#they took a leaf out of my lab notebook | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years ago

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 9: Now I Love Your Shadow And I Love Your Curls]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Til I Die” by Parsonsfield.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex, violence, and drug use.

Word Count: 7.6k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk

Field Trip

“You want to go to Chicago with me?”

I coughed, having almost inhaled a chunk of pineapple off my slice of GrubHubbed pizza. We were sitting on the grass outside Forks And Spoons under the shade of the maple trees, which were turning from jade to ruby to amber to fool’s gold, rejoining the earth they once rose from one fallen leaf at a time. It hadn’t rained in almost four days—was that some kind of record?!—and the leaves littering the ground crunched when I stepped on them, which I did purposefully and often. The breeze was soft and whispery and temperate. I could get used to this whole having actual seasons thing. “What, in like a hypothetical, at some point in my life kind of way?”

Joe smiled. His U Chicago hoodie of the day was black. “No, as in this weekend.”

“Really?”

“The Cubs have a game on Saturday, and it’s supposed to be rainy and overcast the whole time, and I just thought...” He shrugged, toying with a piece of pizza crust before tossing it to the squirrels. He’s nervous, I realized. How the hell do I have the ability to make the sexy undead Italian man nervous? “It might be nice for us to be able to get away for a few days. Away from my family. Away from Charlie. Not that I don’t appreciate the ambient noise of his snoring from the living room couch, it’s super endearing, I seriously consider dating him instead of you at least twice a week.”

“Go for it. Charlie could use a rich husband. His pension is pathetic.”

“You wouldn’t miss me?”

“I am not necessarily opposed to clandestinely seducing my sugar daddy stepdad should the occasion arise.”

Joe crossed himself like a nun passing tattooed, cursing, lip-pierced teenagers on the sidewalk. “Lord, protect me from this harlot.”

A weekend away. No Charlie, no constant and chaotic whirlwind of Lees, no Ben. I hadn’t spoken to Ben since our misadventure in the Lee kitchen; if he wasn’t avoiding me of his own volition, he was following orders to stay away. Joe claimed that they’d talked it out. I wasn’t sure if I believed him. “I accept your invitation. Although, truthfully, I’d rather get hit by a bus than watch an entire real-life, no-commercial-breaks baseball game.”

“I accept your acceptance. And I’ll throw in a visit to the Shedd Aquarium, just for you. They have baby sea otters.”

“Sweet.” I checked my iPhone. “I’m gonna be late for Chemistry.”

“Anything fun planned?”

“We’re doing a lab involving hydrochloric acid. I’m highly concerned that Ben will accidentally spill some on himself. The miraculous instantaneous healing thing might raise a few questions.”

“Hm,” Joe replied. But he wasn’t looking at me; he was looking at my bandaged hand. And he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Joe, I’m fine.”

“Yeah.” He took a preoccupied swig of his Dr. Pepper. Solemnity never seemed right on him; it was like he was wearing somebody else’s skin. “You’ve mentioned that.”

“Hey. Mob guy.”

Now his eyes flicked to mine.

“No more sad spaghetti.”

“Okay.” He surrendered, took my face in his hands, gave me a kiss on each cheek and then one quick parting peck on the forehead. “You win. I’m not sad. I’m ecstatic, actually. I’m gonna be eating my weight in hotdogs and mustard-slathered pretzels on Saturday. What’s there not to be ecstatic about?”

“The fact that your license says you’re only twenty and consequently can’t get a beer?”

Joe blinked, remembering. “Fuck.”

I drained my Diet Coke, flung my pizza crust to the skittering grey squirrels—no eerie albino forest friends today—and pulled on my backpack. “See ya. Have an awesome time in Game Theory.”

“Thanks, I probably won’t!” he chimed, waving, grinning compliantly; and yet did I still sense some lingering menace of disquiet, of fear? I suspected I did. Chicago would cure everything.

Ben tensed when I walked into Professor Belvin’s classroom, ran his fingers through his unruly blond hair, peered fixedly down at his notebook and feigned obliviousness. There was already a metal tray of Erlenmeyer flasks, labeled bottles of solutions, burettes, goggles, gloves, and an unassembled ring stand crowding our small table by the open window. Autumn air poured in like seawater through cracks in the hull of a ship.

“Guess who’s gonna see the Cubs play up close and personal this Saturday?” I announced.

He pretended to have just noticed me. “...You...? But that doesn’t sound like you.”

“It was Joe’s idea. I’m acting like I’m not totally thrilled and freaking out about it, but I am. Don’t tell him.”

Now Ben was the one staring at my bandaged hand. His green eyes were large and unfocused.

“I’m fine,” I insisted.

“Sure,” Ben returned noncommittally.

I started skimming through the packet of lab instructions and setting up our titration experiment as Professor Belvin circulated through the classroom, observing, commenting, offering suggestions and critiques. My wounded hand—still sore in the lull between Advil doses and relatively useless—was quite the embarrassing hinderance; I fumbled with a large glass flask and almost dropped it.

Ben shook his head and reached out to stop me. “Here, oh my god, this is so pitiful, sit down. Please sit down. I’ll set it up. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thanks.” I peeked at his notebook. “Your handwriting is atrocious. Haven’t you had like a century to work on that?”

“Penmanship was never at the top of my to-do list, tragically.”

“What language is that, anyway?” The phrases scrawled in black ink in Ben’s notebook definitely weren’t English. Or Italian. “Elvish? Are you a lowkey Lord Of The Rings fan? Magic and self-sacrifice and nearly insurmountable evil, I could see that being your thing.”

He smirked, struggling with the ring stand. “It’s Welsh.”

“Welsh,” I repeated, perplexed. “Welsh...like how Gwil is Welsh?”

“Precisely.”

Professor Belvin checked in on us, nodded in approval, reminded me that I was always welcome to stop by at bowling league activities, and resumed his wandering.

“Gwil still speaks it,” Ben continued. “The rest of them speak it too. At least enough for basic communication.”

“I didn’t know,” I said, fascinated, examining the long, unfamiliar words riddled with Ls and Ws and Cs. “But that must be very useful.”

“It is. Welsh is nearly a dead language at this point. It’s like talking in code. I always refused to learn it on principle...or maybe I was just being difficult. I would study other languages, Arabic, Japanese...but not Welsh. That was always Gwil’s language. Their language. It was a Lee thing. But now...”

“Now you’re sort of a Lee too,” I finished for him, smiling.

“Whatever,” Ben said, hiding behind his bangs.

I watched him as he at last tamed the ring stand, secured the burette, placed the Erlenmeyer flask. Then he began reading the labels on the solution bottles. “Guess what else.”

“What, Baby Swan?”

I grinned, showing off my unremarkable, entirely benign human teeth. “I’ll bring you back your very own U Chicago hoodie.”

That night, after a pleasantly prosaic dinner with Charlie—burgers, one veggie and one of the conventional variety, and milkshakes at Danny’s Diner—I started packing a small, Arizona-sky-blue suitcase as sparse raindrops pattered against the roof and moonlight streamed in through the open window. Then I ticked off my mental inventory.

“Jeans, sweaters, pajamas, socks...”

I pawed through the top drawer of my old, scratched dresser—the same one that had once upon a time been Renee’s—and contemplated the bra and panty options. Would my theme be comfort and practicality, or feral impenitent seductress? Friday and Saturday in Chicago would be our first nights alone together. That had to be significant, right? After some deliberation, I gathered a handful of lacy, transparent, and/or exceptionally skimpy lingerie from Victoria’s Secret that Jessica had more or less forced upon me during a shopping trip in Port Angeles last month. As I dropped them into the open suitcase, I glanced up to see the albino owl outside my open bedroom window.

“You never know,” I told the owl, shrugging.

It leered judgmentally back at me with those gory red eyes.

“Oh shut up. How many eggs have you laid in your lifetime, Casper The Unfriendly Ghost? Probably like a bazillion. Freaking feathery trollop.”

The owl had nothing to offer in its own defense.

“Why don’t you ever come around when Joe’s here? I’m sure he’d love to meet you. He’s pale and weird too. Although I like his eyes a little better than yours. No offense, Snowflake.”

The owl blinked, tilted its gaze at me, ruffled its feathers and sent the raindrops that had gathered there flying in every direction.

I slid my iPhone out of my back pocket, spun around, and snapped a quick selfie with the owl in the background. “Say cheese, Marshmallow!”

The owl immediately unfurled its wings and flapped off into the trees, vanishing.

“Huh. I guess homegirl is camera shy.” I texted my selfie to Archer, typing out with my thumbs: I am the Steve Irwin of Forks. Behold, one of my many forest friends.

Archer replied a few minutes later: WOW! Pasty and mildly disturbing. Exactly your type. :)

“Yours too, apparently,” I murmured, smiling in my empty room.

I went to my full-length mirror with the plastic, teal-colored border, briefly appraised my reflection, felt a dull swell of approval for what I saw there. The version of myself that had once been so consumed by fears of inadequacy seemed impossibly far away, maybe even fictitious, a dream so vivid I could mistake it for truth. Three things were taped across the top of the mirror: Joe’s Official Citation!! No More Sad Spaghetti!! post-it, his Official Whatever You Want Pass, and a photo of us dressed up together and standing in front of the limo in the Lees’ driveway just before the Calawah University Homecoming dance. I peeled off the Official Whatever You Want Pass, carefully folded it into a neat little square, and tucked it into my wallet.

When the rain began to pour and thunder rolled in off the Pacific Ocean, I closed my bedroom window; but I remembered to leave it unlocked for Joe.

Departure

“Got your license?”

“Yes, Dad,” Joe sighed.

“Got your airport snacks?”

Joe held up the gallon-sized Ziploc bag filled with pumpkin and white chocolate chip cookies. “We’re ready to rock.”

“Call me when you get there safe,” Mercy fretted, hugging me and then Joe. “And Joseph, sweetheart, you make sure you keep an eye on her. She’s never been to Chicago before, it’s a big city, and O’Hare is an absolute nightmare, it’s so easy to get lost...”

“I don’t think he needs any reminders, love.” Dr. Lee laid a hand on her shoulder, stroked his neatly-trimmed beard with the other, watched us with a vague and wistful smile.

Mercy went back to trimming the flowers she had spread out across the kitchen countertop, white calla lilies that she threaded one by one into a translucent sapphire blue vase. “Now don’t forget to say goodbye to your brother. He’s out back feeding the new ducks. And I expect these ones to stick around for a while, thank you very much.”

“Mom, I don’t need to say goodbye to Rami. I’ll just think it. Really loudly.” Joe rubbed his temples with his fingertips and squeezed his eyes shut. “Peace out, you nosy bastard.”

“Joseph,” Mercy pleaded.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go say goodbye. Don’t get all aggressive. Don’t take it out on the flowers.” Aggressive...what a joke. I doubted that Mercy Eleanor Lee, formerly Martin, had a single aggressive bone in her immortal body; not even the infinitesimal stapes of her inner ears or the sesamoids of her feet.

“They’re calla lilies,” she replied dreamily, tending them like children. “And they symbolize love, and beauty, and fidelity...”

My nostrils itched and burned faintly in dissent. “I think I’m allergic to them.”

“You’re allergic to fidelity?” Joe asked, raising his eyebrows. “That’s it, now you’re definitely not getting my reclaimed virginity. No ma’am. I am not hit-it-and-quit-it material.”

“Oh sweet baby Jesus,” Mercy murmured.

“I’m going,” Joe said, showing his palms in capitulation and disappearing out the back door. I dragged my suitcase to the front one, politely declining Mercy and Gwil’s offers to help.

Lucy—her bleached hair in a high half-ponytail and wearing polka-dotted black tights, combat boots, a plaid miniskirt, and an extremely Octoberish orange sweater—was sitting cross-legged on the roof of Gwil’s Volvo. God, he’s such a dad. “Have a nice time,” she chirped artfully.

I opened the hatch of Joe’s Subaru and threw my suitcase inside. “Why do you sound like you already know I will?”

“I might have some relevant clairvoyant insight.”

“No way.” I stared up at her, stunned, my hands on my waist. “But you can’t see me, right...?”

“True. But this vision wasn’t of you. It was of Joe. You just happened to be there.”

Interesting. Very interesting. “And what transpired in this vision?” A night full of hot, steamy, blissful vampire sex? A girl could dream.

Lucy closed her eyes, recalling it fondly, maybe even cherishing it. “You were sitting in the stands of a professional baseball game. I could hear the crowd roaring, the umpire’s trumpeting interruptions. Blue and white...everyone was wearing blue and white. And you were there together—Joe a vampire, you human, side by side, almost entwined—shouting to each other over the thunderous noise and laughing and pushing nuggets of soft pretzels into each other’s mouths. So happy. I’d never seen Joe so happy.” Her striking pale eyes came open. “And he’s someone who’s already rather prone to happiness, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“I have,” I agreed.

“He’s never been serious about anybody else. I hope you know that.”

“I know that’s what he tells me.”

“It’s the truth,” Lucy insisted. “I would know if it wasn’t. Rami would know, Ben would know. Joe...he’s kind of the opposite of you. He’s always been the easiest to read. He’s the one Rami hears most loudly, the one who shows up most often in my visions. He’s clear, you know? Uncomplicated. Authentic. And what you mean to him...it’s something everybody sees. It’s a contagious sort of lightness, of joy. So thank you for that.”

And if whatever mysterious genetic switch that renders me immune to your talents wasn’t flipped, I’m pretty sure I’d look the same way. “I should definitely be thanking you,” I said. “You guys have a pretty cool existence going on here. And I’m so grateful to be invited into it.” For however long this lasts, anyway.

“None of us really invited you,” Lucy demurred. “We just let it happen.”

“So everyone knew I was coming? Because you saw it?”

“Everyone but Joe.”

“You never told him?”

“No. Not even now.” Lucy turned sharply towards the trees, as if she heard something in the soaring western hemlocks that swayed drunkenly in the wind. After a moment, she continued. “I’m not sure if I can even explain why. It wasn’t that I feared changing the timeline or something...my visions always come true regardless. Always. But I guess...” She tugged on her short half-ponytail, pondering. “I guess I didn’t want to cloud any of his decision-making, any of his emotions with the specter of the inevitable. I wanted whatever he felt for you to be completely organic. And it is.”

I considered her. “You are extremely thoughtful for someone who spends as much time shopping as you do.”

Lucy laughed in a high-pitched, almost juvenile trill, netting her fingers beneath her chin, her elbows resting on her bent knees. “I do like to shop. I didn’t always though.” She peered off into the trees again, this time pensively. “Did Joe tell you anything about my life before Gwil saved me?”

“Aside from the copious hippie jokes, not really.”

She nodded, her eyes far-away and still lost in the forest. “Gwil and Mercy are inordinately wonderful people. My biological father and mother, unfortunately, were not. And maybe they couldn’t help it, because from what I understand their parents were monsters too. I don’t think of them very often now, not even to resent them. But when I was alive I burned with it, with all that hatred, with all that bitterness. Every bruise was another log on the fire. Every screaming match or hurled plate was a splash of gasoline. So I ran away and found what I fancied to be a new family, and I lived on basement couches and out of vans and in abandoned buildings, and I explored increasingly inventive ways of putting that fire out.”

The October breeze cascaded through the trees, carrying echoes of birdsong and disembodied distant voices and the scent of pine. It reminded me of Joe.

