pretty frequently.

It also meant that they were stressed pretty much all the time. They’d yell at both him and each other. He supposes that’s another reason why they chose to foster him, it takes a lot of the strain off their marriage if they have somebody else to shout at. So they shout, and they insult him, and they get angry over every little thing he does.

Which is fine, really. He’s been through a lot worse than shouting.

He stays quiet whenever Elaine drops by, he doesn’t speak more than a few words to his teachers or to his classmates. He figures it’s easier to stay quiet. It means nobody will yell at him for disobeying or talking back. There’s no risk of getting hurt because he said too much. It’s easier to keep his mouth closed.

And then the few words he speaks, here and there, slowly taper off until he doesn’t talk at all.

It’s easier.

Especially when there are words always on the cusp of being spoken. Words like I miss May, and it’s all my fault, and help.

If he were to complain to the faculty about what was going on behind the scenes, he’s sure he’d be taken away.

And taken away meant taken somewhere worse.

He was lucky to be living with people who didn’t hit him very often, who had the decency to enroll him in high school, who were rarely even around anyways, like Elaine said. He was lucky and he couldn’t risk messing up the placement.

If he keeps quiet, he’ll make it through high school, graduate, and get out of the system. He just has to wait it out.

Hurt people hurt people, anyways. So it’s better if he stays quiet, stays small, to prevent the risk of hurting somebody.

So he stays quiet.

Peter shoves open the front door, dropping his bag onto the floor. He’s going to be home alone all week and he’s trying to come up with some plan to make it to Midtown and back without his foster parents finding out. He just wants to see Ned again.

“I was starting to get a little bit worried about the absence of a certain spider around the city, but now that I’ve seen this, it’s really not too much of a surprise.”

Peter freezes in the hallway, hands curling into fists as he tries to prepare himself for a fight. He can’t see the owner of the voice, but he’s sure it’s bad if they know his alter ego.

And then the person rounds the corner.

Tony Stark.

The Tony Stark is in his house.

“Now, I was a little confused as to why you were swinging around Queens or Midtown or even Manhattan, when you lived so far away. And then I did a little digging on one Mister Peter Parker. Can you believe the kinds of things I found on you?” he continues. He’s dressed in an outfit more expensive than everything Peter owns, he guesses, though it’s not too hard to do that. And he’s tapping at his watch like he doesn’t even care to look at Peter.

Though he looks up at Peter’s silence.

“A lot,” Tony says. His mouth creases into a frown and he leans against the wall across from Peter. “You’ve been through quite a rough two years, hm?”

Still, Peter doesn’t open his mouth. He doesn’t want to explain to Tony fucking Stark the kind of year he suffered through. More than that though, he doesn’t want to accidentally say too much. He’s worried that the moment he started speaking, he’d never be able to stop. Instead, he simply squints his eyes up at Tony and lifts an eyebrow.

“I’ll cut to the chase. I can’t have vigilantes running around New York unsupervised. Especially not children. So I’m here to offer you a place at the Avengers Compound. Train with the team, come on missions, you know, the whole shebang.”

There’s a lot of questions Peter thinks about asking, answers that he needs, but he just watches as Tony moves from the wall into the kitchen nearby.

“You’re coming with me, kid. End of story. It’s either that or Ross takes you to the Raft, which I’m not going to let happen,” he says, barely glancing over his shoulder. “You’re really not going to talk to me?”

In response, Peter runs a hand through his hair, longer than he normally likes to keep it and choppy from his own haircuts, and heads to his room to grab his belongings.

It’s not like he has much. Over the years of moving from house to house, starting with only a duffel bag, he’s down to just a few things. Things get lost, things get taken, things get confiscated. It’s just the way it goes.

“Imagine if they’d sent someone like Barton here to deal with this,” Tony’s mumbling under his breath when Peter returns with his plastic bag. “Or worse, Barnes. I don’t think you’d be quite so willing to go with anyone less famous.”

Peter ignores him and grabs a loose sheet of paper to write his note. Not that it matters much, but I’m headed off to live elsewhere. Everything (including Elaine) will be taken care of. -Parker

“Social worker?” Tony guesses, peering over Peter’s shoulder at his scrawling chicken scratch. “If so, yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

And that’s it. It’s strangely simple, Peter supposes, but he’s gotten a little too used to being yanked around from house to house by strangers. He’s learned to keep his head down and stay quiet, because it’s never mattered what he thinks or wants, so there’s no point in voicing it.

He slips into the backseat of an overly flashy car, plastic bag clutched to his chest, and he tries his best to keep from crying.

He hugs the plastic bag to him and pretends the weight against his chest is somebody else. He pretends it’s May holding him close, or Ben tugging him into a hug, or Ned’s arm slung around him. He pretends he’s not desperate to be hugged, to be touched even fleetingly, accidentally, by anyone. He pretends that everything is fine as the house falls away behind him and his life changes again.

Tony disappears only minutes after the car is parked outside the Avengers Compound, leaving Peter in the hands of Happy.

Thankfully, Happy barely says a word to him, meaning Peter isn’t put in any awkward situations when he doesn’t reply.

Apparently, Peter gets half a floor to himself, shared with Bruce Banner though he hasn’t lived in the compound in years. After so long being given poor excuses for bedrooms, normally shared with at least a few other people, it’s shocking to have a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and office all to himself.

The space, despite being like heaven compared to the closets and basement he’s used to, makes the emptiness of it all the more apparent.

He’s living by himself.

It’s like Elaine had told him about emancipation. It might make him feel like he’s in control, it might give him a permanent home, but it takes away any possibility of a family.

He finds himself ignoring the freedom of the situation, and instead, curling up in the huge bed, tucking a pillow to his chest and wrapping himself in blankets. Finally, in the safety of a bedroom with no threats, no responsibilities, no fear, he lets himself cry.

Tony comes up to find him later that day with general rules and information. The school he’s enrolled in, when Elaine will visit, what times Peter has to meet in the gym with the team for training, what parts of the tower he’s allowed in, curfew, etc.

It’s all pretty basic.

With how often Peter’s been jerked around from home to home, rules get kind of repetitive. The only difference between the Compound and other homes is instead of bars on the window, the Compound has FRIDAY who tracks his every move.

The only positive is that Tony doesn’t seem too bothered by Peter’s silence. He talks enough for both of them.

Until he gets to the end of his speech and sits down across from Peter at the dining room table.

“I know you’re into this whole mysterious silence thing, but I’m going to need you to at least nod so I know you’ve understood. Now that you’re under my roof, you’re my responsibility. I can’t have you running around the streets of New York unsupervised and making mistakes when your actions reflect on me.”

And Peter nods, refusing to meet Tony’s eye, and keeping his arms crossed over his chest defensively. Apparently, it’s enough because Tony sighs and his shoulders relax drastically.

“Alright, well now that we’re through with that, I’m going to make dinner here for both of us. I don’t care if you retreat to your room until I leave, I’m going to make sure you’ve got food to eat tonight.”

As much as Peter does want to disappear to his bedroom and avoid the awkward attempts at a one-sided conversation or inquiries about the life Tony’s read about, he craves the closeness to another person.

The last time he felt properly close to someone was May. Every home in between had people who tried or people who didn’t, either way, it never felt the same. He was just another mouth to feed, another set of house visits and questionnaires from Elaine, another troubled kid under their roof. He was never treated like a human being, like a kid.

Yet Tony’s in the kitchen, muttering to himself about potential allergies and groceries, someone who’s let him under his roof and is cooking with him in mind. Somebody who chose him. Even if it might be for his alter-ego.

It still feels good.

It feels good to be wanted.

“Hey, kid?” Tony calls out from the kitchen where he’s ruffling through one of the pantries. “You allergic to anything I should know about?”

Peter shakes his head, mouth opening to give an explanation of how the spider-bite was the reason he’s no longer allergic to tree nuts or shellfish, but he quickly clamps his mouth shut. As much as he likes the feeling of being wanted, as much as he wants to fall into the safety of having Tony around, he can’t let his guard down. All it’ll do is hurt him.

“Good,” Tony says without realizing Peter’s near-slip. “I can make a pretty mean pasta dish.”

They fall into silence, the most comfortable silence Peter can remember having in a really long time. Tony cooks and Peter watches him, trying not to look like he cares too much, and it’s fine. Good, even.

And when Tony sits across from him again, setting plates down in front of both of them, it feels so much better than the simple, probably thoughtless gesture Tony was going for. He hasn’t had somebody make him dinner and let him eat with them in what feels like ages. Normally, a plate is left in the microwave for him and he’s watched until he’s finished so they can lock him in his bedroom for the night.

“I know you’re not going to talk to me,” Tony starts quietly, eyes narrowed in thought, “And I know this isn’t fair, none of it, but just know, I didn’t want to take you away without your permission. Ross is technically the boss and he was planning on locking all mutants and vigilantes up. I convinced him we could use you on our team instead of on the Raft.”

Peter nods and tries his best to offer a small, comforting smile in return.

He wants to reassure Tony that this is better than every house he’s lived in for over a year, that his past houses were probably closer to whatever the Raft is like than the luxuries of the Compound, even if it means following the strict schedules and conditions.

“And I don’t want you to think that just because you’ve been given this whole floor with all this freedom that you’re alone, alright? You’re always welcome up onto my floor, I’m just as lonely as you are, kid, and I’d always enjoy your company in my lab or kitchen.”

It’s a small olive branch, an optional opportunity to make this arrangement a little more personal, turn it into a friendship or something of the sort, and Peter’s whole chest warms at the idea of having somebody like that in his life.

They fall into silence while they finish eating their food and Tony clears their plates away. On his way to the elevator, he stops at the last second.

“Seven am, Happy will be waiting in the garage for you tomorrow to take you to school. And he’ll be in the parking lot at two-thirty to collect you in the afternoon. If you can’t meet your conditions for living here with the Avengers, there will be consequences, so please, just go to your classes, don’t cause trouble.”

Before Peter even has the chance to nod, the doors are sliding shut behind Tony, leaving Peter alone.

The first week living with Tony is strange, to say the least.

Peter doesn’t have the confidence to try anything outside of the schedule he’s been set, going to and from school with Happy, and staying cooped up inside his room for the rest of the afternoon and evening. And then, Tony comes down to see him in the late evening to cook them both dinner and to make one-sided small talk.

No Spider-Man, no secret trips to try to find Ned, no sneaking out or skipping class, nothing. He tries his best to be a model student and child.

At school, he keeps his head down, mouth shut, and doesn’t give anybody any reasons to pick on him.

Elaine shows up on Saturday morning, early enough that Peter’s just barely woken up when FRIDAY alerts him about the elevator arriving at his floor.

He greets his social worker with a small smile and sits down with Tony on the couch across from her, trying not to let the blush that creeps up his neck be too obvious at his old Thor pyjama pants and t-shirt with a science pun.

“The move was… unexpected to say the least, but I’m not too surprised. I didn’t think your last home would last much longer as is,” Elaine starts, looking down at her binder. “Well you’ve easily passed the house inspection and there are some things I want to go over with your lawyers, but the most important part is what the two of you think.”

Tony immediately jumps to answer. “He’s a good kid. Independent, smart, nice. I like having him around.”

“Peter?”

Unsurprisingly, Peter stays quiet. He feels frozen with his fear that if he says anything wrong, Elaine will deem this unfit and take him away, whisk him away to another group home or somewhere else with people who don’t want him.

Elaine gives him her binder, a lined sheet on the top with a pen clipped to it. “I need you to be honest, okay?”

Better here than most places. Tony’s nice. Going to school and being fed.

He knows exactly what he needs to say for her to check off the boxes. Education, food, and his approval. Simple and easy.

Tony’s leg is bouncing when he passes the binder back, though he shouldn’t have a reason to worry. If Peter said something bad, Ross would hunt him down and lock him up, that much Tony had made very clear.

“Good, good, good,” Elaine mumbles, tucking the paper away. “Well, that’s enough information for now, I think. I’ll give you more time to settle in and get comfortable together.”

Peter stays sitting while Tony escorts Elaine to the elevator and he looks relieved when he returns to find the teenager still waiting in the living room.

“Listen, kid, I know this isn’t the easiest for you. I know you’ve had a really tough year. And believe me, I’m awful at trying to talk about emotions or feelings or anything like that, but you’re one of us now. You’re part of the team and I’m technically your foster parent right now, so if you need anything, and I mean anything, you can come to me, alright? Even if you don’t want to talk out loud.”

For the first time in a very long time, Peter’s smile feels genuine.

He pushes down the urge to hug Tony, to give in to the cravings for physical affection, and ducks off to his bedroom, trying his best to hide the pleased blush on his cheeks.

His opportunity comes on a Friday afternoon when one of his classes is let out early, a few months into his arrangement with Tony. He’d spent a better part of his night scrolling through social media on his brand new Stark Phone and found out which high school Ned was attending. They’re both sophomores now, but they haven’t seen each other since middle school.

He made sure his spider suit, made of an old sweater, fingerless gloves, and sweatpants, was tucked into the bottom of his backpack.

Nobody noticed him sneaking out through the back doors, changing into his suit in a nearby alleyway, or casually swinging through the streets of Manhattan on his way to Midtown.

It’s pretty obvious that Tony will find him eventually. He has the best technology on his side. But Peter’s banking on having at least an hour before Tony finds out. It’ll give him enough time to let Ned know he’s alive at the very least.

Ned’s the same as he always was. Smiling brighter than ever and answering every question the teacher asks, chatting quietly to everybody around him.

“Holy shit,” somebody stage-whispers. Suddenly, everyone’s eyes are on him, leaning against the lockers opposite the classroom door, back in his civvies. “Is that Stark’s new project?”

Ned’s head jerks up and his eyes go comically wide as he sees his best friend in the hallway. “Peter!”

Thankfully, the teacher doesn’t even try to stop Ned from barreling out of the classroom and right into Peter’s arms.

“God, I was looking for you for months after you left school that one day and never came back! I called you and May like a million times before I saw the newspaper.”

There’s something about Ned and his overflowing optimism and kind wide-eyes that makes Peter feel safer than he has in a long time. It makes him feel safe enough to finally open his mouth.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get in touch with you,” Peter says, not even surprised by his constant apologies. His voice is hoarse and low from disuse, but it’s obvious how happy he is. “May got in an accident after work, she started working such late hours that she wasn’t as careful as she should’ve been. I got put in the foster system.”

Ned’s jaw drops and he grabs Peter’s arm, leading him down the hallway until they reach an empty bathroom to give them a little bit of privacy.

“I’m just so glad you’re okay!” Ned quickly drags Peter into another tight hug like he has to check and make sure Peter’s real. “You disappeared and I had no way of knowing where you were. Where do you live now? Is everything okay? How’d you get here?”

Smiling, Peter leans in closer, voice dropping low. “You’re never going to believe me, but I swear, it’s the truth. One, I’m Spider-Man. Two, I live with the Tony Stark. And three, I’m an Avenger.”

As soon as Ned pulls back, frowning in disbelief, Peter puts his hand on the wall to prove his stickiness. He even crawls up onto the ceiling to prove it before dropping back to the floor in front of his gaping best friend.

“Oh my god.”

“I- I’m going to get in a lot of trouble for coming here, I’m on a very strict set of rules, but do you want to come back to the Compound with me? I’ll catch you up on everything when we get there.”

Ned, practically bursting at the seams with enthusiasm, agrees heartily before pulling out his phone to call his mom and let her know where he’s going. While he does that, he texts Happy the address of Midtown High without any context. He figures there’s no way around getting in trouble for ditching school, so he may as well own up to it.

And at least this way, Ned can explain everything to Tony while Peter continues to deal with his inability to talk to adults.

By the time they slide into the backseat of the expensive car, Peter’s exhausted. The emotional toll of seeing his best friend for the first time in a year paired with the anxiety that eats away at his insides is enough to make him crave a nap.

Happy stares at Ned for a long time through the mirror, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a frown, before he finally starts driving.

“Uh, sir?” Ned squeaks, eyes wide. “Peter said he was going to get in trouble for this, but I feel like you deserve an explanation for-”

“One, I’m not the one doling out punishments, I’m just a glorified babysitter. Two, Peter said?”

Peter swallows thickly, turns his attention out the window, and tries his best not to curl even smaller in his seat.

Ned’s eyes dart over to him before focusing back on Happy. “Yes, sir. I was just-”

And then the glass slides up between the seats, effectively cutting him off.

“It’s okay,” Peter murmurs without looking at him. “He doesn’t mean any harm. You’ll have to appeal to Mister Stark, not Happy.”

Ned, forever the great friend that he is, reaches out and grabs Peter’s hand, linking them together in a small gesture of comfort.

* Tony’s waiting at the dining room table for them and he stands when they walk in. He’s obviously angry and Peter knows how this story goes. Maybe he gets sent away to another foster home, maybe he gets sent to the Raft with Ross. Either way, he’s just glad he got to see Ned.

“Mister Stark, sir?” Ned starts before Tony can. Peter admires that kind of confidence. “Before you say anything, I just want to explain.”

Tony’s eyes narrow, but he still waves a hand for Ned to continue.

“I’ve known Peter since we were seven. We went to school together.” There’s no good place to start a story like this, one that ends sad no matter where it begins. “After May’s accident, he was sent away and he had no way to contact me. I spent the better part of a year wondering where he was, what happened to him, why he wouldn’t answer my calls and texts. We were best friends for eight years, and then he disappeared. He just wanted to see me.”

It’s a simple way to put a tragedy.

“Is that true?”

Peter nods, trying his best not to look incredibly defensive but crossing his arms over his chest anyways.

“It is. And it would’ve hit the news eventually, Mister Stark. If Peter hadn’t come to me, I would’ve been trying to break in to see him.”

As kids, Ned was the least confident person Peter knew. He never stood up for himself or even tried to explain himself, he’d take every punishment he didn’t deserve, he’d keep his head down and accept whatever came to him without question.

Now, Ned stands tall and strong in front of Peter, easily defending him to their childhood hero.

Tony sighs harshly, sliding a hand over his face and finally sitting down in a chair at the dining room table. “Sit. Both of you.”

They do as told, both of them expecting a punishment of some sort for the rules they’ve broken.

“I don’t want to be the villain here,” Tony says. He’s watching Peter who’s leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, arms crossed, and eyes focused on the table like none of this matters. “I don’t want to make you feel like you’re not allowed to do anything but stay cooped up here like this is prison. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not allowed to try to get your life back. I don’t want you to feel like you have to walk on eggshells to ensure your safety.”

Peter forces himself to nod. The anxiety still thrums in his veins, stomach twisting and knotting, but the more Tony speaks to him, the more inclined Peter is to trust him.

Beside him, Ned’s shoulders slump noticeably. “So Peter’s not in trouble? He told me that he’s on a very strict set of rules and that there would be consequences if he broke them.”

“He told you that?” Tony’s eyebrows have lifted, eyes flicking between the two of them. “He said that? With words?”

