#then start queueing our back log the others been meaning to

[holyunholycluster]

in case no one else has said it, we can suck a lot at tagging but it's often more we're just not wanting to over tag to not take the fun and easy out of blogging

but we're completely fine adding any specific warnings people want if they just ask and we'll find a way to reasonably work with that

no mockery no insult

we don't mind seeing if we can tag certain things and make a list if required

our inbox is always open and I don't mind back tagging a little ways too when I'm around

*\ I will help you tag what you want

[thessalian]

Thess vs Hurdles and Challenges

Wow. Sometimes the world goes to lengths to give me a break. Though honestly, it's kind of backfiring because apparently the world doesn't know me very well.

See, I was debating calling out today. It was nearly 5am before I got any sleep because the stress and worry and ... well, everything ... caused pain flare and migraine. I woke up before my alarm, feeling a little bit better overall, but still kind of crap. Still, I know that we're struggling a little at work and I'm off all next week so I decided to take painkillers about it and carry on.

Apparently the Small God of IT had other ideas, because there is currently a hiccup with our patient records system and it's not letting me log in. I've spoken to IT and this is not a me-problem; this is an IT problem and while they are working on it, they have no idea when it's getting fixed. Though I have to say, IT was a little stunned when I got on the phone to them and they started the, "Have you refreshed the browser?" thing and I went, "Refreshed the browser, restarted the browser, cleared the cache, restarted the entire computer, everything. Nothing worked". I get why they had to go through all that, but I kind of wish they'd looked at their notes before running me through the "A statistically significant percentage of end users are ignorant of anything beyond 'press button to do thing'" spiel. We could have skipped a whole part of the interaction that way.

Anyway, so I'm sitting here, wiggling my work mouse every so often and keeping an eye on my email client, and honestly getting shit all done. I could check the typing queue, at least, and that honestly isn't too bad right now ... though it's about to get worse because Goblin's going out to an appointment and may or may not be back today. (I hope she's okay.) The thing I said about the world not knowing me very well is ... well. I could probably take it easier, not worry so much about immediately knowing when I can get to work, maybe even say, "Maybe this is for the best because I feel horrible and could use a sick day" ... but I can't stand being forced to not do things. I get nervous when IT things are going wrong, because what if it's a huge problem that won't get fixed for days? I need to know when it's fixed, so I'm going to keep trying. Plus, if I'm honest, I am an ornery so-and-so and I only get more determined when faced with a set of hurdles between myself and a task - whether I need to do it or I just want to, I want to know I can.

On that subject, Veilguard. I woke up nearly an hour before my alarm, which means I'm running on maybe four and a half hours' sleep right now. But I figured since I was up, I'd check in on Veilguard. Now, it would have been nice if someone had warned me how long it takes to configure shader settings, but never mind - my early wake-up meant I still had some time to poke at things. From the looks of things, I can play it, at least in early stages. I might want to look at whatever invincibility mode the thing has, and will be careful to not stand near any cliffs just in case, but I've been making it through the prologue without too much issue. It helps that this isn't my "real" playthrough yet, mostly because between compiling shaders and figuring out the character creation thing, I didn't get that much time to actually play. On short acquaintance, though, I think the issue is mostly the visual noise, so to speak. So much is happening on the screen that it's hard to know what you're supposed to be focused on at any give moment. I'll probably get used to it. I'm not going to be seeking a refund, anyway - which is good because I barely have time to do so. If games are going to spend over half an hour configuring shader settings at launch, Steam needs to be more generous with its return policies.

So ... yeah. Today's been me dealing with the hurdles technology sets. Not entirely winning, but coping. I'll have another try at restarting my work browser just to see, and then find something to do. I mean, maybe I could even get through the Veilguard prologue on this practice character. (I don't even remember what I named them; that's how tired I am.)

[suportai1]

Help Desk Software: What to Look For and the Must-Have Features

If your company is considering a move from a shared mailbox to a help desk software for small business, then the number of features that most help desk software comes with can be overwhelming. All those tagging features, are they important to you? How much reporting is really necessary when you're just getting started?

While this might seem like an inundation of help desk software choices helpdesk software small business, it is actually not that hard to be distilled for consideration. The actual useful features have differences for each company, and no two firms are the same. Let's look at the important features your company needs in a help desk solution and why.

This post is part of our Ultimate Guide to Setting Up a Help Desk System. You can check other chapters here, too:

Chapter 1: How to set up a help desk: Step-by-Step Guide and Checklist

Chapter 2: How to Track Requests to Keep Coming Back

Chapter 3: 9 Steps to Switching Help Desks

Chapter 4: Take It or Leave It: What Help Desk Data Should You Migrate?

Chapter 5: 19 Actionable Help Desk Metrics for Your Customer Support Team

Chapter 6: Best Practices and Tips for Help Desk Implementation

Chapter 7: The 15 Best Help Desk Software for 2024 - e

Chapter 8: Help Desk Software Features That You Should Look For And Must-Have

Chapter 9: Top 9 Help Desk Software for Small Businesses in 2024

Chapter 10: Why an investment in help desk software will help you achieve greater ROI

Chapter 11: Your Trustable  Mej support AI Help Desk Software

Definition of help desk software

At its core, help desk software is a dedicated instrument that your business can utilize to answer questions from your customers or prospects. Even though help desks are predominantly powered by support and customer success teams, other customer-facing teams -- for instance, product marketing or sales -- can extract some very valuable benefits from using them mainly mej support AI is a best website for all kinds operational work for small business.

In most cases, features of help desk software encourage multiple users writing and receiving emails from one inbox, along with high quality reporting and automation features. 

Why invest in help desk software?

Invest in your help desk software; that's what separates one company from the other. It shall proffer better experiences to the customer. Even as the response is important, the help desk software customizes and enhances the company's journey.

Not only that, it helps to manage your inbox more efficiently with customers who are prioritized. You could easily do that by setting a priority on who has been waiting the longest, or somebody who is more likely to convert to a paid account, and many more other settings.

No matter what kind of prioritization or automation you are using, the investment in a help desk with advanced queue management features will mean that your support staff becomes more effective.

What are the various types of help desk software?

While many features are built into most help desk software solutions, a few different types suit different types of businesses. Depending on your needs and requirements, one probably will suit you better than another:

Cloud-based help desk  software small business

The cloud-based  helpdesk software small business are the most common in use. Constructed on a SaaS model, cloud-run help desks are maintained in the cloud and are totally web-based. Your team will log in with the aid of a web portal using individual usernames and passwords. All updates, maintenance, bug fixing, and issue resolution are taken care of by the help desk software's team. 

On-Premise Help Desk small business help desk software

An on-premise help desk small business help desk software is a self-hosted version of the help desk software. This is great for companies with very high security needs, like hospitals or banks, whereby they lock down functionality and want complete control of what goes in and out. An on-premise help desk is very likely the best choice. Yet, this places the onus back on the buyer for maintenance and updates, not the software company best help desk software for small business .

Open-source help desk

Open-source help desks are usually free and highly configurable. Assimilate that with a solid internal development team, and you can take up an open-source help desk with just the core functionality and develop the features your team needs. In the event that regular updating and maintenance cannot be carried out by your team, an enterprise help desk system would be best.

Enterprise help desks: Developed for large companies, this helpdesk has a lot more functionality and integration. The same features can be seen in other helps desks, but the enterprise ones provide high levels of reports and artificial intelligence. On the negative side, the complexity in the operation of the enterprise help desk can be highly overwhelming for small companies or teams that are starting up.

10 must-have features to look for in help desk software suite:

Selecting help desk software can be nerve-racking due to the existence of too many tools and functionalities in the market these days. It's tempting to daydream about how each of them would be useful to your team, but it's often a good idea to simply find the tool with the features you need, not all the possible ones.

Here's ten essential features that will give you an easy decision:

Overall good customer experience

Your tool should allow for great support. Unfortunately not all helpdesk tools are built to delight customers. Some systems refer to customers as ticket numbers, or require them to create separate logins for support portals. While these may be fine for support, they can create a poor experience for customers.

Have the help desk be friendly to your team. The interface should be easy to use, load fast, and allow easy discoverability for commonly used options. You'd do well to check out a demo or trial of your top options before deciding.

Security is a cause for concern given that the help desk houses private customer information. You want to make sure users have role-based permissions that limit access and see role-based permissions, two-factor authentication, and adherence to certain regulations such as HIPAA or GDPR.

Excellent customer service

A good help desk small business must assure first-rate customer service. Try out the company's customer service by sending in requests or going through some reviews. Some companies offer different levels of customer service depending on the plan, so you may want to consider that when budgeting for your business.

Scalability

If the team, support volume, or company is bound to grow in time, consider scalability. Look out for workflows, AI assistance, and API access for automation in repetitive chores. Also, look out for pricing models that have predictability over future costs.

Options for your preferred support channels

Look for helpdesk software offering tools for your preferred support channels: email, chat, or social media. Consider those that have a vision for what you may do later, such as a knowledge base or social media support.

Third-party integrations

Look for help desks that integrate with other tools you need, like your billing system or CRM. Although custom integrations are always an option, it's easier to just pick software that integrates with must-use tools out of the box.

Collaboration features

Collaboration is a key component to great customer support. Look for features that allow for great collaboration and communication, such as collision detection, notes, and @mentions as well as saved replies.

Metrics and reports are important to track output and success on the part of your support team. Your helpdesk should offer metrics on reply time, usage of the knowledge base, CSAT ratings, etc., along with options for advanced filtering and data export.

Migration options

Migration options come in extremely handy if you are migrating from one help desk to another. It is these very useful APIs, together with automated migration tools or third-party migration services, that will save you from spending hours on it and save you completely from the possibility of data loss.

In conclusion, be careful of the needs of your individual company in your selection of the right help desk software. Emphasize properties of a solution that mean something to your team in the search for service that augments your support, without making the interaction more complicated.

[vampdes]

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ; Takami Keigo ( Hawks ) x M/NB/GN! reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ; bottom! reader x top! tamaki keigo/hawks.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ; Touya isn't as smitten with you as he used to be, but Keigo.. dear lord, he's absolutely infatuated with you. Which is why he made a '' move'' on you when he '' dropped by'' without a text or call first. And you, you aren't as loyal as one should/would be.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ; MODERN AU!, fuck/play boy takami<3, football team takami (i think) ( IF YOU SQUINT VERY HARD, you'll see enemies to lovers n fluff 😍😍😍) (i probably spelt bird brain's name wrong🙄🤩🥰 srry 4 that!!)

'' You know you always will need a reason for coming over, right?" You questioned, looking at him with an annoyed expression as your body weight leaned on the doors tall frame. He had rosy, reddish pink cheeks, possibly from racing over here. His hair was messed up, his varsity team jacket had spots of dirt and/or mud.

'' I missed you too, darlin'. Now, can you fix me up like ya always do?'' He inquired, holding his side. You sighed, letting him in as he kissed your cheek and planted face first on the comfy deep red couch. After getting the first aid-kit, you heard the ruffle of cloth coming from the living room.

'' Dear God, you know I'm not going to do this for you again, right?'' You utter in annoyance, soaking up his blood in the small fabric of cotton cloth, patting a little softer at the sound of hearing him wince at your fingertips, him trying his best not to inch away from your touch.

'' Did she see your messages? Call log, possibly?'' You questioned with a smirk on your face, knowing the next time a relationship issue he has, he'll crawl straight back into your large house. He laughed a little, looking up at the ceiling with a grim expression. '' It might've gone wrong after I told her she was just a fuck buddy. Or possibly that me and her won't be nothing more than fuck buddies, and that she should be lucky that she had the chance for me to fuck her.''

A sigh came from your throat upon hearing his bad relationship story. '' You're absolutely a shitty person. I'm starting to think your personality trait is only having a big dick.'' You spoke, looking up to only see him staring down upon you. '' You know, we should skip past this whole ordeal and just clear our stress with sex.'' He suggested, a small lopsided smile. '' I'm dating Touya, we both know that.'' You spoke, arising from your current position between his legs. Of course, before dating Touya, you two were nothing but mere friends with benefits. However, that'd gotten old after your crush asked you out, aka Touya asked you out. And the relationship with him had been great, until the argument yesterday.

'' Oh c'mon, you'd love to. For ol' time's sake, please?'' He pleaded, giving you such a fuck boy begging expression. '' I have work to do, you have places to be. So, no, Takami. I won't let you fuck me, again.'' You murmured, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched him rummage through your fridge, smirking at the fact you had a canister of the beer he likes.

'' That was your queue to leave, Keigo.'' You spoke loudly, stepping inside of the bathroom, and putting up the first aid-kit. '' You need to leave, Touya doesn't like it when we're together. And, issue is, he's coming other within a few hours. So, hurry up, and get.'' You fumed, hushing any words that could've came out of his mouth anymore. '' ...Or, we could just get naked 'n fuck.'' He suggested yet again, a smirk on his face as he saw your expression, he eyes traveling down your curvy figure, taking a sip of the can of beer.

'' If only, and it could still happen without the careless bitch, your boyfriend wasn't in the way. I mean, you said in a few hours, right? We could fuck, get cleaned up, and I'll be gone by then.'' He shrugged softly, seeing your eyes glimmer in the light, a spark, possibly a flame, growing inside of you by the second. '' You surely make an interesting offer, Takami. But get going before I kick you out with a broom.'' You spoke, the flame in you only growing by the second. '' You really want me to go?" He questioned, somehow behind you at this second, his hand trailing your lower back as you were bent over tending to your plants. His hands going farther to trails across your ass, grazing it.

Standing up, you could feel his hands to snake around your waist, holding it firmly. He nuzzled his chin into your shoulder, kissing the nape of your neck. Soon sucking on it. Squirming a little at his touch, you forgot the feeling he had on your body, the magical essence of his scent that engaged itself within your senses. '' D'ya really want me to go, baby?'' His husky voice coating with lust as he nibbled on the scene of your neck, earning a breathy soft moan from you.

'' No..'' You said, responding to his question. Feeling your paints straining against your thighs, mainly your cock. The tightening fabric only making it more arousing. '' Dear God, just fuck me already.'' That once sentence, the only one he wanted to hear, had you in the situation now.

Crying at the feeling of his cock pulsating inside of you, pressing every spot inside of yourself. You didn't know how much you had missed the feeling of him inside of you. He, on the other hand, was at the brink of coming, and it hadn't even been 30 minutes. He peered down at you, seeing how his cock put you in a daze. Made you feel lightheaded, dazed, and always left you trembling.

'' You look so pretty..'' He hushed the sound of your beautiful whimpers with a kiss, engulfing the scream you made when he pushed himself fully inside of you. He regained his structure, looking at you with a loving smile on his face, loving the absolute look of your thighs shaking around him, and flourishing down from your beautiful eyes. '' Everything about you is just so beautiful..''

Pulling out of you, seeing you bit down on your lower lip, more tears falling. He knows he should let you adjust to his large size, but God you're so pretty when you cry, just for him. It'd happened so many times now, your stomach painted white, and at this point you were just shooting direct blanks. Cum dripped and flooded the sheets your back was pressed against. He just couldn't stop, even after so many rounds, you were a drug to him. It's like he was addicted to his cock being stuffed far inside of you, your stomach bulged with his cum. He came in copious amounts. Dear, having sex with him was an absolute real life wet dream.

Once he finally pulled out of you, he smirked at the sight of seeing your hole clutch around nothing. Your chest heaved up and down, your face was painted with lines of tears. '' I absolutely hate you, Keigo.'' He smirked as he laid there with you, '' I love you too, baby.'' He chuckled, tilting you up by your chin and kissing you passionately.

@kailoslove - don't modify, copy, translate, or plagiarize my work without my permission. reblogs and shares are appreciated!<3

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART FIFTEEN (final chapter)

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings:  18+ ONLY, sexual content, alcohol, feelings Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: What an odd feeling this is. I love writing fics, but when you work so long and hard on something, it’s hard to let it go. I’m really pleased with how it turned out though, and I’m so incredibly grateful to everyone that read it and interacted with it. A big thank you to my editor, @lantern-inthenight​ for sticking with me through it, and thank you again to everyone on my taglist. 

MASTERPOST

taglist: @valleyd0ll​ @satingrass-maidensfair​ @guitarfingers​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @peaceisouranthem​ @oblvions​ @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​ @bigblack-catattack​​  @dharma-divine​

There was a plant in the Kiszka house that you couldn’t stop looking at - you found yourself making your way to the kitchen, just so you could peek in on it. It was a Christmas cactus placed on the south-facing window sill above the sink, spilling out of the sides of its terra cotta pot in long tendrils. 

Shapely, dark green, and perfectly healthy - it was the perfect metaphor for the household that loved it. The fuchsia pink buds on the tips of every trailing vine were promising to open every day since you’d arrived, and - perfectly on queue - the first one opened on Christmas Eve. It had been tightly closed when you greeted it in the morning as you sipped your cup of coffee, but by the time the family was snacking on a veggie tray and cocktail weenies at lunchtime, it was fully open, facing the floor in a way that reminded you of a ballerina’s tutu. 

“You like this thing, huh?” Josh had asked, audible to just you over the lively conversation and music filling the kitchen and dining room. He was standing closely behind your right shoulder, charmingly trying to get the same view of the cactus that you were - as if that could help him appreciate it better. 

“Isn’t it lovely?” you replied, turning your head and realizing at the same time that you could kiss his cheek if you leaned in closer. The two of you shared a lingering look that you put an end to just before you could start feeling physically warm.

He hummed in consideration after a moment. “It’s pretty,” he agreed and then smiled weakly. “It kinda just looks like another plant to me though, if I’m being honest.”

You turned to face him then, giving him a warm look. “There’s a lot of beauty to be found in things that other people don’t know to consider. It gives you kind of a selfish satisfaction.”

The slightly suggestive tone you’d taken put a puzzled smile on his face. He gave you a look that somehow perfectly let you know that he’d be back to pry at the deeper meaning of this conversation later when you were alone. 

“We got this for Christmas for my mom one year when we were little kids. Sam and Ronnie liked the color.” He smiled at it past your shoulder. “It used to be so tiny.” 

It certainly wasn’t anymore. As a matter of fact, it was currently threatening to take over the whole sill - swallow up the little knick-knacks peppered around it. 

“It’s really happy,” you agreed. 

+++

Dinner that night was photo-worthy. Laid out on the table were dishes upon dishes of different comfort foods, each with its own oversized serving spoon. Jake had been trying to make homemade bread through the entirety of your time there - the first night was his very first time making it and it was a little raw, then the next night it seemed a little hard, then the next it looked a little overcooked and dense. Tonight, however, it looked worthy of a cooking magazine cover.

PERFECT BREAD ON THE SIXTH TRY! it would read triumphantly.  

No one had a claim on any of the specific spots at the dining table, so it was free game - which was how you were able to finagle your way into sitting between Jake and Sam for that evening’s meal. You liked them a lot, for the record, but you had been thinking a lot about your earlier interaction with Josh, and that was the reason for your chosen position. 

You wanted to stare at him without arousing suspicion - or rather, any more suspicion than was already present amongst the six of you. 

He had given you a questioning look as he sat directly across the table from you, scooting his chair in until he could rest his elbows on the wood. You offered him a reassuring smile as you settled in, but secretly you reveling in the fact it’d seem awfully non-platonic if he questioned your choice out loud. 

While you ate, he only caught you looking at him once, to which he responded by playfully poking his tongue out at you. Otherwise, you listened intently to a story that Sam was telling you about a fated time he found a designer jacket in a truck stop bathroom and it fit perfectly. You also chatted lightly with Jake - who was sitting to your right - about each of your classes and he graciously listened to you gripe at length about the weather and its lack of consistency, which was obviously very kind of him.

When dinner was over, the family changed into their pajamas before meeting in the living room with their wine to sit around the tree and open one present each of their choosing. It went around in a circle, starting with Josh who received a new cutting board and a set of knives that his mom jokingly assured him he couldn’t have until he was ready to go back to Ann Arbor. You were unabashedly visibly excited to be able to use a knife that could cut without having to use a sawing motion.

Jake had unknowingly chosen to open the present you got for him, which was a leather-bound journal and fountain pen that cost more than you wanted to admit but after you saw it at the store, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You had felt incredibly cool while purchasing it, so in a way, it was kind of a gift for you too. 

The gift you opened was a wool sweater from Josh’s parents and when you lovingly clutched the forest green fabric to your chest, it was a genuine gesture. You reminded them that they didn’t have to get you anything, but thanked them profusely when they informed you that you were being silly.

After the designated presents were opened, warm conversation was had as the Rudolph Christmas movie played quietly in the background. It was one of your holiday favorites though, so you probably paid more attention to it than the rest of the family. 