“Chemically speaking,” Lucy said, “that first hit of heroin, that first high...it’s the best you’ll ever feel in your entire life. Nothing else will ever compare. Not skydiving, not backpacking through Southeast Asia on some Pulitzer-prize-winning journey of self-discovery, not winning the lottery, not the births of your children, not falling in love. And once you accept that, what’s the point in stopping? Everything you ever experience will live in the shadow of that needle. You’re twenty-five and you’ve already seen the endgame. You’re born, you suffer, you catch a glimpse of paradise, you pay bills and push shopping carts down the aisles of grocery stores and insipidly smile your way through your husband’s work parties until you die. What’s the fucking point? So I didn’t stop shooting heroin. And the whole time, I knew it was killing me. That’s what they don’t tell kids when they force them to make those idiotic classroom promises to never do drugs. You know it’s killing you, but you don’t care. Because it feels so goddamn good. Because it becomes the only sliver of your existence that doesn’t cut like glass beneath your skin. Sometimes you love things so much you let them kill you, isn’t that ridiculous?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer her; still, I heard my own voice: “Yes, it is.”

“It took dying for me to see that life is worth living. That there’s magic in the mundane and the frivolous. And that there’s beauty everywhere if you bother to look for it.” Lucy uncrossed her trim legs, leapt gracefully off the Volvo, and—with definite but not unkind scrutiny—pulled at the collar of my thrift shop sweater. “Even in your very, very, very misguided fashion preferences.”

The front door of the Lee house swung open, and Joe jogged out, carrying his suitcase. Gwil, Mercy, Scarlett, Rami, and Ben appeared on the porch to wave us off.

“What’d you do?!” Joe demanded, pointing at Lucy.

“Nothing,” she quipped.

“You guys gotta stop doing this!” Joe exclaimed. “You know what you’re doing, you know exactly what you’re doing, you gotta stop cornering people and forcing them to listen to your creepy tragic backstories! Nobody freaking asked!”

Lucy chuckled patiently and stood on her tiptoes to hug him goodbye. “Have fun.”

“You know it.” Joe tossed his suitcase into the Subaru and opened the driver’s door. “Ready, Baby Swan?”

“Almost.”

I walked to the wrap-around porch, climbed the steps, held my hand out to Ben. My stitches had almost completely dissolved over the past week, and the clunky impediment of bandages was no more. Joe crossed his arms and watched from beside the Subaru with an uneasy frown, but he didn’t try to stop me. He nodded to Rami, so subtly I almost didn’t notice. Rami nodded back.

“I will miss your melodramatic brooding immensely,” I told Ben. “Please do some fun family stuff while we’re gone. I’ll see you soon. Dan eich bendith.”

“Dan eich bendith,” he replied, taken aback. And then, after a moment’s hesitation, he ignored my outstretched hand and embraced me, his grasp so strong and yet so careful. His scent like crisp leaves and salted caramel and autumn sieved into a bottle unfolded in my lungs like an opened book.

“I Googled that especially for you,” I whispered. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m in awe.” His words were characteristically sardonic, but I heard warmth in them as well. When Ben pulled away, I saw that everyone else was smiling. Mercy had tears in her eyes.

I retreated back down the porch steps and met Joe by the Subaru. “Okay, mob guy. I’m good.”

He slid on his sunglasses, shook his head, flashed a proud and toothy grin. “You definitely are.”

All the way down Route 101 to the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, we listened to Joe’s classic rock mixtapes and my NOAA Ocean Podcast episodes, reviewed the weekend itinerary, ran through the bare essentials for me to understand an MLB game (“Which I am totally not excited about whatsoever,” I informed Joe, who knew enough not to believe me).

When the Boeing 747 ascended above the clouds and unimpeded sunlight poured in from the other passengers’ windows, Joe put on a black sleeping mask over his sunglasses and reclined his seat, tried to nap, passed the time until he would be safe beneath the curtains of the sky again.

Somewhere over the Dakotas, as I leafed through a book about the Great Barrier Reef for my Marine Botany class, Joe’s hand bumped mine. “Hey,” he said drowsily, seriously; and I braced myself for some emotional declaration, some dire warning, some grave realization of the futility of what we agreed—almost always wordlessly, and yet unfailingly—was love.

“Yeah?”

“It’s an emergency.”

“Uh oh,” I replied, smiling now.

“Flag down the flight attendant and get some more of those honey roasted peanut packets,” Joe said. “I’m starving myself back to death over here.”

The Windy City

The bat cracked deafeningly against the baseball pitched at nearly a hundred miles per hour. It was a home run. The crowd erupted into mindless, primal shrieks of conquest; and when Joe jumped to his feet, clapping and cheering and nearly spilling his blue-and-white bucket of popcorn, I found that I did as well. I screamed for the team of a city I’d never lived in, sank back into my seat beside Joe, nestled against his chest as his right arm closed around my waist and hauled me in closer, as his left hand teased me with a soft pretzel nugget hovering just out of reach. And in that moment, I felt like Lucy, snatching Polaroids out of the space-time continuum of the present and the future and the past. There was where Joe and I were right now, of course; the day we had met each other in the nonfiction section of the Calawah University library; the dance floor at Homecoming; the first night he snuck soundlessly into my bedroom window; all those years we still had left to spend together. Not forever, but perhaps long enough.

“I like this baseball thing,” I told him over the roar of the crowd, twirling my fingers around the curling locks of dark hair that stuck out from under his Cubs cap. Or maybe I just like you.

“Whew, thank god.” Joe wiped his forehead with the back of his hand in mock relief. “Now I don’t have to break up with you.”

After the game—a 5-3 Cubs victory, close enough to keep the spectators’ blood pumping throughout—we boarded the L, held onto the metal railings as the packed train car bumped and swerved along, and disembarked in Little Italy. Historic brownstones were interrupted by a freckling of pizzerias, Italian ice stands, and sports bars spilling out shouts of triumph and despair. We were staying in the Four Seasons with a view of Lake Michigan; but we had an hour of daylight—albeit chilled, dreary, and forever threatening rain—left in our Saturday. Tomorrow would be the aquarium, and then dinner before catching our flight back to Seattle, back to the greenery and fog and eternal dampness that I was beginning to think of as my home. Had I really only left Phoenix two months ago? Had I ever really lived there at all?

“So,” Joe said as we walked under shedding green ash and black cherry trees, his arm draped across my shoulders. “Guess what the University of Chicago has. In addition to a killer Economics PhD program, which yours truly will be graduating from in approximately 2027, astonishingly aged not a single day. Maybe he’s born with it, maybe it’s Maybelline.”

“Hideous sweatshirts?” I guessed.

“One of the best Marine Biology departments in the world. And the affiliated Marine Biological Laboratory up in Massachusetts, where they send their PhDs to do research.”

“Wait, seriously?” I stopped abruptly, the heels of my boots squealing against the sidewalk. “You mean...for me?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, for my other girlfriend who is also inexplicably super obsessed with the ocean. I clearly have a type.”

“You want me...to come to Chicago...with you...after graduation? For like...a five to seven year commitment?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, that just sounds...serious.”

“Huh. What do you know. I guess we’re serious after all.” He took my hand and pulled me gently forward, leading me down West Taylor Street. He seemed to have a destination in mind.

“How is this going to work for you, anyway?” I asked, beaming uncontrollably now, trotting along beside him. “Living in a place that isn’t Washington or Scotland or Alaska?” Chicago was cold and cloudy for a lot of the year, true, but few cities were Forks-level wet and sunless. Forks-level tyrannically depressing, I would have said two months ago.

He shrugged, unphased. “Night classes. Sunglasses. Faking a chronic illness so I don’t have to leave our house. I’m really good at that one. Plus I can get a doctor’s note any time I want one. I’ve got connections, you know.”

Our house. He said OUR house.

Joe came to halt in front of a stately yet plain brownstone which now operated as a trendy bookstore, the kind that sold six dollar lattes and hosted anarchist poetry slams on Friday nights.

“Is this where we’re going to crack hipsters’ kneecaps as a bonding activity?” I asked.

“This is where I grew up.”

I looked again, studying the earth-colored stone quarried over a century ago, the wrought iron railings that framed the front steps, the rectangular windows revealing the illumination and shadows of other families’ lives. “Joe,” I said softly, leaning into him, searching for my words.

“There were eight Mazzello kids: Joseph, Charles, Mimi, Salvador, Donna, Lucia, Bianca, and Giuliano.” He rattled them off like a jingle from a fast food commercial. “And I was the oldest. So when my dad dropped dead of a heart attack in the middle of his shift at the Zenith Radio factory, it was my job to step up and figure out how to keep everyone fed. I was seventeen and completely hopeless at school back then; Sal was always the smart one, the disciplined one, he ended up as a math professor at Loyola University. I was just some directionless, grieving kid who never shut up. But there was a place for boys like me in Chicago in the 1920s. The mob could get you money. The mob could turn that same incessant chatter that got you bruised at school into something useful. And the mob could give you a family.”

Joe watched the brownstone solemnly, meditatively, his hands in his pockets.

“My mom sobbed for an hour the first time I brought home an envelope full of bills with Hamilton’s face on them. She knew how I got it. But how could she say no, how could she tell me to stop? We’d never seen money like that. All my siblings could finish school. My sisters could have new dresses on days that weren’t Christmas and Easter, my brothers new shoes, Sal the glasses he needed so badly. My mother always had something to put in the offering plate at church. And once you were in the mob, it wasn’t exactly easy to leave. But they took care of their own. After I died, they sent my mother money for years, until her own children were established enough to support her. That’s when I learned that money wasn’t just something that put food on the dinner table or kept the lights on. It’s a way of showing loyalty, of giving people peace and comfort and meaningful choices in their lives. It’s how I’ve been taught to give back to the world. So I guess I shouldn’t have disparaged my fellow vampires back in Forks, because there’s a slice of my tragic backstory, Baby Swan. Now you know. And you should know everything, since we’re in this thing together. Or maybe I just want you to.”

I laid my palm against his cool and flawless face, ran my thumb lightly across his cheek. “You really are serious about me.”

“I am alarmingly serious about you.”

“Even though this thing of ours has an expiration date?” Since I can never become a vampire. Since I will never have the distinction of being a permanent fixture of the Lee coven.

“That’s not a problem for today. That’s a problem for ten or fifteen years from now, whenever you decide you want to settle down and have kids and do the whole Great American Dream bit. You’ll be sick of me by then anyway. You’ll be dying to get away from us. Hahaha, get it? It’s a pun. Dying to get away from the vampires.”

I couldn’t imagine ever being sick of Joseph Francis Mazzello. Still, ten or fifteen years felt almost as good as forever to me. Fifteen autumns, fifteen Christmases, fifteen journeys around the sun that he avoided so deftly. “Why me, Joe?” I asked, incredulous. “You could have anyone. Any human, any vampire. Why me?”

“Because you’re you,” he said simply. And his mystified dark eyes added: What kind of a question is that? “You’re smart and you’re hilarious and you actually care about the world, about where it came from, about where it’s going, about people and places and animals that you’ll never meet. You’re indomitable. You’re fearless almost to the point of recklessness. And yet you’re so kind. You’re even nice to Ben, and humans are never nice to him...they’re either horrified or confused, or they’re too busy fantasizing about him to remember that he’s a real fucking person. But you’ve always tried to see the good in him. Even when he didn’t deserve it.” Joe shook his head, marveling. “And yeah, I’ve...I’ve screwed around, full disclosure. I’ve done the hookup thing. And it was great for what it was. But I never wanted more. I never felt some gnawing, sentimental, Hallmark-channel need for connection, to understand who they were as people. And then I met you, and...I want to know every single goddamn thing about you. I want to know your favorite color, what books you read, what the hell is so appealing about pineapple pizza, what you dream of. I feel like I could never get tired of trying to understand you.”

A refrain circled through my mind like a whirlpool, dragging every other thought down into oblivion: I love him, I love him, I love him. “Blue,” I said at last.

“What?”

“Turquoise blue, like the sky in Arizona. That’s my favorite color.”

The smile, slow and wonderous, rippled across his face. He took my hand again. “Come on.”

Joe led me onwards, down a few blocks and around a corner, as the muted sun receded from the sky and the first stars took its place, pinpricks of celestial light in a blanket of violet, azure, amber, rust. He stopped in front of the Church of Saint Lawrence, established in 1902 according to the sign mounted on the brick wall that faced the street, perhaps the same church that he had once visited with his family as an impatient child, snickering with his brothers and sisters and kicking the back of the pew in front of him with shoes that never fit quite right. There was a fountain bubbling with transparent water, a statue of the Virgin Mary at the center, coins made of copper and nickel and zinc glinting through the water under corridors of silvery luminance cast by the streetlights.

“I lied about not having my own superpower,” Joe informed me mischievously, not at all serious.

“Oh, did you now?”

“Absolutely.” He opened his wallet, rooted around, pulled out a penny and handed it to me. “I can make wishes come true. So go ahead.” He nodded towards the fountain. “Make your wish.”

The penny was worn and nearly indecipherable, but I was just barely able to read that it had been minted in 1928. The same year Joe was turned. “Joe...I can’t just throw this away!”

“You’re not throwing it away. You’re exchanging it for a wish. Now wish.”

I closed my eyes, chose my wish, tossed the penny into the fountain. The plink it made when it hit the water was bright and yet mournful somehow, like windchimes, like flickering candlelight.

“Outstanding job,” Joe complimented.

He was so visibly proud, so content, so faultless. The streetlights threw shadows across the sidewalk, the fountain, the whole world it seemed. I laced my fingers behind his neck, gazing up at him. “What are we doing tonight, mob guy?”

“I’m so glad you asked. You see, we have options.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“Door Number One,” Joe began. “It’s been a long day, and you’re exhausted from the illustrious honor of witnessing a Cubs victory firsthand. So we go back to the hotel, find some shark documentary on tv, order room service, shower, and drift off into a peaceful slumber. Just like last night.”

“Not bad. How about Door Number Two?”

“Door Number Two. You’re tired, but not that tired. We go back to the hotel, find that same aforementioned shark documentary, but totally ignore it and make out instead. Maybe we even round second base, in the spirit of the Cubs. Whatever you’re up for. Then we shower and drift off into a peaceful slumber.”

“Even better,” I said, and I meant it. “And what’s Door Number Three?”

Now Joe became jittery; his eyes darted to the fountain, the church, the cars that rolled lazily by. He was so desperate to conceal his hope, to not impose any undue influence upon me. I felt infinitesimal, almost weightless drops of rain against my cheeks, my collarbones, the downy undersides of my arms. “Well, uh, Door Number Three is...it’s...well...uh...it’s...”

Door Number Three is a home fucking run. “I want Door Number Three.”

“Really? Because you don’t have to say that, you can say no, that’s completely fine, it’s more than fine actually, it’s awesome, it’s totally cool, I’m seriously fine either way, and you can obviously change your mind whenever—”

“Wait.” I broke away from him, yanked my own wallet out of my purse, found the Official Whatever You Want Pass, hastily unfolded it, and presented it to Joe. “I want Door Number Three.”

He barked out a shocked laugh, accepted the pass, studied it in disbelief. “You are full of surprises, ma’am. It took me a hundred years to find a woman like you. And I don’t think I ever will again. Makes one wonder if this whole eternity thing is all it’s cracked up to be.” He tucked the pass into his pocket and kissed me beneath the streetlights, beneath the stars. “So there’s one tiny caveat to my wish-granting superpower.”

“Yeah?”

He smiled impishly, nudging the tip of my nose with his. “You have to tell me what you wished for.” He was joking, as he almost always was; I didn’t have to tell him anything. He wouldn’t press the issue. I doubted that he was really expecting me to answer at all. And yet I wanted to tell Joe; I yearned, for once, to be as clear as Lucy had said he was.

“For you and me,” I replied in little more than a whisper. “And for forever.”