“Well yeah. He said that you’re keeping him here to train Spider-Man.”

Tony’s eyebrows lift even more. “He said that. He hasn’t spoken a single word to anybody in months according to his social worker, and he tells you every secret he’s got within a couple hours?”

Underneath the table, away from Tony’s view, Ned links their hands together again. “I’m his best friend.”

It’s so simply put that Peter can’t help the smile that ghosts over his face, squeezing Ned’s hand.

Tony sighs again, running a hand through his hair. “You’re both off the hook, but please, for the love of god, text me or Happy the next time you want to do something. Don’t just run off.”

“Yes, sir,” Ned says on Peter’s behalf who can’t seem to get the smile off his face. “Oh! I don’t know if this is what Peter wants, but he’s a genius and I really think he’d be happier at my school.”

“You break the rules, plead forgiveness, and when I, out of the goodness of my heart, let you off with just a warning, you want to ask for more?”

Ned winces, eyes round and hand sweating in Peter’s, but he plows ahead. “Midtown High is a great school. I’d be there, so Peter wouldn’t have to run off anymore, and in case you weren’t aware, Peter is really smart. Like crazy smart. He’d be properly challenged at Midtown.”

With a roll of his eyes, Tony waves his hand at them. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

They both hurry up to their feet, prepared to make a run for Peter’s room if need-be, but Tony stops them at the last second.

“Ned?” The poor kid’s eyes look like they’re seconds away from popping out in fear, but Tony smiles fondly. “You’re welcome anytime. Let me know if you two want snacks or anything.”

They both nod, grinning unashamedly, and take off for Peter’s room before they can get stopped again.

* Peter finally bites the bullet after Ned goes home.

He takes the elevator up to Tony’s floor.

It’s not like he hates Tony or anything. He’s been idolizing the hero for as long as he can remember and Tony’s been nothing but welcoming since Peter started living with him. It’s been weird, sure, but Tony seems to genuinely care about the kid under the mask.

“Kid?” Tony’s bent over one of the lab benches in his giant lab, goggles sitting lopsided on his face, and grease staining his old shirt. “Everything okay?”

Peter realizes belatedly, frozen in the doorway to the lab, that he wants to talk to Tony. He craves normalcy and he’s desperate for an adult in his life. An adult who supports him, who wants him, who will take care of him. It’s all he’s ever wanted since May died.

Tony’s still watching him, almost like Peter’s a wounded animal, hands suspended in the air like he wants to comfort him but doesn’t know how.

“Mister Stark?” His voice isn’t as hoarse as it had been after his afternoon talking to Ned, but it’s still weak and shaking, more with trepidation than anything. “Is it, um, is it okay if I hang out in here for a little bit?”

The billionaire’s whole body sags with relief, expression softening and a small smile lifting his mouth. “Of course it is, kiddo. And if your friend’s right about what a genius you are, you can even help me out with this.”

Slowly, Peter shifts into the lab and up to Tony’s side, trying not to show how badly his hands are trembling. He also tries to hide how much the small nudge of Tony’s arm against his soothes his anxieties.

Almost as much as he craves an adult who wants him, he craves affection. May and Ben used to hand out affection like it was nothing. Hugs were given at least twice a day, Ben would blow raspberries against any piece of exposed skin, May would give out kisses especially to his forehead constantly. It was normal. But he hasn’t gotten any of that in what feels like forever.

He helps Tony with his projects, hands clumsy and voice wobbly, relaxing more and more the longer they work together.

Despite how much he craves all of this, it still doesn’t feel like enough. It’s like putting a bandaid over a wound that needs twelve stitches. It’s like writing one word of an essay that needs pages filled. It doesn’t work, it barely helps, the gaping hole in Peter’s chest still feels empty and cold.

And then Tony makes a stupid pun that borders on a dad joke, and then suggests they order some pizza for dinner. Like they’re a real family.

An hour or so later, they’ve got pizza on the coffee table and Netflix on the TV, trying to find something to watch.

Peter feels happy for the first time in a long time. Ned’s back, he’s got Tony who seems to already want to be here for the long haul, he’s got a roof over his head and food on the table, he’s laughing quietly over Tony weighing the pros and cons of the movies he’s stuck between. It’s nice.

Later, when the movie finishes, he drifts towards Tony, almost subconsciously, until his head lands on Tony’s shoulder, eyes already slipping shut. Tony’s arm wraps around his shoulders and he presses a kiss to Peter’s temple.

“Can I ask you something?” Peter says, voice barely above a whisper. He keeps his eyes closed, not wanting to see the way the question will make everything change.

“Shoot.”

“Is this… Is this for real? Will I get to stay forever?”

Peter can feel Tony’s smile against his hair, and his hand squeezes Peter’s shoulder. “You’re part of the team now, kiddo. And I hate to say it, but I’ve grown particularly attached to my Spider-Kid. I’m going to talk to Elaine and see what I can do to make this official. I’ve got a new and improved Spider-Suit waiting for you. And I’ve enrolled you in Midtown starting Monday.”

“So you’re going to be like my dad?” His voice is barely there, insecure, small.

Tony swallows audibly, nerves evident in his voice. “Yeah, I suppose so, bud. Is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

Hurt people hurt people, Ben had said.

But maybe that’s not the case. Peter’s hurt, he’s always been a hurt person, but he seems to be doing a pretty good job at not hurting the people close to him. He can talk, he can feel, he can be, without worrying about the consequences, without worrying about everyone leaving him. Tony’s promised to be here and that’s enough to make Peter feel safe.

“Thank you,” he says, blinking back tears. For the first time in a long time, they’re happy tears. There’s more he wants to say, more he needs to say, but he knows Tony understands. After all, Tony’s been through a lot too. He knows more than he lets on about pain and hurting people.

“Things will get easier.” It’s said with such simplicity, such confidence, that Peter can’t help but believe it. Things are already easier, he’s no longer as scared about falling because he knows Tony will catch him when he does. As Spider-Man and as Peter Parker. Because Tony wants him and that’s all that Peter’s ever needed.

Tony’s arm is tight around Peter’s shoulders and his voice is sure as he murmurs a goodnight into Peter’s hair, and the cold, empty hole in Peter’s chest finally feels full and warm with love.

#lyss writes #friendly neighborhood exchange #peter parker #tony stark #ned leeds #spiderman #iron man #irondad #irondad and spiderson #irondad fic

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imagining-supernatural · 4 years

Text

The End

Epilogue of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You take a stroll down memory lane for a few of your “firsts” with Sebastian

Word Count: 1,146

"Alright, round one!"

The Roots played hype-up music as Jimmy Fallon drew out the tension. You got into the competitive spirit and narrowed your eyes at Sebastian, mouthing the words 'You're going down.'

"What did you do on your first date?"

Well shit. Both you and Seb stared at each other with wide eyes, thinking over your complicated relationship. Which encounter would you classify as your first date? Your wedding? The MET? The first time you went to the hospital together?

A long moment later, Seb nodded to himself and started writing on his pad of paper.

Well, you thought, here goes nothing.

You wrote a single word and looked up to see that he was still scribbling.

"Looks like you guys have different ideas of what your first date was," Jimmy observed.

From over at the podium, Steve Higgins dropped in his two cents, "Hope this doesn't make problems for you two."

Sebastian finally finished and held his pad close to his chest. "I'm pretty sure we had at least five different first dates depending on how you classify a first date."

"Well, let's see how you two classify it. Y/N, since you finished first, why don't you show yours first?"

A drum roll came from the other side of the room and you flipped your paper around to show the word Hamilton.

"On Broadway?"

"Yeah. We were waiting for the first round of tests to come back to see if the oncologist could do anything and he took me to Hamilton."

"Mmm," Seb hummed. "That's a good one. But it's not our first date."

He flipped his around and Jimmy read it aloud, "Breakfast the morning after we got married before we went to get an annulment."

"If I recall correctly,” Sebastian said, almost smugly. “You told me that was the most unique first date you'd ever been on."

"Yeah, I actually remember saying that." The reminder of that day made you grin. "And it ended with us on a plane all the way across the country."

"Gotta treat my girl right," he replied with a wink and a kiss to your forehead.

A minute of banter passed before Jimmy flipped over the next card. "Oh, this one should be easy. First kiss."

"Like my first kiss? Or our first kiss?"

"The first time the two of you kissed."

Immediately you both wrote on your pads, and at the drum roll you flipped them around at the same time... to show different dates.

"Ah! Controversy! We have September in Vegas from Y/N and November in an elevator from Sebastian. One of you is wrong."

"Seb, we literally have pictures of us kissing in front of Elvis in Vegas."

"It doesn't count! Neither of us remember so it doesn't count!"

You weren’t about to give up the fight. "Hey, I don't remember marrying you, but legally it counts, so I think photographic evidence is proof enough that I'm right."

After a minute of debating, it was decided that you were right and the score was tied one to one.

Jimmy quieted everyone down and looked straight at the camera for the last question. "Here's the tiebreaker! Tell us... Which one of you said I Love You first?"

Another easy one. You wrote 'him' on your board, thinking back to the day after your surgery.

Yet Seb had a smirk on his face that didn't bode well for you.

"Three...Two...One!"

And Sebastian had written your name.

The crowd Oooh-ed and you tilted your head at Seb, confused and slightly concerned with his obviously shitty memory. "You said it first, babe. Like, for sure. One hundred percent."

He shook his head, smirk growing to a full blown smile, soft at the edges. "You don't remember, do you? I'd just gotten home for Thanksgiving break and you were drinking wine and dancing around the living room."

"I remember that. But I didn't say—"

"You begged me to drink and dance with you and when I said yes, you said..."

Mind blank, you slowly shook your head until the drunken memory came back. "I said, God, I love you and that we needed more wine. Oh my god, I said it first."

"You said it first." An entire month before he had, actually. He brought your hand up to brush a kiss along your knuckles, then his smile grew. "And that means I win this game."

Later that night, you were sat between Seb's legs on the couch, twisting his wedding band on his finger as some sitcom played on the screen in front of you.

"You know, I've never said I Love You first. I don't think I've really said it to anyone but Jaz, actually."

His right arm tightened around your waist and he nuzzled his nose into your neck. "I figured. I also figured that you wouldn't say it while you were sober for a while. But I knew you meant it."

Your mind drifted back to those first few months together, to everything Sebastian did for you and said to you. "You loved me too, then. Didn't you?"

"I'd loved you for a while before Thanksgiving, but I knew you weren't ready to hear me say it."

You hummed in response to his confession and tangled your fingers with his.

"In case you were wondering why it seemed so easy for me to stay with you when you kept trying to push me away after the fight before your surgery and all the fights during your recovery," he whispered, "That's why. I knew you loved me. I knew I loved you. And I knew that unconditional love wasn't something you were used to. You didn't understand it and so you had to protect yourself against it until you did understand it."

"I've always kinda hated how you were so quick to figure out what makes me tick. And I especially hated how you seem to know exactly how to handle my quirks."

"I don't know about that," he murmured against your hair. "The first few fights we had were definitely my fault."

"Mmm, okay. I'll let you take the blame for those."

He squeezed your fingers and pressed his lips to your temple before changing the subject. "Thanks for doing the show with me tonight."

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. I hope your agent is satisfied with it. And I hope your fans like it." A thought crossed your mind and you sat up enough to twist around and look him straight in the eye. "If you ever go on Kelly Clarkson's show, you better take me with you. Otherwise, I'll file for divorce I swear."

He laughed softly and nodded. "I was already planning on it, sweetheart. Don't you worry."

"Good." With a satisfied smile, you kissed him. "I love you, Mr. Stan."

"I love you too, Mrs. Stan."

THE END

#sebastian x reader #sebastian x you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader

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prorevenge · 4 years

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Woman Damages my Mom's Car and Blames my Mom. Her Corrupt Cop Boyfriend Covers it Up and Ruins Both of Their Reputations

I don't know if this counts as Pro Revenge or not but I thought it was pretty funny and they got what they deserved. This post is super long so I have a TLDR at the end.

For some background, I live in a predominantly white suburban town in New Jersey and my family is Asian. Although the town is alright for the most part, it is not really a secret that some of the townspeople are pretty racist. One of our neighbors, (let's call him Anthony) is a retired police captain from another town, but he is friends with my town's police chief. My mother is a first-generation immigrant, and although she's fluent in English, she still has a pretty thick Asian accent.

A couple of years ago, my mom went to visit one of her friends on the other side of town. My mom had parallel parked directly in front of her friend's house which is at the bottom of a small hill. As she was leaving, a woman driving a Jeep Wrangler with her children was driving down the small hill, but she was still a decent distance back, so my mom pulled out of her spot. The road they were on was really wide, with enough space to fit 5 cars next to one another, and about 40 feet ahead was a stop sign.

My mom at this point was already in the middle of the road fully out of the parking spot and had gotten about 10 feel when the woman driving the Jeep suddenly came up from behind my mom's car and cut directly in front of her, crossing a double yellow line to do so. Because of the angle she cut off my mom at, the Jeep's rear-wheel ended up ripping off my mom's front bumper. My mom naturally immediately stopped, and the woman got out of her car after straightening it out on the road.

As soon as she stepped out of her car, this woman (we'll call her Karen) immediately starts cursing my mom out at the top of her lungs. Karen told my mom to call the police, but my mom told her that her phone had died. My mom's friend and her son, as well as the neighbor, came out of the house after hearing the commotion to see what had happened. The neighbor, an elderly man, asked what happened and Karen yelled "Are you f*cking blind? A f*cking accident happened! Go call the police! I need to call my boyfriend."

The son had taken a law class in college, so he offered to take a bunch of pictures of the scene of the accident and send them to my mom later (this becomes super important later). The neighbor calls the police, but Karen's boyfriend arrives at the scene first. When the cop (let's call him Kenny) finally arrives, he asked my mom what happened, just as my mom had just started saying her side of the story, the cop says "Wait just a minute." and walks over to the boyfriend.

As it turns out, the boyfriend (we'll call him Sam) was a cop in the town who was pretty popular with the kids in the middle schools since he would occasionally visit to talk about things like DARE and other things in assemblies. Sam was off duty at the time, so he was able to come over when Karen called him. As soon as Kenny saw his bud Sam, he immediately went to go talk with him rather than with my mom or with Karen. They discuss for a little while and afterward sent everyone on their way. My mom tried to talk to Kenny before he left, but Kenny just brushed it off and said he got the details he needed and that my mom would be able to get the police report in about a week or two.

When my mom receives the police report, she saw that it said that she pulled out without using her blinkers suddenly and hit Karen's car. On top of that, Karen was expecting for my mom's insurance to pay for the damage done to her rear wheel. My mom went to my neighbor Anthony to ask what she should do about the report since it was clearly wrong. Anthony was furious and told her that she should go to the police station and ask to see the chief and if they ask why she needs to see him she should tell them that it's because she wants to file an internal complaint.

That day, my mom takes the photographs sent to her by the son and goes to the police station and asks the person working the front desk to see the chief. The cop says that she could not just walk in and ask for the chief, so my mom responds "Ok, so where should I go to file an internal complaint?" and the cop immediately straightens up and says, "Right here. Come with me." He leads her into the back. The Deputy Chief steps into the room and started recording the conversation. Since the chief was out, my mom presented all of the evidence to him instead.

After presenting the evidence to show that it was in fact Karen that hit her instead of the other way around, my mom also says that she would like to file a corruption complaint against both Kenny and Sam. Kenny clearly did not do his job properly since he did not properly ask the actual people involved in the accident and did not even note the fact that there were 2 passengers in Karen's car in the report. (Even Karen later admitted to an investigator that Kenny never once spoke to her). My mom even threw in the racist card for good measure saying maybe Kenny wouldn't listen to her and brushed her off because of her thick Asian accent. Sam meanwhile had interfered with the investigation despite not being at the scene of the crime during the time of the accident. The Deputy Chief says he will start an internal investigation and will see if anything needs to be done.

Meanwhile, my mom also filed a claim to her insurance and presented the evidence to them too, and her insurance decides since the accident (in their eyes) was clearly not her fault, they weren't going to pay Karen a penny and that they would contact Karen's insurance to pay my mom instead.

A lot of internal bureaucratic investigational bullsh*t happens including interviews with Karen, my mom's friend, and the friend's neighbor. About a month passed and an officer comes to our house to tell my mom that Kenny had been punished (but there was not enough evidence to punish Sam) and he just wanted to know if there were any other concerns she had. Since Karen seemingly had not done anything to further warrant any action and the damage to the car was paid for, my mom said that there was nothing else.

This is the fun part. Three days after the officer came to our door, a letter came in the mail for a court hearing. Turns out, Karen decided to file three tickets about my mom just ONE DAY before the statute of limitations. Apparently, in NJ, citizens are allowed to file complaints about other citizens breaking the law (a thing that our family had never heard of before until this happened) and because of how late she filed these complaints, by the time we received them in the mail, we could not even counter complain and the only options were to pay the fine or to go to court.

We assumed that Karen learned about being able to file a complaint from Sam (because no sh*t), and that the only reason she was willing to go this far is because she heard my mom had a super thick Asian accent and assumed that my mom wouldn't know what to do about the tickets and would just pay up. What she didn't count on was the fact that my mom is actually really aggressive with an absolutely massive network of people that she knows.

Within a day, my mom hired a lawyer to fight the case and they immediately asked to change the court from the small court in our town to one of the large courts a couple of towns away. The logic was that if she fought the case in our town, my mom would be at a disadvantage since her case was essentially going against our town's beloved police force, but by putting it in a different town, the playing field would be even. Additionally, while my mom worked from home in her own business, Karen had a full-time job in town, so going to court in a different town would be a huge pain in the ass for her.

The lawyer had prepared a huge amount of evidence against Karen, so there was no way she was actually going to win the case no matter what. Come the court date, Karen never showed up, so the case was thrown out.

That was a pretty nice win, but what came after was even better. Since my mother and sister have a lot of friends in town, the story of Karen and Sam doing this shady bullcrap got out really fast. Soon, half the town had heard about it, and suddenly Karen and Sam went from two favorites in the town because of Sam's reputation to two of the most underhanded and nasty people. Sam stopped getting invited to school assemblies and Karen was ostracized in her kids' school's PTA. Anthony also ended up talking to the police chief in private and we found out that although Sam was not officially punished, he was severely reprimanded by the Chief.

TLDR: A woman cut off my mom, damaged her car, and had her cop boyfriend try to cover it up. My mom fought back and got one of the cops punished and the woman didn't get anything out of it. The woman filed a complaint just before the statute of limitations so my mom couldn't counter it. My mom decided to take it to court, had the case thrown out because the woman never showed up, and then proceeded to tell a bunch of people in the town about what happened. Soon half the town found out and now both the woman and her boyfriend are no longer welcomed nearly as warmly in town.