Once 10 pm hit, there was a sharp rise in the frequency of yawns, and shortly after that people started turning in, one by one. Everyone was wished a good night, knowing that when they woke up again, it would be Christmas. 

After Jake turned in around 11:30, you and Josh were the last ones standing - or sitting rather. 

You were sitting next to each other on the sofa, about a foot apart because despite Jake having been privy to your relationship, it was just good practice when any member of his family was around. 

As soon as Jake’s bedroom door was closed, Josh seemed to visibly relax his muscles, though his fingers still fidgeted with his jeans every few moments.

“Are you liking being home?” you asked and then took a sip of wine, already knowing what he was going to say. 

He gave you a low, pained-sounding hum through a grimacing smile. “We should have just told my family what the nature of our relationship was - I don’t think I can handle not touching you much longer.”

 “M’kay, couple things to address here,” you started through an amused smirk. “You were able to handle not touching me for months - I think you can handle literally one and a half more days. And two-”

He cut you off with a finger against your lips. “Yeah, but had I known you wanted me to, it would have made a lot of difference.”

You pressed a kiss to the digit before he quickly pulled it away with an accusatory squint in his eye. 

“And secondly,” you tried again pointedly. “What would you have told them? ‘Hey guys, I have very very fuzzy boundaries with my roommate and that often results in us sleeping together, both literally and as a euphemism’?”

He shot you a teasing smirk. “Cute. You’re very cute,” he said sarcastically. 

After a very long, comfortable silence, you spoke again, voice low and hushed. “So, can I scoot closer to you now?” 

He looked over at you from out of the corner of his eye, still holding that smirk. “Please do.”

You shuffled until your thigh was touching his.

Of course, you had missed it right away, but you hadn’t really realized how much you’d missed being physically close to him until you caught the now-familiar scent of his cologne. 

Another comfortable silence fell upon the room, quiet enough that all you could hear was the quiet crackling of the logs in the stone fireplace.

“Can I kiss you too?” you asked, looking over at him through the sheer curtain of your hair. 

He looked like he was truly mulling it over as his eyes flicked down the hall to his siblings’ rooms, and then across the living room and up the set of stairs to his parents’ room. After a second, he let out a huff and said, “Fuck it.”

He reached over and tugged on your various limbs until you were sitting in his lap, face to face. 

It had been so forbidden to you up until then, that when he leaned in and caught your lips, you let out a groan under your breath. 

“I missed you,” he breathed, almost directly against your mouth. “I love knowing you in any aspect, but I’ve been burning for this.”

 It made the heat rise to your cheeks, as well as your lap - but you couldn’t let him know he’d turned you on so easily, so you replied breathily with, “That’s an awfully fancy way of telling me you’re horny, babe.”

He was biting back a laugh for a split second before, grabbing your hips a little tighter to gain back what dominance you had borrowed from him with your teasing. 

You pressed your luck. “Really, very eloquent.”

A look of contemplation flashed over his features as he was obviously deciding what to do next. He lifted you with little effort and then pressed you firmly backward until your shoulders hit the seat of the couch. Then he crawled over you and stared down into your eyes triumphantly. 

“Aren’t you worried about someone coming out here?” you challenged through a grin. 

He leaned in until he could drag his teeth across your cheekbone, making your skin prickle. “I don’t care anymore,” he replied, and then - in a show of brutal honesty - pressed his crotch against your hip and ground down just enough to show you how hard he was. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and involuntarily, you bucked up against him.

You kissed him so forcefully that it was almost more like just mashing your mouths together for a long moment. His hand slipped down between your bodies until his fingers brushed over your navel, the ticklish feeling making the muscles jump under the touch. It was the anticipation of his next move that fucked you up the most.

He was dragging his fingers lower, just about to dip under the band of your pajama pants when he seemed to have a moment of clarity and pulled his hand away altogether. You frowned at him, pushing your hips up to meet his hand instead, to which he responded by placing his palm on your stomach and pressing you back down with a laugh. 

“Let’s go to my room,” he suggested.

“No, wait.” You gave him the softest eyes you could. “It’s so romantic out here right now - the lights on the tree, the fire, the soft couch. Would you just kiss me here for a bit?”

The look on his face could only be described as enamored. He stared at your face for a few long seconds before you finally asked if he was alright. 

“I’m lucky to have you.”

He said it under his breath, so sincerely and honestly, that you weren’t sure how to respond until you could catch up with your thoughts. You cupped his jaw in your right palm, raking your fingers through his hair and he careened your touch in a way that had you feeling like a melting scoop of ice cream.

 “You know, I sometimes think about how poorly the whole ‘moving across the country to a place you’ve never been for school’ thing could have gone. There were so many variables that had to click into place, and somehow I still ended up living with a person that,” You paused to brush your thumb against his cheekbone, hoping to portray your meaning through your touch. “Might be a literal angel.” 

He raked his front teeth over his bottom lip subconsciously as he consumed the compliment. You could see his brain chewing it over as he snickered a laugh. 

“Though, I think angels are supposed to deliver good tidings and not black eyes,” you teased. 

You couldn’t name the look he adopted then, but it seemed somewhere between solemn and proud reminiscence. The frown forming on your features was not lost on him, and you quickly spoke before he could change the subject. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He hummed and met your eyes. “I never wanted you to find out about that,” he said like an admission.

“What do you mean?”

“There were a lot of things I did to get your attention, but that was completely reactionary. I’ve never been a violent person - well, to anyone but my siblings anyway-”

You huffed a laugh at him but nodded for him to continue. 

“You were right,” He met your eyes with an intense sincerity. “I am a lover. Not a fighter.”

“I know,” you whispered as you brushed a stray curl from his forehead. “But you must have known I would find out, right?”

“I wasn’t thinking about that at the time, but yeah - in retrospect - of course, you’d find out. But I did it. I sought him out and it just-”  He bit his lip for a second to take a pause. “I saw him and all I could think about was you crying on my shoulder that night.”

You didn’t say anything. You just let him gather his thoughts as the crackling of the fire served as a placeholder in his silence. 

“He’s lucky he only got a black eye because I wanted to kill him for touching you.”

 It was clear after a moment that he was waiting for you to respond, possibly even hoping for validation at such a vulnerable moment. 

“If I’m being honest, Josh, I still can’t believe you could do that - I can’t even imagine you yelling at someone in a way that was anywhere near serious.” 

He stared at you for a few long beats, and you watched the reflection of the Christmas lights twinkle like stars speckled over the dark canvas of his eyes.

 “Yeah, well,” he started, just above a whisper. His brows were tipped into a look of contemplation - the spacing of his words making you think that he wasn’t sure how to proceed. “You do crazy things to protect the people you love.” 

It wasn’t voluntary in any way when your breathing stopped, it just happened - like your lungs were locked up for a few long seconds as you waited for one of you to say something. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said like a confession, looking more serious than you’d ever seen him. “And I love you.” 

Undeniably, your face was peachy pink - you could feel it tingling warm. You weren’t sure what to do with your hands, but you knew you wanted to touch him. His skin tightened around his jaw when you ghosted your fingers over it.

“You love me?” 

He nodded at you, a small but confident motion. “You fill a lot of different positions in my life. I’m not in love with you yet - I don’t think - but I want your permission to be.”

Without wasting another second, you caught his lips in an earnest kiss, your chest feeling like it might implode. It only lasted for a moment before he was pulling you back up until you were sitting in his lap.  

“Was that romantic enough for you?” he asked, trying to shade his voice with humor but it came out sounding breathless instead. 

“I literally can’t imagine anything more romantic,” you agreed with a weak laugh and then teased, “Unless you proposed. You’re not going to propose, are you?”

He adopted a disbelieving smirk. “Do you want me to? I’m sure I can fashion a ring out of something. Maybe there’s a cock ring joke in there somewhere-”

You rolled your eyes playfully and cut him off with, “Please shut up and take me to bed. Right now, okay?”

He ushered you off of him with a breathy laugh before gently nudging you in the general direction of his room. “Hurry along then.” 

The two of you padded quietly down the hall, shutting the door without making a peep. 

The only light in his room was what you could see of the Christmas lights that framed the front door, casting a white-gold glow over the setting.

When he laid you out over the bed, it was significantly gentler than you were expecting as was the kiss he placed - first on your cheek and then your jaw and down your neck to your throat.

His hands slipped under your pajama top, tugging lighting at the buttons on it from the inside and letting his fingers make the skin across your navel tighten. Instinctively, your fingers tangled into his hair, keeping him close enough that the pointed tip of his nose was resting on your sternum. The warm humidity of his breath hitting your skin was both calming and exciting at the same time in a way you couldn’t describe if you tried. His fingers worked to undo your top with relative ease, sliding it off of your chest after. 

You eyed the way his bicep flexed as he held all of his weight on it, and wrapped your fingers around it to give it a squeeze. He reacted by dragging his teeth across your breast with just enough sting to make your hips lift off the bed. The way he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth and rolled it around with his tongue made you squirm, fingers flexing into his tense skin. A tingly, warm feeling set over you as you wrapped your legs around his hips and sat up to shrug your shirt off. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” he stated simply as he ran his fingers down your bare chest. 

You hummed at him through a smile, pinching his chin in your fingers and tilting his head up until he had to look you in the eyes. He gave you a grin as he bit his bottom lip and then leaned in to press a kiss against your cheek. In your heart, you knew the gesture had you blushing, but it was confirmed for you when he smugly rubbed his thumb across your cheekbone. 

The chill in the room made your newly-naked skin prickle as he tossed your pajama pants to the floor, followed quickly by his own. With all of your clothing discarded into a pile, he pulled you up onto your knees, cupped both sides of your jaw with his hands, and tugged your face closer until your noses were touching. You listened to his shaky breathing for a moment before you dug your fingers into his hips, pulling him back over you as you laid out on the bed. 

You knew your nails were digging into his skin - probably a little too deeply - as he pushed into you, one of his hands wrapped around your thigh to keep it hitched over his hip. This was confirmed for you when you heard him suck in a breath that sounded more like a hiss, though you got the feeling that he liked the sting of it. 

Through the entirety of the time he was fucking you, he barely pulled his body away from you at all, instead opting to just rock himself against you until you were near tears. The biggest challenge was barely making a sound as you reached your peak, your face buried in the humid crook of his neck and shoulder. 

You weren’t positive how much time had passed, but as you laid together, post-orgasm, you realized just how exhausted you were. 

Neither of you had said a word for quite a while, so it sounded too loud when you spoke into the dark room. 

“Are you going back to the living room?” you whispered. 

“Nah, fuck it. I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, nuzzling the top of his nose into your hair as you laid, half on his bare chest. Just before you fell asleep you remembered the very first night you slept in his bed, and how much had changed since then - and how much had not really changed at all. 

+++

You had meant to set an alarm - really. But you hadn’t gotten around to it the night before, which is why when you came stumbling out of the bedroom with Josh close behind you, you were met with a few pairs of eyes staring at you from the living room. Trying not to look like the most guilty human on earth, you ducked your head and quickly made your retreat to the bathroom. Neither of you said a word as you brushed your teeth together, sneaking playful glances at each other in the mirror. 

By the time you had both showered - Josh first and then you second - and changed into your clothes for the day, it was 9:30. You both found the dining room table hosting his entire family and enough breakfast food piled on top of the worn wood to satisfy a small army. 

The two spots that they saved for you were next to each other, so you settled in and tried to prepare for the most awkward meal of your life thus far. 

“You almost made it to the end,” Jake quipped, apparently happy as hell to deliver the first blow. 

You watched Josh’s eyes flick up at him, delivering him a chilly look. 

“Okay, it wasn’t really a secret before, but it’s definitely not anymore,” Jake finished, rolling his eyes as the bowl of scrambled eggs was passed to him. 

Josh poured himself a glass of orange juice and then gestured for your glass too. “If I were in the living room last night, Santa wouldn’t have come. Really, you have me to thank for the gifts you receive today.” He finished filling your glass and set the carton back down before continuing. “And I’ll take that thank you in the form of you shutting up and minding your own business.”  

 Jake snorted a laugh as he dished himself out some breakfast. He opened his mouth to tease Josh further, but when he looked up and met your eyes, he let the next remark die on his lips - instead just settling for a smug smirk. 

No one mentioned anything else about it, but as the meal went on, you realized that you really had nothing to be ashamed of. You brushed your fingers against Josh’s under the table and then let him lace them together as his sister was telling a story about the best gift she’d ever received. You didn’t share a look with him, but you didn’t have to as his thumb swiped over the top of your hand, over and over. 

After breakfast was eaten and presents were opened, Josh found you on your way out of the restroom and motioned for you to follow him to his room. 

“I have something for you,” he started as he took your hand and sat you on the bed. You crossed your hands in your lap, settling into your spot with a smile. He closed the door behind him and then lifted the bag he’d packed from home onto the dresser. 

He pulled out a little box like a magician would pull a rabbit from his hat, and then held it out for you to take. 

“It really isn’t much, because we obviously don’t have a lot of money, but after what you did for Penny- Well. I wanted to do something meaningful too,” he explained sheepishly. 

The box was wrapped in mint green foil and marked with your name on a brown paper tag. 

You took a lot of care removing the wrapping, and gently opened the top of the box as you held his eyes. 

Inside was a 4-inch terra cotta pot, decorated with delicately painted sunflowers on a white background.

“It’s obviously not perfect-” he started, but you didn’t let him finish before you set the pot on his bedspread and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“It’s perfect,” you stated simply. 

+++

He slept with you again that night, this time sparing any sneaky behavior - and this time, when the two of you emerged from his room, no one even batted an eye. It took you only a few moments to pack your things up, but over an hour to say all of your goodbyes. 

You watched as his mother hugged him again, just like she had when he’d arrived - tightly, like she could barely stand to let him leave. This time, she hugged you too, nearly just as warmly. 

Josh helped you get your bags into the trunk of your car, being decidedly less gentle with Jake’s belongings, and the two of you crawled into the front seats as Jake was ribbing his much taller younger brother at the front door. 

“Hey, I got you this. I looked it up on my phone and the wiki page said I could just rip it off, so I did,” he explained as he placed a long arm of the Christmas cactus into your lap. 

You look at it for a long moment, your chest feeling tight. 

He must have mistaken your silence for apprehension, because he continued on, letting a concerned tone shade his words. “It said it wouldn’t hurt the plant and that it would eventually just grow roots. Is that right? So you can have one of your own, you know? Since you liked it so much. You could even use the little pot.”

You let your eyes meet his as you tried to choke back the feeling in your throat that was threatening tears. Embarrassingly, your voice was a little shaky when you stated, “I love you too.”

He looked completely stunned, but he only had a moment to fix his expression before Jake was opening the back door and sliding effortlessly in. 

“You guys good to go?” Jake asked as he leaned forward and snatched the aux cable from where it was rested on the center console. 

You gave Josh an expectant smile, but when it was clear that he wasn’t going to respond, you leaned over and pressed a kiss against his lips, prompting him to say through a beaming grin, “Let’s go home.”  

[fellulahh]

Diavolo and MC visit a theme park (tiny NSFW)

With big grins on their faces, MC and Diavolo descended down the steps of their latest ride with Lucifer following close behind. The three of them were visiting the human realm and after the Prince asked MC what would make a fun day out, she insisted that they went to a theme park.

Immediately Diavolo jumped at the idea whereas Lucifer...not so much. Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to try and interject the Prince’s excitement so went along with it.

And one bag of doughnuts, two massive teddies won and multiple rides later, their day was drawing to a close.

“What shall we do for our last ride then?” Diavolo asked excitedly, “we better make it a good one, right Lucifer?”

“Yes, my Lord.” He mumbled.

“I was thinking we could go on the log flume?” MC proposed, “it shouldn’t matter if we get wet now because we’re leaving.”

“Well count me out!” Lucifer quickly shook his head, “if you expect me to drive us back to the hotel with a soggy bottom you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Excellent.” Diavolo grinned, “that just means I get to sit next to MC on this one.”

Suddenly Lucifer had a small pout on his face as he watched Diavolo and MC skip off to the ride while he was left carrying the oversized teddies. The Prince was so excited that he hadn’t even realised he’d grabbed MC’s hand and practically dragged her along with him.

Just like every other ride they’d been on, they waited in the queue patiently, laughing to each other as they talked nonsense. And then eventually, reaching the front, they made their way to their log.

Being the biggest, Diavolo had to sit at the back - not that he minded though. In fact, he rather liked the idea of the human leaning into him. Perhaps if MC got scared, he could be the knight in shining armour who wraps his arms around her?

As the ride started, the two of them continued smiling as their log drifted down the watery path.

“This has been an absolutely fantastic day, MC.” Diavolo beamed, “I know we’re supposed to be here on business but this one break has lifted so much stress for me; I’d love it if we could do this more often.”

“Of course, my Lord!” MC grinned, “I’m sure the other brothers would love it here too.”

“Well...” Diavolo smirked, “I was actually thinking it could just be the two of us. Perhaps there’s more of the human realm you’d love to show me.”

Suddenly MC was blushing as their log began drifting up the incline. It was rather steep and as they got closer to the top, the human began to giggle. “I forgot how high this is!”

“You’ve lived with 7 of the most powerful demons and it’s the log flume that frightens you?” Diavolo joked, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

“You can’t compare the two!” MC laughed as she felt herself lean back; gravitating toward Diavolo’s muscular torso.

Feeling the log begin to slow down, their bodies began to tilt forward. “Hold on tight.” Diavolo grinned as he wrapped his arms unconsciously around MC as she continued shuffling closer to his torso.

She let out a squeak as they went down. Being so flustered by the Prince behind her, MC forgot to mention that there was a camera on this ride. Therefore, neither of them noticed when there was a bright flash for a split second as they soared down the slope.

Of course, having a 7ft tall, absolutely ripped demon on the ride, the log naturally caused a huge splash. And all of that water soon came falling down on them both as they laughed.

“Oh wow!” Diavolo chuckled, “I haven’t smiled like that in a long time.”

The pair of them were too busy enjoying each other’s company to notice the extent of how wet they were. Reaching the end of the ride, they stepped out of the log and made their way to the photo booth.

Of course, Diavolo fell in love with their photo. Even though neither of them were looking at the camera, he loved how natural it was. Both had huge smiles on their faces and were sat incredibly close to each other. Therefore, Diavolo bought every option; a printed photo, a key ring, a fridge magnet - actually he got two fridge magnets because he thought Barbatos may want one - an electric copy...you name it.

Walking away from the ride with Diavolo carrying his new bag of photo gifts, they approached Lucifer. However, both of them were surprised when he didn’t greet them as normal.

His eyes were wide and his lips were parted as he gawped at the two of them walking toward him.

“Luci?” MC chuckled, “what’s wrong?”

“Yeah! You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Diavolo laughed.

“Sorry, my Lord.” Lucifer blushed, quickly diverting his eyes from where they were glued to, “I just think that perhaps white wasn’t the best colour to wear on such a ride.”

Turning to face each other as they were confused, MC and Diavolo suddenly noticed what had happened. Perhaps Lucifer was right. After all, what happens to white clothes when they get wet? They go see through. And what a day for MC to not wear a bra...

“Oh...” Diavolo smirked before biting his lip teasingly. He hadn’t even realised he could quite clearly see MC’s breasts and now that he has seen them, he couldn’t take his eyes off them! “Now I definitely want to come back here.”

Meanwhile, MC was blushing profusely. She didn’t know whether to be flustered by Diavolo’s stare or the fact that she could see each of his defined muscles. And not only that, she could quite clearly see his nipple piercings too.

The three of them were stood in silence momentarily.

“Perhaps we should get you both dried off before we go back to the car.” Lucifer cleared his throat, still trying to act unbothered.

“That won’t be necessary.” Diavolo simpered, holding his arm out for MC. Stepping into his side, she grinned to herself as Diavolo wrapped her in an embrace. “We’re fine like this.”

“Mhm.” MC nodded eagerly.

Lucifer eyed the pair of them up. He didn’t like just how close the two of them had gotten on their trip. He’s a very territorial demon and seeing somebody else with what he believes is ‘his’ made him feel uncomfortable. But how was he supposed to pull MC away from Diavolo?

“In fact, to avoid getting you wet too Lucifer, I think I’ll sit in the back with MC for the rest of the journey.” Diavolo stated with a not so innocent smile.

“Yes...my Lord.” Lucifer nodded very hesitantly.

[snailymailybaby]

My Take on Snail Mail Etiquette

As anyone who follows this blog has picked up on, I am a very uninvolved blogger who infrequently makes large aesthetic queues and posts their own mail art before logging off and reappearing whenever I have more mail to post. I am going to borrow from the blogging style of my other blog and go ahead and write a bit of a thought piece. The inspiration from this is the most recent in a string of unfortunate experiences while penpaling but it’s not a unique situation or the only one I’m pulling from.