Home

The only thing that startled me was how profoundly unstartling it all was, how wholly uncomplicated, how effortless.

I didn’t feel like a different person afterwards. I didn’t feel that some latent spark of lust, of carnality had been ignited, had singed through me, had left me forever marked like the heights of children ticked off on a doorframe over decades; I felt neither ruined nor awakened, no wiser, no older, no more enlightened as to the incalculable eccentricities of the vast and enigmatic universe. I felt only happiness, and exhausted satisfaction, and a deep, dreamless peace that engulfed me like frothy fingertips of waves dragging pebbles and shells back into the sea. I felt only a homecoming that was measured not in miles but in soul.

We slept in as the morning sun rose over Lake Michigan, bought Ben a hoodie (black, of course, per his usual aesthetic) from the University of Chicago gift shop, strolled unhurriedly through the dimly-lit, relentlessly blue pathways of the Shedd Aquarium. As I stood in the glass tunnel and watched sawfish and blacktip reef sharks soar by overhead, Joe linked his arms around my waist, tucked his chin into the dip of my collarbone, kissed the slope of my jaw.

“What do you think?” he asked, perhaps a touch apprehensively. “Could you get used to the Chicago life for a few years?”

“I would be tempted to kidnap some of these guys and bring them home to live in our bathtub. But yes.”

And Joe murmured, smiling, his lips to my temple: “That’s illegal, ma’am.”

Our flight back to the West Coast took off after dusk, and there was no blinding sunlight for Joe to avoid; only immense glooms of clouds and gleaming distant stars and the unfathomable void of space, cursed with crushing pressure and darkness like the cervices of the ocean floor.

Fifteen years might not be enough, I thought, resting my forehead against the cold airplane window as the city lights died behind us, as Joe’s hand weaved through mine on the armrest. But forever sounds just about right.

Larkin

There once was a boy born in a stone cottage with a dirt floor in a vanishingly inconsequential village just west of Clifden, Ireland. It was February 9th, 1672, bitterly cold, miserably wet, and the sea was murderous with storms. His mother was illiterate, as her mother had been, and as her mother had been as well, all the way back to people who painted mammoths on cave walls with their fingers; she was thirty-three and already exhausted with living, her seven children forever underfoot, her full and ruddy cheeks perpetually smudged with dirt from the field and ashes from the fire. Her husband was a failure and a drunk, but half a day’s worth of work once or twice a week was better than none at all; and as much as she never would have admitted it, he was a tether for her in a world that was often, as she had learned, both lonely and cruel.

She gave the baby boy a name—a strong Irish name, none of that audacious English rubbish—that meant rough or fierce, just like the sea that rose and ruptured against the rocky cliffs outside. He would need to be rough to survive in this world. He would need to be fierce.

He began like all the other children had been: sweet and yet anonymous, yielding, needful, worryingly small. She rocked him absently with one arm as she stirred the stew pot with the other. She sang to him, told him stories long before he could comprehend them, tales of the Lord and the saints and all their malevolent adversaries: serpents, pestilence, demons, dragons. She tossed stray sticks to him so he could carve pictures into the dirt floor and keep out of the way as she labored with the laundry or the sewing. And he grew, and he grew; and there was nothing remarkable about him at all, that boy speckled with mud and soot and the perpetual bruises of children mostly left to their own devices, that boy with pallid skin like his mother’s and black hair like his father’s and eyes so light and vibrant a brown they were nearly gold.

The boy was a baby, and then a child, and then a young man. And his mother realized one day—all at once, as a mother does when their attention is divided among so many other lives, when the children’s analogous faces bleed into each other and even their names sometimes escape her, even those names that she had chosen herself from the stories her own mother once passed to her through threadbare whispers—that people had a habit of following him, of listening to him. That there was an ether of allure that hovered around him like the mists that clung to the precarious, crumbling cliffs that touched the sea; that there was something like what the heathens called magic. And when the war came, that boy who was no longer a boy left his mother’s stone cottage and enlisted in Clifden, lied about his age, signed his name with an X because that was all he knew how to spell. But he was sure to tell the man who handled the ledger that he did have a real name, a good Irish name, a name apt for a soldier, a name that his mother had told him meant rough or fierce: Larkin.

There are men who join wars out of loyalty, principle, love for their homes; and then there are men who join to escape their homes, perhaps to forget them entirely. If you were to consult that ledger signed in a pub in Clifden, Ireland in 1688, you would read that I fought for Ireland, for the Catholics, for Christ the Lord and all his saints. But what I really fought for was my own resurrection: to take that boy stained with dirt and ignorance, drown him in the blood of other mothers’ trivial sons, and dredge up some greater version of myself that I had always known existed, that was hidden somewhere in the netlike darkness of the marrow of my bones.

People follow me, and they always have. I couldn’t tell you why. When I called them to enlist, when I thrusted swords and pikes into their calloused farmers’ fists, when I told them they could fight and live to see their wretched homes again, they believed me. I climbed the ranks like a ladder, like a mountain made of bones. And all those other mothers’ sons laid down for me so I could walk across the bridge of their spines to what I mistakenly assumed was invincibility.

At the Battle Of The Boyne, my horse was shot out from under me. A Williamite caught me beneath the ribs with his dagger. And as I bled out, staring up at the sky and impatiently waiting for the pain to vanish as my consciousness withdrew like low tide, I became aware that someone was lifting me, holding me, spiriting me through the battlefield and then the wilderness; and that my pain, in a disconcerting turn of events, had swelled to a vicious and unrelenting inferno.

Three days later, I woke to find that I was resurrected again, this time as something more than human. The man who turned me was blond-haired, light-eyed, agile and yet gentle, ancient and yet ever-changing.

“I thought you’d survive,” Nikolai said in a thick Slavic accent, standing over me with a kind smile. Then he helped me to my feet. “You have greatness in you. It sweats out of your pores, it’s in every word you speak. What a shame it would be for all of that to go to waste.”

He taught me everything: how to read and write, how to hunt, how to dodge the sunlight, how to survive an existence that was both theoretically endless and yet forever on the precipice of being cut short. He introduced me to the Draghi, to vampires who were remarkable for their ferocity, or their creativity, or their curiosity, or their cleverness, or all those things at once: Victorien, Honora, Elizabeth, Kestrel, Zhang, Sergei, Ana, Gwilym. And most crucially, Nikolai showed me that my human talents were magnified several times over, that his own followers were not immune to them, that there was power in collecting exceptional individuals like pieces of china stacked in a locked cabinet; and that if I could learn to climb immortal bones, the ladder never needed to end.

You never quite get used to the power, to the invincibility, to the promise of eternity. You never take it for granted. It hits you, again and again, in ceaseless and victorious waves. Once I was a barefoot toddler who sketched dragons and Catholic saints from the stories my mother told me into the dirt floor of our drafty stone cottage. Now I live in palaces with marble floors, with spiral staircases and libraries and gold-dripping ballrooms, with unobstructed views of any sea I choose. Now I am the dragon.

My phone rang, and I checked the name on the screen. Then I answered. “Hello, beauty. How’s the other side of the Pacific treating you?”

And Liesl answered, in a soft and astonished voice: “I don’t think Lucy can read her. I don’t think any of them can.”

I could feel it again. Another wave, crashing through me like the ocean, like the unstoppable rolling of time: power and insatiability and exhilaration. I smiled in my twilight-lit study as long-dead stars rose outside and the wind howled like wolves over the East Sea. “You know what to do.”

52 notes · View notes

saundraswriting · 4 years ago

Text

Interior Design Ch. 6: First Day

SUMMARY: Today marks your first day as a SI employee...more specifically the Avengers' personal interior designer.

WARNINGS: None.

NOTES: Sorry it has been a while. Been busy.

As always you can read it on Ao3 here!

Masterlist // Ao3 // Previous

The next morning you were up with the sun. You laid in the bed for a moment, relishing in everything that happened yesterday. You sat up in a quick movement. 'I have to give Ms. Potts the contract. I have to get my sample books here. I should also finish with the other clients I have waiting too. I should speak to each member I can to get a idea...maybe a powerpoint to show the difference in styles.' You thought to yourself. A plan in mind you got ready, silently thanking the universe for dry shampoo. Once done, you pulled out the contract and read it over before signing it. There wasn't anything you were against, so you signed and placed it on your desk for later. You decided to head to the kitchen, remembering the sleek looking espresso machine on the counter.

You headed out, your bag full of your necessary tools. You were deep in your tablet by-passing everyone loitering in the kitchen as if by magic until you got to the machine. Not hesitating you grabbed a mug and set the machine for a quad risotto shot and waited for it to brew. While waiting your phone rang, you answered it knowing it was one of your clients.

"Yes, ma'am? I am sorry I had to take an unexpected trip out of the city. What can I do for you?" You said pulling up her file on your tablet.

"Y/N, I love your work always, but this time something happened. The table just doesn't fit right. I am very unhappy. I hate glass top tables and the coffee table is glass." Your client said.

"Ma'am...I would never had ordered you a glass table. I have a distinct note in your file. I will immediately look into this. Please give me a moment. The company is still there correct? I will call you back in a moment." You hung up, muttering under your breath before calling another number. "You idiots. Get that table out of there. That is the Tohru account not the Bells. Yes. I know. I have the order right here. I ordered the gold leaf marble table, that glass table isn't to be delivered until next month. Take it back right now." You demanded, rubbing you forehead harshly. "Thank you very much." You hung up, you began typing rapidly on you tablet at the same time asking you phone to call your client. "Ma'am, they will be taking that table back this minute. I am sorry for the confusion. I had to take a trip unexpectedly and wasn't there to oversee everything. I hope you can pardon this mistake. I will be seeing you in a few days when your actual piece comes in. I am currently emailing the company to ensure this next delivery goes off without a hitch." You finished your email with a glare to your tablet.

"Thank you so much, Y/N. I appreciate all the effort you put into this. You are always so good to us. I'll send you a tip right now for all your help." Your client bid you good bye and hung up. A second later your phone chimed with an alert your client had deposited a large tip with only a smiley face emoji.

"She is too much. My goodness." You slumped against the counter and remembered your coffee that was probably done brewing. You pulled your mug over and fixed it up. The first sip has you moaning in pleasure. "It isn't even 8 am." You whispered into your mug.

"You gonna join us for breakfast or keep murmuring sweet nothings to your coffee?" Clint asked from the table. You tensed expecting comments on your lack of manners.

"I am so sorry. I am a coffee addict. Nothing before coffee. I don't really eat breakfast, but thank you. I did want to talk to you if that was okay?" You asked hesitantly.

"Sure. I don't mind. Honestly this is probably the best time to get us, before we scatter for the day." Cint answered.

"Oh, good." You hurried over and pulled out your notebook. "I need to get ideas from all of you. I have some examples of different styles and themes to give you ideas. I need preferences and things to get samples ready. I am starting with your individual rooms. It will help build a connection between you and I." You told them. "I have several other things happening at the moment so I will be coming back and forth for a while which is why I want to get ideas so I can build layouts and idea boards and bring them to you for approval." You continued. "I know that it seems overwhelming but my job is to make it less so. If you even have 15 minutes at some point today to speak with me I would appreciate that. My job is to do all the work. Your job is to say yes or no. So who wants to go first?" You looked up from your notebook to meet several curious glances.

"I have some time around 10:30 or so. I can meet with you." Clint said. His agreement seemed to break the ice and everyone else began chiming in on when they could meet. They all were cooperative in making it easy to meet with them, and once breakfast was over Tony came in.

"Mr. Stark, can I ask a favor? I was wondering if you could escort me to Ms. Pott's office? I have the contract all signed and I have a question for her." You asked. Tony nodded. The table began dispersing and with it you did. You gathered your things and waited in the kitchen.

"You're leaving? " Steve asked with a pointed glace at your bags.

"Yes, Captain Rogers. I have things to do at my office and all of my things are there. I have a lot of work to do before I start working. I have to speak to Ms. Potts and then I have to meet with all of you and then I will be on my way back home. I am just trying to be one step ahead of the game." You explained.

"I'll take your bags to the door for you while Tony takes you to Pepper. I will see you later." Steve grabbed your bags but you stopped him with an arm on his.

"Thank you, Captain Rogers. Can I also ask if you would sit in with Sargent Barnes' meeting? I don't want to overwhelm him." You said, looking at the ground.

"Yeah, of course. I'll have him come to mine, how is that?" He suggested. You smiled up at him gratefully.

Tony came that minute to walk you to Ms. Pott's office. Steve took your bags like he said he would. On the ay there, you made a point to learn the way, not wanting to be escorted back. Tony disappeared when you arrived offering "Meetings, you know." with a quick wave.

Pepper was more that willing to hear out your requests for several of you favorite catalogues and sample books to be ordered for the Avengers to look through. She also accepted your contract with a bright smile. She also gave you her personal cell number and a few other important people in case you needed them. You also got your badge and biometrics scanned to finish your hiring process.

You headed back to the Avenger's side, seeing the living room empty you set up in there, getting more ideas together for the meetings. You were scrambling putting together examples of some of your favorite design motifs like industrial, contemporary, oriental, art deco, bohemian, Scandinavian, rustic, country, modern, classical, minimalist, coastal, glamourous. You also added geometric, traditional, transitional, floral and such. You tried to keep it simple but informative. You listed pros and cons of all of them and before you knew it Clint loudly arrived in through one of the openings into the living room.

" Hey, kiddo. I just need to grab a drink and then we can get started. Do you want anything?" Clint said as he walked by.

"No. I am-" You tried to deny him, you were interrupted by F.R.I.D.AY.

"Agent Barton, Ms. L/N has not had any thing by mouth since breakfast and that was only a large coffee. You should ask her again." Friday told him. She sounded almost disappointed in you. You narrowed your eyes at the ceiling, unable to make words only noises.

"Get used to it. That is what she does. She loves us as much as an AI can. Now, let's try again. Can I get you something to drink?" Clint shook a bottle of water and raised an eyebrow.

"I guess I will take a water. I swear if my meetings run late because of bodily functions, I will never forgive her." You threatened. Clint laughed.

"You heartrate skipped implying that you don't mean that, Ms. L/N. But I appreciate the sentiment." F.R.I.D.A.Y. said. You just sighed and shook your head.

"Come on, Agent Barton. We should get going. This isn't going to take long. All this talk is for it getting you opinions on the very basic thing...theme. You pick what you like, what parts you don't ad I take that information to find pieces to go in your room and then we put it all together. I will do this for everyone in every room and then for the common rooms I will take the common things or needs and then ask everyone's opinion." You explained.

"You will do this for everyone today? That seems a lot." Clint said.

"I need to get ideas, that is all I can do. All my sample books and such are in my apartment. I will have more to work with when I come back. I have some pressing work to do to. I am have clients currently." You patted the seat next to you, gesturing at tablet, notebook and laptop before you. "Shall we get started?"

The meetings with the Avengers went well. The start of each meeting was rocky but as they warmed up, it got easier. You got about 1/2 of those who had rooms, You still needed the more...Very Important Powerful Beings and their opinions. But this was a start. There wasn't much repetition the styles they wanted, and it honestly went how you had predicted. Clint had chosen a geometric motif with hints of industrialism. Natasha had gone with muted bohemian style. Wanda had chosen a more glamorous bold style while her brother had chosen a soft coastal theme. Vision agreed with Wanda's help a very bare bones approach considering his android-ness. He accepted a sleek contemporary look but only to satisfy you and Wanda. Tony was a very new age tech room that you figured would end up being a crash pad and extra lab. Thor went with a more traditional art deco theme, it seemed to make him happy and sad at the same time. Sam was the most undecisive until you convinced him of the perks of mid-century modern vibes. Bruce wanted a more classical theme, a relaxing space to turn off. You made some notes to help that idea stay number one. Steve and Bucky took some time.