(source) story by (/u/alex567890101)

#prorevenge #by /u/alex567890101 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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atlafan · 4 years

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Take it Slow - Part Sixty-Six

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff. Smut…there’s, um, some more butt stuff…

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Friday after work you meet Harry at the first of three locations he wanted to look at. He really trusted your eye and vision for things. You didn’t like the first location.

“Not enough foot traffic. You’ll want people to be able to walk in and make appointments.”

He agreed with you. Harry’s main thing was to make sure there were two offices in the back. He needed a private space for himself, and for Mariah if she decided to join him.

“You should also see if you can sell frames and other products to help add to your profit. You could offer special deals for those booklets you make.”

“Good idea. That’ll give Isaac somethin’ to do too if he comes along.”

You liked the second location the best out of the three. It was closer to home, and near a park. There were other businesses and a ton of foot traffic. There were two offices, one in the back, and one upstairs. Harry liked the idea of it being two stories. There was also a large storage closet.

“With some paint and some new furniture, this could be a really great place.”

“Yeah, and the price is right in my budget.” Harry says looking over his paperwork. “Are there many offers on this space yet?”

“Not yet, but it’ll move fast. Take the weekend to think things over and let me know Monday, yeah?”

“Alright, sounds good.”

You and Harry were having Mariah and Isaac over for lunch Saturday, so that would give everyone time to think a lot of things over.

“You have the money in your budget for renovations and stuff like that?” You ask him as you get into the car.

“Yup, I think I’ve thought of just about everything. I’d need to put my two weeks in at work quick though because I’d need to spend my free time fixin’ the place up.”

“Which means you’d need to file for insurance soon…”

“Yeah, and I’d need to get my LLC insured too. This is all happening so fast.” He says excitedly. “When can we start working on the website?”

“How about tomorrow night? Once we know if Mariah’s on board we can add her info to it.”

“Thanks again for helpin’ with all this, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He gives your hand a squeeze.

“I’d do anything for you, Harry.” You smile at him and he nearly starts to cry.

“So…what exactly are we doing here, other than to have lunch?” Mariah asks as you set a plate of sandwiches in front of everyone.

“Well, I’m finally jumpin’ into my own business, and to be up front, I want you both to come with me.”

“Me?” Isaac asks in shock.

“Yes.” Harry hands them his business plan. “It’s all right there. Y/N and I looked at some spaces yesterday and found one we think could suit all of us. My freelance work alone would be enough to sustain us, so imagine the few people you work with on top of that Mariah. And Isaac, there’s no one else I’d trust bookin’ shit f’me. I know I’m asking you to leave something comfortable, and it might seem rocky at first, but I think this could be great.”

“What would you call the business? Or is it just a space we’d use together?” She asks flipping through.

“Well, that’s somethin’ we could talk about. I mean I’d want us to have business cards that match. It could just be our last names or we could come up with somethin’.”

“I think we should just call it Styles Photography.” She suggests.

“But you’d be my partner, so where does your name go?”

“I’d be working for you, and it would go on my business card. Your name should be everywhere, this is your thing.” She smiles.

“Harry, I have to say, I’m really impressed with this. I mean the salary you’re suggesting for me is way more than I make now.” Isaac says.

“It’s what you deserve to be paid, you work really hard. And Y/N suggested we sell other little things to help offset other costs, which I think is brilliant.”

“Yeah, we could sell some of those techie frames where you digitally load the photos. People go nuts for those.” Mariah says. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

“Me too.”

“Are you both serious?! I wouldn’t be able to provide many benefits…that’s the only thing.”

“I’m still on my parent’s insurance for a couple more years.” Isasc says.

“So am I, actually.” Mariah says. “So we’d have time save up for all that.”

“My question is, when would we start?”

“Well, I’d be leaving Plant Geo far before either of you. I need to lease the space and fix it up. I’d say by June we could be up and running. Y/N’s going to help put a legitimate website together for us, and she’s going to do this social media campaign to help get the word out.”

“Harry, do you think you could have some legitimate contracts made up for us?” Isaac asks.

“Definitely. I could have them to you by the end of next week probably. So we’re doin’ this, I can go lease the space?”

“Yeah! Do you have any pictures?” Mariah asks. Harry hands her his phone. “I was thinkin’ of putting a wall up in the back and adding a small kitchen area. There’s an office in the back for you, and I would take the one upstairs. Huge storage closet for all our shit. I was thinkin’ of getting a custom desk made for you too Isaac.”

“Can you do all that yourself?” You ask.

“Yeah, I’m pretty handy. So are Lou and Niall, they could help when I need it.”

“My dad could help too…” You bite your bottom lip. You hadn’t really spoken to your dad in a while.

“We’ll see…” Harry smiles. “Anyways, I’m really excited you guys are on board.”

“Me too, I’ve been getting sick of all the drama there.” Mariah says.

“Chris is gonna flip losing her three best people.” Isaac says.

“You two need to keep quiet that you’re comin’ with me. I’m not even tellin’ her I’m getting my own studio, I’m just telling her I’m going to freelance full time.”

“Good idea.”

The three shake on it, and Harry tells them they’ll get proper contacts soon. After they leave he calls the realtor and tells him he’ll take the space and will have a check for him Monday.

“Once I get the blue prints of the place I can get the permits I need for renovations.” He tells you. “Do you really think your dad would help?”

“Sure, I mean it would be good to have him there in case you stumble into any electrical mishaps. Plus he has a ton of tools. He could borrow my brother’s truck and meet you out there. And he’s free labor. Well, mostly free, you’d need to buy him a beer or two.”

“What’s his number I’ll call him.”

“You wanna call my dad?”

“Why would I have you call him? So he can ask you a ton of questions and make you angry? No way, I’ll talk to him.”

You give Harry your dad’s number and he dials it on his phone. He picks up after a few rings. Harry puts the phone on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi Mr. Y/L/N, it’s Harry…”

“Oh! Um, hi. Is everything okay with Y/N?” You two smile at each other.

“Yeah, she’s fine, I asked her for your number actually.”

“Oh boy…you’re not calling for the reason I think you are?” Harry’s face goes beat red.

“Uh, no, no, no, not yet anyways.” He laughs nervously. “She actually told me to call you because I’m officially renting my own studio space and I’m going to be doing some renovations to it. Y/N said you could be a great help.”

“Oh! Well, that’s a much better reason to call.” You roll your eyes and Harry swats an arm at you. “What do you need help with?”

“Well, a lot actually.” Harry takes the phone off speaker and walks away so he can explain everything to your dad.

About an hour or so later Harry comes back to you and plops down on the couch. He takes a deep breath and looks at you.

“Your dad is a chatty guy.” He laughs.

“Yeah, no shit. Did he really think you were calling to ask if you could marry me?”

“Yes, and he talked my ear off about how even though he knows we love each other, we just need to slow down a bit and that it’s too soon for all that.”

“I’m sorry.” You can’t help but laugh.

“S’alright. Don’t really need his permission though do I.” It wasn’t a question.

“Nope.” You smile. “So what did he say about helping?”

“Oh, he’s all for it. Said it would give him somethin’ to do. He said your brother could probably help too. He said once I get all the right permits he’d be able to jump in wherever.”

“That’s great!”

“God, I can’t wait to give my two weeks to Chris on Monday. Been there for four years, feels way longer.”

“I’m so proud of you Harry, this is going to be great.”

Monday morning Harry walked into Christin’s office and handed her his two weeks notice.

“What’s this?” She asks looking up at him.

“I’m leavin’ Plant Geo. I’m goin’ to invest more into my own work. No hard feelings, I just can’t do this anymore. The work doesn’t make me happy like it used to.”

“There’s nothing I can do to convince you to stay? You’re the best photographer we’ve got.”

“I’m sorry, Chris. It’s just not what I want anymore. I wanna be my own boss.”

“I understand.”

“I’d like to keep this quiet, I don’t want anyone makin’ a fuss.” She nods and he walks out of her office to go to his own.

Harry made a ton of phone calls all week to get the ball rolling on the permits he’d need to start making renovations to the studio. He also worked on the contracts he’d need to give Mariah and Isaac. He asked Rachel if she’d be able to help paint once it was all ready for that. Harry felt lucky to have so many friends that were willing to support him.

Every night you and Harry sat at the dining room table getting his website together. He loved watching you work. He was beyond grateful for you. You’d make sure everything looked the way he wanted. You both worked really well together.

“As you’re renovating we should post on Instagram to show everyone updates. You’ll need to give me the login to your professional insta.”

“Should we just make a brand new one for the LLC?”

“No, we can just update yours. Then we can post an announcement to Facebook, and let everyone know about the site. I can set it up so they book with you on the site too. Isaac would have the final approval on the reservation of course, that way you wouldn’t get overworked.”

“I’ve told a few people and they said they were really excited. A lot of people have more time during the week to get their pictures taken than I thought. Plus I can still freelance for other magazines if I want.”

“Did Christin tell you that?”

“Yeah, we spoke and she said if I ever needed the work she’d give it to me.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, I appreciated it.”

A couple of weeks later, your dad started helping Harry with the renovations. Your dad was actually impressed that Harry had a lot of the proper things he needed like masks and goggles. Harry made sure to take before and after pictures for you to post updates on social media. One night he came home in a pair of jeans, workboots, and a longsleeve shirt. It was starting to get warmer out, but the longsleeve helped keep dust and other scraps off his skin.

“I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I’m actually havin’ fun with your dad. He’s helpin’ me get the kitchen together this week.”

“That’s great.” You bite your bottom lip while he runs a hand through his hair.

“What?”

“Nothing…you just look…hot. Where’s your tool belt?”

“Left it in my trunk.” He smirks. He comes over to you and rests his hands on your hips. “Why?”

“Be nice if you brought it home some night.”

“You should come by one of the mornings your dad isn’t there.”

“I’m not fucking you in your studio.”

“C’mon, why not? Now that would be hot.”

“Harry.” You suck your teeth and pull his hands off you. He pulls you back closer to him.

“Okay, okay.” He presses his forehead to yours. “I have a wedding to shoot this weekend.”

“I know.”

“So we won’t have much time together again, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m gonna spend some time with Rachel.”

“Oh good.” He kisses your nose. “I needa shower, I must smell like a goat.”

“A very sexy goat.”

Rachel comes over Saturday while is off taking wedding photos. You’re enjoying catching up with her. She tells you how excited she is to help paint at the studio, and how excited Mariah is to work with Harry.

“I’m really glad she’s my girlfriend, she’s awesome.”

“I’m so happy for you! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.” You take a sip your tea. “Can I ask you something kind of personal?”

“Always.”

“Well…you know about the things Sarah and I bought for the boys?”

“Oh yeah, she filled me in on all that.”

“Okay cool, so it’s been a while since Harry and I dove back into all that. He’s just been so busy with everything, I’ve sort of felt bad asking you know?”

“Sure.”

“So like…how do straps work?”

“Oh my god, you wanna peg him?”

“You have no idea how badly I wanna get into that ass.” You both laugh.

“Yes, oh my god, okay, well, I’ve never used one in someone’s butt before, but using the strap in general just makes it easier to like hold onto the person. It’s not like using a dildo where you have to keep your hand gripped on it.”

“But how do you know what you’re doing?”

“You just feel around, talk to your partner make sure they like what you’re doing. Does he know you wanna fuck him like that?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s cool with it?”

“He didn’t seem not cool with it. You should have seen how amazing he looked when I used the plug on him, Jesus, he was beautiful.”

“I never expected you to be into something like this, I love this for you.”

“I didn’t expect it either. I just don’t know how to bring it up. He hasn’t had a free second.”

“Have you had sex otherwise?”

“Oh sure. We always make time for it. We just haven’t had time for the things that take a little longer.”

“Do you think he’ll want to do it to you?”

“He’s not really a give to get kind of person. I don’t want it for myself and he knows that.”

“Oh that’s nice. Yeah, I don’t really like the strap used on me, I don’t need the dick.” You both laugh.

“So sex with Mariah is good then?”

“So good. I’ve never really connected with someone the way I’ve connected with her.”

“That’s great Rach.”

“Please don’t keep me in the dark about if/when you actually peg Harry. I’m gonna need all the details.” You both start laughing just as he’s walking in.

“Oi, what’s so funny.” He smirks at them, loosening his tie.

“Hi!” You say blushing. “Did you just walk in?”

“Mhm. Hi Rach.”

“Hey Harry.” She smiles at him then at you. “Well, I’ll get going, I have some projects I need to grade actually. God, summer cannot come fast enough.”

“I hear that.” You stand up to walk her out. “Thanks for coming over today.”

“Course! It was fun to catch up. Bye!” You turn back to look at Harry.

“She didn’t need to leave.”

“Oh she’s been here for hours it’s fine. You’re home earlier than I thought.”

“It was an early morning wedding, and they didn’t need me for the reception, just family shots, so I got outta there as soon as I could.” He slips hit suit jacket off and walks down the hall to your bedroom. You follow him. “What was so funny when I walked in?”

“Hm? Oh, I can’t even remember. Sometimes we just get into these laughing fits.” You sit on the bed and watch him undress. He hangs up his suit and looks at you. “You know Aunt Flow left yesterday.”

“Did she now?”

“Mhm.”

“Is that your way of tellin’ me you wanna bone?” You giggle and bite your bottom lip.

“Maybe.”

“Well, we gotta make it quick. I need to go to the studio and get some things done.” He stands between your legs and you can’t help but pout. “Whatsa matter, angel?”

“We’ve been making it quick a lot lately.” You say looking up at him. You put your hands on his hips.

“Aw, you want us to take our time baby?”

“Yes.”

“How about a quick shag now, and then tonight when I get back we can take our time, hm? We’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Sure.” He smiles. “Now take your pants off.” You grin and stand up to take your leggings off.

Harry fingered you until you came and then fucked you into the mattress before he left for the studio. You got caught up on some homework while he was gone and made dinner. He got home around seven, exhausted.

“Please take a day off from it tomorrow.”

“I will, I will. I just wanted to get some things done. Your dad is comin’ back to help Monday so I brought some lumbar over and some other things we’d need.”

You both eat quickly. He goes over to sit on the couch, but you put your hands on your hips and make a grunting noise.

“What?” He looks at you just as he was about to turn the TV on. You point to the bedroom. “Babe, I just need-“

“No, you said when you got home we could do whatever I wanted. Now get that ass up and into our bedroom.”

He couldn’t say no to that, so he stands walks with you into the bedroom. He sees that you’ve pulled out the special box and stops short.

“You…you wanna do this tonight?”

“Neither of us have anywhere to be tomorrow, and we haven’t done it since the first time.” You bite your inner cheek. “If you don’t want to we don’t have to.”

“S’not that I don’t want to…what’s the end goal here?”

“I want to be able to fuck you in the ass.” You say bluntly and he nods. “Are you okay with that?”

“I think I could be.” He sits down on the edge of the bed and you stand between his legs. He looks up at you. “I’ve been reading into it a little.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, can’t say I’m not curious…but there’s gonna have to be things that you’ll have to do. I mean you’re legitimately going to need to finger me to stretch me out and stuff. Are you comfortable with that?”

“Maybe if you shower first.” You giggle.

“Alright, let me go shower.” He stands up and starts taking his clothes off. “I want you naked on this bed ready f’me when I get out. I’m still a little hungry, and I really only want one thing.”

You do as he says and excitedly get on the bed and wait for him while he showers. Harry makes sure he’s all clean and comes out to you. He gets on the bed and hovers over you. He kisses your lips and then makes his way down your chest. He takes your nipple between his teeth before sucking on your breast.

“Ah.” Your head rolls back while he sucks on one and kneads the other.

He makes his way to suck on the other, wanting to give equal attention. He kisses down your chest and belly. He kisses one of your hips and sucks on the skin harshly letting it go with a pop. He spreads your legs apart and dives in. He licks a flat tripe up from your center to your clit. He laps at your folds and sucks where he pleases. His tongue goes up inside you while his thumb works your clit. He was really taking his time, only make small, slow circles. Your chest was rising and falling rapids. When he wraps his mouth around your clit, your hands fly to his hair. His middle and forefinger plunge inside you, going in knuckle deep.

“Shit.” He looks up at you while your eyes are rolled back.

He took a great deal of satisfaction knowing that even though in a few minutes you’d totally be in charge, but no matter what he’d always be the one in control. If he really wanted to he could fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk for a week, let alone stand.

He curls his fingers up inside you while the tip of his tongue flicks back and forth against your swollen nub. You tug at his hair harder. He feels you start to clench around his fingers as he hits that spongy spot you love so much.

“Harry.” You moan. You moan his name over over until you’re coming. He takes his fingers out of you and slips his tongue back inside to suck on you. He wanted all you’d give him. “Fuck.” You were out of breath.

He sits up between your legs and wipes chin with the back of his hand.

“Go get the towel and the lube.” He says to you.

You practically squeal while you grab everything. You lay the towel down for him and he sits on top of it.

“Are you sure it won’t be easier on your stomach?”

“No, I want to be able to look at you while you do it. I’ll just hold my legs up like last time.”

“Okay. I’m just gonna blow you for a few minutes first.”

“Sounds good to me.”

You smile and lick up his shaft. You wrap your lips around his tip and slide down. His hips buck up slightly. He felt like he could explode at any second. Going down on you really got him going. Your tongue slides back forth on his slit, lapping up at his precome.

“Shit.” He groans. One of your hands cradles his balls and massages them lightly. “So good, babe.”

You come off him with a popping sound. You grab the lube and put some on your fingers. You warm it up as best you can. You look at him.

“All clean right?”

“Mhm, I sprayed the water right up in there.” You both giggle.

“Okay.”

You lean up and press your forehead against his while he hooks his arms under his knees to give you better access. Your finger tip lightly grazes around him. You start laughing and so does he.

“I’m sorry, I’m just nervous.” You look at him.

“I am too, it’s okay. We can laugh through it, we don’t need to be so serious. S’kinda funny anyways.”

“Yeah, like, my bare finger is gonna go into your ass.”

“Yup.” You both laugh again. “Hold on, before you push in, just like squirt some of th lube directly on me.”

“Won’t that be too cold?”

“It’s fine, I’ll adjust.”

You grab the bottle and put it directly on him. He clenches at how cool it is but he relaxes again. You kiss him as you lightly play with his hole, getting him to relax more and more. Eventually you start to push your middle finger inside of him. He winces at first.

“Nail’s a little long.”

“Shit, I should have clipped them.”

“S’okay, just be careful.”

You continue to kiss him and you feel him relax around you as your finger goes in deeper. There was so much trust between the two of you and you were so happy. You get it all the way in and you pause.

“What should I do now? Curl it up? Move it?”

“Bring it out all the way slowly, put more lube on, and then put it back in.”

You nod and do just that. Eventually you’re able to get a second finger in, and he seems to be enjoying it by the way his cock twitches.

“Doing okay, Harry?”