Penpaling Etiquette Penpaling is an extremely old practice and as such there is a certain decorum I believe many people associate with it. Of course, as it’s a practice that’s endured despite changes in technology that means it’s also a practice that’s adapted. Our use of Tumblr to find penpals is a great example of positive adaptations to an antiquated art. Where change can exist simultaneously with stagnation in any practice that naturally creates divisions among the practitioners. I, for one, consider myself to be part of what I consider the Old School way of penpaling and my thoughts on etiquette will be reflective to that style of penships. Though I think much of the etiquette I believe in is universal to all types of penpalers. 

Seeking Out Penships Penpaling is undeniably an intimate thing by the nature of it being centered around building a relationship with another person. Even with all the art on our envelopes, on our letters, or even sent with our letters; at the end of day we’re seeking out a connection with the person we’re writing to.  Keeping that in mind, there is a right way to seek out penships and there is a wrong way. For me, the right way is to approach the person you’re seeking to write the way you’d look to make a friend back in grade school: introduce yourself, include a little info about yourself, and politely ask if the person is accepting new penpals. I always feel that can be done in any order, but for me a red flag has always been people who without divulging anything about them or inquiring anything about me ask to be my penpal. Or worse yet, tell me they want to be my penpal. I read a certain entitlement into people who do not ask.  I’ll admit sometimes I’m imperfect in my responses to people looking, I’ll forget to give them my spiel because I’ve assumed they’ve read it somewhere and that’s why they’ve contacted me. People are imperfect and as the person seeking out new penpals or accepting new penpals it’s important to give as much grace as possible. So long as people are communicating with sincere interest little flaws in forgetting usual etiquette can and should be forgiven. Age Appropriate Penships In any practice that is welcoming to all ages it’s important to set up and maintain appropriate age boundaries. This is simple in penpaling, do not write to anyone under the age of 18 if you are a legal adult. If you are a minor, do not seek out or accept penpals over the age of 18. Minor to legal adult correspondence has an extreme imbalance in the power dynamic. Often adults who will seek out minors to write to are doing so because they’re seeking to manipulate the minor. Minors who are accepting of adult penpals are unwittingly engaging in penships that can have undue influence on them .  Even within the 18+ sticking to themselves age rule there can be age gaps between penpals that aren’t in the best interest of the younger party. An 18 year old writing to a 40 year old could be subjected to the same predatory penship as a 13 year old trying to write a 20 year old. There’s also a non-predatory reason why age gaps for adult penships don’t work. Quite simply, a 20 year old and a 25 year old are often at drastically different points in their life and that can make it hard to find common ground.  With the 17 and below age rule, again it’s imperfect and there can still be inappropriate age gaps. A 12 year old and a 17 year old shouldn’t be writing to one another for the same reasons that them hanging out in person or even dating would be problematic.  A good rule of thumb for minors: Keep it within a 2 year age gap.  A good rule of thumb for adults 18-22: Keep it within a 3 year age gap. A good rule of thumb for adults 23-30: Keep it within a 5 year age gap.  For adults these are what I’ve discovered to be “easy” to connect over age gaps, but obviously it’s up to the individual’s discretion as to what is a compatible.  Disclosing Mental Health I mention this only because I’ve come across it, so what’s the “right move” in disclosing mental health struggles you may have?  If it’s something that changes the way you socialize or requires you take extra precautions in who you socialize with/how you socialize (i.e. needing to share triggers) then it’s certainly worth including in your bio when reaching out to penpals.  Otherwise, just be wary of oversharing. If you have something you’d like to be upfront with because you feel it’s a deeply ingrained part of what makes you “you” it’s definitely fine to share that! Just remember that while the goal of penships is relationship building, from the start people are still strangers. Sharing the traumatic depths of your struggles extremely early in a penship can be overwhelming for your penpal. It also can cross into territory of unintentional emotional manipulation and cause a penpal who otherwise finds themselves incompatible to feel compelled to keep writing you because they fear for your well-being.  Remember, mental health is personal! That’s doesn’t mean you can’t talk about it (I talk to plenty of penpals about mental health!) but just remember it’s not something strangers have earned the right to know about you!  Respecting Boundaries When establishing a penship it’s important to create and respect boundaries. Some such boundaries that people have revolve around who they are comfortable writing too. Personally, I do not write to men.It’s a preference built off bad experiences with a few people who aren’t reflective of the whole--- but to look out for me I choose not write men. Should you seek out a penship and learn you fall into some demographic the person chooses not to write to, simply accept that respectfully and move on. In my situation, I have had people argue with me about my choice not to write them because they’re men. This will not endear the person to you and cause them to change their mind. People have reasons for restricting who them write to.  Aside from who people are willing to write to, another common boundary is in regards to communication outside of letters. Personally, as someone who belongs to the Old School style of penpaling I do not want to receive messages on social media outside of initial agreements to write one another. For me and others like me, much of the allure of penpaling comes from distance from my “real life”. Communicating solely through letters gives me material for my letters (I am a diary-style writer) and frankly gives me the space to connect with person’s true personality versus being biased by a social media presence. Be clear with the people you’re seeking a penship with whether or not you’re open to developing a friendship over social media as well or if you prefer not to.  Again, personally I prefer only receiving initial informational exchanges, updates on addresses, check-ins if it’s been a while since one of us has sent mail, or an occasional birthday/holiday message. For extremely longtime penpals I make exceptions.  Social media is another boundary. Unless someone invites you to add them on social media, please do not do this. Yes, you have the name of the person off their address and can technically “easily” discover their social media but that person is trusting in you to respect their privacy. If you want to share your social media that’s wonderful! Just recognize that your penpal may not want to and will not want their privacy invaded.  Patience Above all in penpaling you need to be patient.Postal services aren’t perfect whether it’s sending mail on the national or international level. Generally they’re reliable and predictable, but sometimes things go awry. Personally, nothing bothers me more than someone who sends daily or near daily messages inquiring after the arrival of their letter. While it generally can take 3-5 days for mail to travel in the US (where I am) this isn’t exact.  If you’re concerned your penpal hasn’t gotten your mail, it’s appropriate to ask them if it’s arrived and if it has not then ask that they update you when it has (assuming you’re concerned it’s lost). Do not message daily or multiple times in a week. If your penpal doesn’t get back to you within 2 weeks of your initial message, it’s fair game to message them once more in order to determine the likelihood the mail has been lost. Often people forget to update one another in the Old School community of penpals--- just by nature of being a little bit of penpaling Luddites. Another reason patience is absolutely necessary in this practice has to do with the rate of letter writing. Penpaling can be a time intensive process that take creative and emotional currency to partake in. As a result, many people do not write a response immediately upon receiving mail. Life and stress often get in the way of penaling. Or even when we have ample time, for those of us who are diary-style writers sometimes we feel there’s not enough going on with us to warrant writing a letter. If you feel you really cannot wait indefinitely for mail then that’s something that needs to be disclosed when you begin penships. There are people who can commit to consistent writing schedules and those that cannot.  Ultimately with penpaling, just remember that there’s another person who is sending and receiving mail. It’s not you and a robot. It’s living, breathing person who should be treated with the respect that they deserve.

[vydante]

Restart | Avengers x Male! Reader | 11

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: multiple)

Plot: Dr. Strange said there was only one possibility of winning the battle against Thanos.

But when (Name) is forced into the past and into his younger body, he’s suddenly given the chance to start over and prevent the future from happening again.

So which route are you going to take? Are you going to risk the future and take preventative measures, or live life with the Avengers for the next 4 years, knowing what will soon come?

A/N: Different format this time, taken like a video log, though it’s mostly dialogue. 

[Action: enter folder titled ‘Project Renaissance’.]

...

[Enter Password: |]

[Enter Password: 1R0NM4NSU|]

[Enter Password: 1R0NM4NSUXXAP3XRUL35 |]

[Action: enter.]

...

[Password Accepted.]

[Accessing…]

[Enter folder name.]

[Action: “video logs”.]

[Searching…]

[Folder ‘Video Logs’ found. Would you like to play from the beginning?]

[Action: “Yes.”]

...

[Playing… “uh i don’t know name it whatever you want”, date created: 10-23-2013.]

...

...

“Is this thing on? Hello? Hell-o?”

The video feed shows your lone figure in your lab. It’s dark outside as the timestamp in the corner indicates that it’s half past midnight. You’re sitting directly in front of the camera, dressed in pajamas but no signs of fatigue anywhere.

You visibly huff, but only mirth flickers through your eyes as you look directly into the camera. It doesn’t last long as your eyes travel over to the camera feed and now you’re just looking at yourself as you begin to talk.

“Alright, so uh. Yadda yadda yadda, I planned to manually enter and type all of this out, but… I thought why not record it all in a log along the way? Fun, huh?”

You trail off on that thought, mumbling something about ‘well, that’s what my therapist said, anyways. Ah, wait, I don’t have her yet… mm, should probably look into that…’.

“Anyways, this is day one of Project Renaissance, or as it’s also known as, Project Get-Our-Shit-Together-Before-We-Get-Our-Lives-Rocked-By-Thanos.”

You shrug nonchalantly, but to the keenest of eyes, there was a stiffness in your posture when you mentioned Thanos. It was brief, but present nonetheless as it quickly dissipates from your shoulders.

“And, we don’t have to worry about any of this being leaked or whatever, because this is all on my sweet DAHLIA’s servers! Say something to the camera.”

“Something to the camera,” a dull female voice spoke up from the ceiling, Australian accent thick.

“Charming,” you purse your lips as if to hold back a smile, “Anyways, where was I…”

“Oh, yeah- Renaissance. So this is gonna be a long, long project with a bunch of other mini-folders inside.”

You swiped your hands across the air, slicing through as blue holograms appeared in front of the camera. There were already dozens of folders, but the camera catches only a few of their names.

‘Firecracker’, ‘Thunderpants’, and ‘Accords’ are some that are visible.

“I just wanted to get on base with what we have so far, but it’s not much considering it’s, y’know, only day one.”

You mumble something incoherent away from the camera before gazing back up on the camera feed, not quite looking directly into the camera itself. To the left of you, there’s a hologram of a checklist that you occasionally glance through as you resume speaking.

“Main objective of this project: prevent Thanos from decimating half of the universe, preferably killing him in the process. Side objectives: keep the Avengers together, current members optional, new members in need nonetheless. Contenders in another file.”

You glance at the checklist.

“Current objective: locate and capture Barnes, codename Winter Soldier, and any other Winter Soldiers, and sift through S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database for traces of HYDRA.”

“Sidenote: we, ah, started the search yesterday- for Barnes. So far, it’s… Not really promising. I, uh, initially gave the timeline to find Barnes a few days max, but man, I’m starting to doubt that…”

You sigh, scratching at your arm irritably.

“Whatever…” you mumbled.

“Anyways.”

“I, ah, I don’t know for sure what I want to do with Barnes, but considering that I’ll probably have more than ample time to think about it, I’m not worrying about it too much. As for his triggers…”

You glanced at an adjacent folder, almost contemplating.

“I know of one person who can help, but I’m not exactly putting too much hope for that one. So.”

“We might have to resort to B.A.R.F. when it’s ready. DAHLIA, who- who was on that case again?”

“Mr. Quentin Beck and his team, doll.”

“Ah, yeah, Beck. Cute, tall, big ole’ eyes?”

An image hologram pops up in front of you, presumably of Quentin Beck.

“I don’t know about ‘cute’, but in essence? Yep.”

You ignored DAHLIA’s apparent judgment in your taste in men.

“Gotcha. Well, there’s that we can resort to if need be. Um…”

“Well, as for HYDRA, that’s… That’s a whole ‘nother can of worms right there.”

You sighed, and this is the first inkling of exhaustion you’ve shown so far. You deflate a little bit and spend the next few minutes staring at something behind the monitor in silence. You’re deep in thought before your phone buzzes.

Then, the video feed cuts off.

…

… 

[Video end. Selecting next in queue…]

[Playing… “okay don’t do that weird thing where you record everything i say and make it the title, please dahlia anyways uh i wanna name it uh huh um shit dahlia i swear to god stop doing that”, date created: 11-02-2013.]

…

…

“Wow, alright, I was watching the last log last night and man did I literally got nothing done. I mean, it was the first day, but still! Still, I fucking…”

Your voice trails off as you walk away from the screen, holding what appears to be a big box filled with papers and envelopes. You set it down in the far corner of the lab, still talking but your words are unintelligible as the microphone is too far to hear anything.

“... And yet here I am, just- ugh!”

You dropped your body onto the chair and plopped right in front of the screen. Your hair is disheveled, undersuit still on. There’s a bruise forming on your forehead, but you don’t really seem to care about your messy appearance.

You pointed a lazy finger towards the corner, a small grin as you try to line it up with the camera feed.

“That’s fanmail- apparently someone has been neglecting to read those… It’s me, I’m someone.”

You chuckle to yourself.

“Mm, I’ll read myself to sleep later, probably hang all of it up on a mural wall somewhere. Or the ceiling, that works too. Anyways. Just went on a, shall I say, self-imposed mission. It was, ah, to look for Barnes.”

You sheepishly smiled.

“‘Was followin’ a lead from DAHLIA, a potential hit marker, but- it was just a- a barely running base. Nothin’ new, but- it’s nice. To fly and- and fight in the suit every now and then.”

You shake your head.

“Not the- the current one. The nanite one. It’s- god, I miss it, you know?”

Your eyes glaze over, a faraway glint in your eyes as you paused your ranting. This goes on for about 24 more seconds before you started talking again, voice smaller.

“I did this thing, with dad. After the whole, um, Accords bullshit. He- we would get into our suits- the newer models, and just… Go at each other. No repulsors, no nothing. Just raw, brutal punches in the suit. No holding back, no making sure the other one’s okay after a good blow… Just… We just hailed on each other, you know?”

“I mean, obviously we weren’t trying to kill each other, but sometimes it… It felt close, y’know? Nothing personal, but… It was primal, sometimes. Sometimes he’d knock my jaw a little too loose and all I’d ever see would be red… It was wild, I’ll tell you that.”

“But- we only did it here and there, considerin’, y’know. He’s-... He was getting older, and I was… getting busier.” You sighed. “No one knew about it either; god knows how Rhodey or ma’ would react to us- just- beating the shit out of each other.”

You smiled, though it looked more like a grimace.

“It was fun, though. Get the frustrations out. Work on our weaknesses. Show no hesitation. It’s…”

There’s a sudden hollowness in your eyes as your face shifts, an expression years older than you were currently. Haunted, almost. You shake your head, whatever traces of your former self now gone as you smiled- though, there was nothing genuine to that smile at all.

“... Not important. Anyways.”

You shifted in your seat, clearly uncomfortable at the stagnant air despite being the only one in the room.

“So yeah. HYDRA. I took out everyone at that base. Nothing left. Downloaded whatever they had, wiped it, then burnt it to a crisp. The usual, nothing new, nothing important…”

You shrugged, “It’s harder to get the Avengers to look the other way when I’m doing these solo missions. I’m pretty sure Natasha’s getting sus about this… Nothing tied to me, but. Still.”

“But yeah, DAHLIA’s sifting through the information right now.”

Your eyes shift to the left, presumably a screen with said findings loading in.

“So-o... There was… There was that.”

You paused, trying to gather your thoughts when your eyes flickered.

“Ah- but to continue to the last log; HYDRA… Man. HYDRA, HYDRA, HYDRA. Always a pain in the ass.”

You scowled.

“I thought it was gonna take me a little longer to sift through the S.H.I.E.L.D. database, but surprisingly enough, it was… Kind of easy to sort out HYDRA and Not-HYDRA.”

You scratched your head in confusion.

“Back a couple of years ago- or, well, in… Next year, actually. June? Well- Team Cap is gonna go haywire on S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA and Project Insight and basically dump all that good-good, and we,” you noted with an oddly bitter tone, “were left to clean up the mess they made. And, well, it exposed a lot of active field agents. Shit, man.”

You scrubbed your face with your hands, which were marred with fresh scratches and burn marks. It’s unclear where they came from, but you don’t seem bothered by it.

“So many agents were killed in that stunt. God…”

Your voice is muffled, but still audible.

“There was one agent… Codename Acai. Sweet gal, ‘cording to her co-workers. Little unhinged, but she got the work done. She… She was undercover in North Korea for a few years. Got busted by the data dump. And…”

“God, they just…”

You sighed gruffly, refusing to look anywhere near the camera.

“It was rough, finding her body. Kept looking for her even months after the whole Ultron bullshit. By the time we got to her, it took us months to I.D. her body- even worse? North Korea already had her death listed as suicide under her fake name. Bullshit! Parts of her was missin’, how the fuck is that a suicide?! Both feet, gone. Her sternum was nowhere to be found. How- I just…!”

You gritted your teeth.

“I just don’t understand what they were thinking when they pulled that dumbass stunt to release all of that- that sensitive data…! I thought- oh, maybe, maybe, HYDRA had already corrupted a large part of S.H.I.E.L.D., that’s why they did it!”

“But no! No- do you know how much of S.H.I.E.L.D. was infected? How much?!”

You pinched your fingers together and squinted at the camera with a visceral smile.

“6 percent. That 6 percent accounted for a majority of the higher-ups. Not lower field combatants. Not the technicians. The higher-ups.”

“6 percent of S.H.I.E.L.D. was HYDRA,” you hissed, “yet they still endangered the other 94% active and non-active members! Fuck- it was a miracle! A miracle, that we got to any of the agent’s family that had been documented before HYDRA or anyone else could!”

“It’s a miracle that the Bartons even made it- and we didn’t even know about them until Ultron! It’s just-... Fuck!”

Growling, you knocked your head against the metal table in front of you. The camera shakes a little bit.

“God, Romanoff, what the fuck were you thinkin’? You were supposed to keep them in check, not… Not be so goddamn stupid!”

You growled under your breath, taking a moment to breathe. You lifted your head up with a neutral face and exhaled.

“Whatever. What’s done is done. I’ve- I’ve had years to simmer over it and I’m- I’m not. Angry. I swear I’m not. It’s done, it happened. But. Hopefully in this timeline… It won’t happen. Not like that, at least.”

There was a peculiar glint in your eyes as you started reaching into one of your cabinets.

“And I know just how to stop it.”

You raised your eyebrows with your eyes closed, reluctant to repeat what you had already said.

“Again, sifted through S.H.I.E.L.D. for HYDRA. Got the information. And it is all. In. Here.”

You pulled back up to reveal a small black USB flash drive. There’s nothing of interest to it on the outside, but it’s what’s inside that really, really counted.

“This bad boy has all the shit that HYDRA’s been skeemin’ all up in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s system. I- well.”

“I actually have 2 of these, but, ah. One’s already on the way to ole’ Saint Nick.”

You brushed a hand through your hair. It’s grown quite a bit and in need of trimming.

“Because if there’s one thing I know for sure about S.H.I.E.L.D.? Nick ain’t apart of HYDRA, no matter how much of a scumbag he is. And, really… I’d like to think I trust him to handle this situation properly- more so than anyone else but me and my dad. Obviously, dad can’t- he can’t ever know about… About this.”

Despite referring to the USB in your hands, your words were heavy nonetheless. It wasn’t just the flash drive you were referring to.

“So Fury’s getting the other bad boy. Worth millions, and 2 of a kind, too.”

“Well, I sent it to the bastard. Hopefully, he doesn’t trash it, or whatever. Soon.”

You hummed. Setting the USB down on the table, you made direct eye contact with the camera and posed with pouty lips. You threw up a peace sign ironically and grinned.

“Well, that’s that. Oh, and Clint vomited on Steve’s clothes yesterday. Not important, but funny nonetheless. Deuces!”

…

…

[Video end. Selecting next in queue…]

[Playing… “dahlia we don’t have the fucking time for this get the damn suit”, date created: 11-29-2013.]

…

…

“Hi.”

You’re still in your school clothes that day, a simple sweater and sweatpants. Your letterman is hanging on the back of your seat for going to the robotics competitions your school had. 

The timestamp also indicates that you had just gotten out of school too- though, it is considerably dark outside. Snowing that day, most likely. And still is, probably.

“So, uh. Fury got the message, I think.”

You spun around in your chair, knees up to your chest.

“Usually we’re getting harassed by him every now and then to do missions, but Natasha just came home yesterday sayin’, like. ‘Fury’s put my mission on hold’, or something.”

“He doesn’t know I sent it to him, I think. But. Thing’s’re getting pret-ty serious now, huh.”

You shrugged.

“Well, whatever. I didn’t come here to talk about Fury, though. I came here to update on, ah, a few things.”

“I know I haven’t touched base with- well, you,” You gave the camera a saucy wink, “about a lot of my projects so far. So, here are a few that I’ve been thinking of implementing.”