"Sargent Barnes, I know this seems like a lot but I promise, nothing you say here is your forever answer. You have time to change your mind, if we finish and you don't like it so be it. We will work on it until you do. This is your room, your space. You don't have to answer to anyone on why it is the way it is. My job is to make you happy and comfortable. So just answer my questions honestly and then we go from there. if you aren't sure then that is okay too." You pulled up some of the more radical themes you had worked on. You felt him saying 'no' would be first easier than saying 'yes'.

"That is gaudy. I was alive when that was losing steam as a trend. I don't want to relive it." Bucky denied the art deco, bohemian, glamorous, nautical and new age theme.

"That is a great start. However this is where it gets tricky. You know what you don't like, but now we need to find what you do like. If you like a whole idea, great. If you only like pieces of it, also fine. My job is to make it work." You next pulled out some of the rustic, industrial and minimalistic ideas. The palette was a little warmer than Steve's Scandinavian minimalist choices. Bucky like the wood/metal contrast and the open concept and natural lighting seemed to catch him too. You had an idea for the ceiling to have it painted to look like there were pipes and so made a note. You also made a note about a pipe bookshelf and plant wall.

"Captain Rogers, Sargent Barnes. This was fun. I will be having some magazines and sample books delivered here for everyone to look through if they want. If not we will have plenty of time to talk about it. Sargent Barnes, I know today was a lot for you, but I have to say...I am very proud of you. Today can't have been easy with the interrogation as light as it was. I unfortunately have to get going. I need to be in the city for the next few days but if you or anyone else has questions, I left my contact info on the fridge." You stuck you hand out to shake and Steve snorted.

"A minute after meeting me, you gave me a hug and made me cry, now you want to play coy and offer a handshake? I don't think so doll." Bucky pulled you into a fast hug before bidding you good day and heading back to his room. Steve gave you a slightly longer hug, beaming at you.

"You are amazing. I never thought we would be doing this today. He seemed like he was having fun. Thank you again. It means a lot to us that you are working so hard." Steve said.

"Captain Rogers, you all save the world weekly. The least I can do it make your bedrooms into a safe space. Now, are you gonna be a punk or you walking me out?" You asked winking with a smirk.

The two of you walked to where Happy stood next to a car that you were sure already had your stuff packed. "I am glad he trusted me enough to talk with me. I want him happy, and comfortable. Tell everyone I said bye and I will see them soon!" You squeezed Steve's arm before heading to the car, letting Happy open the door for you.

Happy opened the door for you to exit the car. You bid him a warm goodbye, taking yourself and your bags up to your apartment to begin the hard part-putting the ideas of others into a plan of action.

*******************************************************************************************

So what did you think? How am I doing? Thoughts, comments, concerns?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #protective Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x interior designer! reader #interior design the fic #recovered bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes in recovery #avengers family #domestic avengers #saundraswriting #saundrasays

21 notes · View notes

apathycarestostudy · 4 years ago

Text

Staying Organized as a STEM Student

In general, it’s nice to be (and stay) organized. There’re a plethora of tips on how to maintain your stuff, but as a stem student, it seems like it’s all too much for me - or maybe I have commitment issues, I’m not sure, but it doesn’t work for me. So! I decided to share an organizational system so to say that took me three years to develop.

Virtual Stuff

folders for your major - organized by year by semester by subjects by ppts / assignments / extras

name everything correctly

(you don’t have to colour code or date them or anything extra unless you wanna)

hard to find? pin them

(i pin my current semester’s folder + the most demanding courses separately if needed)

use bookmark manager on your web browser

how my bookmark folders are organized - engineering refs (what it is how it is why it is / past paper questions) / class (refs / books / assignment citations) / online class links / future / internship (according to projects) / volunteer work

save every page if you’re working on some research - even if it’s 43% useful

go through them later when you’re done amassing info and delete if you need to

(i find that i tend to need a couple lines from useless sites and then get mad that i didn’t save it)

with research:

※ spend an adequate amount of time amassing info first

※ this will help you brainstorm if you don’t have ideas, or refine the ones you got

※ record any ideas that pop up as you do since you’ll have come up with a rough draft in your head

※ if you do this before every report / assignment, you’ll save so much time coming up with a rough draft, going back and forth researching, getting stuck etc.

on google docs? more folders!

folders folders folders

separate appropriately and on an easy-to-find basis

Paper Stuff

keep everything

even scrap paper (will be useful later)

own one spacious folder / binder for daily use

how mine is organized according to leafs - schedule / syllabi / transcripts or score sheets / important stuff from uni / review sheets collection / several empty leafs for new courses / assignments to be handed in / returned assignments / graph paper / lab report paper / blank sheets / scrap paper

buy those pack of cheap folders for extra stuff - if you need to hand something in a folder, to hold previous stuff once you empty main binder out, to hold extra stuff at home etc.

label the ones used if you know you can’t differentiate later

organize notebooks according to schedule (if you pair a couple courses in one notebook)

keep recurring stuff within arm’s reach of your study space

keep review sheets / formula sheets of previous courses in your binder if they relate to current courses (ex: i kept my last year’s transport phenomena stuff in my folder because i was taking mass transfer last semester)

Recording Stuff

a small notebook / planner / an app to record assignments and quizzes and exams

one is enough

write the teachers / profs / doctors information on the first day in one place

date everything please

own a pack of extra pens / pencils / a set of stationery so you never have to buy any new stuff for the semester

(i legit buy them in packs and never buy any more for the rest of the semester)

do that on a good month / when the money isn’t tight

(in the middle of vacation is my time)

write everything down

spend a moment of time to make a formulae / questions / review stuff master list(s)

that will help you loads later if you start from the beginning

keep recurring stuff within arm’s reach of your study space

use scrap paper for practicing formulas / questions / review stuff - works better than flashcards if it’s repetitive, and saves time as well

The biggest takeaway from this post I would say is: doing the bare minimum is fine. You don’t need to do a whole lot to be an organized person. I can say that confidently because apparently I built up a rep of being the most organized person in my batch, and I’m just like 🤨🤨🤨

Anyways - the bare minimum is fine. If you have the little things everywhere in place, that’s enough. But!

※ do underestimate yourself

※ if not, you will lose track of your stuff

Here’s to our collective success ⁓

18 notes · View notes

antiquechampagne · 5 years ago

Text

Absolute Zero - Chapter 1

As Angela walked up to the metal door, its presence punctuated by a garish glowing neon arrow, her heart felt like it would blow out of her chest. Goodneighbor. She clutched her thick three ring binder before her, hoping it would give her the strength she needed. Angela hadn’t traveled here alone from Amherst, but she entered the town on her own.

The door was heavy. Angela struggled with it until a ghoul carrying a tommy gun and wearing a threadbare suit topped with a rust colored fedora helped her open it the rest of the way.

“Welcome to Goodneighbor.” He sounded tired.

Before he could walk away, she quickly thanked him. “Could you also tell me where I could find… the Mayor?”

“If ya wanna talk t’ the boss,” he pointed a scarred finger across the courtyard. “Check out the Old State House.”

She thanked him again, but he had already turned away. Taking a few steps closer, she took in the tall brick building. It was stately, definitely pre-war built, but well taken care of given it’s age. It reminded Angela of some of the ruins she played in as a child, looking for long forgotten books or scraps of pre-war gadgets. Glancing around the square, she saw a friendly ghoul manning a general store. She was more surprised to see an assaultron behind the counter of the other shop, one full of dangerous looking arms. It was early evening, but not many other people were on the street.

Standing in front of the State House, Angela took a moment to straighten her bangs, combing her fingers through her chin length blond hair. She wiped some hot sweat from her forehead. Her nerves were shot, but she had to go through with it. It was the only way.

Once inside she was directed to the second floor. She wasn’t sure what to expect. All Angela knew about the mayor of Goodneighbor was that he was a ghoul with a taste for chems. She wasn’t expecting a man clad in a long red coat playing chess with a rather serious looking woman.

“Looks like we have a new guest, Fahr! And this little lady has balls!” He picked a hat off the table as he rose and plunked it squarely over his deeply ridged scalp.

She found herself staring at the hole that had once been a nose as she spoke. “I…I didn’t mean to intrude, Mr. Mayor…” Angela had never been this close to a ghoul before, much less talked to one for so long. Sure, there had been a few ghoul traders around, but she was never directly involved in any commerce activity.

The Mayor drew closer to her, a cocky smirk on his face. “Oh, now don’t be shy, sister! We’re all friends here, right?” He motioned to a pair of sofas in the middle of the large room. Angela had always been on the shorter side, but the Mayor’s bombastic personality made him seem even taller than his average stature. Sitting down across from him did little to lessen it. Angela felt like she was shrinking under his gaze.

“Now, what can this old ghoul do for you today.”

Angela thought he sounded almost predatory. The glowering giant woman with a mohawk standing behind the couch wasn’t helping. She closed her eyes and pictured her family in her head. Releasing her breath, she began.

“Mr. Mayor… my name is Angela. I came east looking for someone who might be in need of my particular set of skills and I heard Goodneighbor would be a perfect fit.”

He cocked a smooth hairless eyebrow. “Oh, really? And what would those skills be?” the Mayor purred, leaned forward on his knees.

Angela opened her binder, leafing through the notebooks, papers and pamphlets stored within. “I am a trained scientist, specializing in pharmacological chemistry. I can synthesize chems of all sorts, medicinal, recreational, even chemical warfare. I’ve spent the past 10 years collecting every formula and recipe I could get my hands on.” The ghoul was leaning farther over, trying to glimpse at the treats she teased in her pages. This was going well. “Get me in a lab with the ingredients I need, and I’ll make you whatever you want.”

The Mayor leaned back in his seat again and glanced up at Fahr, another smile teasing the edges of his deformed lips. “That is quite the compelling sales pitch you have there, especially with the issues we’ve been having lately... but how do I know you can actually deliver? Not many actual scientists around these days… unless you’ve defected from the Institute.”

Angela had no idea what this ‘Institute’ was, but from the way he spoke, it wasn’t a popular around these parts. “I grew up in the ruins of an old university out in the Amherst wasteland. My mom was the town doctor, but I was more interested in books than bodies.”

The ghoul rubbed his chin, seemingly unimpressed.

“Put me to the test, then.” If what she had heard was true, this gamble was worth the risk. “Pick out anything, give me the means to make it, and see what you think.”

“You’re kidding, right?” The woman piped up. “You come in here, and then demand caps from us… just to waste on some flaky science experiment? Throw this pipsqueak out on her ass, boss. We’ve got better things to do.”

“I barely got here with the shirt on my back! Cut me some slack!”

“Now hold on a second,” The Mayor raised his hand. “I think we can work something out.” He spread his hand over Angela’s binder, turning it towards him as he spoke. “I’ll pick a treat from the cookie jar, here… and if Squeaky here can deliver we can have some more negotiations. If not, then I get to keep the recipe.” He stared at her, freezing her to the spot. “Deal?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Deal.”

Opening the binder to what appeared to be a random page, the Mayor read the title.

“Rocket? Never heard of it. Sounds fun!”

Twenty minutes later the pair led her to the dingy basement of the local hotel, a small crate clutched in her hand, the cola bottle clinking together between the box of Abraxo soap and Jet canisters.

“Hey, Fred,” called Mayor Hancock. “Mrs. Angela here is going to use your bench for a little while.”

A drowsy face popped out from a side room. “Yeah, well… you might want to check upstairs with that. Marowski might not like that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have a little chat with him right now.” He turned to Angela. “In the meantime, why don’t you get set up.”

The lab was set up in the middle of the large basement. She wished she had more light but began to unload and organize on the counter when Fred appeared next to her. She tried to ignore him.

“Sooo… whatcha cookin’?” His wide watery eyes tracing over the bottles and boxes. He reached out but Angela quickly slapped his hand away from the Nuka-Cola. “Jeeze, sorry man. You don’t have to be like that. I’m just curious.”

Angela placed her binder on the bench top, her hand firmly holding the cover down. She didn’t want anything of hers wandering away while she wasn’t looking.

“Oooh, what’s that?” Fred asked, peering around her with a little hungry smile.

“Mine.” She glared at him. She was already on edge with the pressure of synthesizing chems in an unfamiliar lab, but now she had to be on her guard against possible sabotage. Great.

Just then, Hancock and Fahrenheit came down the stairs. “Okay, a few caps and that’s all squared away. You have an hour. Show us what ya got.”

“Hey, wait a minute there!” Fred stood up tall, puffing out his chest. “Are you guys looking to replace good ol’ Fred?” He shoulders hunched a little. “Say it ain’t so, Mayor?!”

The Mayor threw an arm around the greying chem dealer’s shoulder. “Nah, man. That’s not it at all. You know, with those raiders pouring out from Nuka-World it’s been hard getting a steady supply. Think of her as a possible assistant. This,” he spread his other hand out wide. “is her interview.”

Fred considered the news.

“Besides,” the ghoul continued. “You’ll get to try her goodies out… and it looks like she’s got a couple of aces up her sleeve.” He let Fred go and started towards the stairs.

“Oh, and Fred?” he looked back. “Leave her alone… she’s got work to do.”

Author’s Notes: I have decided to not put chapter titles with this fic and see how I feel about it.

#new fic #absolute zero #fan fic #fan fiction #goodneighbor #john hancock #hancock #fahrenheit #fallout #fallout 4 #chems

15 notes · View notes

dandelionflower · 5 years ago

Text

Magic AU

Chapter 6

As Marinette pushed herself out of her loft, the wind through her hair, she only had one thought: I need to have a better way to hide my identity than just a mask.

There was a bright flash of light and a scream.

Okay, costume ideas later.

She perched on a roof and assessed the woman tearing through the streets.

Purple hair, black jumpsuit, on fire lab coat, giant pen. Yes, definitely a villain. She pointed her pen in the air.

“Submit yourself to grading! Are you Cursed or Blessed? Only the Grademaker can decide!”

“So her name is Grademaker…” she mused, watching her stomp down a corner.

“That’s Ms. Mendeleiev, the teacher for the Cursed in one of the nearby schools.”

Marinette screamed and almost toppled off of the roof before Cataclysm grabbed her hand and hulled her back up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t paying attention.” Her eyes trailed over his new costume. “Nice suit, by the way.”

“Yes, it certainly fits what I’m going for.” He fished in his pocket. “Speaking of, I have one for you as well.” He handed her a ribbon. “Just tie it on your wrist or ankle.”

She took the ribbon and wrapped it around one of her pigtails. Instantly a glow enveloped her, shifting her clothes until she looked like a genuine hero.

It was mostly brown, with patches of a more gold-like color on her toes, elbows, knees, and the tips of her skirt. The skirt was open in the front, allowing for better maneuvering, and had a reddish belt that she immediately clipped her baton to. Her collar was black with a white cotton ball hanging off of it.

She leapt up, doing a full spin in the air before she landed. “I love it! Thanks, Cataclysm!”

“A good friend of mine made it. Now, let’s go, Grademaker isn’t waiting for us.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

She extended her baton, flying through the skies, as Cataclysm wrapped his yo-yo on a gargoyle and swung alongside her.

————————

They both crouched behind a chimney and watched as Grademaker interrogated citizens.

“You! What’s your ability?”

The girl, who could only have been about six, quivered. “I can make little stars…”

“Blessed.” Grademaker pointed her pen at the girl and a red circle flew out of it. It floated just above the girls head before glowing gold. “‘A’ plus. And your mother?” She narrowed her eyes.

The mother stepped forward. “I can bend and twist metal with my mind.”