“Mhm.” Beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead. “Doesn’t feel too bad actually. DO you wanna get the plug now, think I’m stretched out enough.”

“Yeah!” You pull your fingers out of him. “I’m just gonna go wash my hands, one second.” You race into the bathroom and scrub your fingers quickly. You return with the plug in your hand. You get it lubed up and start to push it inside him.

He gasps but relaxes. You had done a pretty good job of stretching him out. Once you get it all the way in, you focus your attention on his cock. You wrap your mouth around his dripping tip and suckle on it.

“Did you…did you wanna try…” He was panting. You look up at him and you can’t help but smile at the beautiful blush covering his cheeks.

“What is it, Harry? Tell me what you want.” You coo as you pump his dick.

“The, uh, you know…the dildo.”

“Babe, it doesn’t have a base.”

“So tie somethin’ around the end of it.”

“Is that safe?”

“I just…I need somethin’ to go deeper.” Your mouth falls open and then you bite your bottom lip.

“Okay, don’t be mad, but I did buy something else.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know, we haven’t done this in a while and I didn’t want you to get freaked out.”

You get off the bed and go into the back of your closet. You grab a bag and your hands shake as you take the item in it out.

“Oh.”

“I…I’m a little nervous to put it on. Is this going to be weird for you?”

“I think we’ve crossed the point of weird, don’t you?” He chuckles.

“But it’s going to be me…with a penis.”

“Not really. Let’s just remember to laugh, okay?”

“Okay.”

You slip it on over yourself and you look at him.

“Straps around your ass look nice.”

“Stop” You laugh. “Should I put a condom on it?”

“Um, I think just the lube should be fine.”

“Okay.”

You take a deep breath and get on the bed. You carefully pull the plug out of him.

“You’re about this, we don’t have to do this, Harry.”

“No, I want to.”

“Not just because I want to?”

“Y/N…” He cups your cheek with his hand. “If you’re too nervous, we don’t have to go this far tonight. I’m honestly okay.”

“Alright.”

You take the lube and squirt it into your hand. You rub it all over the dildo attached to the strap.

“Ready?”

“Mhm.” He keeps his legs held back for you as you slowly slip inside him. He lets out a deep breath and relaxes as much as he can.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“How does it…how does it feel?”

“Lotta pressure.” He says through gritted teeth. He looks up at you and smirks.

“What?” You start chuckling.

“You just look…sexy, I don’t know how to describe it.”

“It is pretty hot isn’t it?”

“Little bit, yeah.” He relaxes more and you’re able to fit the whole thing inside him. “Holy shit.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, opposite of hurt.”

“Oh! Maybe I hit your prostate.”

“Look at that, you’re a natural.” You both laugh.

You starts to pull out a little and you get some more lube on the dildo to add to his comfort. You thrust back in slowly and he lets out another breath. Eventually it actually starts to feel really good for him. You pump his cock while you go in and out of him. Keeping your eyes on his face the whole time to make sure he’s alright.

“You’re doing so well, Harry. How’s it feel, am I making you feel good?” The tip of the dildo keeps brushing against just where he needs it to, and your hand wrapped around hip, thumb working his tip, was pushing him over the edge.”

“I think I’m gonna come.” He gasps. “Oh my goooodd, please let me come on your tits.”

His moans were really getting to you. You angle his dick towards his chest, and with a couple final pumps and thrusts he was coming all over you.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groans.

You both take a second to catch your breaths. You slowly slide out of him and take the strap off. His legs fall onto the bed. A lot of the lube comes out of him, but you try not to look. You straddle his hips and hover over him. You hug him close to you, neither of you really caring about how messy everything is.

“Are you okay? You did so good, sooo good Harry.” You give him gentle kisses on lips and cheeks. “Thank you, thank you, we don’t ever have to do it again if you didn’t like it.”

“Babe.” He says breathlessly. “I’m good.” He cups your cheeks in his hands and brings you down to kiss him. “We can do it again.”

“Really? It felt that good?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.” You smile at him. “And you looked…I mean…it was hot.” You kiss him again. “Not an all the time thing though…maybe for like…special occasions?”

“Sure! How ‘bout if you’re in the mood for it, you tell me.”

“That sounds like a good deal.”

“How are your legs, you had them up for a while?”

“They’re fine, just tired. I feel like I have a whole new respect for what I put your body through all the time.” You giggle and kiss him.

“Would you like me to draw us a bath? Get all clean and cozy?”

“Yeah, I think that would be nice.”

“Okay.”

You climb off him and he watches you go into the bathroom. His asshole was on fire, but he couldn’t muster the energy to care. He was exhausted. You throw a bath bomb into the water and the room fills with the smell of cinnamon and apples.

“Baby? Tub’s all filled.”

“Okay.” He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and you help him up.

“I’ll clean the bed up when we’re done.”

“Alright.”

He lets you get into the water first so he can sit in front of you. He leans his head back against your shoulder and closes his eyes. He just needed some time to come back. You massaged his scalp and peppered light kisses to his temple.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” You coo.

“Do you think you’ll ever want to try it?” He tilts his head to look at you. “M’just curious.”

“I…don’t know. Maybe. I could try the plug some time I suppose.”

“Only if you want.”

“We’ll see.” You smile and he nestles back down. “So…did it hurt at all?”

“Um, it’s not that it hurt, it was mostly like discomfort for a little bit. But then it sort of just started to feel good, I can’t explain it. You were really careful with me, I appreciate it.” He takes of your hands and kisses the back of it.

“I love you, Harry.”

“I love you too.” He sighs happily.

“Wanna watch a movie tonight? We could get cozy on the sofa in our robes, and I could do your nails for you, and I could pop some popcorn.”

“I will never say no to you offering to do my nails, that all sounds great.”

Harry gets into his robe and meets you to the sofa after you’ve cleaned the bedroom. You come over with some popcorn and a couple of beers. You let him pick through your polish colors, and you let him pick the movie. Believe it or not he really wanted to watch To All The Boys I Loved Before.

“Read the book when I was younger.”

“Don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

You take his old polish off and file his nails. You end up painting them a nice pastel blue and purple.

“How’s it look?”

“Perfect, thank you.” You lean in to kiss him.

“You’re more than welcome.”

“Now, come lay with me so I can spoon you. Time to may some attention to the other bum in this house.”

You giggle and lay down with him, one of his legs slipping between you. He holds onto you and you both enjoy the movie. When you think about what had happened only an hour or so prior, you feel like anyone on the outside looking in would think it was weird. Or that maybe Harry wasn’t as into women as he led on. But you knew none of that was the case. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought because it wasn’t weird for either of you. And if there was one thing Harry loved, it was a vagina. It wasn’t really about him needing or wanting something up his butt. It was about the two of you exploring something together, and seeing where the journey took you.

You roll onto your back and he looks down at you with an eyebrow raised.

“I love you.” You say.

“I love you too.” He says back, and gives you a tender kiss.

Even though he had just been freshly fucked, and he honestly still looked like it, he had caught a second wind. Before you knew it the two of you were giggling with your legs over his shoulders while he fucked you on the sofa. Yup, he still had complete control.

#harry styles #take it slow #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles fic #smut #fluff #im so sorry #i blacked out while writing this #i have zero control over my hands anymore #come hang in my ask box!

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raywritesthings · 4 years

Text

Bird in a Storm 5/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle, Joanna de la Vega, Ted Grant, Raisa, Hank, Emily Nocenti, Female OCs, Male OCs Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

She’d boxed up everything that would be going with her. In the end, it wasn’t really that much. Joanna had offered to hold on to her law books — “For the near future,” her friend had declared, convinced this was only going to be a short hiatus for Laurel from the practice. The bulk of her things were clothes, old photos and albums, and Sara’s stuff. She hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, even with the smaller space she’d have now.

It took a few trips to get everything downstairs, but she wasn’t worried about leaving her stuff. Hank, her first ever client, was sitting with it outside in her car.

He’d sought her services all those years ago for his son when he’d been falsely accused of a mugging. Now that same son was in need of a cheap car to get to and from college, and Laurel had been more than happy to have someone to take it off her hands. The insurance was just going to be too much, not to mention her new home didn’t have its own driveway or garage.

She climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.

“That everything?” Hank asked.

“Yep. Time to go. Thanks for giving me a lift over.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do. This all is a real shame.”

Laurel nodded, leaning back against the headrest as she watched her old building glide away past the window. No turning back now.

They left downtown and entered the Glades. They were streets she was somewhat familiar with, at least the ones she took to and from work, but it seemed different now knowing this was to be her neighborhood. She spotted the corner store she’d researched online for where she would be getting her groceries.

As they turned onto her new street, dodging around a trash can that had fallen over into the road, she sat up. There was a whole group of people standing around by the front walk of the little townhouse she was to call her own. Hank honked the horn, and it was at that point she realized she recognized most of them.

“There she is. Welcome to the neighborhood!” Mrs. Ross called out as she got out of the car.

“What is all this?”

“I might have mentioned I was helping you move to a few people,” Hank admitted sheepishly. He had already taken one of the bigger boxes from the car, so Laurel headed up the walk to unlock her front door. She remained on the stoop as Hank went in, looking around at the people who had turned out.

One stood out in particular.

“Raisa?”

The Queen’s cook and housekeeper smiled at her. “I heard Mr. Oliver and Miss Thea discussing your move. You were always such a sweet girl with a good heart, and now we’ve become something of neighbors.”

“I didn’t know you lived in the Glades.” She would have thought the Queens paid her more than that.

“I do. My sister’s family, my son and I. We all share. A few streets away from here.” She waved a hand vaguely in one direction. Then she returned it to holding a tupperware bowl. “Now, I found time to bake some cookies. Your favorite, if I recall.”

Laurel thought she could feel her stomach growl at just the mention. “I’m sure they are. Thank you so much, Raisa.”

The woman patted her arm, and then headed in after Hank.

She wasn’t alone in bringing food. Mrs. Ross was carrying a large casserole dish covered with tinfoil. “You can serve this up over a week, maybe two. Did the job work out?”

“I talked to her over the phone, and she asked me to come in tomorrow to start.”

“Good, that’s good. But listen, don’t stand on ceremony with her. She’s just Pam.”

Laurel took note of that with a nod, and Mrs. Ross continued into the house.

A couple both about five years her senior approached her next. The woman reached her hand out first; she had brown skin and long dark hair in a sleek pontytail. “Hi, I’m Anita. This is my husband, Jerome. We’re right next door from you.”

Laurel shook both of their hands. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you.”

“No, thank you for moving in. There’s been kids smoking on the stoop and in the back. Makes the whole street stink,” Anita said. Her husband, a Black man, hummed in agreement. “Now they’ll just have to find somewhere else.”

“Well, glad I could help then,” she replied with a wry grin.

Anita turned her head to the side and said, “Bebê, you wanna grab a couple boxes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” she started, but Jerome had already walked towards the car.

“Oh, don’t worry. He carries heavier stuff than that at the docks,” Anita told her. “Jerome’s got work unloading the cargo ships that come by there.”

“This is like a feather,” he agreed as he returned with one box under each arm. Laurel had to admit he didn’t look to be breaking a sweat. He was probably taller than both Oliver and John, and maybe even her father. His hair was cropped short, though not as close as John’s military regulation.

Emily Nocenti was behind them in the makeshift line that had formed. “Laurel, I couldn’t believe it when I heard this was happening. If it weren’t for you and Joanna at CNRI — well, they’re losing a good person.”

“Thank you, Emily. I’m glad I was able to close your case first.” There were other cases she had been looking at before everything had gone wrong. Cases she would never be allowed to touch, whether or not they would have been winnable. It hurt.

Last of the group, Joanna emerged with a big smile. “I had to come and see the place, didn’t I?”

Laurel gladly accepted her friend’s hug. “Thanks for coming.”

Joanna took out an envelope and passed it to her. “This is from Peter Declan. He’s at a recital for his daughter and couldn’t make it, but they both wanted you to have it. Something to help you out.”

She opened it to find a thank you card with two fifties folded up inside. Laurel bit her lip as her eyes stung for a moment. Just thinking about all that time the man had spent wrongly imprisoned, only to still be so kind. “You’ll tell him thanks?”

“Of course. Now come on, let’s get you unpacked.”

Together, the two friends entered the house. It was much smaller than her old apartment, and still one level. The sitting room bled into the kitchen with only a counter separating them. A cramped hallway led back to a bathroom with a standup shower and further back was the single bedroom with a tiny closet. Sara’s things would be going up on the high shelf in there just as they had done in her old place.

Everyone had congregated in the main room. Raisa and Mrs. Ross were manning the kitchen while Jerome unpacked her appliances. The only good thing about the brevity of her and Tommy cohabiting a space was that practically everything in it had been hers; it cut down on things she’d needed to buy.

“Think these are clothes,” Hank said as he opened one box on a squat coffee table.

“Joanna and I can take that. Thanks, Hank.”

She picked up the box and led Joanna back through to the bedroom.

“Well,” her friend began. “It could be worse.” She sat on the bed and tested its bounce. Laurel didn’t miss her smile dropping for a moment. “So how safe is this neighborhood, Laurel? I mean really?”

“It’s not the worst,” she hedged. “It was the best I could find in terms of the landlord. There’s some tenement housing where they don’t turn the heating on until the dead of winter, did you know that?”

Joanna shook her head. “It doesn’t surprise me, but no. Look, Laurel, are you sure you don’t just want to stay with me and my mom for a while?”

“I couldn’t. Really, it’d be too generous, and I still wouldn’t be able to keep up with my car payments. I’d have no way to get to work.” She finished hanging a few sweaters and turned to take Joanna’s hands. “It’s going to be okay, Jo, I promise.”

Someone clearing their throat caused her to turn and see Anita standing in the doorway. “I found your toiletries. You just want those in the bathroom?”

“Yes, thank you. On the sink is fine. I’ll sort through them all later.” Laurel moved away from Joanna and took out her gray pea coat to hang up next.

“Oh, you sweet thing, that is a beautiful coat.”

“Thank you,” Laurel replied.

“You’re gonna have to get rid of it.”

She blinked. “Sorry?”

Anita gave her a rueful grin. “People spot you walking around in something this nice, they’re gonna think you have money. And some of them are gonna want that money.”

Laurel exchanged a nervous look with Joanna. “Um, okay. Do you think your mom would want this?”

“I’ll ask her.” Joanna stood and folded the coat over her arm. Laurel frowned as she looked over her things. She’d thought she had already sold most of her best stuff, but did she give off the image of someone it would be worthwhile to mug? Was that all that some people would see?

Anita set aside the toiletry case and approached her. “I’m not saying you can’t have anything a little nice. But you want to be careful. Those kind of folks can pick out people who don’t belong, don’t know better.”

Laurel nodded. “I understand.”

“If you need some different things, there’s a thrift store four blocks east of here. You can get some nice stuff second hand, too.”

“Laurel, I’ll finish hanging up the clothes. You go sort out the other boxes,” Joanna said. Her friend could clearly see she needed something else to distract herself with, at least for a few moments.

“Yeah, okay.”

When she entered the main room, Emily Nocenti was pulling the photo albums and framed photographs out of one box and setting them aside. She held up one as Laurel approached.

“Is this you and your dad?”

Laurel shook her head. “No, that’s my sister, Sara.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Emily rushed to say, and Laurel remembered with some embarrassment that she had told the other woman the whole history that day they’d bumped into Oliver at the courthouse.

“It’s fine.” She put a smile on to reassure the other woman, then took the photograph and placed it on the narrow bookshelf standing against one wall. “I don’t even know why he bought her that canary. It never shut up, drove us all nuts.” Sara had grown bored with it after a week or so, too, leaving her to either have to remind her sister or simply feed the loud thing herself.

Laurel then stopped by the kitchen. “Is there a pizza place or something near here? I don’t want to send you all home without eating.”

“There’s Joe’s on Fifth and Powell. They’ve got a nice deal on Saturdays,” Jerome told her.

Laurel looked them up and ordered, and soon enough most of her boxes were empty and everyone had regathered in the main room to eat. Anita had had to run next door to grab paper plates, which Laurel wished she’d thought to buy beforehand. She hadn’t really been expecting company so soon, though.

“And there really isn’t some kind of appeal process?” Emily was asking her. “I know the Hood isn’t exactly innocent, but without him Sommers would be walking free. A lot of people think he does good work.”

“Well, he could be doing more,” Mrs. Ross said. Laurel looked over in surprise. The other woman raised both hands. “I’m just saying, there’s a lot still wrong with this town.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to feel safe walking around at night. Usually I just sit around after work waiting for Jerome to be done with his shift and come get me,” Anita agreed. “Lots of guys out there think they can use force to get their way, too.”

“Well, that’s not like anything the Hood’s doing,” Laurel began.

“No, but it’s funny,” Jerome said. “He stopped those bank robbers a few months back. How come he doesn’t do more of that?”

“It would be so nice if he would do something about the gangs that attack the bus routes,” Raisa agreed. “I’m always so afraid to go home. Any day now, they’ll pick the one I’m on, and I’ll lose my wages.”

“There’s gangs hitting the buses?” Joanna asked. Judging by the look on her face, this was the first she was hearing of it, too.

“Well, maybe the Hood just doesn’t know about all of that.”

“What if he did?” Hank asked. He’d been mostly quiet till now, but he was staring directly at Laurel. “Maybe if you told him?”

The others were all watching her expectantly, too. Much as she didn’t want to disappoint them, Laurel knew protecting Oliver’s identity was still important, even among friends.

“It- it doesn’t really work like that. I don’t have the phone to contact him anymore.”

There were nods and glum looks. Mrs. Ross stood and started gathering up empty plates. She patted Laurel’s hand. “Best for you to keep your head down. That’s what we all do to survive.”

The party atmosphere had waned, and slowly everyone started making their way to the door. Laurel thanked them each as they left, then stood in her doorway and watched as Hank drove away with what was no longer her car. The lights were on at Anita and Jerome’s, but other than that the street was quiet.

Laurel shut and locked the door, then put away a few more little things before retiring to her new bedroom. It was hard for her to get to sleep; whether that was due to a first night in a new environment or her thoughts, she wasn’t sure.

What the others had said about the Glades and the Hood, it weighed on her. There was so much more work to do to even come close to saving this city. Laurel just wasn’t sure how she was going to take it on.

---

Pam rose early as she always did and went about her morning routine. Getting ready, watering the plants that needed it, and feeding her cat. She made sure to give him a nice big bowl, otherwise he tended to try going after the basil.

With everything upstairs settled, it was time to head down and open Green Glades for another morning.

She checked the register and went up and down the rows, inspecting her wares. Some of the perennials weren’t looking as good as they had a week ago. She’d have to consider marking them down. There was some other matter of business she needed to tend to today, though it was escaping her what that was specifically. With a shrug, she decided it would dawn on her at the right time.

Pam returned to her counter and had only eased back into her stool for a few minutes before there was a knock at the front door. She looked up. “Now who could that be?”