A picture is pulled up from your desktop. It’s an aerial shot of a brunet talking to his friend, both of a juvenile appearance. There’s another picture, a 3D generated image of a red and blue suit.

“So. Peter Parker.”

Sigh.

“I… really, really, really don’t want him to be involved in any of this. No superhero bullshit, no nothing.”

“He’s young. He doesn’t- doesn’t need to be involved with this mess. I just… I just want him to have a normal life.”

‘One I never got to have; one he’ll never get to have,’ goes unsaid, but you continued on.

“But… By my reasoning, I am… Hypocritical in my justification.”

You paused, frowning as you look at the picture long and hard. When you speak up, your voice is noticeably quieter.

“He was just as old as I was when I started this whole Apex mantle thing. Hell, he might’ve been older. Will be older. And quite frankly, I can’t stop him even if I wanted to. He’ll still do it, still go out and fight and just-...”

“He’ll do it unsupervised, and that’s what scares me the most.”

You mumble under your breath, “He reminds me too much of… Me. Young, dumb, and reckless as all hell.”

You shook your head and pulled up another file. This one’s a text file, and it’s detailed enough to go on for pages and pages, but clearly there’s more to be added.

“So, what I’m hoping to do is… Start an internship program. Start- start him early. The sooner, the better control he’ll have over his powers. The better experience he’ll get. And, of course, with the additional benefits of, well. Being in an actual internship program.”

“What that will intel? I don’t know. But I think… I think both the students and SI can- can benefit off of that.”

“So, that was one of my projects. Another one is about, well.”

You swallowed hard for this one.

“Extremis.”

You held your hands up as if trying to halt the camera- even the viewer- from freaking out.

“Listen, look, I know, I know- ‘oh, Extremis is already stabilized, oh, why mess with it even more, oh, just leave it alone it’ll make you explode into a thousand firecrackers, oh’- I get it. I know.”

“But… Listen to me.”

“I really, really do think Hansen was onto something with Extremis, no matter how evil and fucked up it is now. It… With a little bit of love and care, I really do think it can help. Maybe not- not on a mass-production scale- or for commercial use, period- but still.”

You licked your lips, eyes flickering to a picture of you, Tony, and Rhodey eating ice cream on your desk.

“I… It can be a last resort type of thing. It- it has the potential. So, so much potential.”

You chuckled to yourself.

“Well, it’s not like you- whoever else that isn’t me that’s watching this- can convince me otherwise. Don’t worry, no live subjects. No evil scientist bull, just… Just trust me, please.”

It’s unclear who exactly you’re referring to, but it’s as if there’s a specific person you’re trying to plead with despite knowing that no matter what, this footage- along with the rest- will be forever condemned to rest in the grave that is DAHLIA’s protected database.

“So, yeah. Working a little bit on Extremis. Um, I wish I could say that the next projects are more- light-hearted, but. Not really, no.”

“I’m… Well, there’s no easy way to say this: I’m thinking of filing a class-action lawsuit on Ross.”

And with that bombshell of an announcement to the camera, the Avengers alert rang across the building.

“Fuck- DAHLIA, end it- put me on comms!”

…

…

[Video end. Selecting next in queue…]

[Playing… “i am so mad i didn’t think about this before dahlia change the mission objective”, date created: 12-18-2013.]

…

...

“Would you believe me if I said I completely forgot about these whole video log things?”

Your back is turned to the camera, completely shirtless and hair dripping wet. You’re texting someone, and you’re typing a little bit furiously. The camera catches the other person sending a cat picture. You huff, but turn your phone off and set it to the side.

“So. Ross.”

You shake your head.

“Sorry to drop a bombshell like that on you,” you quietly address the camera, “then disappear on a mission, but-”

“There’s nothing concrete now. Just- it’s just an idea. I think…”

“I think Bruce would like it. There’s- there’s a lot of dirt on Ross. So much shit that can get him life, too. Maybe even death if we play our cards right, but… I want that bastard to suffer. And quite frankly, if I can get rid of him now, the better the Avengers will be in the future.”

You rolled your shoulders, a satisfying crack echoes from you and you grinned for a moment, before smoothing your face out into something more neutral. You leaned back in your chair, and take a breather.

“So, uh. It’s been… Over a month, I’d say? Since I started these whole video logs. Um… No traces on Barnes. It’s…”

You glance up at the ceiling with a pained expression.

“It’s frustrating as hell. You’d think, with access to a majority, if not all of the satellites and cameras and whatnot, we’d find him easier…”

“It’s like he’s not even doing anything, at all. No missions, no assassinations or whatever… Nothing. Nada. It’s like… It’s like he’s not even being deplo-”

You paused. It’s clear that the gears inside your head are turning. You narrowed your eyes, a smile threatening to break out as you reached towards the camera buttons.

“Sonnofabitch.”

…

…

[Video end. Selecting next in queue…]

[Playing… “i won’t let history repeat again starting with him”, date created: 12-29-2013.]

…

...

“So. I’m, uh, major update.”

Unlike the previous video logs where you were in your lab, this one is different. The camera is a lot closer to your face and from a bottom perspective as you hold the camera. 

You’ve got part of your helmet, chest plate, shoulders, gauntlets, and presumably your boots still on as your steps are heavy and clanking. There’s blood smeared across your forehead. You’re slightly out of breath as you glance at something outside of the camera’s perspective.

Around you, the view is shaky and it’s unclear where you’re walking. None of the interior decors indicates that you’re in the tower- in fact, it’s barren and empty.

You glance down at the camera view.

“Remember the last log? Well, I uh, sort of had an epiphany, if you will.”

You continue walking, but you’ve reached a door mechanism. You punch in some numbers and continue talking as the doors open wide.

“It was strange, that I got no hits of a Winter Soldier stalking around anywhere. Sure, he’s a trained spy and killer, but no one’s that slick- not even Natasha, as much as she thinks otherwise.”

You’re in an elevator now, catching your breath slightly as you drew your eyebrows together. There’s a dinging noise, indicating the floors you’re ascending- or descending, as it’s unclear what story you’re on.

“It was like there was no Winter Soldier; at least, no active one.”

“That got me thinking. He’s- what- from the 20’s? He should’ve been, say, early thirties, so 31? 32? At the time he went missing, anyways. But the thing is… Even in the future, the man looks barely in his late thirties. Barely.”

You tap your feet impatiently, boots echoing in the small space.

“But he’s been the Winter Soldier for, what, almost 70 years? Shit don’t add up.”

“So, while he’s practically responsible for so many goddamn murders, he’s probably not always… Awake. Active. I was thinking, shit, if he ain’t up and about right now, where the hell is he?”

“So I did some more digging. Found a Winter Soldier file in S.H.I.E.L.D.- er, HYDRA’s database. There’s… A bunch. Of the Winter Soldiers, I mean. But none of them were- was Barnes. Just a bunch of knock offs.”

You glance up at the floor indicator. The camera shifts and the numbers blink downwards.

 -3… -4… -5...

“But I found something interestin’. There’s a- a list. Of HYDRA bases. Had no idea what they were for, but I took a hot guess.”

“One of them was Siberia. First one I went to- no Barnes. A bunch of other Winter Soldiers, though. The failed ones.”

“I…”

There’s a moment of hesitation, unsure if you should say what you’re about to say.

“I shot them dead.”

The ball drops just as the elevator dings, doors opening as you stepped out with a confidence that doesn’t match the remorse in your eyes.

“It’s. Look, I know it- that’s fucking. Insane. Inhumane. Murder. I don’t care. It’s- it’s too goddamn dangerous, having them- alive! I don’t know if there was any- any redemption for them.”

“But in the end, they- they were willing soldiers for HYDRA. The best, even. Anyone who- who willingly works for HYDRA… I’m not too sure I can trust them.”

You growled.

“Shit, I trusted Maximoff… And look where that got us.”

“I’m not fucking risking it with them.”

You shook your head, face smoothing out so it’s only the stressed wrinkles on your forehead that’s present. Your eyes soften minutely so.

“But for Barnes… There’s a chance. He’s a goddamn POW, and… If Shuri succeeded in getting rid of the trigger words, then there’s. A. Chance.”

“And… I’m willing to take that risk with him.”

The camera shifts, staring directly at the underside of your jaw. You cough and recalibrate the camera so it’s at a better angle.

“Anyways.”

“I… I went down the list. Of the bases? I didn’t- didn’t infiltrate them per se. It’s too risky- a majority of those bases are major ones. So I just… Snuck around. Looked at the infrastructure for anything that remotely looked like a certain Winter Soldier would be in.”

You stopped walking, now staring directly at something behind the camera. Your lips are pressed in a grim line.

“And I hit the jackpot.”

You should be happy about it if you took those words out of context, but your expression is far from it. Guilt, pity, and an earthly weariness mares your eyes as you huff.

“Everybody, say hi to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.”

The camera view flips, and in the front stage center is a big chamber, similar to that of a hulk play box. But while it is smaller, the glass is noticeably thicker. In the corner, outside of the chamber, is Mark 22 standing eerily still with its glowing eyes trained on Barnes. It’s in a neutral stance, but it’s clear that it won’t hesitate to incapacitate the soldier if it came down to it.

And on the furthest wall inside the chamber is Barnes, slumped on the ground with a pool of water around him. He’s wet as well, but unconscious. He’s in his military tactical gear, too, though there are no weapons visible on him.

The microphone picks up your sigh.

“I… I don’t know what to do with him. I- I saw the fucking- freezer they kept him in, but. It was a quick operation- I had no time to get the damn thing out without them- HYDRA- noticing me. So. Guess that throws out the plan to keep him- frozen like a popsicle until further notice.”

Barnes twitches slightly, and his fingers move. There’s an audible grunt, and your breath hitches as you swerve the camera back on you. Your eyes are wide, and you throw the camera a nervous grin that’s more akin to a grimace. In the background, your suit whirs to life.

You gave a nod to the camera.

“Wish me luck.”

…

…

[Video end.]

[Play again?]

Masterlist

Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit, @tonystanktheirondad, @ludwigvonbaethoven​, @fabledxmystery

[thessalian]

Thess vs Slacking Off

Well, the good news is that Temp apparently has a sixth sense for how far to push her luck (or Violet or Milady have been picking up her slack today, either way), because she didn’t seem to be pulling her usual bullshit.

The bad news? Goblin pulled some egregious bullshit that turned a properly paced day into a little over an hour of pushing-too-hard nightmare and logging out five minutes past home-time.

See, even at our worst as far as workload goes, the thing we mainly try to do is be no more than 24 hours behind on the typing. It’s not always easy, but we try. And today it looked like we actually had it! I mean, only barely, but seriously, one of the last bits of dictation from yesterday was a twelve-minute monstrosity from someone who doesn’t normally do those kids of dictations, and whose dictation I usually dislike anyway because she’s got some sentence structure issues and will use ten words when one will do. Still, most of the rest of the typing was fairly okay so I figured I could take a minute to breathe and work at a regular pace for the last hour and a half or so before close of play. This should have been fine - I got the longer stuff done first so that I could time my day better, and was looking forward to a relatively gentle hour for once.

Except then I noticed that the number of dictations in the queue had grown a lot between the start of my two-minute dictation and the end of it. Like, I know the difference between “a lot of people dictating at about the same time” spikes and “someone just dumped a whole wodge from their queue back into the main queue” spikes, and this was basically the latter. And as it was 4pm, and Goblin’s day ends at 4pm, I had an inkling as to what had happened. So I figured I’d check just to make sure that there was going to be nothing from yesterday that would need to be done before close of play.

There were over a dozen reports from yesterday, all timestamped from before my end-of-yesterday chunk. It seems she pulled her usual trick of idling and chatting and gossiping and whatever the fuck it is she does to kill time, got next to nothing done on the typing she generally hates doing anyway, and then just dumped it all back in the queue when the clock struck 4. Hell, she was halfway through one, as far as I could tell - the one on the top of her list had the specimen details and clinical details typed in but she’d left without doing the main body.

Now, I know that you obviously want to leave on time. Particularly Goblin, as she lives a long way away and there are some timetable issues with the bus local to her house. However, it fucks everyone over if you sit on stuff in your queue for several hours, barely touch it, and then dump it all back in. If you know you’re not going to get the typing done for whatever reason, you leave it there, so others can arrange their workload accordingly. But no. No, she just idled through the last couple of hours of the day and then dumped all the stuff she couldn’t be bothered to do into the main queue again, so that those of us who work past 4pm would look bad when there’s this chunk of yesterday’s typing carrying over to tomorrow.

Well, Temp wasn’t going to touch it. I knew that perfectly well. So I grabbed it and got through it, and somehow managed to get them all done while only going five minutes past the clock. I mean, I’m paying for it now, but at least it’s done. While I may not like having to pick up my colleagues’ slack (because I really, really don’t), I do actually take pride in doing my job to the best of my abilities, and if I can keep us from being more than 24 hours behind on the typing, then that’s what I’ll fucking well do. Besides, knowing my luck, I’d get some of the blame for it splashed on me. I work too hard to be tarred with that brush, thanks.

Another bit of good news, though, is that I might not have to go into the office to help with the phones while Scruffman’s on holiday in a couple of weeks. I’m ringing to talk to him about it on Friday, but seems that there’ll probably be enough cover for the phones. I mean, this is good because after the bullshit I’ve taken from Temp and Goblin this week, it might be better to not have me share space with them, lest I throttle them both.

Anyway, at least I did the baked chicken and vegetables thing for dinner yesterday, so plenty of leftovers, and don’t have to cook. I think that would be a step too far. There will be a shops run in a little bit, though. Today’s one of those days when I deserve chocolate.

[tjkiahgb]

On August 13th, 2018, at 8:20 PM, TJ Kippen performed a basketball-themed apology rap for Buffy Driscoll and completed his redemption arc. In doing so, he became a full and complete hashtag good boi and fulfilled this blog’s ridiculous destiny.

This post is scheduled to go up on August 13th, 2019, at 8:20 PM. It only feels right that I retire this blog on the one year anniversary of that moment.

Okay. It’s not that dramatic. I’m not deleting my account or logging out forever or anything. I’ll be around. I’ll check in and like some posts and hang out like the kid who graduated high school but won’t leave. He keeps coming back and acting chummy with the teachers and it’s like, doesn’t he have better stuff to do?

The point is, my queue is depleted, my drafts are empty. I don’t have a shift in fandoms planned. I don’t have anything planned. It’s time for me to turn my attention to other things and stop thinking about this show and writing about it and working on this blog.

So that’s basically the tl;dr of this whole deal. I’m going to write some rambling personal stuff so if you don’t care, which most people probably won’t, then thanks for reading and thanks for all the memories. It’s been fun.

Okay, lemme ramble. And if you’ve read this blog for a while, you’ve probably heard some of this already, but whatever, this is my goodbye post.

Way back in October of 2017, I came across a post on a website for TV news that said “Disney Channel to Feature Its First Gay Main Character in Andi Mack Season 2″. I didn’t know what Andi Mack was, and I hadn’t watched Disney Channel in well over a decade. I remembered reading about the two moms on Good Luck Charlie when it happened, but I also remembered that it was, you know, mostly nothing. A lot of controversy for what was just a quick little thing. But this headline noted that it was a Main Character. And I’m reading the article and it’s talking about how he’s going to have this journey in season two and the producers had talked to GLAAD and other groups to get it right, and I’m like, wow, this is pretty cool, this really seems like they’re putting some respect into this. (I’m also thinking about how much young, closeted me would’ve killed for something like this.)

So I set my DVR to record it not knowing what to expect. Mostly thinking it was just going to be your standard Disney Channel show: cheesy and corny and bad jokes, but I’ll catch the coming out scene and it’ll be cool to see how they handle it and that’ll probably be that.

And then I’m watching the episode and I’m like, this is... not bad? In fact, more than not bad, this is way better than it has any right to be. And then I got to the coming out scene, which was so well done, and I’m just... shocked. This is like Pixar. Like, it’s for kids, but I can watch it as an adult and pick up on themes and subtleties. This is not like the shows from my childhood. Where was this show when I was growing up?

Next thing I know I’m watching the next episode. And the next one. And I’m starting to care for these characters. I can forgive a lot of issues with plot if I care about the characters and what this show did, maybe as well as any show on television, is made you care for the characters, from top to bottom.

So now I’m watching the show regularly. At some point, I went back and binged through season one on DisneyNow. I’m in, as a casual viewer at this point at least.

And then I get to 2.11, and the swing scene happens, and I watch it wordlessly, and it ends, and I feel like I’m losing my mind. I could not believe what I just saw. I thought for sure this show was just going to have a couple of coming out scenes and that would be the end of it. Had I really just watched a scene that was hinting at a gay romance?

I wanted so badly to talk about it with someone else to see if they were seeing what I was seeing, but, as you may not be surprised to learn, none of my adult friends were watching Andi Mack. So I started looking around online. And I eventually found my way here, to this site, to the tag. And people were seeing what I was seeing. And people were excited about it, and I was like, okay, cool, I might’ve found my community.

So I started lurking around here. And I would check in after 2.12 and 2.13, and I was really starting to enjoy it. Most of the stuff I watch that I care about I’ll watch with friends or family and talk about it with them, so I never really thought being a part of a fandom would be worthwhile. Plus, I’d hear about shipping wars and other nonsense like that, and I’m like, I’m not going to make an account to argue with people over fictional characters’ relationships.

But what I was finding about this community was that it was more positive than that. There were arguments, sure. You’re going to get them in any group of people. But for the most part, people just seemed happy. They were posting theories and memes and gifs and jokes and fanfics. And they were celebrating the characters and developments. I don’t know if that’s special to the Andi Mack fandom or not, but it seemed special to me.

That’s around when I started thinking about making an account, during that hiatus between 2A and 2B. But I was like, do I want to commit to this? What’s the point of my account? What do I want to say? And at some point in the hiatus, I was checking the tag, and I saw a gifset. It was by an account, since deleted and gone, but who, at the time, was very prominent in the fandom. And the gifset was all about attacking Tyrus. It was trying to take everything nice about what had happened between TJ and Cyrus and stomp on it. Tyrus was like a little baby ship at this point. People were just starting to get into it, the numbers weren’t that big. There wasn’t even really a name for the ship back then. The Tyrus tag was mostly that professional wrestler and the CJ tag was even worse. And this account had decided they were going to use their platform to try and make this small group of people in the fandom feel bad about liking their ship. I just remember thinking, why? Why be like that? It just seemed so unnecessary. And for the briefest of moments, I thought, okay, maybe I’ll make an account to be a troll and argue this stuff. And then I was like, nah, that’s just going to make the tag worse. When you see someone trying to ruin things for other people, you can give them attention and power, or you can just do your own thing.

So what I decided to do instead was to make an account that would add to the positivity I had been seeing. To just be one of the many voices doing fun stuff to drown out the bad. I could put out dumb posts to hopefully make people laugh, or eventually start writing recaps to give people something to do after watching the episode. There wasn’t really any bigger goal than that. Kill some time while celebrating the show and making the tag a more fun place, if only incrementally.

I’d like to think I did that. That I haven’t written or made too many things that have bummed people out and that most of my posts have hopefully made things better for people who wanted to hang out on here and talk about the show.

That’s all. At the end of everything, that was all. Just try to leave a net-positive wherever you go.

So that’s why I joined tumblr. Here’s why I stayed.

I am an unemployed writer. I’m an employed something else, but I would like to be an employed writer and I am currently not. And what that really means is I’m an unread writer. It means I write stuff and I try to convince people to read it and buy it, but most of the time they don’t. Most of the time, my stuff sits around waiting and hoping to be read. And when that’s the case, you can start to feel doubt.

What I didn’t realize when I started this account was that I would also be getting positivity back. I mean, I probably should have. It was the whole reason I started this, because I liked the positivity here. I guess I just didn’t expect it to be returned to me.

But it has. It has tremendously. Just writing this silly stuff that I do and putting it out there and getting feedback on it has meant so much to me. People saying something I’ve written is funny or interesting or just saying that they enjoyed it is such a confidence boost. You feel like, okay, people like my jokes or the way I think or whatever. There’s an audience for me somewhere. People who will get me. I just need to stick with it.

That’s what you all have been for me this last year and a half. More than just making this a fun place to share our love of this show, you’ve made this a place for me to feel seen.

I try not to tie too much of my self-esteem to the amount of interaction my posts get. (Seriously, don’t do that, it can be really unhealthy. I’m like, if a post flops, it flops. No biggie. Move on to the next one.) But every note I do get on something I’ve written lets me know I’ve done something right. The reblogs, the likes, the follows, the nice messages in my inbox, the comments on the posts. Any of it. All of it. It lets me know I’ve been read. It makes me feel like I’ve made a connection. And that means the world to me.