Grademaker reeeled back. “Disfigurement Of metal? Cursed!” She shrieked as a red ‘X’ flew out of her pen. “An ‘F’ if I ever saw one.” The ‘X’ attached itself to the woman back, wrapping itself around her arms, trapping them at her sides.

Cataclysm glanced at her and nodded. Marinette jumped from her hiding place and slammed her staff on the pen, just before another grade flew out of it.

“Ah, Lucky Charm! The power of creation. Blessed. I’m afraid, though, that your association with that Cursed has lowered your grade.” Another circle flew from the pen. This time, it flew around Marinette’s waist and circled it like a hula hoop. Then, it snapped shut, slamming Marinette’s hands to her sides.

“Hawkmoth wants to used you for something.” She winked her nose. “He wants Cataclysm too, but for what he would need that Cursed for, I don’t know.” Just before Grademaker grabbed Marinette, the string of a yo-yo wrapped around her waist and pulled her up next to Cataclysm.

“Sorry,” he smirked, “I don’t think we’re going anywhere.” He placed a hand on the circle entrapping her, and it disintegrated into dust. “Summon a shield and get the pen out of her hands,” he muttered, wincing at the sound of Grademaker’s offended shouts, “I’ll distract her.”

With that he ran off, still shouting. “Hey, Ms. Mendeleiev! How would you grade this?” He slid his hands against the halo and the ‘X,’ crumbling them both to dust.

Marinette threw her hands in the air just in time to catch the shield she created. It was all silver with a green four leaf clover on it. Cute.

She began prowling behind Grademaker, watching as her shots against Cataclysm became more and more frantic. She growled to herself as the pen kept moving just out of reach.

Suddenly, there was a shout and Cataclysm fell to the ground as multiple ‘X’s tied him up. Grademaker smiled wickedly as she clicked her pen, tightening his bonds. “Goodbye Cataclysm.” She hissed as the ‘X’s began to glow a searing red.

But just as smoke began coming from Cataclysm’s costume, a piercing shriek came from nowhere. Glass shattered, falling to the ground. Marinette scanned around wildly, searching for the source of the deadly sound.

There! Behind a garbage can, a girl in Felix’s class. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she yelled.

Marinette’s eyes darted back to Cataclysm, who had an enormous smile on his face as two other kids from Felix’s class rushed to his side. They exchange a few words and the kid with the green cap taps the ‘X’ and it morphs into a red bear that begins to bob slowly to a news stand and chew on the paper.

Cataclysm flipped to his feet, and swung his yo-yo at Grademaker’s hand. The pen flipped around in the air, and Marinette trained the point of her staff at it and extended it, pushing the pen towards Cataclysm.

His yo-yo wrapped around the maroon pen, and pulled it down to him. With a single tap, the pen disintegrated and a violet butterfly trailed lazily out of it. Cataclysm patiently held out his hand and darkness flew from the departing butterfly into his gloved palm.

He glanced at Marinette and nodded. She threw her hands in the air and felt the magic of her power fill the air and melt away her bruises. She opened her eyes just as Cataclysm’s dark firework faded away into the sky.

She held out her fist for a fist bump, and wasn’t disappointed. “See you next time.”

“Of course.” However, instead of leaving, Cataclysm turned to the students who saved him.

She waved to them and extended her staff into the air, flying over the rooftops and landing into her open balcony window, tearing off her ribbon and shifting her staff into a hair clip and sliding it into her hair.

The trapdoor began to cream open, and Marinette grinned. “Hey, Felix! So, the thing I needed to do didn’t turn out to be such a big deal anyway.”

When the door opened entirely, she saw that it wasn’t Felix at all, it was her papa.

“Hon, your mask is on.” He pointed, a tiny smile on his face.

“Oh!” She slipped the mask off her face and into her bag, right next to the ribbon. “Thanks Papa!”

“No problem, Lucky Charm.” He winked. “I just wanted to let you know Felix went out for a bit. He’ll be back in a bit and he’s excited to see your designs.”

“Alright.” She began pulling out notebooks and fabric samples, her mind wandering back to those three kids and how they were willing to risk their lives for Cataclysm and her, but no ‘Blessed’ had.

Odd.

…………

The rest

@drama-queen-supreme

@synnesstra

@evil-cricket

@thewingting

@tiny-brie

#magic au #felinette #ml felix #mlb #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #ml marinette #felix culpa #ml au #ms mendeleiev #ml mendeleiev #quantic kids #ml allegra #ml mercury #ml claude #a scribble

196 notes · View notes

therainroguefanfiction · 5 years ago

Text

⚘ Ol’ Switcharoo (Hajime Iwaizumi)

Genre: Slice of Life, Friendship, Fluff, Mystery

Word Count: 4,501

Pairing: Reader x Iwaizumi

World: Haikyuu

Prompt(s): A makes a potion but trips, spilling it all over B. / “I’m not cold in the least.” / Nerd-Jock AU

Author’s Note: This was written for the weekly-prompt (08/06/20) over on @hqbookclub ‘s discord server – you should check it out if you haven’t

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

You looked at the white tabletop, eyes scanning each ingredient and mentally ticking them off the list as you went. When you were sure that you had everything you needed, you took out your phone and pulled up the video you needed, propping it up against an empty glass bottle before pressing play.

The video was an episode of Axis Powers Hetalia where England was crafting a potion in his basement. He claimed that this potion would make anyone who drank it fall in love with the first person they saw. The thought that you could make Iwaizumi fall for you with just the sip of a potion you created had you giddy with excitement and you didn’t even consider the possibility that it could backfire, potentially going horribly wrong.

You pushed up your glasses with your middle finger, copying what England did with careful measurements – which was a bit difficult considering he didn’t mention what any of the ingredients were, nor did he measure them, but you were one of the smartest kids Aobajohsai had to offer. Using context clues, you determined what he was using and how much and you did not deviate from the list you had made. The contents of the glass bottle was a deep, cherry red with ice-cold smoke pouring over the top of the bottle, quite similar to dry ice.

It was just like England’s potion and you felt excitement bubbling within you as you poured in exactly two teaspoons of lime juice. The liquid bubbled up, changing to a rich shade of dark blue. The smell was atrocious, smelling like rotten fruit that had been sitting out in the sun for a few weeks. Your stomach turned at the thought and you were thankful you had skipped lunch in favor of working on the potion.

You grabbed a white mask from the supply cupboard to block some of the smell, something you should have done before even beginning to work on it, but it had slipped your mind in your excitement. ‘Now I just have to let it sit for twenty minutes over a roaring flame!’ Cranking the heat on the burner up, you settled down onto the wooden stool.

It was Sunday and, while there were no classes, the school remained open for students that wanted to work on projects or study for upcoming exams. Very few students took advantage of this, wanting to be anywhere but at school on the weekends, but you loved to learn so the school acted as a second home for you.

Twenty minutes passed by slowly and when the timer on your phone finally rang, you sprung off the stool, turning the heat off before carefully removing the bottle with a heat-resistant glove. The liquid was now a deep blurple and, though the smell of rotting fruit was still present, it now had a sweet-smelling overtone as if someone had dumped fresh fruit on top of the rotting ones.

How were you supposed to get him to drink something that smelled so foul? There’s no way he’d trust it. Maybe you could slip it into his sports drink during practice? Yes, that seemed like a good option! After the bottle cooled, wrapped your fingers around the slim neck and excitedly headed for the door. Again, the excitement made you overlook two very important things.

The first was the fact that you had forgotten to put a cork in the bottle to ensure that no liquid spilled accidentally. The second was the fact that you should never run with an open bottle of questionable liquid.

As the door slid open, you were unable to stop your momentum, running straight into the very object of your affections – Iwaizumi Hajime. The bottle jumped out of your hands, the liquid spilling all over both of you before the bottle clattered to the ground, surprisingly unbroken.

As the liquid seeped into your clothes, wrapping around you like a second layer of skin, your body got very cold. It was like you had just stepped into a walk-in freezer at the back of a supermarket. Your eyes clamped shut, arms wrapping tight around your body as you attempted to preserve what little bit of warmth was left.

Iwaizumi released a shaky breath, forming a small cloud of smoke from the change in his body temperature. He was feeling the effects too, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as you seemed to be taking it. “A-Are you o-o-okay, Y/N-san?”

“Y-Y-Yes, why do you – do you a-ask?” You stuttered, your teeth chattering almost violently.

“You’re – you’re sha-a-king-g-g,” he stuttered back, rubbing his arms to try and generate heat. What the hell was going on? What horrid thing had you created within this lab? He was scared to ask.

“I-I-I’m not co-co-cold in the – in the l-least!” You tried to smile, but it was clearly forced. Your body was shaking like a leaf on a windy autumn day.

“Y-Yeah right,” he huffed, trying to control the shaking of his own body. Feeling concerned for not only himself but for you, as well, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly to try and warm both of you and it seemed to be working. Your hands clutched at his shirt tightly, burying your face in his neck as the cold slowly started to work its way from your bones.

Iwaizumi was like a warm blanket on a cold winter morning, so comforting that you forgot the rest of the world even existed. It was a wonderful feeling and, while you had imagined what it would feel like so many times in the past to be held by him, it certainly did not disappoint. You were fully content just staying like that forever, snuggled within his body with your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, able to feel his toned muscles through the fabric of his thin shirt.

“Uh, Y/N-san. You can let go now,”

His voice brought you crashing back to reality and you noticed that neither of you were shaking anymore. While you were reluctant to do so, you finally released your hold on him, taking a step back while readjusting the glasses on your face. “I’m really sorry Iwaizumi-san!”

He frowned, rubbing at his arm before turning his attention to the floor. The strange liquid was completely gone, but the smell still lingered in the air, making him wrinkle his nose. “What the hell was that stuff?”

“Oh! It was a lo -” You slapped your hand over your mouth, giggling nervously when he quirked a brow. “A, uhhh, low grade fever reducer – yes, let’s go with that! Anywho, did you need something?”

“We have a project to work on, remember? I’m skipping practice to get this done, so let’s not waste time.”

“Of course! Let me grab my bag and I’ll meet you in the library.” You offered him a smile, which he returned with a nod before turning and leaving the room. As soon as he was out of sight, your bubbly demeanor deflated. You had put so much effort into that potion and some of the ingredients were harder to come by and thanks to your reckless excitement, it was ruined.

Maybe it was fate’s way of telling you the relationship wasn’t meant to be. Or perhaps it was karma for trying to force him into loving you. Either way, your mood had definitely taken a nosedive, but you would put on a fake smile for Iwaizumi because that’s what he deserved.

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

When you woke up the next morning to get ready for school, your mood hadn’t improved much. Although you had gotten to spend time with Iwaizumi for several hours, neither of you really talked much unless it was about a project, but that was how it always was because you really had nothing in common.

While he was athletic and outgoing, surrounded by people and in love with playing Volleyball, you were quite the opposite. You preferred books over humans and didn’t like talking to someone that didn’t share your views on how important getting good grades was for the future, plus you couldn’t play a sport to save your life. Even so, you had fallen hard for the third-year and just wanted to be near him.

You picked up your glasses and slipped them onto your face, only for your vision to go completely blurry, a wave of nausea washing over you. You pulled them off in a confused flurry, eyes widening when your vision cleared up. You were absolutely positive that poor sight didn’t just magically fix itself overnight.

‘Wait… magic? Ah, the potion!’ Your mind started to work overtime as you started to pace around your room. ‘Did I make a mistake? No, I’m positive that I used all of the correct ingredients and measurements. Perhaps when it touches the skin, it has a different effect? Or it could be as simple as a bug flying into the mixture when I looked away. Hmm, I should research this and try to recreate it.’ You reached for your notebook to take notes but you paused. ‘Next time with a heating blanket,’

After getting changed and grabbing your bag, you rushed out of the house toward school, your mind running wild with thoughts and questions about yesterday’s events. When you got to school, however, you found Iwaizumi standing outside the school gate, his eyes squinted as he watched the other students passing by.

“Good morning, Iwai -”

“What did you do?” He demanded, taking you by the arm to pull you away from the other students who had turned to look after his outburst.

“W-What?” Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Why do you keep squinting?”

“I can’t see!” He scowled, rubbing at his eyes. “Everything is all blurry.”

Your eyes widened. ‘No, it can’t be…’ Digging around in your bag, you pulled out the case that housed your glasses. Thankfully, you had brought them just in case your clear vision was a fluke. “Put these on!”

“What? Why?” His lips tugged down as he squinted at the black frames on his palm. “I don’t need glasses.”

“Trust me,” you encouraged, pushing his hand closer to his body.

Iwaizumi was unsure, but he did as you told him, slipping the glasses onto his face. Like magic, his vision was no longer blurry, the only reminder being the headache throbbing within his temple. “What…”

Without warning, you grabbed the bottom of his shirt and tugged it up to reveal his stomach, much to his displeasure. His cheeks burned and he pushed your hand away, asking you what the hell you were doing, but your mind was far too distracted to hear his words. His stomach, once full of muscle and a very defined six pack, was now flat. In your excited haste that morning, you hadn’t noticed the change in your own body mass, but now that your mind was slowly piecing together the mess that was your current existence, you realized that your stomach was now full of muscle, along with your arms and legs.

“Oh… Oh no…”

“What the hell is happening, Y/N?” He proped, watching your face as it morphed into a million different expressions, your hand on your chin as you started to pace back and forth. “Oi, are you even listening to me?”

No, you weren’t.

“How is this possible?” You muttered to yourself, barely audible. “I was wrong, the potion doesn’t fix your vision upon skin contact, it has a completely different effect. But what is it, exactly? A body switch? But our minds and memories are intact. I wonder…” Your eyes lit up with excitement as you grasped him by the wrist and dragged him toward the gym where the volleyball team was practicing.

“Oi!” He tried to free himself from your grip, but your strength was superior to his now.

You burst into the gym loudly, eyes scanning the team as they all paused to look at you. Oikawa was the first to recover, approaching you with a huff. “Y/N-chan! You’re late for practice. Hurry up and change.” His eyes slid to Iwaizumi and he grinned. “Thanks for making them come to practice, Iwa-chan!”

His mouth opened, but no sound escaped.

“I apologize, Oikawa-san. Iwaizumi-san and I have a really important project coming up so I won’t be at practice. I just needed to check on something.”

“Eh? But -”

You ignored him, dragging the dark haired male with you as you left the gym, the doors slamming behind you. “No, it’s definitely not body swapping. It’s life swapping!”

Iwaizumi massaged his temple with his free hand, feeling like he was currently in a nightmare that he just couldn’t wake up from. “Will you please tell me what’s going on.”

“Oh, right, of course!” You pulled him over to the nearby bench, motioning for him to sit down. “This is all started when I was watching Hetalia. Iggy was making a love potion for this woman that he had a crush on and the recipe seemed quite simple. I took very careful notes, you know. Naturally, I had to try it out myself, not only as a scientific advancement, but because it would be the only way you would ever spare me a second look.”

His eyes widened in surprise at the admission, but you were too wrapped up in your thoughts, pacing back and forth, to notice that you had all but confessed to liking him.

“It took me a week to get everything together and I know I followed the recipe to a T, but something clearly went wrong. My theory is that the liquid has a completely different effect when it comes into contact with skin opposed to being ingested. When I spilled it and it landed on both of us, something must have occurred to make us switch lives. It’s quite curious, because our minds and memories have not been altered, but our physicalities and lives have been changed. Would the same effect still occur if it came into contact with only one person instead of two? This is fascinating!”

His eye twitched, clearing not sharing your sentiments. “That’s great and all, but how do we fix it?”