It wasn’t opening time yet. But as she shuffled to the door, she could make out the outline of a young woman with brown hair and a striped sweater. Ah! Her brand new assistant then. She’d known she was forgetting something.

Pam undid the lock. “Laurel?” Such a pretty name for the girl who was herself rather pretty.

Her new assistant nodded with a small, polite smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Pam.”

“You as well. I’m glad you got here early. We’ll have some time to go over the store.”

She led Laurel on a walking tour up and down aisles, pointing out the organization of the flowers and other plants. “I did them by difficulty. Makes it easier for the beginners.”

“Difficulty?”

“In how to tend them, grow them. Some plants require a skillful touch compared to others. They’re high maintenance. You’ll see in time. What sort of plants have you owned?”

“Um, my mom had a basket...thing, when I was growing up,” Laurel said. Pam waited, but that was apparently to be it.

“Well, you’ll be able to relate well to the beginners, then. Tell you what, today I’ll have you on the register. She’s an old thing, but you learn the right way soon enough. Oh, and I’ve got some mark down stickers that need putting on a few of the perennials.”

“I can do that,” Laurel volunteered with spirit, clearly glad to have something she felt confident enough in doing. Pam fished out the guide she had for customers, dog-eared and stained with mulch in places, setting Laurel to work.

They had their first customers before she’d finished, and Pam was kept busy by the register. It was mostly folks coming in early for seeds and bulbs, a couple of indoor plants here and there. Pam did some bouquets, of course — she knew where the money was — but she was always so happy to sell something living instead.

“Pam? Sorry, where’s the sink?”

Pam turned to find her assistant holding the sticker tape in one hand and her other, dirt-covered hand far away from her clothes. There were already a couple of dark stains on the front of her sweater.

“Oh! I should have got you an apron. I’m sorry, dear.” She ushered Laurel into the back where she found her an old smock to wear in place of the sweater, along with her own apron.

Laurel came up to learn the register, which left Pam a little freer to chat with her neighbors and regulars, like Annie who came in hefting two canvas bags of groceries already. She must have gotten up early to have made the two mile trek to the supermarket and back.

“I’m thinking of trying a little herb garden this year in my window box,” Annie told her. “Wanted to talk to you first about what I might be needing.”

“Absolutely. Now what have you been growing in the window box before this?”

“Just some marigolds. Mom’s favorite, you know. But who’s this?” Annie asked, turning to look at Laurel.

“Hi, I’m Laurel. It’s nice to meet you. This is my first day.”

“Oh, the new assistant!”

“Yes, this is my florist-in-training,” Pam remarked. “She’s a bit green, but she’ll have a green thumb before it’s said and done.”

Laurel looked down at the register keys, a bit of a blush to her cheeks.

“Now, about that window box,” Pam decided to continue to get the attention off the young woman.

She did introduce Laurel to a few more of the usual crowd over the course of the day, and just a couple hours after dark, it was time to close up. In another couple months, it would still be light out come closing time.

They hung up their aprons, and Pam assured her assistant she could bring the smock back tomorrow so she wouldn’t be walking home in a dirty sweater. “Try to find something old you don’t mind getting a little messy for next time.”

“Right.” Laurel turned to walk past the counter and towards the door.

“Wait a minute!” Pam called. Her assistant stopped and watched as she shuffled into the back again, this time coming out with a small, potted African violet.

“Now, this is for you. Call it a hiring bonus.”

Laurel looked at the plant with clear surprise and moved to hand it back over.

“I can’t take it for free.”

“Of course you can. I bring home the troubled ones all the time. Any florist should have a few of their own.”

“I don’t know, Pam. I was never really a plant person. What if it dies?”

The girl was nervous, eager to please. If Pam had to guess, life hadn’t treated her well even before her ouster from CNRI. She only knew the bare basics from what Liza Ross had told her neighbor, and she wasn’t inclined to dig for the details. Sometimes it was best to let those things emerge on their own.

“You take that home. Nurture it. Learn to care for it.”

Laurel wilted, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all anyone can do, dear.”

She sent the young woman home and finished locking up the place. Pam wiped her hands on her apron before hanging it back up on the hook on the wall, then climbed the stairs at a slow pace. Her feet and knees hurt far less now that she wasn’t doing so much around the shop, but they still weren’t what they used to be when she’d been a younger woman.

Ah well. Young or old, they all had their struggles.

---

She had a full week under her belt at the shop, and suffice to say Laurel was exhausted. Her whole day was spent on her feet, as Pam only had the one stool and she wasn’t about to deprive the older woman of it. It wouldn’t look great if she was constantly sitting around, either. She’d need to trade her plain flats for some sneakers. Her arches were killing her.

It was her first day off and she’d mostly spent it on the couch, too tired to even think about going out. She’d clicked around on her computer reading this or that article. One of Starling’s elite, Ken Williams, was under scrutiny after revealing the pyramid scheme he’d been a part of. The articles didn’t say, but Laurel suspected the Hood’s involvement in making the man change his ways.

At least Ollie was still getting real work done out there.

It had gotten dark without her notice. Laurel yawned and stretched. Time for an early bed. She pushed up off the couch and crossed the room.

The glass in her front window shattered, and Laurel dropped and rolled away from a rectangular object that landed on her floor. When nothing happened, she peeked out from the protective ball she’d curled into.

It was a brick. She heard some jeering laughter outside, but when she went to the window the culprits were already running off into the night. Just some lousy troublemakers. They probably hadn’t even had a purpose to picking her house. Or they were the teens upset she’d taken away their smoking spot.

Laurel’s forehead dropped to rest against the wall as she waited for her heartbeat to slow. Was she getting paranoid? There wasn’t anything special about her anymore, so why would people be coming to attack her?

It occurred to her that standing around in her socks while there was broken glass on the floor wasn’t the best idea. She picked her way over carefully and stepped into her shoes, then went to fetch her broom and dustpan. The floor was easy enough to start with, but she was going to have to remove all the couch cushions and make sure nothing was hiding underneath.

A knock at her door interrupted her, causing her to tense back up as she listened.

“Laurel? It’s Jerome from next door.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she went to the door. “Hi.”

“Anita sent me to check on you. Thought we heard something crash over here.”

“Yeah, I think it was just some kids. They threw a brick through my window. I’m fine.”

“Kids.” He shook his head. “You need any help cleaning the glass up?”

She waved a hand. “No, I’ve got it.”

“Well, how about I bring a tarp over to cover the window up till the landlord gets around to replacing it. We should have one lying around.”

The practical side of her won out when she considered that they still hadn’t reached spring. “If it’s not any trouble, I’d really appreciate it.”

He smiled. “Sure thing. Be right back.”

Laurel took off the couch cushions and finished sweeping while she waited, then took one end of the tarp to help Jerome tape it up. Hopefully the paint wouldn’t peel later.

Just as they were securing it on all four sides, another crash sounded.

They both ducked back behind the cover of the walls, but after several beats of silence, Jerome poked his head out and glanced around. “Can’t see anything.”

Laurel checked as well, looking each way up the street, then down at the ground.

“Oh,” she gasped.

“Laurel?” Jerome was at her side in two steps.

“No, it’s nothing. Just… my violet.” She went out the door and picked her way over a couple shards of glass to where the shattered pot and a heap of dirt sat, her sad little flower barely sticking up out of it. She’d forgotten it was still sitting on the windowsill, and the tarp must have knocked it over. Laurel scooped it up and carried it back inside.

“I’m so sorry, Laurel.”

She plastered a smile to her face. “It was an accident. Really, Jerome, it’s fine.”

“You got another pot we could put it in?”

Laurel shook her head. “No. Um, I’ll try a tupperware and see if Pam can help me with it tomorrow.”

“You sure you’ll be alright here tonight?”

“Yes. But thank you.”

Her neighbor left and Laurel’s smile instantly fell. She looked at the wilted flower sitting in her hands. What was even the point?

Nevertheless, she found a tupperware and packed the dirt in around the plant’s roots. She sprinkled a little water over it and washed her hands, then sat down heavily at her table.

“Are you okay?”

She gasped but almost instantly calmed; Oliver stood near the back of the room with his hood pushed back. He must have entered through the kitchen door, even if she’d been sure it was locked.

“I’m fine. It was just some kids.” She waved a hand towards the tarp. “My neighbor helped me fix it.”

Oliver frowned and stepped closer. “You’re crying.”

Laurel rubbed at the tear tracks on her cheeks, pointless when he’d already seen them. “It’s not because — I’m okay. Just- my plant. It got knocked over.”

Oliver was eyeing her warily, like he was afraid the slightest word might set her off crying. “Your plant.”

“Yeah.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not hysterical. It’s just my boss sent it home with me so I could learn more about caring for flowers, so I know she’ll be disappointed if I’ve already killed it.” To her horror, a lump started to rise in her throat as she spoke, making the next words difficult. “And it’s one of the only things I had to make the place feel like a home, so yes, I am mourning it.”

“Laurel, I know how you think your clients would feel if you lied, but wouldn’t they rather you be there to help them?” Frustration was practically leaking from his tone.

“I can’t go back, Ollie. Don’t you see that’s how this starts? Corruption has this city in a chokehold, and no one is immune. If I lie to save my job, what’s to stop me from withholding a piece of evidence that makes my cases harder to win? Or stealing my dad’s files? Where does it end?”

“I’m worried about it ending out here for you,” he replied. “The Glades aren’t safe. That brick could have been an accident, or it could have been something deliberate.”

“Because billionaires hire teenagers to threaten ex-lawyers?” She almost laughed. “Oliver, I don’t have enemies. Those people in the top offices of corporations or the penthouse apartments, I guarantee they’ve forgotten about me already. I’m nobody.”

His face fell, and he shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

She couldn’t trust her voice to remain steady enough to reply to that. Instead she asked, “What were you doing here?”

“I was on my way to another person on the List.”

“Really? And you just happened to pass by the very minute someone threw a brick at my window?” She looked him in the eye. “You shouldn’t be watching over me. There are plenty of other people in this city who need your help more.”

“But this is the only way I’m allowed to help you.” His expression was pained. He hadn’t liked agreeing to keep his distance as Oliver Queen, but she hadn’t realized how much it might have hurt him.

Laurel got up from her chair and approached him. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, but they do. And you have to trust me that I’ll ask for help when I need it.”

Oliver closed his eyes but nodded once. “I guess I can’t persuade you to use one of the Manor’s rooms until your window is replaced.”

“No, you can’t. You wouldn’t, not if you were really the person you’re trying to make everyone believe you are. I’ll be fine, Oliver.”

He stiffened for a moment and placed his hand to his ear where the comm to Diggle rested.

“You should get that.” Laurel turned back to her sitting room, busying herself with rearranging the pillows on the couch. When she looked up, he was gone again.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself for a moment, flicking the lights off as she retreated to her bedroom. With all the chaos on top of her exhaustion from work, Laurel readily fell asleep.

It was with only minor surprise that she woke the next morning to a text from Oliver himself.

The window people should be there by ten. If they’re not, let me know

That was so typical of him. She sent off a quick reply.

Why, so you can visit my landlord?

Laurel looked the message over again. It sounded harsh when she hadn’t meant to be. She knew he was just trying to help in whatever way he could.

I’m sure it will be fine. But thank you

I do miss you, she very nearly sent. But Laurel held herself back from hitting that button, erasing the words instead. There was little point to making him feel worse. Even if it was true.

---

Oliver sighed as he read Laurel’s messages. He wished he could do more than guarantee she had all her windows. But his involvement in her life had to be kept mostly a secret these days.

If he’d known his outspoken dislike for his vigilante alter ego would put this kind of restriction on his friendship with Laurel, he would have been more careful about what he said.

Put simply, he was stuck. If he tried to intervene as the Hood — visit CNRI’s benefactors, make them reconsider their hardline stance — Laurel could end up in far worse trouble, this time with the law. Would Lance even hesitate to arrest her? He’d used her as bait once.

About the only assistance he could offer was physical protection, and Laurel didn’t even want that. He knew she had a point about not wasting his nights, a point Diggle would no doubt agree with.

But it was hard to see what the point of all of this was. He would be at this mission forever if he went name by name on the list. He was no closer to figuring out what this Undertaking was or if that had been what his father wanted him to stop all those years ago. His mother had been rattled by his visit to her as the Hood, Tommy was jealous of an imaginary enemy, and Laurel had had to give up everything.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t see the benefit that came to him from her decision. To operate out of the Glades as he did, there was a certain amount of discretion he needed to rely on the residents to have. Laurel vouching for him gave him some legitimacy, some currency with those people he would have otherwise needed to work much harder to earn. He’d already had to change some of his routes coming to and from the base thanks to tips that were phoned in when Laurel had been reported missing.

Even her vote of confidence didn’t sway some people, though. Felicity had threatened to quit her tentative working relationship with the Hood the other night over his decision to target Ken Williams because of his status as a parent. Oliver had wanted to point out all the parents and children Williams’ pyramid scheme was stealing from, but John had talked him around to a more conciliatory approach. As a result, he was now committed to tracking down an art thief who had nothing to do with his father’s mission. Everything was just too much.

He decided to spend a little bit of time with Tommy in the club before their meeting with Felicity at Big Belly Burger.

“Finished moving all my stuff into the new place,” Tommy was telling him, his voice cheerful enough that Oliver knew there was something forced about it. “Still downtown, but it’s a bit smaller.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll settle in,” he said.

“Yeah. Just needs a few touches to start feeling homey. Maybe a girl or two.”

Oliver scrutinized his friend. “You really want to start dating again so soon?”

Tommy shook his head with a grin like he’d said something funny. “Not dating.”

“Tommy.”

“Look, Ollie, I tried it out, right? Turns out relationships are as bad as I always thought they’d be. Some of us just aren’t made for it,” he said, clapping Oliver on the shoulder. It was clear he was counting the both of them as part of this dubious ‘some’, which stung even as Oliver knew he probably deserved to be there.

Digg cleared his throat, and when Oliver looked over he saw why. Laurel was hovering near the back wall, clearly not wanting to approach while Tommy was with him.

“Tell you what, I’ve got a meeting to get to later, so I’m gonna go over the inventory real quick.” He clapped Tommy on the shoulder in return and headed down to the base.

He followed after John who had already led Laurel downstairs. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, the window people took care of it. Thanks again.”

“Okay.” Oliver stopped himself from asking why she had chosen to come here, then. Scaring her off was the last thing he wanted.

“I did some thinking at work today about our situation. How we can’t really be there for each other the way we might want to.”

That was certainly putting things lightly, but he couldn’t deny a warm feeling in his chest at the knowledge it had been bothering her, too.

“So I think I have a solution.”

“Oh?”

“I had the thought that since you seem to like lists, maybe I should make you one.” She took out a piece of paper that had clearly been ripped out of one of her old legal pads. Laurel held it out to him with a little flourish that almost reminded him of the girl who’d once presented him with her photo. The mix of happy and sad that memory represented had to be pushed down before he could refocus.

He scanned it over, catching items like bus route gangs and price gouging on medications. Oliver looked up.

“Laurel, what is this?”

“We both want this city to be better than it is, and since I’ve started living in the Glades I’ve learned so much more about what people are up against, just in their day to day lives,” she explained. “I can’t do anything in the courtroom, but I can pass along what I’ve found out to someone who can do something. And that way, you’re helping me like you want.”

He could get where she was coming from, but as he stared down at the list all he could see was another set of distractions from his father’s mission. One that in itself already felt an impossible task.

“Laurel, I want to help you be safe.”

“And this would help do that.”

“But how much? Do you have any idea how many gangs or dealers are out there? Small crime is never going to be completely stopped, and it’s only a symptom of the larger problems my father was dealing with.”

Her arms crossed. “So the people who are victims of small crime should just suffer?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean, Oliver? Whenever you talk about being the Hood, it always comes down to your father or the men he wanted you to go after. Is this your mission or his hit list?”

He took a step forward. “Hey—”

“What about the people you’re trying to help? Why not listen to what they want?”

“Because I’m not their hero!” He snapped. “Okay? I’m not some guardian angel. I’m a killer, Laurel. Just like my father was.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. He could feel Diggle’s silent gaze on him, too.

“There were three of us who made it to the life raft. Me, my father, and one of the crew. A few days after the boat sank, we were running low on supplies. My father took a gun, shot the crewman and himself, so that I could survive,” he confessed in a shaking voice. “I have to complete this mission, Laurel. Or else it would have been for nothing. I’ve already let too many distractions get in my way.”

Every minute he spent on this Dodger, or got involved in a petty theft, was time he should have expended on the list and its true meaning.

“Well, I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes downcast. “I’ll let you get on with it.” Oliver looked away as she turned and made for the exit.

“Here,” he heard Digg’s low murmur, and it didn’t surprise him in the least that the man took the paper. Wasn’t he always trying to get Oliver to do this or that thing?

But when he looked at the other man, Diggle had tucked Laurel’s list away somewhere out of sight. Oliver drew in a breath and released it slowly as he heard the door to the steps shut behind her. Gone again. How did he keep doing this?

And after all that, he still had to take on this art thief just to keep their tech support happy.

“Let’s get this over with.”

---

Ted was cooling off with some water when the door opened to admit someone who definitely wasn’t one of his regulars. Didn’t even look like she could be a regular.

“Can I help you?”

She spotted him after he called out to her and walked over. “Yes. I wanted to see what kind of classes you teach and if I could take one.”

Ted didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “Yeah, I don’t exactly have all that zumba and spin stuff that’s all the rage with you younger folks.”

Her returning smile was tight and unamused. “Well, good thing I’m not interested in that.”

He shrugged and went over to grab one of his adverts. “You can have a look at that, then.”

He watched her eyes scan over the pages, and as he studied her he couldn’t help thinking there was something familiar about her. Like he’d seen her face before.

“Can a beginnner try boxing, or are your lessons just for people who already know it?”

“I take anybody that can prove they’re committed to learning it. What has you interested?”

She looked up, and it suddenly clicked why he thought she belonged more on TV than in a boxing ring — he had seen her on TV.

“I’ve had self defense training, and now I’m looking for something a little more.”

“Is that because of your Hood friend?” He turned away. “Forget it, I’m not getting involved in the vigilante’s problems.”

“I’m more than somebody’s problem.”

He stopped and looked back. There was something in her eyes — not the desperate, lost look of some of his usuals who needed release from the pain life had dealt them, but a steely determination that belied her painted lips and comfy sweater all the same.

“That’s fair. Alright then, what’s your story?”

She eyed him for a moment. “I lost my job last month, so I’m living in the Glades now. There’s been some rough nights.”

“There always are. Why’d it bring you here?”

“Because I want to be able to handle them on my own.”

That was interesting. “And not the vigilante?”

She shook her head. “He does what he does for the city, not for me.”