So thank you, to any and all of you who participated in this thing with me. Thank you for reading. Thank you for being a part of my experience on here. Thank you for being so cool that I wanted to join your group in the first place and thank you for being so great afterwards that I’m eternally happy I did.

It’s meant more to me than you could possibly know.

Keep the positivity.

- Jay

[imhereforbvcky]

Team Re-Building - Part 1

Summary: (Sam Wilson x reader, FalconCap humor/fluff) After the events of EndGame, the remaining Avengers head out on a mandatory team building exercise at your cattle ranch. The week turns out as unexpected for you as the idea was for them.

Prompt/Request: “Is that a horse?! Do I look like a cowboy to you?” For mine and @justsomebucky’s Cap² Challenge. I separated the prompt a little for flow, but I think I kept the spirit of it.

Warnings: None. Probably swearing. I’ve got a mouth and I can’t control it.

Word Count: 2061

A/N: This is just a little 2 part series. Part 2 is totally done. I’m planning to queue it to post in just 2 days! yay! 2 in 2 days, that’s easy to remember.

“Are you sure this is it?” Bucky muttered. His eyes followed the wrought iron banner propped between two enormous raw logs rising to form the arched entry. Dead center, the flying K brand stood dark and resolute against the bright afternoon sun.

“No,” Rhodes grumbled, “I haven’t seen a road sign for at least fifteen miles. Just dirt and tumbleweeds.”

The group held a collective breath when the modified jeep rattled over the cattle grate beneath the arch. The all-terrain vehicle had been waiting for them at the tiny regional airport when they’d landed. Now it made sense. The road went from grated dirt to a rugged two-wheel cut path over hill and stone.

Sam tried to convince himself it was all part of the experience, but frankly, the kinds of experiences he preferred usually involved a cold beer on his patio or a jog along a beach. The mountains were, admittedly, something to see. Jagged stone fingers clawed out of the hills, reaching unknowable heights into the unending blue sky. The photos on the brochure hadn’t done it justice.

Still, he just wished he wasn’t seeing them with clenched teeth and fists tight around the roll bar of the jeep as it hauled them all further and further from civilization.

“Why are we doing this, again, Sam?” Wanda asked, her arm darting out to his shoulder to brace against the jostling.

“Team building?”

“And there’s no ‘team building’ in New York?” Bucky complained, leaning past Wanda to glare at Sam.

“Couldn’t we have done a trust fall or something?” Rhodes agreed with a smirk on his lips at his own joke.

“How long’re you gonna hold that over my head?” Sam complained.

“'Til that face you make stops being funny.”

“Well, that’s exactly why we’re here.”

“I still don’t see why we had to be here,” Bucky insisted.

“Look, if any of you have figured out how to skip out on Maria Hill’s orders, you let me know the magic words and I’ll get us out of shit like this next time.”

Before too much longer the little caravan had made its way over the foothills and pulled up to a large cabin. It looked old, like the stones had been there as long as the mountains themselves, but the logs were freshly sealed and the chairs on the sprawling porch looked deep and inviting with soft leather cushions and bright red pillows.

“Hi there!” The voice that greeted them sounded like it was made there in those hills. It rolled gently and warmed like the sun on the breeze. “Welcome to Kestrel Point.”

“Thanks for accommodating our crew,” Sam stepped forward, offering his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

A laugh tumbled out. “I think we know who you are. All of you.” Your smiling eyes darted to the group behind him, still righting themselves after climbing down out of the jeep.

Sam wasn’t quite used to that yet. Sure, he’d been an Avenger for years now, had worn the armor of a hero. But after the Decimation… after the fight in upstate New York… after he picked up that shield… Being known had a different weight to it; sat just a little heavier on his shoulders.

“Right,” he shook his head and glanced back at what was left of the team, at those who’d survived, who hadn’t been left too worn to continue the fight. It was his team to lead now, his to rebuild and hold together.

You watched the struggle dance across his features and saw it echo in the furtive glances among the others. But you didn’t remark on it, nor did you hesitate. It was your job to help them find their rhythm and rebuild their strength, not to dwell on the present cracks in the armor.

Offering the same wide smile, you introduced yourself and a few of your staff before clapping your hands together, brows leaping with excitement. “Well let’s get started! My guys will take your bags to your rooms, and if y’all will follow me, we’ll get you matched up and get you started.”

When you turned toward the barn, nodding for them to follow, there was no argument. At least not that you saw. Mainly because you didn’t wait for one. That didn’t mean there weren’t protests. There was a flurry of wide-eyed glances exchanged from everyone but Clint.

For once, Clint felt right at home. He’d made a beeline for the stables and perched up on the split-rail fence with all the ease of familiarity. They might be thick western saddles here instead of the sleek black tack of his memory but the sound of twisting leather and long swooshing tails took him right back. With a distinct brand of nostalgia, he recalled rows of agile white Lipizzans, practically glowing under the circus tent lights. Visions of children gawking at larger-than-life Percherons filled his head and a slow grin eased over his face.

While your ranch hands tied the last of the horses in a row before him along the fence, ready and waiting, you lead the rest group inside. They weren’t quite ready.

“Is that a horse?!” Sam balked as he approached. It suddenly all clicked for him what Hill had been planning and he was not a fan. He liked the smirk on Barton’s face even less as watching him stroke a hand down the nose of a particularly antsy Quarter Horse. “No. I think there’s been a fundamental misunderstanding on our end.”

You laughed as he backed away. “Miss Hill warned us this was not the most uh… experienced group,” you tucked your worn leather utility gloves in your back pocket and gently slipped your fingers around his bicep, easing him forward. “You have nothing to worry about Mr. Wilson. We’ll take it slow.”

You were meant to be comforting him, but the moment he felt your contact and looked down at you with the softest, deepest umber gaze you’d even laid eyes on and it was your breath that caught in your chest. The words suddenly vanished on your tongue and it was all you could do to mimic the slow pull of his smile at your playful word choice.

“Do I look like a cowboy to you?” he asked, teeth flashing that smile.

You coughed on a laugh and looked at your feet. Boots. That’s right. They needed boots, that’s what you had been doing before. Before Sam Wilson and his damn smile.

“Not yet,” you agreed, shrugging one shoulder. “But we’ll take care of that.”

It took three full days to get everyone sufficiently steady on horseback. By the morning of day four, you’d decided it was sink or swim. The herd had nearly eaten through the winter pasture and before long the creek cutting across the valley would be swollen and racing with snowmelt. If you didn’t drive the cattle up to the newly sprouting summer lands soon, it would be too late.

A little instruction on the trail, couched softly in teasing and laughter might get the team where they needed to be skill-wise. If not, your own team flanked the Avengers, just in case. They might fight aliens and save half the galaxy, but they had never chased a scared new calf down a ravine.

Well, maybe Clint had.

He was, of course, a natural. Animals were his thing. Particularly large gentle ones whose affection could be bought with food. He’d spent his down time near the stables, figuring out what Apollo’s favorite snacks were and had stuffed his pockets with broken carrots.

The others… well they were lucky if they’d encountered a horse at a petting zoo before that week.

Bucky hadn’t seen a whole hell of a lot of cattle in Brooklyn between 1917 and 1943. And after that, war and survival had pretty much been his sole priorities until very recently.

Rhodes had no interest. He was a modern military man with his own Iron Man suit. Let’s face it; he had a better ride and more pressing matters anyway.

Wanda spent most of her life in a concrete cell. You weren’t sure if she had ever even seen a horse in person before climbing out of that jeep on your ranch. But she took to it pretty well. Those with a gentle demeanor usually did. You’d paired her with a sweet old mare that didn’t spook easily. Eventually the slow sureness of the horse seemed to have a calming effect for Wanda. She found herself enjoying her time away from so many people, away from their thoughts and fears. You could imagine her leasing out a ride now and again when she went home.

Bruce was… well half Bruce and half green and far too big to sit a horse. Didn’t stop him watching and teasing, though.

And Sam. Sam was maybe the most fun for you. He was all city, all soldier. Stiff but determined.

“I know you’re not laughing at me!” he hollered as you circled back and eased to a trot beside him. He looked so stiff and uncomfortable; you just couldn’t help but snicker. “Not again.”

“I’m sorry,” you managed, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes, grin so wide it hurt. “Just… You’ve gotta relax.”

“There’s a thousand pound animal between my legs!”

“And you think clenching up is gonna keep him from throwin’ you?” you teased.

It didn’t help. Logic flew out the window when fear came knocking. Sam only glared in your general direction, too anxious to look away for long. But you saw him fighting back a smile.

“Alright, well I think Ranger’s been a smooth ride and it’s high time you return the favor,” you tried again, reaching over and untying the lead you’d left on Sam’s horse.

Sam glanced down at his steel grip on the pommel. “What do you mean?” he asked, eyeing Ranger as if there was some lever that would make this all easier.

“You’re ex-military, right? I assume you had to carry a person at some point in your training?”

“Para-rescue. Carried injured friendlies out all the time. How’s that supposed to help?”

“Was it easier if the payload was stiff as a board or if they moved with you?”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled. “I see your point.”

“It’s a ride not a beating. Treat it like a lady,” you joked, encouraging him to push again into a trot and offering advice as you continued alongside. “Move with him. ‘ll be easier on your ass and his back. Relax and let your hips roll.”

“Do you talk to all your clients like this, or am I just lucky?” He was smiling now, still looking down at his horse.

You, however, laughed beside him, relishing in his flirtatious nature. His easy smiles and quick wit had captured you early on. It had been a while since you’d enjoyed someone’s company this much. “You’re definitely somethin’.”

“That didn’t sound like a good thing.” He pouted, but with that little shine in his eyes, that extra roundness to his cheeks that betrayed the grin beneath. Like it was just waiting to erupt and brighten his whole face. The longer you spent near him, the greater the pang deep in your gut at the thought of what that full smile might look like. Would it be better than these secret hidden ones? Would it warm you head to toe? Ignite this heat that seemed to spark from something as small as a little grin?

You needed to breathe, get your head back on your shoulders. With a swift squeeze of your knees your horse notched forward.

The more Sam had talked with you, joked, and flirted, the less he had time to worry about his horse. He relaxed, consciously or not, he and his horse settled into a rhythm.

Satisfied with his ability and desperately needing the distance, you led the way out onto the soft green acres that sprawled beneath the rough granite peaks. Fresh spring leaves quivered in the breeze and blankets of snow still dominated most of the mountaintop.

You pushed ahead into a canter, resuming your duties checking in on the other guests – the other Avengers. But not before turning over your shoulder with a grin just for him, just for Captain goddamn America.

“I think I’m the lucky one this time.”

Part 2 >>

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Chaldeas Grand Road Trip Zine (on Twitter)! The basic premise was to write diary entries from Mash’s PoV, talking about her worldwide vacation (with Senpai and all the servants, of course!). I got assigned the Food section (did they know I’m a glutton? XD). I tried to inject the premise in the story, so it should be understandable even without reading the others/seeing the pictures.

Summary: Dear Diary, I never knew the world could be so big. That it could have so many people and places and things to do. It’s one thing to fight your way across a singularity, another to take the time to enjoy yourself. I think I like having a vacation. From, Mash

…

…

…

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Road Trip Day: X

There are so many things to see and do in the world! I mean, I knew that before we went on vacation; traveling with Senpai to the singularities showed me that much. You can’t go to Rome, Egypt, or cross the entire United States without realizing that. But most of our journey was spent fighting monsters and servants; we’re so busy saving the world we didn’t really get time to explore.

 Well, I did explore little, but you can't tell Senpai that. Not that you can, you're just a digital log entry…I'll just have to make sure Senpai doesn't see this myself. They can't know I gave anything less than 100% to helping them out, no matter how interesting the winding roads were.  

 Now that we aren’t in a hurry, I’ve just realized how big the world is. Normally we’re running from place to place (or being catapulted from place to place, I really hope we don’t do that again) and with a Servant’s speed, it didn’t take that long to cross entire countries. The cars we’re using now are slower; Da Vinci said she wanted a leisurely trip. Every time I look out the window, the scenery is so different—I never knew there could be so many different kinds of cities or even trees. Every time I blink, I miss something.

Last night, Da Vinci pulled out a map and put pins on all the places we’ve gone to. Amazingly, that’s just a tiny fraction of the world! One day, I would like to see every city on that map. With Senpai, of course. I wonder if they like travelling? Ishtar happened to be floating by and she declared we needed to eat out more often. I think Romani was trying to save money by having Emiya cook. When I told her that, she snorted and said we had royalty and gods with us, so money wasn’t an issue. (I don’t think that’s true.) She also said that no matter how good a cook Emiya was, we needed to try new things. Later, I’ll tell Emiya that a goddess complimented his cooking. I’m sure that’ll make him happy!

 Funnily enough, Hokusai poked her head in and agreed with Ishtar. She pulled out these little sculptures she’d made (I guess she’s not only a painter) and placed them on the board at the places she wanted to visit. Apparently, Paris is a great place to eat. And to pick up women, but I’m sure Senpai won’t do that.

 Probably.

 Well, even if Senpai did, they have their hands full with all of us. I’m not sure it was a great idea to go on vacation with every servant, but Senpai didn’t want to leave anyone behind. They’re really admirable but I’m worried about their health. It must be exhausting keeping us all around. I’ll have to make sure to keep an eye out for them. Maybe one day I can pay them back, impress them like they’ve impressed me.

 The little figurines Hokusai made are really cute! There’s one for the Eiffel Tower, the Leaning Tower, and the Pyramids. Shuten put down one that was shaped like a wine glass on Italy and said we had to go there. Italy is filled with many, many vineyards and “we can’t miss even one delectable ambrosia,” as she put it. Excited, Da Vinci started booking some tours, but Romani quickly vetoed the whole thing. I think he regretted saying anything immediately, since all four servants glared at him.

 Now that I’m remembering it, I might have to protect him. Shuten is an assassin, after all.

 When we started talking about food, it was funny how red Ishtar got after all of her suggestions. Apparently, she really wanted to eat burgers. The second she said that, she looked at everyone like she was waiting to be insulted, saying that she knew a goddess shouldn’t eat such poor food. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it myself.

Shuten said she wanted to have some Baijiu. Romani started to point out that it was alcohol too but the second she looked at him, he shut up…

 I am definitely checking up on him when I’m done writing. Maybe Senpai and I can sleep with him tonight, just to make sure nothing happens.

 “Obviously, I’ll have pasta,” Da Vinci said, but I’m pretty sure she’s going to find a way to go to those vineyards. Houksai said she was fine eating anywhere there were beautiful people so she wanted to go to a runway in Milan to eat. Maybe we’ll get to see a fashion show too, that would be really interesting!

 It’s funny, but Archer is such a good cook, I sometimes forget that even he can’t cook everything. Even with Tamano Cat and some of the other servants pitching in to help, there are a lot of dishes we don’t get at Chaldea. I think I want to try eating some of the curries in India; we don’t really get spicy food that often. Hopefully, my tongue won’t burn too much.

 I wonder what Senpai wants to eat?

 -Mash

  Road Trip Day: X

Remember that map I talked about before? Well, we got to fulfill Ishtar’s dreams first! America’s huge, far bigger than any of the other countries we’ve been to. I should have expected that when we criss-crossed the country before, for that singularity, but there’s something still very impressive about it. Every place here looks so different from one another and somehow they all fit in one country! And the roads are so long, somehow we can go for hours without seeing a major city.

 Anyways, when we stopped for lunch today, we got burgers. Emiya wrinkled his nose when we entered, but he didn’t say anything. I think he’s feeling a little jealous these days since he hasn’t had to cook much. When we get back, I’ll make sure to ask him for food.

 The restaurant was a big place, with plenty of booths to sit in, but no place is big enough to fit all of us in it. Artoria practically dashed to the counter and immediately ordered every burger on the menu. Senpai looked at the queue of sabers and said that we should take turns, so the place wasn’t entirely overwhelmed. Considering how much Camelot’s King eats, in all of her forms, I thought Senpai’s plan was doomed to fail from the start. Don’t tell Senpai that, though. They’re trying their best to make sure we all have an equally fun vacation.

 Despite Senpai’s suggestion, Mordred joined the queue of Artorias, looking really happy that she could eat with her fathers. I wonder what she thinks about having so many dads, it must be complicated.

 Ozymandias and Cleopatra weren’t really interested in eating commoner’s fare, as they put it. They opted instead to dine with Gil and Iskander and they had a picnic outside. I think they missed out, personally, but I can see why they didn’t want to come. Can you imagine Gil eating a burger, ketchup dripping down his hands, mustard on his lips? He’d destroy the restaurant and us in it.

 Nitocris looked really nervous when the other pharaohs asked her to join them. She said yes but kept playing with her hands and looking away at us. There was something really frantic about the way she did that. Thinking it was a secret message, I winked and gave her a thumbs up. It must have been the wrong thing because she looked really depressed after that. Luckily, Senpai was much better at reading minds because they asked Nitocris to join us. Even then, Nitocris hesitated until Ozymandias clapped her on the back, pushing her forward. He asked her to tell him what commoners ate these days. Wouldn’t it be better if he just joined us then?

 Still, he, Cleopatra, and Nitocris look really close. Hopefully I’ll be that close with Senpai too one day.

 Sheba joined us as well. I wonder why, she didn’t seem like the type to like such places. By the time we got in, the staff looked exhausted. Ishtar was worried but luckily they still had food left. Did they know that they fed royalty and gods today?

 There were so many burgers on the menu, I didn’t know what to pick. Nitocris kept muttering under her breath how she had to pick the most dignified burger. How do you decide what a ‘dignified burger’ is? Ishtar didn’t have any issues; she ordered three different ones with extra fries and double patties. When we looked at her, she huffed and said she wanted to try multiple ones and “I’m a goddess, I can eat whatever I want to! Stop judging me!”

 I wasn’t judging her!

 Senpai picked a simple burger and I copied them. That way, we could compare later.

 The servers kept staring Sheba the whole time. Actually, everyone kept staring at her. Sometimes they’d look at Ishtar and Nitocris but then they’d go back to her. I wonder what part was stranger: her clothing or her ears? I’ve gotten used to it by now, but I keep forgetting it’s not normal everywhere else.

 The burgers they gave us were huge! I could barely fit my hands around them and ketchup and pickles kept falling out of the bun. It was a messy, messy meal. By the end of it, Senpai’s hands were covered in ketchup and pickle juice and there was a stain on her shirt. Oddly enough, Sheba didn’t have any issues. While I kept having small nibbles, she ate the whole thing in big, quick bites. I guess she was really hungry.

 Oh, Senpai’s calling me! We have to do laundry today so our clothes don’t stain.

 -Mash

  Road Trip Day: X

 Karna and Arjuna were at it again today. Well, ‘at it’ makes it sound like they always fight, which isn’t exactly the case. They’re old friends (kinda, at least I don’t think they’re rivals anymore) and they often are on the opposite sides of things. Actually, putting it like that really makes it sound like all they do is fight. But they don’t argue like, say, Nero and Elizabeth.

 No one fights like those two.

 Karna came out of nowhere and asked Senpai if he could take them out for lunch. With all that Senpai’s done for him, he wanted to show a little gratitude and give something back. He’s so considerate! Of course, Senpai being Senpai, they said that it wasn’t needed (they’re so kind!), but Karna insisted. As we headed out, Arjuna appeared and asked if he could treat me! I think he didn’t want to be one-upped by Karna but I haven’t really done anything to get any thanks. When I said that, he shook his head and said that I helped out a lot. That without me, Senpai might not have made it as far as they did.

 I’d never thought about it like that. While I’m sure Senpai would have figure something out, I’m glad to think I was of some use.

 Senpai and I were dragged to a diner, and Jinako tagged along because she thought it looked fun. The diner was very old. Or at least, it seemed really old. It looked like something from an old movie, where boys in gelled hair and leather jackets ask out girls in pretty pink dresses. You might be wondering how I know about that—Senpai and I have been watching movies lately! They wanted to share their favourites with me, especially after they found out I didn’t really watch that many movies before now. Actually, I haven’t read that many books either. Maybe I can ask Senpai for their favourite books too.

 The one we watched recently was filled with dancing, singing teenagers. I spent most of lunch hoping Senpai would ask me dance, but they didn’t understand my hints. I’ll try again next time.

 The diner had a checkered floor and our shoes clicked as we made our way to a booth. There was a really warm atmosphere to the place, cozy-like, and I wanted to curl up with a mug of hot chocolate. Arjuna ordered an ice cream sundae; it came in a long glass and looked like a flower. It was very pretty. And tasty—Arjuna almost gulped it all down. Only when his head hurt did he stop. I think that was his first brain freeze.

 The item on the menu that caught my eye was a chicken and waffle sandwich. They use waffles instead of bread! It was weird; waffles are for breakfast! You have them with syrup! But I was having them with fried chicken and it would have been weird to add syrup to that. Still, it didn’t taste that bad. I think I might try it again.