You hummed thoughtfully, coming to a stop. “Well, I propose that we try it again.”

“Are you telling me that spilling that… potion on us again will reverse the effects?”

“Of course not!” You met his gaze, reaching to push up your glasses only to frown when you remembered that you no longer needed them. It was a strange sensation – they had become like an extra limb to you after all of the years you had worn them and even now, it was like you could feel them perched upon your nose. You cleared your throat. “The probability of that working is only about twenty percent. However, since the potion got us into this mess, it’s certainly possible that it can get us out. We have no other options at this point.”

“You said it took you a week to get the ingredients… so we have to stay like this a week?” He really hoped that wasn’t the case. Even now, he just wanted to get into the gym and play volleyball with the rest of his team, but he doubted he could with the lack of muscle he now had. His body felt clumsy and he was positive that he wouldn’t even be able to keep up with the slowest members of the team.

“Actually, I planned ahead and ordered extra ingredients on the rare chance that I messed up the potion. There’s one ingredient I didn’t get, though.”

Iwaizumi assumed it was a super rare ingredient since you didn’t get more of it and that worried him. “What is it? How long will it take to order it?”

“Oh, we don’t have to order it. We just have to visit the grocery store!”

“The… grocery store?”

“Yup! The only ingredient I’m missing is a lime. I suppose it is possible that the school kitchen has one somewhere, but I believe that would raise unnecessary questions. We will have to wait until school ends, though, since I have to use the school’s laboratory in order to properly craft it.”

Iwaizumi found himself deadpanning. He was no expert, but he had never heard of a lime being an ingredient in a potion, especially not one that was meant to capture someone’s affections. That thought brought color to his cheeks and he turned his attention to observe you. ‘I never thought Y/N liked me. They never showed any signs of wanting to be anything more than just friends.’

The bell rang out, signaling the start of homeroom and you squeaked in surprise. “We’re going to be late! I’ll meet you in the laboratory after school!” You offered him a bright smile before taking off, surprised by how fast you could now run.

He didn’t move from his spot on the bench, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back, the warm breeze ruffling his hair.

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

You hummed contently as you carefully set out the ingredients for the potion, double checking to make sure you had everything you needed to recreate it perfectly. Now you just needed to wait for Iwaizumi to return with the lime and you could get started. Even though you remembered the formula by heart, you still set up your phone with the video just for extra protection.

“I’m back,” Iwaizumi entered the room with a small plastic bag in his hand. “I bought five just to be safe.”

“Thinking ahead!” You grinned, accepting the bag from his hand, heart skipping a beat when your fingers brushed against his. You cleared your throat, quickly turning around to set the bag on the counter. While you got to work creating another potion, Iwaizumi settled himself at the table behind you, watching you curiously as you worked. He noticed the way your tongue stuck out of the corner of your mouth when you were measuring something, the way your eyes sparkled once you got the desired effect.

These were things he had always noticed about you, among the other quirks that you had. Truth be told, he had been watching you since you were both first years. Your intelligence was so beautiful to him and he wanted to get to know you, but he worried that he wouldn’t be smart enough to keep you entertained or happy, so he didn’t get his hopes up and just admired you from afar. To think that you shared his sentiments was unbelievable to him. You had even gone so far as to try and force him to love you with a damn potion.

The thought made him chuckle and you sent him a curious look over your shoulder. He coughed, using his hand to try and hide his warm cheeks. “Sorry, I just remembered a funny joke Shittykawa told the other day.”

You smiled at him before returning to the potion. The smell was beginning to rise up from the smoking liquid, filling the room and making his stomach twist painfully. He had to pull his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose, but you didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it. He wondered if you had gotten used to the smell already or if you were just too focused to notice.

The minutes ticked by in silence and, after what felt like an hour, the potion was cooling on the tabletop. With a proud grin, you pulled the thick gloves from your hands, setting them beside the bottle. “It’s all done! We just have to let it cool off to room temperature before using it.” You plopped a thermometer into the liquid to keep track.

“We have to spill it over ourselves, right?” He winced, remembering how ice-cold he had felt upon contact. It was like death himself was ripping out his soul and he was not looking forward to experiencing that again.

You giggled as he suppressed a shiver and you reached for your bag, pulling a thick blanket from the bottom. “Don’t worry, I was planning on recreating the potion anyway, so I came prepared this time.”

He released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when he saw the brown object. “A heating blanket,”

“Yup! Though I did not anticipate you being here, as well. It should be big enough for both of us!”

The thought of being under the same blanket with you, bodies pressed together to preserve heat, had him feeling some kinda way. He loved the idea and suddenly, being ice-cold again didn’t seem so bad. “Good thinking, Y/N.”

“Thanks!” You beamed at the praise, not even realizing that he had dropped the -san from your name, saying it just a bit softer than he normally would. “Oh, it’s ready! We should re-create the scene just to be sure.”

“Can’t we just -”

“No, we have to do it exactly the same way.” You responded firmly. “Go out into the hall, standing five lockers down from the door. Start counting as soon as you leave the room and open the door on ten. Understand?”

He nodded, pulling himself to his feet.

One.

Two.

Three.

You turned on the heating blanket, setting it by the door so it would be ready for the two of you.

Four.

Five.

Six.

You carefully picked up the bottle in your hands, cradling it like a fragile creature.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

The door swung open as you approached it quickly, the two of you colliding just as you had the day before. The bottle slipped from your hands, the liquid sloshing out and covering both of you, quickly seeping into your clothes and chilling you to the bone. The difference this time was that the bottle shattered upon hitting the floor, spraying glass across the room.

“S-S-Shit,” you cursed, throwing your arms around yourself as the cold reached to your bones. Iwaizumi grabbed the blanket, trying to control his shaking hands as he wrapped it around your shoulders before pulling you into his body, allowing you to wrap it around behind him. Even on the highest setting, you could still feel the chill hanging over you. “I fe-el dizzy.”

“Me t-too,” he breathed out, seeing his breath in a cloud of smoke. A wave of nausea came over the two of you, spots appearing inside your vision before darkness claimed you. He tried to keep himself together, holding you up, but he too succumbed to the darkness, both of you crumbling to the floor in each other’s arms.

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

Iwaizumi felt someone shaking him and he groaned, reaching for his throbbing head. He felt like he was coming out of a thick fog, his body heavy as it was roused from sleep. ‘What the hell was that dream? And why do I feel so hot?’

“Iwa-chan!”

His eyes cracked open, finding Oikawa leaning over him with a worried look on his face.

“Are you okay? And why are you wearing glasses?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The male scoffed, pushing him away and slowly sitting up. Upon doing so, the heating blanket slipped down, exposing his warm flesh to the cool air coming in through the open window. ‘That explains the heat, but doesn’t explain the glasses.’ He pulled them from his face, rubbing at his eyes.

“You and Y/N-san passed out,” Oikawa responded with concern, glancing at you on the floor beside him, still unconscious. “I was walking by when I heard glass shatter, then I found the two of you on the floor!”

Iwaizumi panicked, turning his body toward you as he gently shook your body. “Y/N? Wake up!”

You started to stir, a soft groan passing your lips as your eyes cracked open, squinting up at the blurry face above you. With a softness that surprised you, he carefully put your glasses on your face, clearing up your vision so you could see the worried expression marring his beautiful face. “Iwaizumi-san? What happened?”

Oikawa huffed, “That’s what I want to know! What crazy experiments were you doing, Y/N-san?”

“Experiments…?” The past two days rushed through your mind like a movie on times-two speed, eyes widening as you turned toward the dark-haired boy, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and lifting it up almost violently. You were greeted with his abs, sculpted after years of playing volleyball.

With red cheeks, he smacked your hands away, forcing his shirt back down. “Will you stop doing that!”

Oikawa quirked a brow, an amused smirk playing on his lips. “If you wanted to see abs, Y/N-san, you could have just asked me. I don’t mind sharing~” He grabbed for the hem of his shirt but Iwaizumi made a strangled noise, putting himself between the two of you so you wouldn’t see it. His abs were the only ones he wanted you to see.

“Your concern is noted, Shittykawa, now go away!”

“How rude, Iwa-chan!” But the boy obeyed, sticking his tongue out before turning to leave the room.

“Your abs are back, and my bad vision is back.” You chirped happily, readjusting the black frames when they started to slip down your nose. “It looks like it worked! I wonder why we passed out this time, though. How fascinating!” You pulled yourself to your feet, looking over the shattered glass on the floor. “Surely smashing the glass couldn’t have altered it that drastically. Is this the butterfly effect? I must research this some more!”

You tried to head over to the table where the ingredients were but Iwaizumi grabbed your wrist to stop you, tugging you backward. You didn’t have a chance to speak before you were wrapped in his arms, his hand on the back of your head. For a moment, you just stood there in surprise, unsure of how to react. It was one thing for him to hug you to try to preserve warmth, but it was completely different for him to suddenly hug you without just cause.

“Iwai -”

“Hajime,” he stated, his breath making your hair shift. “Call me Hajime.”

Your cheeks lit up at the thought of being allowed to use his first name. “Hajime-san… what are you doing?”

“For someone so smart, you can be really dumb.” He commented with a chuckle, pulling back just enough for his forehead to rest against your own. His eyes were soft and full of love as they met yours. “You didn’t need some silly potion to win my heart, you already had it.”

Before you could process the declaration, his lips met yours and you practically melted in his embrace, hand going to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. It didn’t matter if you weren’t as athletic as him, or if he wasn’t as smart as you. The two of you made up for what the other one lacked, and that was more than enough for the two of you.

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

6 notes · View notes

killervibe · 6 years ago

Text

There Are No Secrets That Time May Not Reveal

Written for 12 Days of Killervibe

Summary: A thanksgiving killervibe 5x07 missing scenes fic.

You can also read my fic on ao3, with the same username thatkillervibe

Barry is caught off-guard when Cisco knocked on their door the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. “Hey man,” He said, opening the door. He turned to look at Iris who shrugged at their table, equally curious. “Hi Cisco!” “Hey Iris,” he said, then lowered his voice. “Barry, can we talk alone?” Barry frowned, “Is there an emergency?” “No,” Cisco reassured, “Nothing like that, um,” He peered over Barry’s shoulder where Iris was still watching them. “Can we take a walk?” “Sure,” Barry grabbed his coat and keys and told Iris he would be back soon.

They’re halfway down the block, shoving their cold hands into their pockets, pretending they’re not cold when Cisco finally said, “It’s back.” “What’s back?” Cisco shot Barry a look, a timid, uneasy one, and suddenly Barry understood everything.

“Oh,” he said. "That.” It shouldn’t have been that surprising. Barry knew for quite some time about Cisco’s on again off again feelings for Caitlin. Years, actually, and yes he will always be Caitlin’s best friend, but the way he pushed and pushed with her dad... “Yeah,” Cisco sighed, then elaborated, “I guess they never really went away? I just buried them under because I had to. Because of Cynthia, y’know.” “...Right.” “But I can’t now. I think it’s showing too much. I don’t know what to do.” Barry said what he does every time they have this conversation. “I think you should tell her, Cisco.” He scrunched up his face, as if already anticipating the pain that would bring. “You love her?” “Yeah,” he breathed, then looked down, nodding. “Oh God, Barry. Yeah. I wanted to murder her father. I wanted to vibe her far away and swaddle her in bubble wrap to keep her safe.“ Barry gave him a wry smile, “Yeah, I know the feeling. But, this is Caitlin we’re talking about. Whether or not she loves you the same way, she does still love you, and she’ll listen to you.” Cisco didn’t say anything, squinting up at the moon. “And Caitlin’s been single for a while...” “Barry. ” Barry threw his hands up in defense, “I’m just saying.” “Yeah...” Cisco trailed off, “I don’t know. We’re closer than we’ve ever been, but something still feels off. Like, I’m not what she needs right now.” Barry’s face softened.

“But I need her.”

“You still have her,” Barry reminded Cisco gently.

Cisco didn’t look at him. “I know.” “So,” Cisco said after they walked around the block. “I need your advice. I need you to make sure I don’t, y’know, go overboard or become crazy obvious. Like, I need you to tell me when to reel it in. I'm having trouble with it.” “...You want me to watch you two?” Cisco kicked at a pebble. “Yeah, I know how it sounds.” He stopped and touched Barry’s jacket arm. “Would you do it anyway? Please?” Of course Barry will. Caitlin might be Cisco’s best friend, but Cisco was his. “Of course.” Just those words alone seemed to give Cisco some peace.

“Thank you,” he said with feeling.

“It’s different this time, isn’t it?” Barry couldn’t help but ask. Because, yeah, Cisco crushing on Caitlin happened sometimes, but it didn’t get him like this.

“She’s my Iris,” Cisco said simply. “I know she is. I just don’t think I’m her Barry.”

Barry thought, if Cisco really was that far deep, this job that was asked of him is going to be a little harder than he thought.

So. Killer Frost may have been right. Thanksgiving at the West-Allens’ was where they belonged. Not getting pity-drunk by themselves at Star Labs. But still, ever since Sherloque flung out his shitty year at him, he’s been a bit in a mood.

Cisco sat on the couch as they waited for the turkey to do its final minutes of cooking, watching Killer Frost have a blast with Sherloque and Barry. He emptied the last drops of red wine onto his tongue and tried not to think about how Killer Frost’s curls were falling against Caitlin’s blouse. Nora approached Cisco with her notebook in hand. “Hey, can I sit next to you?” “Sure, baby flash,” Cisco said, scooting to the left to give her more room, “take a seat.” “So...” Nora started, “Don’t get mad at Dad, but,” she lowered her volume and leaned her head toward his.

“He told me about your dilemma....” Nora jerked her head in Killer Frost’s direction. Cisco sighed deeply, and watched as she began leafing through her special notebook. “If you’re here to show me the picture of Caitlin’s future husband, I’d really appreciate wallowing in peace without literal proof that I’ll always be a bit hung up on my best friend.” Nora shook her head and gave him a little frown, her big Iris West eyes looking completely wide. “No! No, that would be mean!” Cisco wasn’t stupid. “....So, Caitlin’s future husband is in there....” Nora began to protest, but just like her father, she was particularly bad at lying.

“Yeah,” she eventually whispered, biting her bottom lip.

“Shrap. I’m not supposed to spoil. I was just going to show you the picture that you guys took at my parents’ housewarming party. This one.”

She pointed at a familiar picture. The one where Caitlin was wearing that velvet green dress and her head was tipped against his. When he gave her the snowflake power dampening necklace and tried to fight his conflicting feelings about Julian’s sudden interest in Caitlin. “I wanted to remind you that Caitlin will always be your best friend, and for that you should be thankful, because, I would kill to have a Cisco to my Caitlin.” Cisco put a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have a best friend? No ride or die?” Nora shrugged. “I have friends, but I guess it’s not so hard to see why I’m reluctant to go back, huh?” Cisco gave her a hug. “Oh gosh, you’re going to be an adorable kid. I can’t wait.” Nora smiled ruefully. “You always were one of my favourite uncles.” Cisco tilted his head to the side. “You only have one. Wally.” “But you made all the best toys!” That made Cisco cackle. “And that’s not true! I did grow up knowing you as my uncle. Uncle Cisco, Uncle Ralph, Uncle Harry.” “Oh god,” Cisco groaned, still chuckling. But she was right, he did have family, right here, and for that he should be forever grateful. “Okay,” Cisco said, a few minutes later. “Show me Caitlin’s guy.” Nora looked uncomfortable again. “You sure?” Cisco took a deep breath, clapping his thigh. “I’m a big boy, I can take it. I did once before. Just—Please tell me I’m at least friends with him.”