She didn’t look to be lying. And the truth was, Ted would be an idiot to gain a reputation for turning down clients. “Alright, I’ll start you on a trial basis, see if you like it. Then we’ll talk regular lessons.”

She nodded. “That’s fair.”

When she turned to leave, it occurred to Ted they hadn’t sorted out one small matter. “Hold up! I didn’t get your name.”

She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “I thought you recognized me.”

“Your face. Didn’t remember your name. You get knocked on the head sometimes in the ring,” he added. And on the streets, an old voice whispered in the back of his mind.

The woman smirked. “Laurel.”

“Alright, Laurel. I’ll see you on Tuesday for your lesson.”

“See you, Ted.”

She walked out with her hands resting in her pockets. There was a swagger to her beneath that girl-next-door veneer, a toughness that was coming to the surface the more life wore away at her. Ted felt himself grin.

He could work with this.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

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adirabennett · 5 years

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Hi, dear people. I'm uncomfortable asking for help, but the truth is... I need help.

I'm pretty sure most of my followers are broke 20-somethings much like myself, and I hate writing this post knowing most of you who read it do not have dollars to spare. But for those of you who do have dollars (or even a single dollar) you can afford to part with: I am struggling financially right now.

The awful health insurance company I was forcibly switched to in July is doing everything they can to make it impossible for me to get the treatments I need, and on top of that, our family car was in a minor accident this week and incurred $3,000 of damage that we can’t afford to fix (which presents a problem especially because of my mobility issues — on days when I need my wheelchair, I can’t go to any of my classes or appointments unless I travel by car, and cabs are prohibitively expensive). Two of my Patreon supporters — my grandfather and my dear friend Becky — very sadly passed away.

I’m grateful that after 30+ rejected applications, it looks like I finally got a job; if it all pans out, I will be selling jam (made by a lovely small company) at the local farmer’s market. However, this is yet to be made official, I wouldn’t start until November, and I would only be working one (possibly two) days a week. I am doing everything I can to earn and save, but making significant progress is not possible with such low independent income. There are things that would be very helpful for me that I just can’t afford, such as an electric wheelchair, a trained service dog, access to out-of-network medical specialists, and hypoallergenic bedding.

I am asking those of you for whom it is possible: please, please consider becoming a supporter of my creative work via Patreon or Ko-Fi, and/or consider requesting a commission via email ([email protected]). For examples of my work, please click here, here, and/or here. I have an eclectic skill set: I can draw, paint, and collage. I can write and edit poetry. I can design T-shirts, mugs, posters, book covers, banners, and business cards, and I can take and edit photographs. I am more than happy to work out payment plans; you can divide the cost for your commission over time.

If you cannot afford to contribute financially, the next best thing you can do is help this post receive attention. If you are comfortable doing so, please reblog and please ask friends to reblog. Every patron, every coffee, every one-time contribution, every share — all of it counts.

Thank you for doing what you can. 💙

Gratefully, A.B.

#signal boost #please help #financial difficulty #message to my followers #chronic illness #disability

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ertuomamort1981 · 4 years

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usaa insurance claim number

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare quotes from different companies :insuretips.xyz

usaa insurance claim number

usaa insurance claim number = 1-877-678-4357 In the following states, car insurance claims can be reported anonymously and processed in real-time. The reported date is usually within 24 hours of the estimated time period. Reporting a claim with a security system is not recommended, but it can be done. Car insurance companies generally try to get as much as possible to resolve the claim without any investigation. In some instances, the payout may seem too little, and that’s just not the case. When companies have an investigator looking over any evidence, the claims adjuster may simply ask for some estimate of the damages. A standard auto insurance claim pays out $10,000 — or $1,500 — before the insurer pays the claim. Insurers use this portion of the claim to help settle the claim on the insured’s behalf. Once the repair shop receives the total amount that “has” been paid, the adjuster will decide what to do with the debris that fell and. usaa insurance claim number. My husband has life insurance through his job with the company. My question is does the company have to put his life insurance on the employees for the coverage to pay his funeral? As we’re only 100 miles from my home, was there any way we could get the money we had our entire life. It seems like you have an idea as to why they are making such a big deal about your husband’s insurance, but from some accounts, his insurance premiums are just as high as someone who has a regular policy. For example: Last month I was in a collision with someone on my policy. The claims representative told me she was not in my insurance policy in the accident. She told me I have to file a claim with the insurance company and had told me she didn’t know that. If this is true, the claim representative may be calling my husband every so often and wouldn’t call him to tell him the facts. I have the policy number. usaa insurance claim number How is it based? What is you have to file? How do i choose I How does What is an insurance association. How do I find a I just wanna help or please help How can I get help how can i go to Is it any kind of insurance? Does my wife insure us in my name? That depends on the state you live in. Is there a different insurer or two? In most states, the insurers are owned by the owner Can I get it listed as one of the insurers? Yes Can a male insure I’m 21yrs. or older or have an accident? I am a a small business owner. My parents have been policy holders.

Wife’s Death Results in $10 Million Dollar Judgment Against USAA Insured

Wife’s Death Results in $10 Million Dollar Judgment Against USAA Insured Car Insured, But, In 2013 This is also true if you can be sued by the same car (or auto, is it?) for over 4,700 years of driving and don’t want to drive. But this applies when you have the liability limits and your friends are the third party. No matter, insurance company’s there can’t always be a bad outcome. So if you have to go through these steps, it would definitely be the wrong decision. This is the next step, the final one. First, I’m going to explain why that might not work. And a lot of people still think that that is the next step. Remember, in order to get a vehicle you just need an insurance policy that covers at least liability and no coverage should be possible. I mean, to take the state’s minimum liability of any vehicle. When you take a vehicle out on the.

USAA insurance claim topics covered here:

USAA insurance claim topics covered here: If you are caught by police or charged with driving without insurance, you may have to pay: if you are not able to provide an estimate of damages or medical expenses to those injured in an accident, unless you do not have physical injury coverage. If you are charged for driving without insurance, there is an excess $250 in fees for failure to provide a copy of your statement, to obtain a copy of the judgment, and to file an affidavit to establish liability on behalf of the party who is liable for an accident. An article is a statement in possession of the driver, passengers or the articule of a vehicle. When a police officer catches a driver with no insurance (or no financial responsibility), he is also allowed to photograph the driver with the insurance information requested by the police officer for the police officer(s). In this instance, the officer may provide him with the insurance information directly and via an.

SECRET #5—USAA Lowballs Its Own Insureds on Uninsured Motorists and PIP Claims

SECRET #5—USAA Lowballs Its Own Insureds on Uninsured Motorists and PIP Claims If you don’t believe that the USAA is the best company, you should never settle for the cheapest rate from USAA. The USAA website is a little limited in terms of its services, but it’s still a popular name in the . But if you haven’t heard of… » MORE: USAA car insurance covers you for personal property damage caused in the event of an accident by someone who does not have insurance. However, you do have to be aware of any policies that specify this limit. The coverage is limited, but if you are a legal driver, you should be able to get such a policy. You can choose to carry liability limits that are below the amount of legal coverage you would be required to buy. Here are common insurance limits most drivers should aim for, in the event they are sued for any car accidents they are sued for. USAA s auto insurance discounts USAA offers a few car insurance discounts.

Is Garrison Property and Casualty Insurance Company the same as USAA?

Is Garrison Property and Casualty Insurance Company the same as USAA? What company is best to work with for the money? What is most important to make the job easier? Please, read our blog of the same and others. The best way to start is to take an online course. I am still learning every day and writing so I can better understand the benefits and drawbacks of the job. I will start working for insurance. What can I do to save money, and what do I do with the money. When I am working, I am not in a place to work? What do the things within me and my work mean for my job insurance policy? If I don t have any work, I m not in the exact field. So for any job, I m very limited to insurance. I need more for the life insurance alone. I am doing my part and will not be working, that means I will not get paid. My family will be in another family for five or 10 years when I turn 65. What can I do about insurance? I.

Driver Gets $200K Settlement with USAA (and Another Insurer)

Driver Gets $200K Settlement with USAA (and Another Insurer) New insurance claims go up $11.3% in 2017 New state claims go up $27.3% Lowest rate for any age Unemployed drivers: $1,200 per year, up to age 25 Unaffiliated drivers: $7,400 per year A high schooler: $4,230 per year, up to age 25 A New Mexico resident on Medicaid: $8 a month (or $100 per month) New Mexico residents who are on Medicaid: $4,230 per year, up to age 26 New family member on Medicaid: $5,700 per year, can sign up at any age A New Mexico driver who was rear-ended and was uninsured paid a settlement check of $23,711 for a total of $40,871.48, the annual rate for the year. This sum comes to a total of $88,680, or $86.76 a month — that’.

USAA May Not Be Able to Remove an Uninsured Motorist Insurance Cases To Federal Court

USAA May Not Be Able to Remove an Uninsured Motorist Insurance Cases To Federal Court In Missouri, Drivers Can File Insurance Claims on their Own Auto Insurance Claims. If you have a claim and insurance company files against you, you will have to show it to the Department of Revenue. And you may have to pay court costs and legal fees. If you can t afford the amount it takes to go to court over a claim, bankruptcy may be in your best interest. In addition, if you have too little money you may prefer to look for an insurance company that you can trust. You can check your car claim history by working with an independent agent. If they work with a regional company who can help you compare policies and benefits, they know more about you and the companies they represent. They will offer you products from established insurance companies. They also may shop around, which provides a wide range of policies in one place. If you have a car insurance policy with Missouri car insurance, you can pay high premiums. That means you will likely have to pay higher premiums for the time you insure.

Hit by a Drunk Driver Insured With USAA (Claims and Settlements)

Hit by a Drunk Driver Insured With USAA (Claims and Settlements) We’d assume the customer was at fault and the driver’s policy will cover costs and possible damages. In some cases, they may be required to carry additional . Contact a USAA spokesperson to discuss your rights. A USAA representative will help you determine your specific coverage needs. Do any of the following: • Find an insurance company who’s available on a network to quote for a policy. • Provide your phone number and billing information to an insurance company. • Inform the broker by telephone whether their broker will have the coverage that is appropriate for you and your car. • Report suspicious or reckless driving and address the problem to the insurance company. • Report the incident to their insurance office or the police. • Provide a copy of your arrest warrant. • Provide the police officer with written and serial number information. • Verify insurance coverage with the police. • Make copies of your legal documentation. • Write identification cards for the driver. .

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krisroley · 4 years

Text

February 8th 2021

It might just be the time of year, but I find myself getting discouraged easily. It’s compounded by the fact that we’re coming up on a year since my job sent me home and everything that’s happened since then. The simple fact of the matter is I’m not where I want to be at almost any category of life you care to name. I’m currently making about half of what I was pre-May 2020, I’m struggling with staying in a creative mindset, I’m not necessarily hopeful that I will be able to realize a key hope of mine to regain the position I was previously in, and I’m not finding anything equivalent out there that I can do despite the experience. It leaves me in a pretty depressing place, and I’m not sure what my next move is. So when this happens, I try to move out of the mindset of what I can’t do to figure out what I can accomplish. I believe it starts with talking about the things I am passionate about. Demonstrating some knowledge. Possibly not being so unassuming about it?

A lot of the past year had to do with how my friends stayed creative and productive during the pandemic, and now I may be best served by turning this camera inward. Let’s see what happens.

After I wrote the above, I fired up my Feedly reader, and Seth Godin’s post today is very timely indeed.

So, let’s consult the imp in the back of my head that wants to know what the bleep I’m going to do to turn YET into DONE. I think first we have to define what DONE is, and I’m finding that a little hard to do at the moment. It’s a Jackson Pollack splatter of thought about what I don’t want to be doing anymore, and very little thought about what it is I would rather be doing, and whether I can do it for a living. Nothing new here, this has pretty much been the case for a few years now. I need to put these thoughts together. I don’t want to take phone calls anymore. I do want a job in a creative field. I want what I create to be able to help people. I want to be able to live comfortably on the fruits of that effort, which means not only the bills are paid, but that the wife and I are not worried about health insurance, and that the kids are taken care of.

So, maybe that’s what done is. If that’s true, then the next question—my favorite—is ‘What’s Next?”. What I’m about to write is the first time I’ve ever written this answer: I don’t know. I don’t know what the first step is, and if I don’t know what the first step is, I can’t figure the next one. Marie Forleo likes to say “Everything is Figureoutable”. I sure hope so, because being stuck in this place is a goddamn exhausting place to be.

Of course, as I said at the beginning, it could just be that it’s January and it’s cold, and that I hate everything right now. It feels like more than that, but maybe it always does and I’m not remembering it.

Oh, You Didn’t Know?

Joe Budden, who up until a few months ago had an exclusive deal with Spotify, is moving his podcast to Patreon. The Verge has some comments from Budden:

He says he proved the model, along with the potential of his audience, but didn’t want Spotify to use his fans and reach to prove the platform’s own worth and make money.

“For many years, the record labels and the system that I come from tricked us into thinking they were doing us a favor by capitalizing off our talent and basically loaning us money, and that’s been the standard the entire time,” Budden says, adding that he already knows how that system worked out for creators.

When Budden announced his split from the tech company, he said Spotify was “pillaging” his audience and only cared about how his show contributed to Spotify overall, not about his actual podcast.

Budden was a recording artist before he was a podcaster. If he’s aware that the record labels played games, I can’t believe he didn’t see the obvious. Streaming Services aren’t exactly known for treating artists differently, for a start, but let’s address what I think is the elephant in the room, which is the question of whether or not what you had was actually a podcast, because I think that question is fundamental to the problem Budden experienced. A podcast is not exclusive to a platform, and I’ll argue that point until I’m blue in the face. If I can’t subscribe to your show on a different platform than Spotify, then you don’t have a podcast, you have a show on Spotify. Spotify might have a big user base, but that user base is all you have. Spotify’s Q4 2020 earnings state that they have 345 million active monthly users, and that only 25 percent of those users listen to podcasts on the platform. That’s around 86.5 Million, and trust me, they’re not all listening to Joe Budden. Yes, he’s got a lot of downloads, but what he’s got on Spotify is all he’s going to get by staying there. Patreon is a huge and smart play, I wouldn’t be surprised if he goes 3x on listeners and money at the very least.

(Note to self, get back on Patreon, it’s about to blow up.)

The Clothes Suck Anyway

Ah, exposure. SO great for paying bills, only the complete opposite of paying bills.

One of my favorite Twitter accounts is @forexposure_txt, and they receive posts every day from creatives who receive requests, demands, and straight-up meltdowns from people who believe it’s ok not to pay a creative for their work. However, in some cases, there’s the odd post about a company that lifts a picture, alters it, and uses it on their social media without attribution. Take, for example, Meg of Margate, a photographer who discovered a fashion brand called Ted Baker (no link, I’m not enabling this behavior) lifted a photo, photoshopped it, and post it on their Instagram “for engagement”. When called on it, they offered Meg a 200 dollar gift card from their store, which she declined. They then stated they didn’t have the budget to pay photographers, so they deleted the image.

Fine, but let’s be clear about what really happened here. A fashion brand that declared revenue of 617 million pounds in 2019 used a picture that didn’t own to drive traffic to their brand. They got likes and engagement for hours on that post. Then they told the photographer, sorry we can’t afford it, and just deleted the post. Ted Baker made money off that stolen picture, and they probably will have no liability for screwing a creative because it costs money to take people to court.

If this doesn’t make you angry, it should.

This seems like a good place to link to one of my favorite talks by Mike Montiero, “Fuck You, Pay Me.”

More Instagram Stuff

Instagram is now conducting a test to remove the ability to share feed posts within Stories:

You would assume that a lot of Stories updates are re-shared feed posts. The fact that Instagram is willing to reduce this seems like a positive sign for its development focus - but it might also indicate that people are viewing Stories less as a result of such shares, which has prompted Instagram to take action.

I can tell you that many of my stories are photos from other accounts that I think are amazing, and I do that to encourage my followers to follow them. If you remove the ability for me to do that, then I have to resort to a third party program—Repost—to post them to my feed, and I don’t want to do that. My feed should be for my pictures. I hope what they’re driving at is removing the ability to share one’s own feed posts as Stories, and I would completely understand why they feel it’s redundant. That’s not how I read this story.

In other Instagram news, it looks like IG and Twitter might be burying the hatchet soon and allowing integrations again:

That's an even bigger integration. As noted by Jane Manchun Wong, Instagram hasn't provided direct Twitter integration since it disabled Twitter card preview support back in 2012, which makes it annoyingly difficult to share content between the two apps. Now, it seems they're mending bridges, which could facilitate not just tweets in Stories stickers, but wholly new integration options which would enable direct sharing of Instagram posts to Twitter as well, fully integrated and formatted in-line.

That's not part of this proposal, and it may not ever be. But it would definitely be handy - and with Twitter seemingly now more open to such, it could pave the way for improved connection.

If true, this would look a lot cleaner than the screenshots we’re all doing right now anyway. Honestly, this horse has been out of the barn so long it’s dying of exposure.

Shot of The Day

#Joe Budden #Spotify #Patreon #Ted baker #For Exposure #IG Stories #social media #Twitter #Integrations #Winter #Seasonal Depression

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allenmendezsr · 4 years

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Data Entry Work Online Jobs - Earn From Home

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asfeedin · 4 years

Text

Lessons For The World On How Estonia’s Digital State Is Coping With Coronavirus

Kersti Kaljulaid, Estonia’s president. Photographer: Peti Kollanyi/Bloomberg

“Its government is virtual, borderless, blockchained, and secure. Has this tiny post-Soviet nation found the way of the future?” So asked The New Yorker in the standfirst of its 2017 article on Estonia, the Digital Republic. If the way Estonia is governed is new to you, after reading the 7,500 or so words of Nathan Heller’s article you’ll likely conclude that it is, indeed, the future. If the digital republic isn’t new to you, you’ve very likely already concluded it is.

Coronavirus is shaking the world out of all sorts of complacencies. Governments’ capacity – or lack of it – is suddenly under the microscope, which is making the case for digital government reforms in the image of Estonia not just attractive, which they have always been, but vital.

Like all countries, Estonia is suffering. It is facing the same immediate threat as many other countries and in response is isolating itself and its inhabitants from the virus, including, most dramatically, Saaremaa, a small island off its coast, where a high percentage of the population are thought to have contracted the virus. (A volleyball tournament on 4th and 5th March involving Power Volley Milano seems to be the reason the island’s 33,000 people have been so hard hit.)

I’ve written before on why Estonia’s digital state shows the way for government reforms in the U.K. My call for these radical reforms was more in hope than expectation. There is a great deal of inertia within any government, and the U.K. doesn’t have the magic mix that made Estonia’s reforms possible; namely, a blank slate for a young set of reform-minded officials on tight budget, finally free of Soviet occupation and on a mission to improve the lives of its citizens.