 Karna wasn’t going to order anything but Senpai forced him too. He always looks so surprised when we worry over him; I’ll have to remind him more often how important he is! As considerate as ever, Karna ended up ordering a platter with chili and sandwiches and shared it with Jinako.

 While we ate, old music played. There was a machine in the diner called a ‘jukebox’. If you put a coin in it, it’ll play a song. It had a limited selection of music and most of the songs were old hits. Apparently, this was how people used to listen to music, before they had cellphones. Senpai said the music was very nostalgic. I didn’t understand how, but I was glad Senpai liked it!

 When the bill came, Arjuna and Karna kept tugging back and forth on it. Both of them insisted that they should be the one to pay, that it was their treat. In the end, Senpai grabbed the bill and said it was their treat now. Karna argued that we shouldn’t waste a dime on someone like him, but that only made Senpai mad. They growled that if Karna every said anything like that again, he was going to help Emiya in the kitchens for a month.

 Considering how much the Artorias eat, I wouldn’t wish that one anyone.

 I’m going to watch another movie with Senpai tonight. I wonder what they’ll pick this time.

 -Mash

  Road Trip Day: X

 Hokusai must have been very happy today, as we are in Paris! I didn’t see her all day so I think she was out drawing people. Or picking up women. I hope it’s not the latter. Da Vinci told her earlier that if she wanted to paint a beautiful person, then she should just draw her. Hokusai said she didn’t want to draw anyone that old.

 It was a horrific fight. If Hokusai brings back anyone, they’ll be in danger.

 There were so many things to see here! There was the Eiffel Tower--we climbed the stairs since the elevator was so long. Senpai looked exhausted after that and I offered to carry them on my back. Unfortunately, they declined. The view from there was nice, especially as we got higher and higher. Jeanne D’Arc offered to translate for us since all of the tourist information was written in French. She was like a knight in shining armour. I’ll have to study that when we get home.

 After that, we went to the Louvre since it was nearby. Did you know there was a glass pyramid there? It’s a lot smaller than the real ones but it is completely see-through. Inside it there’s an escalator that takes you down to buy tickets and enter the museum. It’s kinda like being in a spy movie, with secret entrances and hidden rooms!

 None of the pharaohs looked impressed by the pyramid. Actually, Nitocris was really excited at first, declaring that Egypt had successfully conquered Paris. Ozymandias stepped in then, crossing his arms and sneering at the pyramid. Apparently it was too small to be considered anything worth while, a terrible imitation of a pyramid. Cleopatra declared it wasn’t cute enough. I didn’t know pyramids could be cute.

 That’s when Marie Antoinette stepped in. Unable to take it anymore, she announced that we were going to see France in all her glory. Starting with brunch, of course. As the queen of the country, it was her duty to show us all of the beauty of Paris, from food to the arts. Or so she said—I don’t think they were really insulting France, but she was so enthusiastic about it that I didn’t want to stop her.

 We ate at a restaurant where we could see the Louvre. There, we got an amazing spread of cheese, croissants, puffed pastries, and other French treats. For just a little while, I could see what it was like to be queen. Did Marie eat this every day, I wonder? What did the pharaohs have? When we go to Egypt, I’ll ask them to take Marie and us out.

 I liked the tarts the best. They were soft, fruity, and with a little hint of sugar sprinkled on top. If only we could have one every day for breakfast. Senpai’s a messy eater, so a light coating of sugar ended up on their nose. Sadly, they wouldn’t let me wipe it off. Nitocris kept playing with the crossiants—she put one on one of her Medjeds, saying that they now had a French hairstyle. The pastry was really flaky (and buttery!), I hope the Medjeds can wash themselves.

 Cleopatra looked the happiest to be there, even happier than Nitocris, which I didn’t think was possible. She kept trying different treats, taking a bite out of everything she saw. If she didn’t like it, she slipped it under the table for a Medjed to take. Senpai said that that was what it was like to have a pet dog. I’ll try that with Fou next time.

 Out of all of them, Ozymandias was the least interested in the food. Despite Marie’s best attempts, he preferred to drink wine instead. At 11 am, I think it was too early to drink (though Shuten probably would be on his side). He kept swirling his glass, looking out the window at the pyramid. In the end, he declared that while the pyramid was still substandard, the wine was not. That there was some value to France, after all.

 Marie didn’t seem to like that at all. I think she wanted him to like the food too. After this, she’s going to take us out to more places like her former palace! If it’s anything like the Louvre, it’ll be huge. My feet are still sore from walking through the giant museum. They had everything in there; I didn’t see even a fraction of all the paintings and sculptures they have. I’m not sure if I can take a second palace that big.

 -Mash

  Road Trip Day: X

 While we spent most of our trip inside proper hotels (Romani says it’s because it’s a vacation and we deserve the best, but sometimes I look at Da Vinci and I’m not sure that’s the real reason), today we went camping. It’s really dark right now and I’m writing this in front of a slowly dying campfire. I feel like I’m a pioneer, only without the quill ink and paper scroll. We’ve been in cities so much and something’s always happening at home, so I kind of forgot what it’s like when it’s quiet. Like it used to be, back when it was just me, Romani, and Da Vinci. There aren’t too many servants awake right now and while I feel like I’m in the middle of a tent city, it also feels like I’m the only person in the world right now.

 It’s kind of hard to describe why. The fire’s crackling softly and I can hear all sorts of wild animals in the distance. Hooting owls, chattering raccoons, the rustle of squirrels running through the trees. If I look up, the stars spread endlessly above me. I could stare at them for hours. They make me feel small.

 I might have spent too much time with Murasaki; I’m starting to sound like a poet!

 Bunyan was very happy that we’re camping. Forests like this one are her home and she wanted to sharpen her blade on some nearby trees. Senpai stopped her, saying that they couldn’t do that in a national park. Romani looked very relieved when she agreed; I think he wanted to stop her too.

 We had breakfast for dinner tonight. It was so strange! Instead of our usual meal, we had pancakes. There was something funny about eating pancakes in the middle of the night, before I sleep instead of when I wake up. This time, since we weren’t near any restaurants, Emiya volunteered to cook our pancakes. He might have missed running the kitchen, though he really should take the time for a break too.

 Abigail was very happy to have pancakes. She and Shuten sat down next to Bunyan, who was making her own pancakes. Apparently Emiya’s pancakes weren’t light and fluffy enough for her. I didn’t think Shuten would be that interested in pancakes, but she eagerly took one of Bunyan’s. Then she poured a bottle of sake on it.

 I have had pancakes before. You’re supposed to use syrup on it, not alcohol! Does it even taste good that way? Well, Shuten thought so at least. She sighed happily with each bite. With her plate (that was more like a bowl), she practically drowned the pancake in alcohol. Abigail watched her the entire time and when she got her second pancake, she asked if she could also have some. Shuten was feeling really generous, so she started to pour it on Abigail’s and Bunyan’s.

 I wonder if Shuten just wanted someone to drink with, especially since we didn’t go to a vineyard? I won’t tell Romani about this. She wanted to give me some sake too, but Senpai happened to be nearby and stopped her before she could. Now I’m curious to know what that tastes like.

 Even without sake, the pancakes were delicious. They were so soft and fluffy, they almost melted on my tongue with the sweet, sugary maple syrup. I ended up getting thirds. After that, we made smores. They’re made by combining chocolate, marshmallows, and crackers. When they’re made right, they just melt into each other. Senpai and Bunyan were good at that. I’m not. I kept burning the marshmallows or they’d melt off my stick and hit the ground. We’re camping for a few more days, hopefully I’ll get it right next time. As kind as ever, Senpai gave me some of their smores.

 It was the sweetest dessert I’ve ever had.

 Oh, I heard a coyote! I think I’ll stop writing here today, I want to spend a little time just sitting here, listening.

 -Mash

  Road Trip Day: X

 After all the food we ate, I want to try to make something for everyone. Nothing big, I’m not good enough at cooking for that yet. It’s just that…well, we went to so many places and tried so many different foods…I guess you can say I’m feeling inspired! Our vacation isn’t over yet, so I can’t cook at Chaladea’s big kitchen, but maybe I can make a tiny meal for Romani, Da Vinci, and Senpai.

 We’re in Singapore. When I told him what I was doing, Astolfo said he wanted to tag along. Apparently he likes to visit different markets and sample food. That way, he can have a little bit of everything. While Astolfo is usually very cheerful, his voice was quieter and sadder when he said that. One of his friends didn’t get to see much of the world, so he wants to experience it for him. Maybe he’s keeping a diary too, filling it up with stories and pictures like I am. I hope one day he can share it with his friend. It’d be nice if they could travel together.

 Sometimes I’ve seen him and Jeanne talking together. They don’t like exactly sad, but they aren’t happy either. Maybe they both miss the same friend. Next time, I’ll ask her to join us—it’d be great if they could make some happy memories too.

 Singapore is a small country, more like a giant city than a country really. It’s so easy to travel here even without Da Vinci’s help—the public transit takes you everywhere. The ground is really clean too, I haven’t seen a place like that since we went to Kyoto. There was a sign on the subway that said we couldn’t take any durians on it. I made sure not to use that.

 The hardest part of today was choosing what market to visit. There are several different cultures here, so there are many unique markets. There’s an Indian market, with the scent of spices wafting through the hair. There’s a Chinese market, filled with brightly coloured stalls and small pop up shops. There’s a Malaysian market and, well, there’s just a lot of places to buy food here! Even when you go to the mall, there were markets in the basement to buy food. We went through one that had narrow corridors and dozens of small shops trying to sell snacks to us. It was hard to walk, not just because of the space, but also because I didn’t know where to look. Luckily, Astolfo was used to this, so he led me from shop to shop, asking for samples. I don’t think I could have done that on my own; I would have felt guilty for not buying anything after.

 It’s impossible to list everything we ate, but I’ll try! There were dumplings: fried, boiled, stuffed with pork, beef, shrimp, covered in sauce or covered in nothing. We had a chili crab, which was a bit hot. There was a famous chicken curry from a small shop that apparently had a Michelin star! It was kind of funny, I was going to a world-famous restaurant but I didn’t have to dress fancy. The line for that one was long. We had Kaya jam on toast—I don’t think I’m fond of it, but it was something different.

 Astolfo actually had a list of signature dishes he wanted us to try. He must have done a lot of research before we left for this trip. I think I might have eaten too much; even now, hours later, I’m full. I don’t need dinner tonight.

 The nice thing was that a lot of food could be eaten while we walked. Astolfo grinned at me when I ate grilled eel, and said it was nice to travel with others for once. He called it a date—I would have dressed up nicer if I’d known! He’s far prettier than me. Everyone kept turning to stare at him when we passed by. I’m sure even Senpai would have looked at him if they were here.

 Emiya had given us a list of things to buy while we were out. Mangos, apples, a selection of crabs—I think he’s going to try to make a dish from Singapore. Some of the items on the list were new to me, I wonder what they taste like. While I expected to see many new sights when we travelled, I didn’t think about all the new sounds, tastes, and smells I’d experience too. This journey has been a lesson in just how vast the world is, and just how much of it I didn’t know anything about. How much I still don’t know now, even after all that we’ve done.

 It’s nice. There’s still so much to do. I don’t think I can ever get bored.

 Anyways, while I can’t eat dinner, this doesn’t mean Senpai, Da Vinci, or Romani will be skipping it! It’s almost dinner time and I need to start cooking. To be honest, it’s kind of intimidating to eat all the delicious food here and then try to make something. Maybe I can ask Emiya for some tips.

 -Mash

[realm-sweet-realm]

What have I done?

This is chapter two of the body swap to the death au. I really like this one and hope you do, too.

---

It was day two, and now was Henry’s time to begin implementing his plan. As far as confidence went, he felt good. Physically, he felt as weak as a man thirty years older; like his legs were struggling to handle his weight. He’d felt kind of off the day before, but not like this. Joey’s note hadn’t mentioned anything about physical illness.

Well, hopefully it wasn’t anything that would need attention. Henry burst into the recording studio and announced, “Good morning, everyone! I trust that you’re all doing an efficient job? Well, that’s great, because I have lots of changes to make and they need to be made by the deadline. Essentially, scrap the whole episode. We’re doing the next episode in our queue instead this week!”

An almost goofily large on his face, Henry approached Jack, trying not to limp, and trying to read everyone’s expressions. “Jack, we’re going to need you to write a new song. Something... 4th of July based.” The puffy-faced pout was very Bertrum Piedmont-like, but that could have just been because they had somewhat similar faces.

“Sammy, you’ll be collaborating with Jack,” Henry had expected at least a little annoyance that Sammy, an award-winning and (in Sammy’s mind, at least) chronically under-appreciated composer, was being treated as less important than Jack. Instead, Sammy just nodded indifferently. Not much of a hint.

“Allison, you can stay where you are. The new lines are ready for you to start recording, and I’m sure the song won’t take long.” Indifference. No hints. Darn.

“And Alice? Well, there’s no bit parts for you in the new episode, so I’ve put your shows and meet-and-greets back on the table. Your first show is this afternoon.”

Oh, Thomas did not like the sound of that. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he cooed in an exaggeratedly girly voice. “I’m going to have to go home sick. I could handle recording some lines, but shows are just too much for me right now. I have a fever.” Goddamnit, of all illnesses to fake, he had to go with the body producing too much heat. Still, he walked out, keeping his temper under control until he was just outside their view and could finally slip out of this idiotic persona. Maybe he’d stay home for the rest of the week. He sure as hell wasn’t singing. Even disregarding his desires, Susie seemed like a nice girl and it would probably ruin Susie’s reputation.

“And if anyone thinks there will be any trouble meeting the deadline, arrange to meet in my office,” “Joey” finished. Of course, they all would. And then Henry could test them further.

One person even took him up on the offer that day: “Sammy,” who had asked to meet him in his last available time slot that day.

When “Sammy” entered, he closed the door and smiled as though he’d barricaded them in. Henry’s pulse quickened.

“Alright, I’ll make this quick. I’m not here about the deadline, and I’m not here to figure out your identity, either. In fact, I’ll tell you mine if you can do one little thing for me.” Sammy walked over and sat on Joey desk.

Henry was flustered. “What? What do you want?”

“Take me to “your” home. I know “you” have secrets you’re hiding.”

Henry had some ideas, but didn’t feel sure of a single identity yet. He needed that identity to stay alive. “Sure,” he answered.

“Sammy” smiled. “Wonderful. But no identity until I’m satisfied, understood?” Allison leaned over and stroked “Joey” under the chin. She loved this. She was getting high on this. Getting the upper hand on Joey, flustering him by letting her seductive side out to play, and getting to learn his secrets? Impulsive and stupid this might be, but she must have been dreaming.

“Please don’t touch me,” Henry said, brushing her hand away. “I suppose we can leave now, since you’re the last one I’m meeting with.”

They set off. On the way there, Allison was tempted to make fun of Joey’s limp, as she’d wanted to do for ages. She figured she ought to dial back the meanness, though. As fun as this was, this wasn’t actually Joey. For all she knew, she could have been bullying Jack, or Susie, or Tom. Yes, from then on, she’d be kind to “Joey.”

Joey lived in the penthouse of one of the apartment buildings downtown, and surprisingly enough, Henry hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary there. Then again, he hadn’t exactly been looking, let alone hunting like “Sammy” was. The first thing he did was to go through every room, quickly checking every door until he came upon one that was locked. “Your keys,” she demanded, putting out her hand for them. Henry handed them over. After every key had been tried, “Sammy” handed them back and immediately marched to Joey’s bedroom and began going through the drawers.

“Uh... can you have a little respect for his privacy?” Henry requested.

“Sorry. Not until I have a key.”

Resigned, Henry obeyed his aching legs and sat down on the bed as “Sammy” continued to turn the room inside out.

“Aha! This drawer has a false bottom! Lemme just unscrew this, and...”

How on earth was Henry going to explain to Joey why his furniture was dismantled? He was pretty sure that “Sammy” had either lost it or was up to something, but he was too tired to stop him.

Allison lifted up the plank, which had been held in place by a single screw. It was a lighter colour than the rest of the desk, and underneath it was a bottom that matched the rest of it. Slowly, she turned the board over to reveal exactly what she’d hoped for: a taped-on key.

The key fit the lock perfectly. What was on the other side of that door was enough that she was almost scared to go in alone. “Joey, you need to come see this!” she called before entering.

The room was about the size of a guest bedroom, and in fact did have a bed shoved into a corner, with a lamp and a few other items of furniture piled onto it. In the other corner, the carpet had been pulled back almost halfway across the room to reveal concrete floor with three pentagrams drawn on it and a few smaller symbols in between them. There was a bookshelf as well, halfway filled with big, black, unlabelled books. The other half of it was occupied by jars, containing dried plants, unidentifiable red and black fluids, and other items that Allison couldn’t identify. On a nearby desk was a cage filled with at least a dozen live rats, many of which were currently feeding on a dead rat. The desk also contained several more jars of indeterminate contents, and a diary with the words “ritual log,” written on the front in Joey’s extravagant handwriting.

“Oh, Joey, what have you been doing...?” “Joey’s” voice came from behind her.

“Sure you don’t want to back out now?” Allison asked, eyes trained forwards. This was more than she ever dreamed of finding.

“No.” Henry said. The note hadn’t said anything about pets, or, as the rats seemed to be, specimens. Henry had heard them squeak, but he’d just assumed that the place had a pest problem. Whatever Joey was hiding, he was willing to let them go without care for a week to keep it hidden.

“Alright. Then let’s find out,” Allison said, making a beeline for the ritual log. “Interesting. It seems like he uses the same spell every day or two.”

“Which one?” Henry asked, but Allison was engrossed, flipping back, looking for a specific date. When she got to it, well, its entry didn’t shock her, but it was upsetting. And it needed to be shared.

“I’m taking this home,” Allison stated, and made her way to the door.

“Sammy, I can’t let you do that! I don’t even know who you are!”

“Are you strong enough to stop me?” Allison nearly snapped, attempting to push her way past him. As it turned out, he was. Barely.

“Can’t you just tell me what this is about?”

“No. I don’t know who you are.”

“It seems to me that this is more important than that. I’m Henry Stein. And you are?”

“Susie Campbell,” Allison replied. Allison had planned on saying that since the walk over. This way, she was not only protecting herself, but as a bonus, she was protecting Susie, should Henry try to find her. Plus, after the fool she’d made of herself in his office, well, no one else would have been believable.

“Can I see the book now?” Henry asked.

Allison opened it to the proper page.

April 20th, 1941.

Ritual: creation of ink creature (soul in forefront, failure)

Details: Sammy Lawrence and I had Susie Campbell meet us in the studio after hours. She had consented beforehand and is a skilled actress, so instead of burying her soul under the essence of a cartoon character like in previous rituals like this, I decided to let her essentially be an ink-skin actress. We used chloroform to get her unconscious and began the ritual in book 3, page 219. However, she woke up before we could complete the ritual as Sammy and I wasted too much time arguing. (Note: next time make much stronger chloroform. Susie is very light, and even she wasn’t out very long.) We had already begun the chant and could not stop until the ritual was complete, so we had to slit her throat while she was awake.

There were further complications when a bit of film was twisted in the machine, and Susie came out as a nondescript ink blob. Her level of consciousness in this form is unclear. I think that the trapped demon in the machine must have had its will entirely extinguished at this point- if it were still conscious, it might have asked what I wanted when the reel made it unclear. It’s just a cog in the machine now, just as planned.

Allison turned the page.

April 20th, 1941.

Ritual: creation of an ink creature (soul in forefront, success.)

After I had fixed the film reel, we repeated the ritual described on the last page. She emerged from the ink machine a perfect Alice Angel, and physically unharmed. Her corpse was embalmed and then disposed of in the sewer. This was highly successful: she should be doing shows within a matter of days. Unfortunately, I cannot foresee anyone else consenting to this ritual, so I will have to continue with the older variant of the spell.

“Oh my God,” was all Henry could think to say. “I mean, I knew he’d killed-“ his eyes fell on “Sammy” with absolute pity for a moment, then fell to the ground, “but I didn’t know that he was killing people who hadn’t agreed to it. The way he’s writing, you’re not the first or the last.”

“You see? We have to turn this in.” Allison forced a tearful tone into her voice, as Susie might have if she were reading about her murder. “We have to give it to the police.”

“Absolutely. But... can we do it at the end of the week? I mean, if they arrest me, I’m going to die. I need to find at least one more identity. But I promise, I’ll hand him over, Susie.”

“Thank you,” she croaked before turning to leave.

“Oh, uh, one more thing-“

“Yes?”