It might have been unrealistic to expect them to be as close as he was with Ronnie, but, it would be nice to know future Cisco actually approves.

Maybe he could move on for good, this way. Nora made a funny face. “I’d say you know him well.” “Oh,” Cisco let out. “Good.” Nora flipped through her notebook close to her chest and slowly opened it at the correct page. She looked at him, then back at Killer Frost talking animatedly with Iris. “Here,” she said softly, pushing the brown leather book into his hands. Cisco stared down at the photograph. And stared. And stared. And stared. “Cisco?” He felt like he was about to have a heart attack.

Because it wasn’t just Caitlin in red lipstick and a beautiful wedding dress. It was him in a tuxedo standing next to her, unmistakably looking like he just married the love of his life. His grip loosened on the book, and he’s suddenly blinking back tears. “No,” He whispered, in absolute disbelief. His fingers touched the plastic film over the photograph, right over his beaming face. Nora’s thumbnail was in her mouth, gauging his reaction. “Uh huh.” “Nora, I—“ “It’s real.” She told him. “That’s the future. It’s going to happen.” “What’s going to happen?” Caitlin asked, popping out of nowhere. Cisco jumped out of his skin as Nora snatched her book and flashed it closed.

Cisco was surprisingly quick on his feet.

“Nora was just telling me she’s going to find our embarrassing photos to put in her notebook.”

“Ha,” Caitlin laughed, sitting in the space between them on the couch. “There’s no such thing as an embarrassing picture with me in it.” Cisco’s mind was still floating with her hair in a veil and arms around his neck, looking like a goddess. “There sure as hell isn’t,” he agreed, his voice a little too dangerously soft. Caitlin flashed him a happy smile and Cisco wanted to kiss her. Caitlin. His future wife. His best friend. Caitlin. Caitlin, who he has had a massive crush on for several long years, who he’s in love with, who he has his most dearest, important relationship with. There’s nothing Barry can do that will save him from himself now. Cisco dared to touch Caitlin’s arm, leaning into her side and getting a whiff of her vanilla perfume. He pulled his hand back.

He can’t do this.

“Hey, I’m going to get a refill of wine. Would you like some?” Caitlin nodded, “Thank you.” “Nora,” he said, “Wanna help?” He sent her a secret look and she got up immediately, following him past the kitchen. “Mom and dad keep the wine in the cabinet,” Nora said, a little confused. Cisco kept walking. “I know,” he replied, strained. “Then why are you taking me to the front door?” Barry must have developed a sixth Daddy sense, because he’s by the doorway looking between the two. “What’s going on here?” He asked, “I was just about to carve the turkey.” “Yeah, that’ll have to wait a minute. Barry, come.” Cisco dragged them both out into the hallway, closing the front door behind him. “Give me your book,” Cisco ordered Nora firmly and she obeyed, giving them a meek look. Cisco’s hands shook as his eyes took in the image again. He wasn’t even embarrassed when his tears start to fall in earnest. He wordlessly jutted the book to Barry, whose jaw dropped to the floor. He didn’t stare at it forever like Cisco did, but his mouth did clench closed, angry at his daughter for Cisco’s sake. “Nora.” “I’m sorry! But isn’t this a good thing? Dad, Cisco was looking miserable! You asked me to cheer him up!” “Yes, Nora, but not like this. The future isn’t certain. We don’t know how any of this will play out. This isn’t cheering Cisco up, look at him! It's doing the opposite! It’ll drive him crazy. He’s going to analyze every minute, every conversation with Caitlin from now on. It has happened to me once when I saw a future I wasn’t supposed to see. We don’t do spoilers! Especially not anyone that is outside me and your mom.” Nora looked properly chided. Cisco interrupted Barry’s dad talk before anyone else started to cry. “Hey, Barry, she didn’t think. And I asked her to show me, we’re both at fault.” Barry ran a hand through his hair. “Cisco, maybe you should tell Caitlin now.” “No!” Cisco exclaimed too loudly, forcing out a bitter laugh. He pointed at Nora’s book. “No. Look, I don’t know how or if that comes about, but I do know if it does, it’s not supposed to happen like this.” Cisco turned to Nora. “You’re taking me back.” “What?” She cried. “Back in time. 20 minutes ago. I continue to wallow in my own feelings secretly and you show me nothing. You don’t ever say anything to anyone either.” Barry made a noise, but closed his eyes and covered his mouth over with his hand as if to prevent himself from talking. Cisco glared at Barry. “It’s twenty minutes. The timeline won’t explode because of twenty minutes.” Barry nodded reluctantly. “Do you know how to time travel that slowly?” He asked his daughter. Nora blinked. “Pretty sure.” “And you, Cisco. You sure you don’t want to just, pretend to forget about it.” Cisco laughed, sounding like a strangled cat. “Is that a joke?” Barry sighed. “Yeah, okay. Nora go back and fix it.” Nora crossed her hands over her shirt, with a very guilty face. “I’m really sorry Uncle Cisco. I was really trying to help.” It was the first time she ever called him that, and yeah, Cisco was having an emotional meltdown, but the poor girl was just so sincere. He stepped forward to give her another comforting hug. “Yeah, sobrina, I know. Thank you. It just isn’t what I need.” “Okay,” she whispered. Cisco was shy to ask Barry for Nora’s notebook again. “I just want to see it,” he explained himself, opening it to the perfect page. “One last time.”

“Hey,” Killer Frost smiled, nudging Cisco’s shoulder. “Want some wine?” Cisco peered into his glace, “Is this chilled?” “Well, mulled wine comes for Christmas. It’s only Thanksgiving.” She winked at him, then walked away to give a glass to Iris. Cisco sat down on the couch, waiting for the turkey to do its final minutes of cooking and watching Killer Frost have a blast with Sherloque and Barry. He tried hard not to think about how Killer Frost’s curls were falling against Caitlin’s blouse.

Nora approached, empty handed. “Hey,” she said cautiously, “Can I sit next to you?” “Sure, baby flash,” Cisco handed her the wine glass and scooted over to the left give her more room, “take a seat.”

#killervibe #thatkillervibe fic #the flash #the flash fic #12daysofkillervibe18 #12daysofkillervibe #angst #5x01 #the flash fanfiction #Cisco ramon #caitlin snow #nora west allen #Barry Allen

57 notes · View notes

chatty-catnoir · 6 years ago

Text

Chemical Reaction

Summary: Adrien and Marinette team up as lab partners for Science class. Conducting experiments for an hour wouldn't cause any trouble...would it? Adrinette one-shot!

Genre: Humor/Romance

Marinette couldn't stop grinning like a dork. She was vaguely aware of Miss Mendeleiv giving instructions on the series of experiments they were about to conduct and how their finals depended upon it. She absently noticed Alya desperately signing her to stop smiling like a love-struck idiot, but she could hardly help it. Her mind was completely focused on Adrien, who was her lab partner for the day.

Oh, how lucky she was to have Adrien, the smartest and most amazing guy, as her lab partner! It was like a dream come true, to be working with Adrien, her crush, and it was all thanks to Alya! Since it was the new school year, the students were allowed to pick new partners, and so, Alya decided to pair up with Nino. Nino, who was in the game with Alya, suggested to Adrien that he, should pick Marinette, since she didn't have a partner yet.

Marinette's heart nearly leaped out of her mouth when Adrien came to her in the locker room before the class began.

"Hey Marinette!" Adrien said with his usual friendliness.

Marinette, who had been talking to Alya, jumped, "Oh um, hey there! Adrien! What brings you here?"

"Nino told me you don't have a partner yet for Science class." Adrien started but was interrupted by Marinette's nervous bumbling.

"Oh yes! It's a great tragedy! I'm so bad at Chemistry; I'm barely passing the tests! And with my luck I would probably get paired with Chloe," Marinette scoffed to herself. "It would be a disaster of great! I mean great disaster. Ugh, what am I saying?" Her shoulders drooped in dismay, while Alya could only face-palm.

"Well, then if it's okay with you, perhaps I could become your partner!" Adrien continued nevertheless.

"Me? Your partner? No way!" Marinette exclaimed in surprise.

"Oh! Then I suppose I'll have to ask someone else." Adrien said apologetically.

"No, I mean, of course I want to be your partner, Adrien!" Marinette quickly covered up.

"That's great! See you in class then!" Adrien winked and went off to his way.

Marinette waved to him dreamily, "Yes, see you in class!"

She snapped out of her trance when she realized that Adrien was saying something to her.

"Did you say something?" she asked.

"I was asking if you could write notes on the plant cells." Adrien repeated patiently.

"Yes, of course! Leave it to me!" Marinette said excitedly and got to work, while Adrien began working on the Oscillating clock reaction. She picked out a leaf and after gently cutting a thin piece of the leaf, she placed it gently onto the glass before adding a drop of water, following the instructions in the book.

She placed the glass under the microscope for observation and pulled out her pink notebook to take notes. All she could see what some swirling patterns of green dotes, shaped like clouds. She continued observing, trying to make sense of the plant cell and drawing its shape on the notebook, when she felt Adrien move close to her. Her breath hitched and a shiver when down her spine when he whispered, "Marinette, there's something you need to know…"

"Um, yes?" Marinette looked up from the microscope, her heart throbbing in anticipation. Before she could let her fantasies run wild, Adrien pulled up the USB plug of the microscope. "I think you're supposed to plug this thing in before you begin your observations."

"Oh…um, right! I totally forgot about that! Thanks!" She smiled nervously as she plugged it in.

"No problem!" Adrien smiled back and returned to his experiment.

Marinette sighed to herself, "Oh, I'm such a dork! I won't be able to survive this!"

"It's okay Marinette! Trust yourself!" Tikki whispered from her little purse.

"Hide Tikki!" Marinette exclaimed, glancing around nervously.

She tried observing the plant cells, but it still didn't make any sense to her. She opened her text book for some clues, but the picture in the book in no way resembled the one she was seeing through the microscope.

"Need any help?" Adrien asked, placing the flask over the stand.

"I followed all the steps, but these plant cells don't make any sense! I just don't know where I'm going wrong! "Marinette explained dejectedly.

Adrien placed a hand over her shoulder encouragingly, "Hey, don't worry! Let me have a look." He bent over the microscope, surprising her. With their faces inches away, Adrien said, "See, you just have to focus on it using this dial," he demonstrated.

She quickly reacted, "I see! Thank you, Adrien!" she smiled nervously.

"You're welcome," Adrien nodded. She used the dial to focus and found the cell matching the images and wrote down her observations.

When Miss Mendeleive came by their desk, she was impressed by Adrien's experiment, the liquid in the flask oscillating from clear, amber, blue and later, a black color. She bent down to see the plant cell and to Marinette's relief, she nodded with approval.

"Looks like we make a good team, eh?" Adrien smiled.

Marinette squealed with excitement internally, "I think so too!" They gave each other a high-five. Marinette couldn't help but feel some connection as their hands met, but she shook off the feeling.

Chloe, who had been observing all this with detest, remarked snobbishly, "I bet you can't do a single experiment without Adrien's help, Marinette Dupain-Cheng! You're just a tiny little klutz!" she laughed wickedly.

Marinette growled, "That is not true!"

"That's not nice, Chloe!" Adrien defended Marinette.

"You're just jealous because your experiment failed!" Alya pointed out at her flask that was frothing all over the desk.

"Jealous of not inheriting her lameness? You wish!" Chloe snickered once again.

"Enough talking, class!" Miss Mendeleive clapped her hands to draw attention. "Now open page 29, we are going to try a new experiment before the class ends."

Marinette angrily flipped the pages of her textbook. "What does she think of herself? She's just jealous that Adrien asked me and not her for being lab partners." She mumbled to herself. "I can do the experiment without anybody's help."

"Now, carefully light the burner and place the flask with water over it." The teacher instructed.

Marinette, fuming with anger, lit the fire and placed the flask over it.

"Don't forget to wear your safety goggles and gloves. We don't want any accidents in this class." The teacher warned and the students followed.

"Marinette, are you okay?" Adrien asked, looking concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine." She said, still burning with rage.

"Now wait till the water boils with tiny bubbles. Till then, keep all the other materials ready."

The class followed all the instructions, including Marinette, who was performing the experiment with great vigor. It was like she was a whole new person all together. The bubbling red chemical seemed to mirror the fire in her blue eyes.

"I don't think we're supposed to get a red colored solution..." Adrien said raising his eyebrows as he flipped through the pages of the textbook. "Let's just start over, okay Marinette? I'll fetch the supplies," He started looking in the drawers of the desk.

"Now mixing sodium generates an exothermic reaction, which means that if you mix it, there will be-"

Marinette, clouded by her anger, swiftly picked up the bottle of sodium to mix it with the smoking solution. Adrien, noticing what she was doing, raised his arm in alarm, "Marinette, wait!"

A huge explosion sounded as the room tremored under its shock. It left a classroom of baffled and sooty students and a teacher, and a very startled Marinette, whose face and lab coat had been blackened by the ashes of the explosion, hair blown back as if she had walked through a windstorm. She took off her goggles that only revealed a pair of heavenly blue eyes twinkling in all innocence.

"-an explosion." Miss Mendeleive finished and sighed.

"Oops?" she smiled a nervous grin.

Adrien couldn't help but burst out laughing, as the whole class joined in, including Marinette. And even though he was made to scrub the desks of the classroom from the disaster along with Marinette, he still looked upon the day fondly and endearingly upon Marinette's beautiful twinkling eyes. He wouldn't want to trade her as partner for anyone else in the class.

a/n: I literally have no about the chemicals but this was really fun to write! This is my first time writing a miraculous fanfiction, so I'm really excited to post this! I hope you like it :)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12775247/1/Chemical-Reaction

#miraculous ladybug #adrinette #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #chat noir #ladybug #mlfanfic #ml #alya cesaire #chloe bourgeois #mystuff

46 notes · View notes

thefatedthoughtofyou · 6 years ago

Text

Some Assembly Required - Video #8 : That’s So Sad... F.R.I.D.A.Y. Play Despacito

Ao3

The screen lights up and shows Sam, Bucky, and Peter sitting on the couch. All facing the camera, they wave in unison and all glance at each other because of it.

“So today’s video is a work of art. Not because it’s good, necessarily.” Sam said.

“Because god knows that our videos are never good. Not really. You guys just like them cuz we’re assholes.” Bucky said, shrugging when Sam frowned at him. Peter laughed and tried to turn it into a cough when Sam frowned at him.

“As I was saying, this video was… a lot of work. A lot of work went into getting all these shots together.” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah and by that he means I hacked into F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s video banks and then Peter cut and edited and did fancy shit to get them all together nicely.” Bucky explained, Peter snorted again and avoided Sam’s glare by glaring at Bucky too. Bucky raised his eyebrows at Peter and he looked into his lap.

“You just can’t let the magic of mystery be there can you? Just gotta tell everyone everything all the time huh?” Sam asked, shaking his head. Bucky smiled and shrugged again.

“It makes you grumpy. That’s why he does it.” Peter said, smiling at Sam and then flinching when Bucky elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh I know. I am well aware of his assholish ways. Now, ” Sam said, his frown increasing as he glared at Bucky for a moment longer,

“Can we get on with this?” he asked, his hand motioning to the camera. Bucky lifted his hands in mock surrender and motioned for Sam to continue. Sam huffed and looked back to the camera, pouting.

“Oh forget it, this video took forever to make because we had to steal footage from F.R.I.D.A.Y. and mash it all together. Enjoy!” Sam said, and began reaching for the camera.

“All the footage was taken over a few months! Just so you know how long its been going on - aah!!!” Peter said in a rush, peaking over Sam’s shoulder, yelling when Bucky pulled him backwards off of Sam. Sam’s eyes rolled before the screen went black.