I’m not the first person to take a look at how Estonia is reacting to the crisis. The New Yorker (again) makes the case for why Estonia was poised to handle how a pandemic would change everything: “Its economy is bound to tech, its government is digital, and most services in the country either are or can be provided electronically – in fact, it’s nearly impossible to overstate the extent of Estonian digitization. People vote online and use digital prescriptions; a single piece of I.D. securely stores each Estonian’s personal information, including health, tax, and police records; one can even establish residency and begin paying taxes in the country digitally—effectively immigrating online.”

It’s a good article, but it doesn’t get into the nitty gritty of how a digital state is making a practical difference to the lives of its citizens at this most challenging time.

Hack the Crisis

The most newsworthy reaction to coronavirus was ‘Hack the Crisis.’ Perhaps hackathons are a little passé, but it has been effective.

Ideas included “a platform for connecting vulnerable, at-risk people with volunteers via a call center; an online tutoring service for school children in quarantine; an add-on to smartwatches to help people check for coronavirus symptoms; an online display of what food stocks are available in local supermarkets; and an app to map the spread of coronavirus, which invites people to self-report cases.”

Suve was also created at the event organized by Garage48 and Accelerate Estonia. She is a chatbot that’s able to answer citizens’ questions related to the crisis situation and she’s already been rolled out across government websites. Share Force One was also created in the hack. It’s a workforce sharing platform that connects B2B sides for temporary workforce exchange and is being run in partnership with Estonian Unemployment Insurance Fund.

Next up, Estonia is “teaming up with Mistletoe Singapore, the European Commission and other local and international supporters, to organize a 100-hour free online accelerator for startups with potential to have a strong impact on shaping today’s and the post-crisis world.” Salto Growth Camp: EMERGEncy includes the Estonian President, Kersti Kaljulaid, as a mentor, as well as founders from Bolt, Skype, Pipedrive, Veriff, Testlio and other Estonian high-growth startups and scaleups.

This is What State Capacity Looks Like

Hackathons and accelerators are all well and good, but they’re just the tip of the iceberg. The thing that really sets Estonia apart from countries like the U.K. in dealing with coronavirus isn’t so easily replicable.

First, a note of caution though. The economic fallout will be severe for every country in the world and Estonia is as reliant on global supply chains as any country, whether in purchasing their Personal Protective Equipment (PPE), ventilators, or, presumably, the vaccine, when it finally comes. And Estonia, like many countries – though worryingly not the U.K., which is opting for a centralized approach – is planning to integrate its contact tracing app with Apple and Google’s joint COVID-19 tracing tool for iOS and Android.

Priit Tohver Advisor for Digital Services Innovation in the Ministry of Social Affairs, explains: “In Estonia we are indebted to all the hard work that has already been put into developing contact tracing apps around the world. It is clear, however, that without integrating with the Apple and Google API, these solutions will never achieve their full potential. Fortunately the approach supported by the API aligns well with our privacy-preserving principles.”

Privacy and security are front and center to the Estonia model, which ironically has been the most common objection to their digital reforms from many in other countries over the years. The criticism tends to be civil liberties objection to having ID cards, although they are no longer necessary because digital apps have effectively replaced the need for a physical card. Nevertheless, central to a capable state is the need for everyone in the country to have a digital identity, but this is infinitely more secure than the hodgepodge approach that countries like the UK take to managing and securing data. In Estonia, where and how data is collected, stored and deleted is central to every interaction and process, as well as who can access it and when.

E-Government in the Time of Coronavirus

State capacity requires a functioning government. That is proving tricky for many countries who have only ever done it in physical parliaments. Estonia has been doing e-Cabinet since the early 2000s, with government business easily conducted securely online. And while the postponement of English local elections for a year is the right decision in the circumstances, this wouldn’t have been necessary in Estonia, where i-Voting has been possible since 2005. At the last parliamentary elections in March 2019, 44% of Estonians voted online.

While i-Voting is much cheaper (€2.32 versus €20.41 per vote), the move has always struck me as something that shouldn’t be decided by just value for money. Most obviously because of the added trust people have in a system where other citizens physically count the votes, but also because of the pleasure people get from the ritual of visiting the polling booth with others. Nevertheless, coronavirus has revealed the value of at least having a backup system in place to keep democracy functioning even when we can’t easily leave the house.

Estonians have been using digital signatures in their interactions with the government since 2002. While countries like the U.K. are being forced to try to move to interactions online, Estonians are afforded a higher level of security by way of their digital identity card through the physical smart card reader, or increasingly directly through their computer and phone through apps. (Incidentally, the card can also be used as a way of confirming your identity directly with the private sector where you need to prove your identity, such as for loyalty schemes.)

Back in 2015, Estonia planned to digitalize all educational materials by 2020, which is why they were ready to swiftly launch Education Nation with Finland, Denmark, Iceland, Latvia, Lithuania, Norway and Sweden, and make the switch to teaching and learning fully online. They have also made the resources available for free to the rest of the world.

As reported from Germany: “Teacher training in e-learning started around 10 years ago, according to the country′s deputy education minister, Marts Laidmets. Estonian educators also have access to a wide array of online tools to connect pupils, teachers and parents. Those include eKool, a school management network that has more than 200,000 active users on a normal day, and Stuudium, a suite of apps with educational materials, assessment tools and messaging. Much of Estonian schooling is already in the cloud, and 87% of schools use tools like eKool and Stuudium, whether for lesson plans, homework, absence management or recording grades.”

Estonia was also ready to keep the wheels of justice turning post-lockdown. It’s e-Justice system ensures court proceedings are both one of the cheapest to run and one of the fastest in Europe.

Here is how it works: “As soon as a citizen has securely authenticated themselves and accessed the e-justice platform, they can submit any kind of cases online. The data will be shared between institutions that are linked to the case and courts can start proceeding related documents. These interactions are based on the once-only policy which means that duplicates of information are not allowed in state databases.”

“The e-file platform also allows courts to send citizens different documents, while notifications ensure judges that all files have been successfully delivered. Every document is timestamped and contains a secure electronic signature. Furthermore, classified information can be encrypted by the courts to make sure that no third party would be able to access the data.”

While other countries are struggling to get court systems online (and even throwing people in jail for not paying their parking fines without a functioning court system), Estonia is already using AI to solve simple disputes of small claims disputes of less than €7,000.

In a recent interview, the potential for a digital state was set out by Indrek Õnnik, Global Affairs Director at Government CIO Office, on how Estonia is dealing with coronavirus. The Estonian Police and Border Guard Board sends you a message via your virtual personal assistant to inform you that your passport is expiring in 6 months. In response, you might decide to book an appointment for five months through your virtual assistant, but the personal assistant immediately alerts you that you’ll need a passport with more than 6 months’ left on it because you’ve booked a trip to Thailand that requires it. The personal assistant then applies for the passport straight away and a phone notification prompts you to take a photo on your smartphone. You take the photo, but the AI has identified that you’ve smiled in it and prompts you to take another one. You do and your passport arrives in 5 days.

In the same interview, he also posits a future scenario where the borders have to close again but you’re stuck in another country. Rather than panic, you alert the embassy online through your smartphone, which automatically organizes the safest and most efficient way for you to get home. This is Estonian’s vision of the near future.

It’s perhaps in healthcare and welfare where the weaknesses of government systems feel most acute right now. In the U.K., for example, the gaps in support aren’t being filled because of a lack of adequate data – particularly for some self-employed and company directors who’ve paid themselves in dividends. It’s not a lack of present will, but a lack of state capacity.

In terms of welfare, Estonia’s automated and (relatively) accurate registries automatically share information so people get what they’re entitled to. As President of Estonia Kersti Kaljulaid explains in a recent HBR podcast, unlike in many other countries, Estonian citizens who were sick with coronavirus didn’t have to report to anyone physically, which avoided it spreading that way as it did in the early stages in some countries that weren’t on top of this straight away. Instead, people were away able to immediately apply for social security online.

Digitalization, privacy and data protection are baked into the health system. Estonia already has digital prescriptions and patient files are digitized, so doctors have access to all relevant health records, including from specialists. This means that they’re better able to identify those who are at risk from coronavirus than in countries where information is siloed and reliant on paper trails.

Towards a Digital State

Estonia’s digital state would not exist without an equally competent private sector, but that’s not the blockage in countries like the U.K. As President Kaljulaid in the HBR podcast says of the remarkable efficiency of the state: “We didn’t know that the public sector was supposed to be falling behind.”

So, what next? President Kaljulaid believes, I think correctly, that the current situation will speed up the need for reforms rather than overthrow the established order: “It’s more an accelerator than a total game-changer, because all these measures that we need to take: vaccinations, social distancing, more services online which allows you social distancing, wearing protective masks, for example, on public transport. These are all things that we had before. We simply did not apply them. Nothing has emerged, which would say the world will be totally different.”

The Estonian government isn’t perfect. For example, it lags countries like the UK on innovations like Open Data which lets companies build services on the back of government data without the need for government involvement. But we could and should want to excel at both, and this pandemic has thrown into sharp relief why governments across the world need a digital upgrade.

To (probably) quote sci-fi writer William Gibson: “The future has arrived — it’s just not evenly distributed yet.“

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Tags: Coping, coronavirus, Digital, Estonias, Lessons, state, World

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 7 years

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Why criticizing Peter Parker for not having life insurance makes YOU look stupid: A mini-essay

For years now I’ve heard the critique of Peter Parker’s character that he’s an irresponsible man-child fuck up because he doesn’t have life insurance.

Here is why that criticism isn’t only invalid but why saying it doesn’t make you smart, but rather reveals how idiotic you are.

The criticism stems from two specific sources. The first source is from an offhand comment in the 2005 storyline the Other, specifically Friendly Nieghborhood Spider-Man #2. To give some context Peter Parker has been diagnosed with a terminal illness and after consulting the big brains of the Marvel Universe (Reed Richards, Hank Pym, T’Challa, Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, etc) is accepting the fact that he’s doomed.

The other source for this criticism stems from famous internet reviewer Linkara’s review of One More Day on his long running internet review show Atop the Fourth Wall.

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I’ve dissected Linkara’s over all criticism of the character before and explained why it’s utter cack that is evidence of his ignorance when it comes to the character (not unexpected given that he’s hardcore DC and doesn’t dabble half as much into Marvel).

But that isn’t my point or the topic of discussion.

So first of all let’s just do some important context here for both sources.

The line about Peter not having life insurance came from Reginald Hudlin who frankly was never good as a Spider-Man writer, was given Marvel writing jobs as a weird publicity stunt more than anything and was the guy who wrote Tony Stark so out of character that he was literally offering Spider-Man the opportunity to commit adultery on Mary Jane at one point.

Hardly the most liable source for the character is it?

But in truth most people probably know more about this criticism from Linklara’s video. Linkara is very well known within the comic book industry as he is the closest thing to a full on comic book nerd celebrity we have. Allegedly his videos actually inspired Marvel to make a Deadpool storyline which revived incredibly obscure characters that were the subject of one of his reviews.

Typically whenever the criticism of Peter not having life insurance is brought up it’s in a manner not dissimilar to Linkara’s long and ill informed rant about Peter as a character.

Which heavily indicates to me that really most of the people bringing up the criticism are parroting him without

a) Having read the story

b) Having read much Spider-Man

c) Considering the context of the character and the world he lives in and the life he leads.

In short they repeat the criticism to pretend they know what they are talking about when they do not.

But okay let’s get down to brass tax and explain why it makes complete fucking sense despite all that as to why Peter Parker wouldn’t have life insurance.

The short story is it boils down to three reasons

· He can’t afford it

· It’d be unethical

· It’d be redundant

Lets go through those one by one.

He can’t afford life insurance

In the storyline in question Peter Parker had been living rent free with the Avengers for at most 2 months tops and that’s an extreme estimate, it’s probably less.

So what was Peter’s living situation BEFORE that?

He was a teacher at an underfunded, under resourced inner city school with a history of crime and poverty in the area where some of the students were effectively squatting and there was also drug problems too. His decision to teach there was more out of a desire to help the children rather than any financial considerations. Due to being Spider-Man days off also were not uncommon for him and one imagines that would impact his pay. Teachers tend to get a shitty wage in general but a teacher at this sort of school under these sorts of conditions would be a noticeably shitty wage. So Peter Parker doesn’t have much income coming generally speaking.

Then you’ve got his expenses.

Living in central Manhattan is extortionately pricy most of the time due to the rent alone, never mind other utilities, food, clothing and other necessities.

But Peter ALSO had to use some of his salary to help support Aunt May who as far as we know never had a job where there would be a pension scheme. Maybe she had some money to get by but given that Peter as a teenager was obviously the main source of income through being a photographer it’s likely May never had much money so was reliant upon Peter for financial support. This is a big deal because she is not only an older person living in what looks like a two bedroom (at least) detached house in Forest Hills she also has a history of medical problems which have proven pricy over the years.

On top of all of that Peter also has to pay for maintenance of his equipment as Spider-Man. He has to get the right fabric to make multiple copies of his full body costume (comprised of seven different items of clothing, a mask, a shirt, pants, gloves and boots). He has to get special one way lenses the then must attach to the fabric of his costume (which would probably require some kind of adhesive). He has to make, maintain and ensure he has spares of his web shooters and web cartridges which is an entirely custom made set of devices meaning he’d have to purchase the individual materials himself. He has to do the same for his spider tracers, his spider signal and his utility belt which contains the latter devices and his cartridges.

And then there is the web-fluid. This is an entirely custom made chemical substance which is not only not sold in stores but requires Peter to be conspicuous when purchasing the individual ingredients so as to avoid suspicion. He also needs to maintain workable chemistry apparatus in order to properly mix the web fluid formula correctly, which is unto itself not cheap. Whilst it’s possible for him to make a cheaper version as Ben Reilly did in Sensational Spider-Man #0, Ben discovered that his cheaper version of the formula wasn’t nearly as reliable.

When taken with Peter’s outright statements that the web fluid is expensive you see that it’s yet another notable yet necessary draw on his income.

Now bear in mind that for most of his career Spider-Man did not have a reliable regular salary and relied upon freelance photography which makes his income flexible at best.

Do you see now?

He probably couldn’t AFFORD life insurance in the face of all the more immediate pressing needs he needed money for.

Now sure during the times he was in a relationship with Mary Jane, you could say he could have gotten life insurance when she was bringing in the big bucks but Mary Jane’s career has not itself been reliable. She’s had only short bursts of success and in a very recent story (Marvel Knights: Spider-Man #5) prior to Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #2 she’d gotten the family into some notable financial straits.

It’d be redundant for him to get life insurance

In the Other storyline Peter Parker is dying due to his own superhuman biology. I forget the specifics but it’s essentially something to do with the radiation in his system breaking his body down or something like that.

Why do I bring this up?

Because unless somebody wants to correct me if I am wrong you can’t just get life insurance wherein your family gets money if you die under any given circumstances.

The circumstances of your death have to be taken into account before the company pays out.

In this story Peter is foolishly berating himself for not insuring his life against dying of an entirely fictional Marvel Universe illness which is entirely exclusive to him because nobody else has ever been bitten by a radioactive spider ever and the cause of death would be incredibly obvious to anybody looking at the medical report.

So he literally could never have BEEN insured against this in the first place.

But this ties into a broader point, that being that the life Spider-Man leads renders the need for life insurance completely redundant.

I’m not sure if any of the ‘enlightened people’ like Linkara (who once defended Joel Schumacher’s use of a Bat credit card in the 1997 film Batman and Robin) noticed but...Peter Parker is a superhero.

Peter Parker lives a life wherein he risks his life on a daily basis and where his villains risk killing him at any given moment of any given day. Guys like Norman Osborn and Venom who know his secret identity and can bypass his Spider Sense can even kill him as he sleeps.

In the real world there is NO life insurance coverage for superhuman activites. Now sure we could say there is if you live in the Marvel universe...but not if you actually ARE a superhero.

Superheroes like Spider-Man are vigilantes who routinely bend the law and are involved in numerous acts of collateral damage. Even if a life insurance company was willing to look passed the lack of identification Spidey, Daredevil and other such heroes would present they’d never go ahead with insuring them nor would they be allowed legally speaking.

Between his enhanced biology which allows him to heal better, resist injury better, move fast enough to dodge bullets and know when danger might strike even in his sleep, Peter Parker himself is more or less iron clad guaranteed to never ever die from like a car accident or anything. He even instinctively avoided being hit by a car mere minutes after obtaining his powers as a teenager.

In fact his death is most likely to come from his activities as a superhero. It’s statistically all but guaranteed that if he was to die before retirement it’d be because of that. Which again is something it’d be impossible for him to insure his life for.

At the same time even if somehow he did die in a mundane normal way he could’ve gotten insurance for and could somehow fake the autopsy to cover up his superhuman biology and protect his identity the only people he’d want to provide for would be Aunt May and Mary Jane.

If Peter is single he’d want to provide for Aunt May but if he is single then like I outlined above he probably couldn’t afford life insurance anyway. More than this between her poor health, history of heart problems and the sheer shock and grief from losing her beloved son Aunt May wouldn’t be long for this world anyway. My family have friends who recently lost their 23 year old son and we are currently worried for the health of the boy’s parents because losing your child is just about the most devastating thing that can ever possibly happen to anyone, and when it happens when you are at an advanced age it can be incredibly dangerous.

But now consider if Peter did die whilst married to Mary Jane then providing for May wouldn’t be a problem, he’d know MJ could handle that as well as provide for herself. She had more than enough options for modelling work if push came to shove which would be able to keep them both well provided for. MJ also had extended family and close friends Peter could rely upon to look after them both. In fact since he was living with the Avengers at the time of FN Spider-Man #2 he could pretty much rest assured that they (including billionaire Tony Stark) would make sure they would be alright for money.

Sure upon living with the Avengers and having most of his financial concerns addressed Peter could have purchased some life insurance for any mundane forms of death he might’ve experienced but by the time of the Other he hadn’t been living there for very long and there had been more than a few serious issues which demanded his attention such as HYDRA launching a goddam missile and Mary Jane being harassed by the paparazzi. Shortly AFTER the Other storyline Peter was busy just appreciating the fact that he wasn’t dying anymore but it was like less than a month before the Super Human Registration Act was passed and things went to chaos as the Marvel Universe was engulfed in the stupid Civil War event.

Finally given that Spider-Man’s death was more than likely going to be the result of his hero activities it would mean there was a massive chance that in dying his identity could be compromised and thereby endanger his family and friends which would render life insurance the least of their concerns.

It would be unethical for Spider-Man to get life insurance

Let’s pretend for a second that life insurance really did work the way many of these critics seem to think it works.

That you buy life insurance and thereby your next of kin gets money whenever you die, regardless of the circumstances.

Well if Spider-Man did that in the knowledge that his death was all too possible given his life style it would be profoundly unethical and immoral of him to do so.