Henry gently stroked Susie’s arm. “This is only if it won’t be emotionally hard for you. But since you’re in Sammy’s body, could you bring me that picture of your dead body? You know, as evidence?”

“Of course,” Allison said. She was happy to get out of there. To think that just a couple hours ago, she’d been engrossed the mystery of all of the secrets that she’d just sensed beneath Joey’s skin. But none of it was worth it. Not if it required hurting people. But... what if not all of those spells did require hurting people? What if there were some simpler, less violent, but still fantastic spells that she’d just missed her chance at finding? She tried to block out the thought, and the hunger it aroused in her. It was a struggle, at least she had her special revenge plan for Sammy to look forward to.

Henry stayed in Joey’s dungeon for quite a while after “Sammy” had left. The first thing he did was to look for a specific date in the book: the day that he and the others had been forced to watch the memories. He found it:

March 24th, 1941.

Ritual: summoning of a benevolent demon. (failed disastrously) (success?) (status unknown)

I used the spell found in book five, page 34. According to it, a benevolent demon is easier to control than a malicious one, but can only fulfill tasks that don’t require hurting others. Their purpose is apparently to be a more approachable lure into the occult than malicious demons- a gateway drug of sorts. They are not in any way actually benevolent. The demon appeared as a small, purple blob. Thinking up a task for him was difficult, as I am well on my way to having most of what I could want through my own doing. I thought of having it make Bendy cartoons more popular, but that seemed too big and risky. Perhaps when I have had more experience with benevolent demons. I asked him to reignite my friendship with Henry. (It’s not as though he could have made it worse, so it was relatively riskless.) It nodded, then squeezed through this tiny scratch in the pentagram that was meant to contain it, and disappeared. It escaped before I could bind it to me. I can only hope that it leaves me alone, now. It was supposed to just be a trial.

Update: I think it did what I asked. Maybe I did bind it to me? I hope so- that would mean it’s back in Hell.

Henry put down the book, feeling exhausted. He should have felt shocked. He should have felt... well, anything. But it was as though that part of him was used up.

He got up and performed that one spell that Joey was apparently performing every other day. It was a strength spell, and it involved spilling a few drops of his own blood on a rune drawn onto the floor. Henry could feel strength return to his legs, and a fair amount of energy flow into him. So, Joey was sick, and self-medicating with satanic magic. Why not?

Apparently, it hadn’t been a mistake that the rats had been eating a dead rat: that was a planned part of their diet, and many were being kept preserved in a jar. Henry dropped another one in along with some rat food.

Henry just wanted to go to bed after that. His body felt so... wrong. Foreign. He didn’t even want to think about Joey, and he was seeing him every time he looked down at his own, scarred hands.

Maybe he’d feel better once the lights were out.

Henry didn’t sleep at all that night. His mind was too full, mostly of the thought that the whole reason he was back in New York was because of a trick pulled by a demon. Henry had had to fight Linda to get her to agree to moving back to here. The kids were already settled in with their current school, the whole family had friends in Florida, Henry had a good job, and so on. She’d accused him of a mental breakdown for wanting to leave that all behind to work with Joey Drew. But that was after he’d seen those memories that he and Joey had shared, and how he’d almost needed him back then. That was after he and Joey had had their talk, and had offered to make him the co-owner of Joey Drew Studios. “We could even change its name!” he’d said. Most importantly, he’d promised that this time would be different.

Had it been different? Well, Henry wasn’t being overworked like he had been in the 30s, and he wasn’t hearing as many complaints about Joey anymore (Though that was partially because he was the head of a company with hundreds of employees, not the two dozen they’d had in the beginning, he figured). He hadn’t been given any actual management tasks yet, but Henry had only been there for a couple weeks and wasn’t in any rush with that anyhow. He might’ve pressed the issue if it had gone on much longer. Their relationship was also a lot more equal now that Henry was older and more self-assured. And yet, his first thought when doing a Joey impression had been to make an idiotic, selfish, unreasonable decision with a big smile on his face.

Had things really changed? Well, now he supposed it didn’t matter. At the end of the week, he’d take the evidence to the police, and try to keep his own thoughts away from the question.

He hoped that whoever was in his body was doing well by Linda. After all he’d put her through by moving here, their relationship definitely didn’t need more weirdness. She probably really did think he was breaking down right now, unless whoever was playing the role was doing an incredible job of it. Five days. Five days, and hopefully he’d be able to patch things up with her. Hopefully he’d at least get the chance.

[prorevenge]

Video games are more important than chores? That's some nice internet you have, it would be a shame if something were to happen to it.

When I was in 3rd year of university, I lived with a couple of housemates. One was super-awesome, and the other guy turned out to be completely fucking useless. He wouldn't help out with the chores AT ALL... not even just turning on the dishwasher when it was full. He just wanted to play computer games all day. I mean... I get it. Gaming is awesome; me and the awesome housemate were playing a lot of Lineage II at the time, but we still made time for real life stuff.

Eventually me and awesome housemate had enough of the other guy not pulling his weight. I was in control of our internet connection, including operating our router (a Linux box shoved under my desk). We hatched a plan...

I wrote a script that, periodically, would scan through the NAT state table on the router (a list of all connections the router was handling between the internal computers and the Internet), identify connections from shitty housemate's PC, and then would randomly, in descending order of likelihood:

Do nothing

Forge a FIN packet that appeared to be from housemate's PC and send it to the remote server

Forge a FIN packet that appeared to be from the remote server and send it to housemate's PC

Forge a RST packet that appeared to be from housemate's PC and send it to the remote server

Forge a RST packet that appeared to be from the remote server and send it to housemate's PC

Drop the connection from the NAT state table

To explain this to the non-initiated:

A FIN packet is a notification to one side of the connection that the other side would like to terminate the connection; there is a negotiation that happens between both sides to tear down the connection, so both sides know about it. This is a "graceful" disconnect.

A RST packet is a "hard disconnect" -- drop the connection immediately, don't negotiate with the other side, don't send any more packets -- just stop.

Removing the connection from the state table effectively stops all traffic in either direction (because the router no longer knows about the connection) but neither side of the connection knows this has happend.

The last 3 options in the list are particularly nasty because it leaves one (or both) sides of the connection thinking that they are still connected.

Now, understand -- this is wayyyy back when WoW first launched, and that is pretty much the only game shitty housemate was playing. If you played WoW around that time, you'll remember the LOOOOONNNNNNNGGGGGG queues to get onto a server -- 20+ minutes at least.

Imagine, if you will, what would happen in an MMO if you tell the client to disconnect, but the server thinks the client is still connected. The client quits immediately with a "you have been disconnected" message, but the server won't log the user out for a LONG time (at least several minutes), and in the worst case will continue doing the last-commanded action (like.... "walk forward"). In the case of early WoW, you couldn't even log in and wait in the queue again because... the server thought you were already logged in. You had to wait 5-10 minutes for it to kick you off, THEN join the queue for 20+ minutes.

As time went on, we pestered the bad roommate to help with the chores. Each time he refused, we would bump the likelihood that one of the non-"do nothing" options would happen. Every time it killed one of his WoW connections, we would hear a loud "FUCK". Somewhat quietly at first, then louder and louder over time, then he started literally smashing his keyboard and/or mouse (and at least once, his monitor, which left some nice dead pixels in the shape of a fist). When we moved out, he removed -- I kid you not -- a decent sized box FULL of smashed mice.

It got to the point where he would log in, wait in the queue, get into the game, start moving around, and within 5-10 minutes, it would kill his connection, and after he eventually got back in, he would often find his character dead from NPCs or at the bottom of a cliff because his character had continued to walk forward for 5 minutes. Sometimes he wouldn't even make it out of the queue before being disconnected. It was hilarious to us, but he was absolutely RAGING.

Even more hilariously, my script ONLY looked at connections to WoW; other connections to, for example, Ventrilo, were unaffected. So his housemate would be on Vent with his clanmates, would drop out of the game, but his voice chat would be completely unaffected.

Eventually (at least 3-4 weeks later) he came and asked me if there was something wrong with the internet connection. I said something to the effect of "Oh, yeah, I applied an update to the router to make the internet connection as reliable as the person using it." He got the hint... but still didn't help with housework. He put up with a practically-unusable internet connection until we moved out (which wasn't long after that).

Meddle not in the affairs of sysadmins, for your network connections are crunchy and are tasty with ketchup.

(source) (story by alter3d)

[jamlally]

Baby it’s cold outside

This was written for the 25 days of Christmas Challenge that is hosted by  @panicfob .  The Day 10 Challenge prompt was Snow Storm

Warnings: Fluff and suggestions of sex

Pairing: Tony Stark x OFC (Belle Porter),

Summary:Tony has a surprise for Belle and the weather has a surprise for them both

Being woken up in the early hours wasn’t common place but it also wasn’t entirely unusual.  Belle had spent the night in her own apartment for a change as Tony had been hung up on some project that kept him up late and had him coming to bed in the early hours.  No matter how quiet he tried to be she would still wake up when he came back to his apartment and when he did manage to fall asleep it wasn’t restful.  Belle needed one nights solid rest so they had agreed that she would sleep in her own bed for the night, and then they would go back to her staying in his room.

It hadn’t been long since things had moved on to the more physical level between the,, but Belle found that she had missed his warmth and his smell when she tried settle own to sleep. After an hour of tossing and turning she had wrapped herself up in a blanket and headed up to Tony’s apartment, stolen a hoodie that replaced the blanket and headed back to her own bed,  Surrounded in his musky amber scent sleep had come more easily - week right up until the lights in her apartment had turned on and the man himself was shaking her shoulder

“Snowflake, hey come on baby rise and shine”

“Tony?” She was confused and groggy “What time is it?”

“Oh its’ early, maybe 4 but I have a surprise for you”. He was crouched down at her level, eyes looking tired but full of life

“Couldn’t it wait until a little later my love ?” Tired as she was she returned his grin with her own sleepy smile “You could join me in here”

“Mmmmm as tempting as that is I  don’t want to spoilt the surprise” He ran his hands under the covers one skimming up her leg while the other found her waist ‘Is that my hoodie I feel.  Was my girl missing me?”

Belle blushed a little “No I think you’ll find I’m wearing it so its mine.” Tony chuckled “Fair enough.  Now up you get, put on something warm, and meet mean the garage in 5” A quick hint of a kiss and he was off  leaving Belle grumbling as she went to freshen up.

Bundled up in a warm jacket, jeans and numerous other layers Belle made her way to the garage to find Tony, who was stood leaning against one of the larger SUV’s cup of what she guessed was coffee in one hand and his ever present phone in the other

“There’s my girl, hop on in.  I put coffee in there for you”  She got another quick kiss on the way passed and then she was settled into the passenger seat coffee in one hand, her other resting on Tony’s thigh.  Content with drinking her coffee and watching the world fly by Belle simply enjoyed the quiet.  About 30 minutes in she realized that other than out of the city she had no idea of where they were going 

“OK so it’s 5am and we are out of the city, so do you want to tell me where we are going?”

“Hmm nice of you to ask but no, that would spoil the surprise”

“Ok and why are we having this surprise? Is this like Natasha’s gift?”

“Ohh now there’s an interesting idea but no.  I know that I’ve been busy and it probably feels like I’ve been ignoring you.  In fact I probably have been a bit.  When I get into my head sometimes I loose track of things and I need to just get things don.  It makes me hard to be around and …look I know I’m a pain in the ass most of the time, but I need you to know that even when I get caught up I miss you”

“Tony, that’s not something you need to worry about.  I understand that’s the way you work and I accept that - it’s a part of who you are”

“You say that now but some day it’ll get annoying and then we will fight, and trust me, based on passed experience it won’t end well”

Belle sighed “Is this because of where I slept?  If it is we tased about that Tony.  We both needed uninterrupted rest.  You wake me when you get I and I wake you when I go out.  It was just a night.  Hell I count even sleep without your hoodie”

“I dint want to take any chances so we’re having a surprise.  Now why don’t you settle down find us something to listen to and enjoy the drive”

Tabling the conversation for the moment Belle picked up Tonys phone and scrolled through it finding some podcast that sounded interesting putting it on for them both to listen to.  Settling back she watched as the miles passed by.

Two hours into the drive Belle suddenly sat up looking at the signs in more detail and paying more attention to her surroundings.  

“Tony are we heading to the Catskills?” She asked more than a little excited 

She got a grin in answer and Belle found herself bouncing a little e in her seat in excitement

The cabin they pulled up to was beautiful, set amongst the trees, warm lights already spilling out the windows.  Belle looked between Tony and the cabin until he nodded, then she jumped out the SUV and headed up to the door.  It was colder than she imagined it would be outside and the air smelled crisp and almost sharp.  

“Come on slow poke - I want to look inside” she called back to Tony, the excitement clear in her voice.  

‘Put your thumb on the reader and the door will unlock” he called. Back moving to the trunk

“Of course it will” Belle muttered to herself,  She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to the amount of tech that surrounded her.  Sure enough the door opened and she walked into a stunning log cabin. The hallway branched off into a living room, dining area and kitchen and what looked like possibly a bathroom, while a set of stairs lead, she guessed up to at least one bedroom.

The click of the door alerted her to Tony’s presence.  Im going to light a fire and get the stove working, why don’t you take our bags upstairs to the room.  Turning Belle was surprised to see Tony had 2 small duffles with him 

“Now how on earth did you manage to get a bag packed for me ?”

Tony just grinned “Thats my secret.  Now chop chop we have relaxing to be doing so off you go”

The upper level gad a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom, Belle picked the room with an en suite and put the bags at the foot of the the bed.  Checking the bags he found one filled with new bottles of her toiletries and a pile of casual clothes, most of which looked to be hers though there seemed to be a couple of new sweaters.  Smiling she pulled out a loose charcoal grey one that she definitely hadn’t seen before.  It felt wonderfully soft and when she pulled it on she felt content.

“So not that I’m complaining, because this is wonderful, but why did we have to leave so early to com here”

“Well I had this all kind of planned but then the weather looked like it might not cooperate so I figured that we would just move the plans up a little bit. Ohh and can I just sy that who ever picked that sweater has excellent taste, it looks wonderful on you”

Belle moved up to Tony sliding her arms around his neck “MmmmHmmm not only does it look good but it feels wonderful too.  It’s from my man on the side, he has wonderful taste”

Man on the side huh.  Well he better watch out, I’m not a man that likes go share” Tony dropped his voice to something that was closer a growl before nipping at Belle’s neck.  Belle giggled and moved in closer.

“Seriously though Tony, thank you for this, it’s a wonderful idea”

“So my plan was to make some breakfast and some coffee, maybe sit in here and read, and maybe do some other things too” queue eyebrow wiggle

“Now that sounds like an idea, how about I go get started in the kitchen, see what food we have and you can start on the coffee”  Belle knew that if Tony had picked the coffee maker then he would probably be the only one who could work out how to get the damn this to brew.

They worked in companionable silence, steeling occasional kisses, and touches as they pulled together food before eventually retiring back to the loving room, coffee cups refilled, ready to relax.  Tony had produced books from another bag and the pair snuggled on the sofa to read.

“So I did some research and there is supposed to be an amazing hiking trail not far from here,  I thought we could pack a lunch and head out for a bit seeing as the weather is still good” Tony broke the silence, causing Belle to blink a little sleepily,  She hadn’t been asleep but, she wasn’t that far from a quick doze.

“That sounds good, i'll freshen up and then we can head out?” 

“No rush baby”

It.turns out that there was a reason to rush. They had found the trail easily enough and it was nice and clear making it easy to follow.  There had been an epic view about an hour in and they had stopped to have lunch, before heading off again. Another 10 minutes in and the wind suddenly picked but, and it was sharp and cold.  Tony had checked in with FRIDAY and had quickly turned them round to head back, but it turned out that they couldn’t outrun the weather.  About half way back the wind had brought snow with it and it fell faster than Belle had ever seen.  The ground grew slippery and the snow started to settle.  

“You said the weather was going stay good”. Belle  squealed as she slipped her way around the last corner before the cabin would come into sight

“Actually I said that the weather had stayed good, but regardless I probably should have checked” Tony called back raising hi spouse to be heard over the wind. “I didn’t think that the weather would come in that fast” 

Belle gave laugh  holding out her hand for him to grab “ Me either, come on if we hurry we will get back before it gets much worse”

Tony wrapped his hand around hers letting Belle tug him closer laughing at just how crazy the situation was .  The lights of the cabin were a beacon to the pair and they sped up as soon as their target was in site. Tony fumbled with his gloves to get his hand out to unblock to door and Belle shuffled trying to keep warm, her teach chattering 

“Ok Snowdrop in you go” Tony pulled her forward into the still cozy living room before slipping in and pushing the door closed.  The wind was rattling and whistling and the light was dimming as the storm hit full force.

“Ok Snowflake strip and then it’s off to the shower to get warm. Tony was already shedding his jacket and boots and leaving them by the door.  

Belle fumbled with zippers and laces as she freed herself from the layers, teeth chattering she took Tony’s hand “I think I need to help to make sure that all of me gets warmed up”

“As my lady wishes” Tony puled her back to rest against his front, causing Belle to squeal when his cold nose pressed against her shoulder

The shower was more than big enough for the two of them and the rainfall shower head meant they were doused in hot water in seconds.  Hands ran over bodies, lips touched and sucked on flesh and moans filled the steamy air.  

Lying in bed arms wrapped around each other, breathing returning to normal Belle couldn’t believe how relaxed and safe she felt. The weather was wild with the wind screaming but she felt untouchable, wrapped in the cocoon of the man that she had realized she quite probably loved.  She wasn’t sure if he felt the same, and she was damned sure that she wasn’t ready to tell him, but in her heart the knew that the truth was there.

When Belle next opened her eyes, the light from the bathroom was the only thing that let her see anything.  She slipped out from under Tony’s arm and the covers stopping to grab some panties, thick socks and the grey sweater from earlier.  Heading down to the kitchen Belle started to put together something for dinner that would fill them and warm,  She also started a batch of mulled wine for later.  Looking out of window there wasn’t anything to be seen other than a smiling mass of snow.  The wind hadn’t settled down at all from earlier and periodically she could hear the wind ratting the front door.

She was adding more  wood to the fire when Tony came down the stairs and she glanced up at him

“Hey, the storms really picked up, I don’t think were doing any outside activities for a while, but I’ve got dinner on”

“Hmm well when I come down to a view like this I don’t feel the need to go outside.  Come here baby girl”

Laying a final piece of wood in the grate Belle stood and saunters over, adding a little more sway to her hips, her eyes fixed on Tony.  Pausing in front of him she reached out a hand to run it over his sweater covered chest 

“The views pretty good from here too” she murmured  before stepping in for a kiss which ended up pulling a moan from herself.

Tony leaned in closer deepening the kiss, one hand running down to squeeze a handful of her ass. “I need to go and check on dinner” Belle whispered against his lips

“Well I need to check on whats under that sweater” he more or less groveled back 

Belle laughed  slapping him gently on his chest “ Back up Mr and if you’re good I’ll let you have a look later”

Tony let her go but gave her a stinging slap on her behind as soon as she headed away from him before he went to look out the front door.  

“Ah mulled wine too” 

“Yep, I made us a beef stew and the rice is nearly done, I figured mulled wine would be a nice way to finish dinner”

“That sounds and smells amazing” His lips were back on her neck and arms around her waist “I just had a look outside and checked in with FRIDAY we’re pretty much snowed in, and the storm isn’t going to let up for at least 24 hours”

“So you’re saying that we are stranded here, all alone together for at least 24 hours, what ever will we do Mr Stark?”  Belle couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice

“Oh don’t you worry Agent Porter I’ve got plans for you”

[blancheludis]

Tagging: @tokky231

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 10/?, Words: 56.845

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

---

The moment Tony finds out about Obadiah, all his meticulously laid plans of revenge and reparation evaporate into thin air. He had been prepared to fire his entire board of directors, to weed out scientists, to go up against the military. Not once has he thought this could be personal.

Instant denial builds up inside him. It turns his limbs heavy and his mind slow. Obadiah would not betray him. Throughout all the cold years of Tony’s childhood, he has been more of a father to Tony than Howard. He has always been the one who understood Tony.

Tony is used to people only ever wanting him for what he can offer them; money, fame, tech. While Obadiah happily took Tony’s ideas to turn them into more profit for the company, that has never been all there was between them. They are family.

Despite the dread of proving this true – even if he trusted Steve, he would not just believe information like this – Tony gets to work. The evidence Steve sent him is conclusive. Tony knows Obadiah’s phone number by heart. On top of the terror of seeing it and the whole long minutes he talked with the Avengers, it hurts that Obadiah did not even think to use a burner phone for this, feeling so sure about Tony rolling over and slinking out of the picture as he was supposed to.