In fact it would be outright illegal because it would involve him withholding vital pieces of information about himself which would affect a company’s desire to insure his life and the amount of money they would be willing to pay out. This is because he is a high risk customer, he risks death every second of every day meaning a company might not only have to pay out at the drop of a hate even though he’s only 30 years old but if they think he’s just a normal guy they might have to pay out a lot of money.

If his identity was exposed the companies would never pay out citing the fact that he outright deceived them and if they did then Spider-Man just basically stole money from these people which is profoundly irresponsible and out of character for him.

All the above coalesces into two essential facts.

That it is actually entirely logical that Spider-Man doesn’t have life insurance.

And that the people reprimanding the character for not having life insurance are effing idiots.

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tulsatrot · 5 years

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Does Rudolph have a sixth sense? Does GPS guide Santa’s sleigh? How do all those Christmas presents make their way around so quickly and accurately? Does he know we’re here in Spain? These were some of the kid’s questions for a Christmas in Spain.

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Faster than Rudolph

A rental car and a hotel stay always provide the impression that you can drive a little faster and leave your room a bit messier.

As Assumpta dropped me off at Valencia’s Manises Airport National Rent-A-Car counter, the big ol’ family van I had reserved wasn’t available. Instead, a 7 seater Peugeot SUV was the healthy steed carrying us across southern Spain. The difference is that this bronco glistened with a touch screen, keyless entry, and some major horsepower, an upgrade over my Qatari Chrysler Captiva. As quickly as I provided Raoul with a credit card, refused additional car insurance, because, hey, I’ve been driving in Qatar for three months, and figured out how to unlock the digital parking brake (insert manual car joke here), I was out on the neatly manicured streets of Valencia. As long as I didn’t break the speed limit with random digital cameras attached to the underside of bridges.

Half way to Granada, Nadine programmed the super delicious Lonely Planet recommended restaurant in Murcia in our Peugeot GPS. It swiftly guided us to Murcia’s industrial area and the front door of a metal parts manufacturer.

This industrial area detour didn’t get any closer to feeding four hungry kids. Thank you globalization and McDonalds, an authentic Spanish meal. This wouldn’t be our only visit.

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Alcazaba Protecting Granada

Tiny Spots

Framed by snowy mountains (Yes, in Southern Spain), Granada started coming into view. Wide open sky. Downtown Granada roads on the other hand, thin as Girl Scout mint cookies. European roads were built wide enough to accommodate horse and buggies, not French Peugeot SUVs. So each time the almighty, all knowing GPS told me to turn, I thought “Really? Those must have been skinny Spanish horses back in the time of Don Quijote.” Streets looked more like sidewalks disguised as dark alleys. We circled and circled our AirBNB. By the fourth flyby, I pulled into the one empty parking spot by a pharmacy six blocks away. Like the three wisemen with a bulkier load of suitcases, we guided through merrymaking 20 somethings celebrating the holidays with the same gusto that they got dressed in those skin tight black plants with matching black shirts and slicked hair. And those were the guys. “Kids, avert your eyes and let’s admire this pee stained wall opposite those bars. Merry Christmas kids!”

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With the family safely inside, I returned to the Peugeot and found the closest parking garage. Like the streets outside, this underground parking resembled the same tights spaces of a Japanese one bedroom apartment. Each right turn further down into the belly of the parking garage required several reversals, hard turns on the wheel, inching forward, just to turn right in the parking garage. That was one of many right turns.

Once I had found a spot and squeezed that trusty Peugeot in a parking spot, pinned in safely by a green pillar that revealed the scars of many failed parking attempts. Just inches away on the opposite side of the pillar and behind me were two other cards. I vowed not to remove the car until our next stop, Güéjar Sierra.

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Dom Entering the Keyhole to Alcazaba

Not a Normal Christmas in Spain

Travel is in my blood except two times of the year, Thanksgiving and Christmas. I prefer to be with family. When we lived in the Cayman Islands, it was an easy flight or two away. Not halfway around the world, roundtrip flights and jet lag would crush us. So this Christmas, our closekinit family of six found ourselves in Granada, Spain.

Climbing Granada Neighborhoods with a New Haircut

We made our time together special, and hopefully memorable for the kids. Along Paseo del Salón, they tramped across a winter obstacle course in the chilly weather. We thoroughly explored Alhambra until hunger intervened. Each kid randomly led us around downtown Granada. Castellana provided delicious substance. Game nights filled evenings. Santa found our family in Europe and left presents in front of the kid’s stockings. We attended Christmas morning Mass at Catedral de Granada. If the Karl Marx quote (“La religión es el opio del pueblo”) spray painted on the outside walls are true, Spain was practically drug free.

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The Alcazaba in Alhambra

The Red One

Imagine a Roman fortification sitting peacefully at the foot of Sierra Nevada mountains. Build a terrace or two here, a fortified wall there. Now imagine that same fortress serving as a palace under control of the Moors. Add a garden along with symmetrical geometrical designs on the gardens. Mix in a bloody conflict with the Catholic Church and taking ownership back for the Catholic kings in Spain. Allow for a century of disrepair soon followed with restorations, and that is the 21st century Alhambra. That world famous and much photographed UNESCO World Heritage Site.

On Christmas Eve, Dom, Momo, and I set out on a reconnaissance mission, buy Alhambra tickets. Along the way, a clientless barber warmly welcomed us in, and since Dom is opposed to haircuts, a surprise haircut randomly off of the street was the best type.

Climbing up the hill to the entrance, Momo’s three year old energy faded and the prospect of walking another step resulted in tears of exasperation. Once my shoulders requested a brief reprieve of walking uphill (“She ain’t heavy, she’s my daughter!”) with Momo on my shoulders. A meeting of the minds decided to turn around. We would conquer this site later in the day. Bribing Momo with donuts, a classical yet weak parent move, convinced her she had enough energy to walk downhill back to our place.

Later that afternoon, a taxi completed the track to Alhambra’s entrance. Tickets to the revered Alhambra palace were sold out . . . months ago. Generalife (sounds like the name of a company from an informercial) and the gardens provided ample opportunity to gain the essence of Alhambra. Plus, four hungry kids, and just maybe, excitement for Santa Claus, denied further explorations.

Merry Christmas from Spain

Next Stop: Skiing the snowy Sierra Nevada mountains

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Alcazaba Protecting Granada

United Family Christmas

Did You Say Donuts Dad?

Beauty and the Beast

Legit Snowpower

You Had Me at Donut

Say What?

Dom Entering the Keyhole to Alcazaba

Ready for a Christmas Adventure

Here Comes Santa’s Sleigh

Peeking Out of Alcazaba

Christmas Eve Adventure

Patio de la Sultana

Climbing Granada Neighborhoods with a New Haircut

Sierra Nevada Mountains Circling Granada

Alhambra

Sophie at Generalife

The Alcazaba in Alhambra

Family Christmas Eve

Waiting for Santa

This is a Serious Family Photo

Generalife – The Gardens of Alhambra

It May Not Be Real Snow and Toboggan

Sierra Nevada Mountains Circling Granada

Looking for Alhambra Part 1

“Ever wonder what people got Jesus for Christmas? It’s like, “Oh great, socks. You know I’m dying for your sins right? Yeah, but thanks for the socks! They’ll go great with my sandals. What am I, German?” – Jim Gaffigan

Navigating Tight Spots at Christmas Does Rudolph have a sixth sense? Does GPS guide Santa's sleigh? How do all those Christmas presents make their way around so quickly and accurately?

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ecotone99 · 5 years

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[TH] The Photographer

“I’m a Photographer. You mind if I take a picture of you and your family?” Simon asked.

“Oh, sure,” the mom answered. “Tom, kids, gather around and smile.”

Simon lifted his camera, took a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, and snapped the picture.

He pulled up the picture on his camera screen, smiling as he examined the picture of the screaming family on the small display. They will look great added to his collection.

Before he walked away, he took a quick picture of the giant tree that the family had been standing in front of.

He spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the park, taking pictures of various plants and some animals that he thought would look great in his collection.

When he was done, he was excited to get home and play with his new toys.

Though he had plenty of money from the life insurance that had been paid out when his wife died, he lived in a low rent apartment in the shitty part of downtown.

He only needed a place to sleep and play. He never had any intentions to entertain, and where he lived, the neighbors rarely talked to each other, which suited him just fine.

He plugged the USB cable into his computer, his smile growing as he clicked on the picture folder and opened his newest collection pieces.

“Ah, come on, Steve,” Lisa began. “Let’s go to the park. It’s a beautiful day.”

Steve really wanted to just relax and watch some college football, but he couldn’t resist her infectious smile.

“Fine,” he relented.

“Yay,” she replied, hopping up and down.

Steve loved the way Lisa loved life. She was always smiling, and always wanted to be outside, whenever the weather permitted. Living in the northeast, fall was creeping in, soon to be followed by winter.

They walked arm in arm down the street, enjoying the tree’s changing colors and the sunny clear sky.

Once in the park, they took their time walking the paths, greeting everyone they passed. People always seemed in better moods in parks.

“I’m getting hungry and my legs are sore,” Lisa said, stopping in front of an empty bench.

“I’ll go get something from the vendor,” Steve replied. “Rest here and I’ll be right back.”

As he walked away, his smile faded a little.

Lisa had been in remission for six months now, but he knew that could change at any time. The only positive that had come from cancer, was that they appreciated the time they had together much more.

He looked back, giving her a quick smile and wave before he rounded the corner and out of sight.

Simon was slowly walking through the park, looking for more people, or animals, that he could add to his collection.

He knew it was only a matter of time before the police found the common denominator of all the missing people. Soon the park will become the focus of search efforts to find the people he had been taking.

While they wouldn’t be able to link him to any of the disappearances, he knew once the park began to become infested with police, he would have to pick a different locale to find new collectables.

The logical part of him told him he should take a break from adding to his collection, and just enjoy the ones he had until things cooled down, but he couldn’t stop. It was like an addiction. All he could think about was finding the next collectible.

He was pretending to take casual photos, when he noticed Lisa sitting on the bench by herself.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I take a picture of you for my collection?” Simon asked.

“Sure,” she replied. “What kind of collection is it?”

He smiled proudly, “It’s a compilation of people, animals, and the energy of the park. I’ve been coming here my entire life, and I find the energy the park provides beautiful.”

Lisa couldn’t agree more.

“That’s awesome!” Lisa said, with a broad smile of her own. “I’d be honored to be a part of your collection.”

Yes, you will be, Simon thought.

He took a few steps back, raised the camera, and took her picture.

His smile didn’t fade as he enjoyed to the beauty of the now empty bench.

Steve returned to where he had left Lisa, holding a hotdog in each hand. Not seeing her there, he looked around to see where she may have wondered off to.

He saw a photographer off to the side taking pictures of trees, so he approached him.

“Excuse me,” Steve asked.

The photographer turned to face him.

“Can I help you?” Simon asked.

“Did you happen to see where a woman that was sitting on that bench went?” Steve asked.

Simon’s smile faltered.

“I’m sorry,” Simon said, a unnoticeable tremor in his voice. “I’m afraid not.”

“Ok, thank you,” Steve replied.

Simon had never run into this problem before, and he was unsure what to do next.

Simon decided to add the man to his collection, but as he was bringing the camera up, more people walked around the bend. By the time they had moved on, Steve was too far away.

Simon considered following him and taking him later, but decided that it didn’t matter in the grand scale of things.

Flustered, Simon left the park, no longer enjoying the scenery.

Steve walked through the front door of their flat.

While it was unusual for Lisa to walk off without telling him, she often still got tired easy, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to cut walks short, so she could get home and rest.

“Lisa?” Steve called out.

He walked around the entire flat, but there was no sign of her.

He had already called her cell phone several times, but had gotten her voicemail each time.

His first instinct was to call the police, but he knew they would just make him wait twenty-four hours before they could investigate.

The air outside had gotten much cooler as he walked back to the park to look for her.

Maybe she went somewhere and then came back, he thought.

Once he was back at the bench where he left her, and seeing she wasn’t there, he tried calling her again, but still only got her voicemail.

“Screw it!” he muttered to himself and called the police.

“911, what’s your emergency?” a lady’s voice came across the line.

“Yes, my wife is missing,” he stated.

“And how long has she been missing, sir?” she asked. He could hear typing in the background.

“A couple of hours,” he answered already knowing what her response was going to be.

“Sir, I’m afraid we can’t do anything until she has been missing at least twenty-four hours,” she confirmed.

“I know, but this isn’t like her,” he said. “We were at the park, I stepped away for a few minutes, and when I came back, she was gone.”

He was expecting exasperation, but instead got silence.

“Ma’am?” he asked.

“Sir, did you say she went missing in the park?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

“Please hold,” she said, and then only silence.

After a few moments, a man’s voice came on the line.

“This is Detective Andrews, to whom am I speaking?” he asked.

“My name is Steve Dawson, and my wife’s name is Lisa Dawson,” he answered.

“Are you near the park now?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Steve replied. “I’m actually here now.”

“Okay, stay there,” the detective said. “I’m heading over now.”

Before Steve could say anything else, the line went dead.

A very long twenty minutes later, Steve saw the detective arrive.

“Mr. Dawson?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Steve replied.

“Can you tell me where you last saw your wife?” he asked.

Steve pointed to the bench. “There.”

“Did you happen to see anyone else around at that time?” the detective asked.

“No, sir,” Steve said. “Wait, I did see a photographer, but that was after she was missing.”

“I see.”

The detective looked around the area for a bit, and then returned to where Steve was waiting.

“I’m afraid I’ve been following a few missing people cases where they had been last seen either in the park, or last told they were coming here. I don’t know if your wife is part of that, but I’m afraid so far we don’t have much to go on. We have yet to have a witness, and there are never signs of foul play. They’re just here one day, and then gone the next. I wish I could say these were isolated incidents, but in a city this big, it unfortunately happens more often than not,” the detective explained.

He questioned Steve for a little longer, gave him his card, and left.

Steve once again found himself alone in the park.

A few days past, and there was no sign of Lisa. Steve had taken time off from work since he couldn’t concentrate. He spent each day walking through the park, hoping to see some clue that would help lead him to Lisa.

As Steve sat on a bench thinking to himself, he saw the photographer in the distance taking pictures.

He didn’t think the man had taken Lisa, but there was something odd about his behavior when he had asked about her sitting there.

He sat in a way where he could see the photographer, but the photographer couldn’t easily see him.

What else can I do? Steve asked himself.

He watched as the photographer took pictures, and then stopped to talk to a couple who was walking by.

He said something to them, the couple smiled, and then took a couple of steps back to allow the photographer to take a picture of them.

Steve gasped as he saw the photographer look around briefly, and then within a split second, the couple vanished.

Steve couldn’t believe what he had just seen. One moment the couple was there smiling, the next, nothing but air.

Instinctively, Steve hid himself.

He peeked up and saw the man walk away.

Confident that was how Lisa had disappeared, he decided to follow the man.

Simon couldn’t wait to get back to his apartment. He hadn’t added to his collection in days. The man asking about his wife right after he took her had freaked him out, but now he felt it was time to get back to collecting.

He walked, wearing a broad smile, and unaware someone was following him.

As far as Steve could tell, the photographer didn’t know he was being followed. He didn’t look around once and seemed to make a straight line for an apartment building.

Steve watched him go into the building, and then picked up his pace, not wanting to lose him inside.

He peeked inside the door and saw the man walking up the stairs.

The front door wasn’t locked, so Steve was able to enter the building and quickly make his way up the stairs just far enough to see where the photographer went.

The man walked down the hallway of the second floor, and approached a door. He turned the key and began to walk through.

As soon as Steve was sure he couldn’t be seen, he sprinted down the hallway to reach the door before it closed.

Simon flew back as something came bursting through the door before it had closed all the way.

He fell to the ground hard, and before he could understand what was happening, a strange man was on top of him.

Simon looked to the door, hoping someone would see what was happening, but the door was closed. Steve had slammed it closed behind him as he ran through.

“Where’s my wife?!” Steve seethed into Simon’s face. He purposely kept his voice down, so that no one would hear him.

Simon began to call out for help, but before he could get a peep out, Steve punched him hard in the face.

“Where’s my wife, you son of a bitch?” Steve asked again.

“I, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Simon replied.

“I saw what you just did to that couple, and I know you did the same thing to my wife!” Steve said again, slamming Simon’s head into the ground.

Simon was sadistic, but he wasn’t brave. It didn’t take long before he told Simon everything.

“She’s in there,” he said, pointing to the computer.

“How do I get her out?!” Steve asked firmly.

“I don’t know,” Simon began. “I only know how to put them in.”

“Why do you do it?” Steve asked.

Simon knew there was only one answer.

“Because I can,” he said.

Steve punched him again, and grabbed the camera.

“Well, guess what?” Steve said, only inches from Simon’s face. “I’m going to put you in there and see how you like it.”

Steve raised the camera like he was going to take a picture of Simon, but Simon stopped him.

“Wait, wait,” he begged. “I’ll release them.”

“I thought you just said you didn’t know how?” Steve said.

“I lied,” Simon replied. “I lied. Please, I’ll release them.”

Reluctantly, Steve let him up.

Simon walked over to the computer, took the SD card out of the camera, and put it into the computer. He typed some commands into the Command Prompt, and then took the chip out and put it back in the camera.

He flipped through the settings, and showed Steve which setting to use to release them.

Before he did anything else, he flipped through the pictures until he came across Lisa’s. His heart sank as he saw her once smiling face was now contorted into a scream.

He clicked the button and in an instant, she was standing before them.

Once she had gained her bearing, she ran into Steve’s arms.

“Steve!” She yelled, unable to contain herself.

Steve returned her hug, but kept his gaze on Simon. He wasn’t about to let him try anything.

“Is everyone you took in here?” he asked.

“Only the ones that survived,” Simon replied.

“Survived what?” Steve asked.

Simon reluctantly walked to the computer and pulled up a game application. It was like a battle game where you were able to choose your combatants.

Steve looked over at Lisa.

“Do you remember this?” he asked her.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “The last thing I remember was him taking my picture and then immense pain.”

Steve’s blood boiled. He fiddled with the camera settings, and without any warning, he took a picture of Simon, who quickly disappeared.

Lisa’s heart momentarily stopped when she saw the man just vanish before her.

Before she could say anything, Steve began destroying the computer, breaking every piece, picking them up, and breaking them some more. He used his hands for most of it, but he took the hard drive to a table and using a hammer, he broke it into a thousand pieces.

“Let’s go,” he said, leading Lisa out the door.

Steve and Lisa found a vacant part of the park, and released everyone one by one, except for Simon.

The small crowd of people stared at each other, unsure what was happening, and no memory of what had happened to them.

Once he was sure everyone, but Simon was released, he took out the SD card, and broke it in half, throwing half into a trash can, and putting the other half into his pocket to throw away later.

Everyone jumped when he smashed the camera onto the ground.

“Let’s go home,” he said to Lisa, leading her away from the dumbfounded group of people.

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