At least, Tony assumes he was supposed to vanish quietly. He is not sure to what end other than Obadiah being in line of becoming the company’s CEO once more. Their success is built on Tony’s ideas, though. That is probably why Obadiah needed the USB drive, to tide him over until he kicked R&D back into proper shape.

Tony is getting ahead of himself here. All he knows is that Obadiah hired the Avengers. Nobody said anything about killing Tony. Perhaps the plan really was to only get the drive and let Tony be handled roughly. It might have pushed him into more defensive gear or guns that are easily concealed. Perhaps Obadiah ordered them outright not to harm Tony but the Avengers went ahead and did it anyway.

Even Tony’s great talent for delusion does not let him spin this into something harmless or an accident.

Pepper finally brings him back the data from Stark Industries’ internal servers, and Tony is hesitant to go through it even before he finds the dozens of shipping logs and names like Raza and the Ten Rings, and Obadiah’s metaphorical fingerprints all over it. For good measure, he finally lets JARVIS hijack the servers and watches him tear through them with a curious detachment, watches the condemning files pile up, undermining the very foundation Tony has built his life on.

It is true then. Obadiah did not just send the mob after Tony, he has also been selling their weapons to anyone willing to buy. The logs go back years. This was happening even when Howard was still alive.

Feeling the damning need to laugh, Tony wonders what his godfather is thinking about him shutting down the weapons manufacturing. That is, apparently, what Obadiah built both his lives on, the official one where he is Stark Industries’ CFO, and the secret one where he is filling his offshore accounts with money from illegal weapons trades.

Even in Tony’s head, this sounds ridiculous. Enough so that he refuses the actual danger Obadiah might pose to him right now. He hired the mob once to get his hands on Tony’s work. Now that Tony all but ruined his livelihood, there is no telling what he might do. Somehow not even Tony’s enormous talent for denial is enough to convince himself that Obadiah will not do anything.

Considering the sheer amount of evidence he found, there is no more hiding from this. All Tony has to do is pack it all up and hand it over to the authorities. He will have to watch his godfather being led away in handcuffs after strangers go through Stark Industries’ data, upturning all the ugly truths of what has been happening here.

It is the right thing to do to stop the illegal distribution of his weapons and to ensure his own safety. Instead, he has JARVIS saving all of it, queues it to be printed, and saves it again on a separate USB drive. He is fond of those. Then, in the true cowardly fashion of a Stark, he turns off his computers and walks right out of his workshop, giving in to the need to hide his head in the sand for a while longer, at least until the roiling nausea has passed and this knowledge does not turn every breath into an act of labour anymore.

“Sir?” JARVIS asks, not specifying what he means.

Everything is in disarray now. It is impossible to know where to best set his next steps.

“It’s all right, J,” Tony says, not recognizing his own voice. It is a quiet monotone, sounding like he is suffocating on the truth he has just read. “I’ll take care of it. I just – I need some time to think about it.”

“It is unwise to sit on this information too long,” JARVIS says with as much disapproval as eagerness to start acting. He sounds almost vengeful but Tony cannot muster up any pride for that. “Especially with –”

“I know,” Tony interrupts him, sharper than he intended. With how shattered he feels inside, it is no surprise that he cuts anyone coming too close. That is why he needs time. He cannot deal with this while he is falling apart.

Never do business while you’re emotional, his mother had told him once after they watched Howard ruin a business deal during dinner, drunk and angry like he often was. It makes you lose focus.

While Tony feels numb, he knows that, soon enough, the realization will hit and with it the betrayal. He wants to deal with this, but he cannot do so if he turns into a sobbing mess at the mere sight of Obadiah, capably only of one, devastating question: Why?

Tony knows why, just as much as he does not. Money and family. He thought the latter would always outweigh greed. That is only true, of course, if Obadiah ever considered them family too.

“Do you want me to call someone?” JARVIS asks, nearly turning it into an ultimatum. Either Tony is reasonable and does not shoulder this on his own, or JARVIS will snitch to someone to help him.

Under different circumstances, Tony would be glad for his AI’s initiative – well, that is not true. He is never actually happy to let other people in, not even those he trusts. Vulnerability is not something Howard allowed under his roof and old habits die hard.

“How big are my chances of Pepper listening if I send her on vacation?” Tony asks instead of answering JARVIS’ question. It is meant as a distraction for both of them, something to hold onto instead of thinking about his godfather.

“Considering recent events, non-existent,” JARVIS says, voice distinctly chiding. “Do you want me to inform her of your findings?”

It is a giant stroke of luck that Pepper got the USB drive without finding the information herself, without going digging.

“No,” Tony exclaims quickly, all the air in his lungs rushing out with the word. “Just – no.”

He cannot talk to Pepper. She will look at the evidence and believe it, and then she will act. Contrary to him, she does not let emotions keep her from doing what is right. Tony is not ready to act, not ready to face this shame. He also does not want to drag her into this. Obadiah has already proven that he is not above hurting those he is supposed to protect, and Tony cannot risk putting Pepper in danger.

“Keep an eye on her,” Tony orders. “If Obadiah gets in any way close to her or appears suspicious, alert me and make sure she stays safe.”

Safe from his godfather. What has the world come to? Tony is understanding it less than ever before. He always considered few things set in stone, and now even those are crumbling, and he with them.

“All right, sir,” JARVIS replies but sounds like he has more to say.

He does not approve of Tony’s inactiveness, and he is right. Obadiah is a wild card since Tony obviously does not know him at all.

Tony slowly makes his way to his bedroom, too restless to sleep but wanting to withdraw somewhere safe. Leaving the lights off, he sits down on his bed, feeling more alone than he has in a long time.

Obadiah. His godfather. All those memories of laughing together, of sneaking into Howard’s workshop, of leading the company together – all of that was a lie. A lie to enable Obadiah to amass more money for himself, not caring about the bodies he created, the blood he spilled. All of it on Tony’s back, guiding him right where he can do the most damage and therefore the most profit.

Nausea roars in Tony’s stomach. He thinks of Barnes’ missing arm, of dozens of news stories, of the statistics passing his desk every month. That is his doing. Obadiah might distribute the weapons, but Tony makes them. All this death comes from his brain, his hands.

“Sir,” JARVIS speaks up but he sounds like he is very far away. “Your heartbeat is picking up.”

Tony slashes his hand through the air, unable to say anything but needing JARVIS to stop speaking anyway. He does not need help, does not need anyone telling him this is not his fault. It is. It does not matter that he did not pull any trigger himself. He was blind to what was going on. Perhaps he could have seen what was happening if he had not buried himself under work and sex and alcohol. If he had not trusted blindly. He, Tony Stark, who is notorious for trusting no one.

Perhaps Steve was right. Perhaps all of the Avengers were right. He did not keep an eye on his weapons and people got hurt.

In a way, he now relishes the lingering pain in his own body. It anchors him, keeps his thoughts from wandering too much. He is still here. There is no ignoring the fact that he messed up, but he is going to make this right. As much as he is able to, considering all the damage that is already done.

Tony gets out his phone and stares at the dark screen for a long moment. He does not want to talk. At the same time, his throat is constricted with the building pressure of needing to let it all out.

He does not ask JARVIS to dial for him, does not want to admit that his AI is right that Tony should not be alone at the moment. He also does not quite know who he is calling. Scrolling through his contacts, his finger hovers over Steve’s name, too long to be a coincidence.

It is ridiculous. Steve is not going to help. He is not going to make the gaping hole in Tony’s thoughts any better. No matter their truce or that Tony would not even know about Obadiah yet without Steve, they are not friends. They are barely even allies. Talking to Steve will not solve anything. It will only give the throbbing soul bond more validation.

With a contemptuous snort, Tony scrolls up and finds Rhodey’s contact. He is not quite ready to submit himself to his best friend’s worry, but he is drowning in this silence with only his thoughts as company.

The dial tone rings in his ear, a distinct judging quality to it. Glancing at the window, Tony realizes it is dark outside. It must be later than he thought. Still, he keeps the phone up, knowing that Rhodey will always pick up when he is needed, be it in the middle of the night or a firefight. Been there, done that.

When the call finally connects, Tony can barely hold back a relieved sigh. How needy he has become.

“Tony?” Rhodey says, sounding like he has just woken up but is quickly growing alert. Late-night calls usually mean problems.

It pains Tony to hear how much trust resounds in that one word, his name. It feels like Rhodey should be allowed to take a large step back from Tony, considering that he, too, has been in more danger due to Tony’s carelessness.

A thought passes through Tony’s head, stabbing like a knife is attached to it. How easily Rhodey could have been killed by his bombs, his bullets. How easily he could have killed his best friend.

Tony swallows, tries to find his voice. He digs his fingers hard into his arm to ground himself. That does not help until his elbow accidentally pushes against his broken ribs. His mouth opens for a pained gasp but he remains silent, hugs himself.

“You can stop looking into the weapons dealing,” Tony finally manages to say, the words tumbling out slowly.

His eyes are closed as he wishes to be anywhere but here. A week ago, his life has been so uncomplicated, running in the ever-same circles. He hates himself a bit for wishing to go back to that despite needing to take responsibility for the present.

“What?” Rhodey’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts but not entirely. “Have you found out who’s doing this?”

“I mean, we still don’t know who is buying them, so maybe don’t stop looking at all,” Tony argues, almost toneless while Obadiah’s name is like a noose around his neck. “I want to round up every single bullet that got handed out to the wrong people.”

That is important, he realizes, and easier to concentrate on than the mess inside his own company. He will take faceless terrorists every day over the smiling memory of his godfather.

“Tony, what is going on?” Rhodey asks, but Tony barely lets him finish his question.

“That’ll be hard, right?” he counters. “Do you think I could hire a private squad or something if the brass doesn’t want to spare their soldiers for this?”

“Tony,” Rhodey barks, loud enough to snap Tony out of his rambling. “I need you to tell me what is going on.”

A thousand other nonsensical arguments lie on his tongue. How to keep the press quiet. How to not go down with Obadiah, since no one is going to believe that Tony is innocent in this.

Tony cannot avoid the inevitable anymore, though. “Obie ordered the hit on me,” he says. If not for the absolute silence between them, his words might have gone unheard as they are merely a whisper. It feels like any more volume would give it more weight too. “He’s been selling my weapons too. I mean, all the evidence points in his direction, but it can’t be true, right? He’s my godfather. He wouldn’t –”

Before Tony can sink into another litany of denial and random pieces of information, Rhodey cuts him off. “What kind of evidence?” he asks, voice sharp and ready to condemn Obadiah on Tony’s word alone.

Tony thinks of all the data he has secured from Obadiah’s phone and computers, of the communication trails, the shipment plans, the offshore accounts. All the numbers he will never be able to forget.

“The kind that is ironclad,” Tony says, weighed down by the admission. The arm around his chest presses against his ribs again. This time, his breath does not even catch as the pain shoots through him.

“Stane is –” Rhodey pauses, then asks, “Are you sure?”

Tony knows Rhodey does not ask because he does not believe Tony. He asks because he has to be sure before he gives in to the rage boiling in the pit of his stomach, just like Tony might once he has gotten over the personal betrayal. Once he does not feel like his entire being is dissolving anymore.

Taking a deep breath, Tony braces himself for the truth. “I’m sure.”

Not missing a beat, Rhodey declares, “I’m on my way.”

It leaves Tony reeling. He feels like there should be some reluctance, some kind of argument. Rhodey’s loyalty is a precious thing, and a big part of Tony is relieved. At the same time, it should not be this easy. Offering his godfather up as the bad guy should be harder than this. Tony cannot even trust himself, so it feels strange that Rhodey would.

“No. You’re not,” Tony says nonetheless, wondering how he can muster the strength to deny himself his best friend’s company. “I need to deal with this myself.”

That is certainly true, but he does not want to be alone. Does not want to face the coming days. He has to, though. Starks are not prone to sentimentality. Letting his arm drop from around his chest, Tony sits up straighter, stares into the darkness of his bedroom. He might still feel untethered but there are more important things to deal with for now than his personal comfort.

“You’re not going to confront the man who sent a hired gang of killers after you alone,” Rhodey argues but achieves nothing but to harden Tony’s resolve.

“They’re not –” he tries to argue, mostly to keep Rhodey occupied while he pieces himself back together.

“Well, I wouldn’t know because you refuse to tell me anything about them, so I have to assume the worst,” Rhodey cuts him off with all the harshness of someone tired of not being allowed to care for the people they love. He has always had little patience for Tony’s self-destructive tendencies. “But I know Stane, and I know that family obviously doesn’t mean anything to him, so you won’t do this alone.”

The echo of a smile pulls at Tony’s lips as he feels warmth spreading through his chest. Yet, he protests. “I’m not yet doing anything.”

That is the hardest part to admit. With anyone else, Tony would have gleefully let law enforcement storm their home and take them into custody. With Obadiah, he needs to know why first. He needs to know what he has done wrong, and how deep the damage goes. Whether, since this has already been going on when Howard was still alive, his father knew.

Tony has a lot of questions and he does not know how to ask them, nor whether he is ready to hear the answers.

“What does that mean?” Rhodey questions, one wrong word away from yelling.

“You should be glad I’m not rushing into anything here,” Tony argues but does not manage the teasing tone he has been aiming for. Perhaps he should not try to pretend everything is all right. Rhodey would look right through it anyway. “I mean, that’s me being responsible, right?”

The short silence that follows is answer enough to that. “Are you alone?” Rhodey then asks with the kind of impatience that means his fingers itch to pack his things and hijack one of the military jets to come home.

“I’m not,” Tony says and wonders what that has to do with anything. He is not going to fall into a bottle or do something stupid without a chaperone. That is why he is calling. “JARVIS is here and –”

Rhodey clicks his tongue, successfully cutting Tony off. “Let me rephrase that. Is Pepper there?”

“You’re not going to tell her,” Tony says slowly, voice brooking no argument. What is most important now is to keep his friends safe. “I can’t risk Obie finding out that she knows.”

That might not stop Obadiah from hurting her, of course. It is no secret that Pepper is the only reason why Tony has not pushed Stark Industries into ruin twice every week since taking over. If Obadiah really wanted to take Tony out of commission, Pepper is the perfect place to start.

“All right,” Rhodey sighs, not happy with it but conceding Tony’s point for now. Then, though, he adds, “I’m still coming.”

Tony shuts his eyes briefly, swallowing a curse. He still wants to say yes, to have someone watching his back here at home. Deciding to step up and take responsibility also means to go about this strategically. Serving Obadiah all the people he cares about on a silver platter is not that.

“No. I need you to find out where my weapons are. I’ll deal with Obadiah,” Tony argues. Softer, he adds, “I can’t have him become suspicious. If he finds out you’ve been rushing here for the second time in a row, it’s – He can’t find out.”

Tony does not do secrecy well. Since he wants this to be over, he is ready to be sensible.

There is a long silence on the other end while Rhodey comes to his decision. In a way, Tony is glad for his best friend’s reluctance.

“I don’t like this,” Rhodey then says, but it is obvious that he is giving in. Reason over emotions. Who would have thought they would ever get here?

“I know.” Tony forces a smile on his lips, even though it remains unseen. It might just help to build himself up. “I’ll tell you if anything changes.”

Hanging up, Tony lets his hand fall, drained of even his last bit of energy. Rhodey’s worry is appreciated but Tony is far beyond that.

What has been only a rumour before is now a fact. Tony’s weapons are out there. He does have blood on his hands – and no idea how to wash it off. He suspects he cannot. If asked, his friends will surely argue that this was not his fault, but they would be wrong. Accountability – that is what he said on live television just earlier this day. That feels like a lifetime ago.

Lying back on his bed, Tony closes his eyes. He does not think he will be able to sleep, does not want to either. That just means that tomorrow will be here much quicker, and with that Tony has to act. Against his godfather. Against years of blindness and quiet complicity. He just does not know what to do.

 ---

Morning comes too soon. Tony did sleep, although his dreams were plagued by stray bullets and bombs and flowing blood forming a steadily rising headcount. He gets up before the sun and scrubs his skin raw under the shower as if he could wash away who he was and emerge stronger. When he slips into his clothes, he still feels just as frail.

What he needs is a plan. He has evidence and a likely motive. Obadiah’s accomplices should not be hard to find. Then he needs to get together with the military and talk about how to take his weapons out of terrorists’ hands.

In between all these nice, logical steps, however, is the fact that he will have to confront Obadiah. Tony still wants answers but he begins to think that is not as important as to leave the whole matter behind without tainting his memories of family anymore. Every time he thinks he is ready to get to his feet and either call the police or take the elevator down to Obadiah’s office, his body refuses to move, keeping him frozen in place.

He is not ready.

When his phone chimes, Tony flinches. Once he has collected himself, he tries to laugh at himself for that. Nobody is going to jump out of his phone to either murder or judge him. He is perfectly safe up here in his tower’s penthouse. Nobody but Rhodey and Steve knows what he has found out. Most importantly, Obadiah does not know. It is still Tony’s turn to move.

Tony picks up his phone from his nightstand and walks towards the kitchen while he checks it. He has several missed calls from Rhodey and Pepper, and texts asking about his well-being. Pepper inquires about the USB drive, about whether he has found out anything yet. That means Rhodey has not told her, at least. Tony does not think that Obadiah would hurt her. Then again, he did not think Obadiah would sell their weapons on the black market.

The newest text is not from his friends but from Steve. Tony almost turns off his phone without reading it. He can imagine the kind of plans a mob boss with a personal grudge has to offer. Traitor or not, Tony does not want any harm to come to Obadiah. Not like that. Only, he kind of does. Deep down in his gut, Tony realizes he is angry.

You should hire a bodyguard, Steve writes, with all the pretentiousness of someone who does not know how to leave well enough alone.

This has Tony laughing out loud. The sound echoes ugly in the empty room around him, making the hair in Tony’s neck stand up. He turns on the coffee machine while he ponders whether he should reply at all. In the end, he is too glad for the distraction to pass up the opportunity. Steve might continuously butt in where he is not needed but at least there is no need to pretend with him that everything is all right. That Tony is all right.

I hope you’re not planning to offer yourself.

The very thought is ridiculous. The most danger Tony has been in years has been at the Avengers’ hands. He realizes that Steve’s concern about Tony’s safety is probably honest, fuelled by the soul bond or remorse, but that does not mean that Tony would actually trust him with it.

He is surrounded by security anyway. JARVIS, for one, who is usually the only security he needs. Mostly, Tony is his own biggest enemy. Pepper has also increased the guards down in the foyer. They were not even trying for subtlety when they followed Tony to the press conference the day before. The last thing Tony needs is more people looking over his shoulder, judging his every movement.

I would, Steve writes to Tony’s amusement, but your safety is more important than trying to prove a point. I know someone who is very good at his job.

While that is surprisingly considerate, there is still no chance that Tony is going to agree. I don’t need any of your underlings to follow me around.

Putting down his phone, Tony reaches for a mug. He fights the urge to fill himself an entire pot of coffee and drinking straight from it. With how much exhaustion is still pulling him down, he is going to need a lot of caffeine to keep him going.

Steve needs a while to answer. Enough to allow Tony to burn his tongue as he impatiently takes his first sip of coffee. That does not stop him from taking another one right away.

His name is Thor Odinson. Steve seems to attract people with strange names like Bucky and apparently Norse gods fanatics. Run a background check on him. He has never been part of the Avengers. He does not even know about us. I met him in the Army.

Steve seems to think that this is enough to alleviate Tony’s reluctance to get anywhere near the Avengers or their friends. Gripping his mug in one hand, he types with the other. I don’t trust any of your friends. Mob or not.

Tony almost hears Steve sighing. It might be more of a tugging sensation right in his core like the soul bond is reacting to their conversation, but the intention is clear. They are constantly dancing around each other. Glaring at his arm, Tony thinks Fate or whoever has thrown them into this should be glad they are talking to each other at all.

Just look him up.

Feeling his eyebrows rise, Tony is tempted to snap something back, to warn Steve away from giving him orders. That is half of the reason why they are in this mess. Because Steve does not know when to back off, how to let other people make their own decisions.

Instead, Tony takes a deep breath and writes, I won’t need a bodyguard anymore soon anyway.

He does not have the energy to fight on all these fronts at the same time. That is the reason he proposed the truce in the first place.  

How are you dealing with Stane? Steve asks immediately, not just sprinkling salt into Tony’s wound but dumping the whole bag on him.

Since the night before, Tony has not come any closer to having a feasible plan. Steve seems to know that. It is a good thing then, that Tony does not owe him anything, neither answers nor justification.

Locking his phone, Tony puts it face down on his kitchen counter. He leaves it there when he goes back to his workshop. He needs to find out who else has been in on the weapons trading. If anything, that will take his mind off personal things for a while as well as giving him an excuse not to confront his godfather just yet.