~***~

The camera angle is higher than normal, clearly taken from a camera in Tony’s lab. Tony is testing new parts for a suit, Peter is sitting at one of the desks, watching and taking notes. Tony attempts to power up one of the new thrusters and flies backwards. Peter jumps a little at the noise but only reacts by writing something in his notes. Tony stands up, unharmed, and brushes himself off. He huffs, says a few choice words and stomps back to the testing area.

“Okay. Next test. Half power.” He says. Peter nods and looks on expectantly.

Tony nods back and the thruster fires again, he almost has it, it’s stable for a good five seconds and then he spins quickly to the left and lands roughly on one of the safety mats Pepper had made him put in the lab. He groans loudly. Peter scribbles in his notebook.

“Aww Mr. Stark, that’s so sad, F.R.I.D.A.Y. play Despacito.” He says, no hesitation, it just comes out. His eyes go wide and he looks up at Tony as the song beings to play. Tony’s head pop’s up over the edge of the mat, eyes full of confusion.

“Peter what the fu-“ he starts to ask, but Peter is gone. A swirl of notes fluttering to the ground near the desk where he’d been sitting. Tony stares up at the ceiling speakers for a moment before shrugging and walking back to the test area, his hips swaying a little with the music before he fires the thruster, once again flying through the air and landing on a mat.

~***~

“I don’t know.” Steve says, hesitation coloring his features as the camera zooms in close and then pulls back.

“Un uh, none of that. Me and Buck and Pete did ours,” the camera moved to left to show Bucky with sharpie all over his face, a beautiful French mustache adorning his lip. And Peter, a chunk of hair missing from the side of his head like he’d been attacked by sheers. It had, in fact, been Bucky, with a pair of sheers, and it had been retribution for the sharpie. Both of them were smiling brightly, they waved at the camera and it moved back to Steve.

He was standing at the edge of a field, nothing in view but nature.

“Now it’s your turn.” Sam said.

“Why do I have to throw my shield though?” Steve asked, almost whined.

“Because that’s the dare man. That’s how dares work.” Sam explained.

“It wasn’t just a dare.” Bucky said, the camera moved back to him and Peter, both of them grinning mischievously.

“I think you’ll find it was a triple dog dare. Which means you have to.” Peter said, crossing his arms over his chest and clearly trying not to laugh.

“Oh I have to? Is that what it means?” Steve asked, mocking their tone.

“Yes.” They both said, straight faced. The camera moved from them, to Steve, back to them, back to Steve, back to them, and back to Steve again before he groaned and shook himself like he was psyching himself up.

“We’re good, right Pete?” Sam asked, moving the camera back to Peter. The boy put his hand above his eyes and squinted across the field.

“Yeah should be. I mean there’s a real old looking car way wayyyy out there. But like…what are the odds he hits that?” Peter asked, shrugging and smiling into the camera. Bucky raised his eyebrows and smiled too before the camera moved back to Steve, he was staring at the two of them.

“I hate you guys.” He said, the camera shook as all three of them laughed at him.

“Just do it ya big baby.” Sam said.

“I am. Give me some space.” Steve said, Bucky, Peter, and Sam moved to the side. Steve took a few steps back and then ran a few steps forward, putting all his weight behind his throw, yelling as he flung his shield into the field as hard as he could. Peter and Bucky moved to stand next to Steve, all of the staring out into the field.

“What if it does it the car?” Steve asked, sounding worried.

“Maybe it’ll hit it just right an bounce right back to you.” Peter said, his voice sounding so genuine until he and Bucky snorted with laughter. The camera shook as Sam laughed with them. Sam moved to the side again so he could see all three of their faces.

“What if it hits the car, and bounces somewhere else? And like…kills someone’s cat?” Bucky asked, his voice rough. Peter and Steve’s heads both turned to him slowly.

“That was so dark man.” Peter said, looking horrified. Steve just rolled his eyes and looked back out into the field.

“Can you see anything Peter?”

He squinted.

“Ummm, I can see the car still. You’re shields real hard to see when it’s flying through the air.”

“A lot of things are hard to see when they’re flying through the air.” Bucky said.

“Like?” Sam prompted.

“Golf balls.” Bucky said.

“Small birds.” Peter said.

“Peter, if you throw him hard enough.”

“Bucky’s arm, if you rip it off.”

“Peter’s di-“

“HEY!”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY!”

“Well what WERE you gonna say??”

“I was gonna say your dignity when you’re talking to a girl.”

“Oh, well that’s better I guess but hey! Still not nice.” Peter frowned.

“Yeah. Sorry kid.” Bucky elbowed him gently in the ribs. Steve looked at them.

“Did you just apologize?”

“Yeah? I do that. Sometimes.” Bucky said, shrugging.

“You have never apologized to me the entire time I’ve known you!” Steve shouted, throwing his hands up.

“Maybe he’s turning over a new leaf.” Peter suggested.

“Maybe he likes the kid better than you.” Sam suggested, they all looked at him, Steve and Bucky burst out laughing, Peter huffed.

“Hey wait, did you hear that?” Peter asked, they all stared off into the field again.

“Uh oh.” Peter whispered.

There was loud metal clang, and then the sound of far off breaking glass. Peter turned to look at the camera, he mouthed, ‘he hit the car’, and then bit his lip to stop himself laughing. Sam snorted behind the camera and zoomed in on Bucky pulling his phone of his pocket. He brought the phone up to speaking range and looked Steve dead in the eye.

“That’s so sad… F.R.I.D.A.Y. play Despacito.”

The music started and Steve punched him in the face.

~***~

The living room is empty, the camera in the corner recording only an empty couch. Until Clint walks into view, hair sleep ruffled, feet dragging, he groans softly and rubs at his eyes.

“Mr. Barton.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice says.

“It appears you’ve forgotten something.”

Clint looks up at the sound of her voice and then back down at himself when her words register.

“Aw pants.”

“Would you like me to play Despacito for you sir?” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice asks. Clint’s head snaps up.

“What the fuck? No. No I would not.” He says, his voice grumpy.

He shakes his head and turns back the way he’d come. His feet still dragging over the carpet.

“Fucking Parker.” He mutters as he walks off screen.

~***~

“Are you ready for this shit? It’s so fucking cool.” Bucky says, looking into the camera as he gets it sat down on the counter. The camera shakes as he sets it down and shows Thor waiting patiently for him.

Thor nodded and Bucky handed him something.

“That’s a popcorn kernel for those of you who can’t see at home.” Bucky explained and moved to the side a bit so the camera was only on Thor.

The kernel sat in Thor’s palm, doing nothing, until lightning rolled over his skin. The beautiful white lines moving up and around his hand like waves on a stormy sea. The white lightning hit the kernel twice and then it popped up out of his hand. It flew into the air and Thor caught in his mouth, laughing heartily as Bucky looked on in awe.

“How fucking cool is that? You should see him do the jiffy pop thingies it’s so-“ Bucky cut off, his eyes looking over the camera at the kitchen doorway. Both Thor and Bucky were looking that way now, Bucky reached for the camera and turned it to show what they’d been looking at.

Peter was shuffling into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in all different directions, hello kitty pajama pants dragging the floor. He rubbed at his eyes and made his way to the freezer, he rummaged around until he found what he wanted. Then pulled a box of raspberry toaster strudels out and dropped it on the floor. He sighed sleepily and picked it up, tossing it onto the counter as he shuffled to the silverware drawer.

Peter dropped his knife twice before he made it back toward the toaster. It took him three tries to get the pastries out of the plastic and he finally got them into the toaster with a pleased little sound. As he stood waiting for them to pop back up the camera moved to look at Thor and Bucky, both of whom where standing silently, watching Peter struggled to get his breakfast together. The camera moved back to Peter, shaking a little as Bucky spun it on the counter.

Peter dropped his knife again when the toaster popped up. He then struggled for about a minute with the icing packet. Getting at least two pieces of plastic stuck on his tongue, apparently almost choking one if the sounds he was making where anything to go by. Bucky and Thor stood back silently. Peter finally managed to spread the frosting, set his knife gently in the sink, and pick up his plate to move to the table when Sam walked in.

“Do I smell toaster strudels?”

Peter’s entire body flinched. His hands flailed. His plate fell forward, the strudels falling to the floor with a sad flop. His hands fell to his sides as he stared down at them.

“That’s so sad,” Thor’s voice said from behind the camera, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., play Despacito.”

Peter gave the off-camera Thor a death glare as the song started. There was a strangled noise as Bucky dove for the camera, it spun so fast that it fell to the floor.

The screen flashed black for a moment and then came back with a static-y sound, the view blurry as it swung around in Bucky’s hand, Sam and Bucky’s laughter the only sound audible over the static. The crackling faded and the laughter increased. The camera finally settling on the counter again, showing Sam and Bucky doubled over, red faced. Sam reached out and moved the camera, turned it toward Thor, he was standing there looking at Peter, the biggest smile on his face. The camera turned again, to show Peter. He glared into the camera as Sam and Bucky’s howling laughter filled the air and the screen went black.

#Some Assembly Required #sar #sar part 8 #sambucky #sambucky ficlet #ficlet #winterfalcon #sam bucky peter sibling vibes #My writing

8 notes · View notes

pandora-evermore · 7 years ago

Text

A Gentle Touch

Part 1

Written for @bithors 5k writing challenge.

Prompt: “This is the part where you hold my hand.”

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years of your life working on a revolutionary vaccine for the Roxxon Corporation, something that will shake the very foundations of the medical industry. Unbeknownst to you, there are those in this world who see a more military use for your miracle drug and would do anything to take it for themselves. When your lab is attacked and your whole world turned upside-down, your only hope rests on the shoulders of one very damaged super-soldier.

Warnings: Violence, angst and other stuff in later chapters...

A/n: I struggled so much with this and my concern is that it really shows. So, you know, be kind. I had three or four different ideas to go with this prompt and I’d started each of them before deciding on something different. I’m hoping I can turn this into a half-decent series despite my struggles. (Also, I swear I put a read more link in this thing but it's not showing up for me so if it's not here, I'm sorry.)

You jumped, clutching at a metal pipe for support as a loud bang rattled the heavy circular door to your lab. Men were shouting at each other in a language you didn’t speak. Heavy boots stomped back and forth out in the halls. People were screaming, crying, and all you could do was sit alone in the dark and wait for the inevitable.

You worked nights at an off-shore research and development site for the Roxxon Corporation in Lab number 394, a large rectangular room that housed more lab equipment than it had any right to. The bleached white walls were lined with bleached white counters, and the rows of florescent lights reflected off the bleached tile floors, casting everything in a sterile glow. Notoriously nicknamed The Vault, it was the most restricted of the onsite research facilities, requiring three separate types of verification in order to get in or out of the large, reinforced metal door, and only a handful of people possessed all three. In the centre of the lab, they had managed to cram three desks, two of which belonged to coworkers you’d never met, piled high with paperwork: official documents, notes, scribbles doodles, and perfectly balanced chemical equations. The third desk, however, had been your home away from home for nearly three years, a silent witness to your greatest breakthroughs and breakdowns. The Vault itself was equipped with a very advanced alarm system and quarantine protocol to prevent the spread of the viral cultures you needed for vaccine development.

You’d activated the quarantine protocol when the alarms sounded, sealing yourself within the vault, casting the lab into near blackness save for the amber alert light flashing steadily in the corner. You thought it had been a drill. It was always a drill. They ran them every couple of months to keep everyone on their toes. But then the screaming started. A concussive round of semi-automatic gunfire went off in the lab above your head, making your stomach turn and your ears ring. The silence that followed was worse. Somewhere in a distant part of your brain you were surprised the shots didn’t echo. You’d always thought they would echo. You tried to steady your breathing to the rhythm of the flashing amber light. One rotation. Two. Three. A strange sound like a pull and a pop startled you. Then the light went out, casting the room into total darkness. You clutched the pipe even tighter, desperate for support. They must have cut the auxiliary power. Now there was nothing to do but wait and wonder: who was alive, who was dead, and how long were you going to survive with the ventilation system offline?

The pipe in your hand twitched and shook itself free from your grasp and you hand to slap your hand over your mouth to stifle a scream. Squinting into the darkness you could barely make out the vague figure of what must have been a man -tall, broad shouldered, and scowling, the shadows twisting his features into something menacing. A monster in the night.

“Oh!” You exclaimed louder than you meant. In a heartbeat he closed the little space between you, towering over your frame, before backing off just as suddenly. A series of panicked questions fired through your brain as fast as the neurons carrying them. What was he doing here? How long had he been there? What did he want? Was he going to hurt you. The shadow where his eyes should be never left your face. He was watching you. Waiting. Maybe for you to work it out. He hadn’t killed you, or worse, yet so he couldn’t be one of them, but he certainly didn’t seem safe either. Did the monster speak? It was worth a shot. Mustering every ounce you had left of your courage, you asked the first question you could muster.

“How long have you been standing there?” You whispered, nearly smacking your hand to your forehead at your own stupidity. How was that the most pressing question?

A heartbeat. Two. You could count them by the thrumming in your ears before…

“A while.”

Success!

“And are you –”

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

Another bang against the door cut off your reply as the walls chipped and dust and less-than-savoury remains drifted down from the ceiling. Another wave of nausea rolled through you.

“Buck,” a voice crackled through his comms. “Buck, what’s your location.”

I’m in the vault,” the man, Buck apparently, sighed, pressing his finger to his earpiece. “Someone,” he cast a sidelong glance at you, “activated the quarantine. And you really don’t need to shout, Steve.”

The back of your neck grew hot under his penetrative gaze.

“Well, what would you have done?” You hissed, keeping your voice much lower than he was bothering to.

He cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t reply, listening instead to the voice on the comms.

“Head for the rendezvous,” he said after a moment. “I’ll meet you there as soon as we’re out.”

You strained your ears to hear the reply but there was only silence on the other end. Suddenly, something rammed against the door, making the metal groan and quake in protest.

“I’m good, Steve. I won’t be long.”

“Fine,” Steve relented, clearly not thinking it was fine at all. “Just don’t get lost.”

“Try not to jump out of any more planes while I’m gone.”

“That was one time and –”

A female voice interrupted through the comms. “Hate to break up your little bromance guys but we’ve got incoming.”

“Get out while you can,” Buck warned as another bang dented the door. “I’ll get the formula and meet you there.”

“Formula,” you hissed indignantly. “Which formula?”

“Yours.” He cast a glance at the buckling door before turning his full attention to your desk. He threw open the drawers, grabbed loose-leaf pages, notebooks, file-folders, rifling through them only to cast them aside. Your stomach rolled uncomfortably. He was touching your stuff. You needed to sit down. Another bang. You could see the metal starting to give way. You gripped the edge of the lab counter to steady yourself. Suddenly the room was spinning, the initial adrenaline wearing off.

“Hang on. Hang on. Hang on!” The words burst from you as you ran forward to catch his hand before he touched something else.

He froze like a startled cat deciding whether to scratch. His back straight. His eyes dark and angry. You flinched back almost instantly.

“Don’t.” He rolled his shoulder, shaking his head as though he was trying to clear some intrusive idea.

“I –” You tried to think, praying he wasn’t in the midst of some violent mental break, “I thought you said you weren’t going to hurt me.”

“Look,” he leaned close, his face inches from yours, his blue eyes bright, intense, burning. “I get that you’re scared. I do. But right now, your choices are me or a team of Hydra operatives and I guarantee they won’t be gentle. Now, where’s your formula?”

“How do I know you’re not just going to kill me as soon as I give it to you?”

His face twitched into a grimace. “You don’t. But if I’d wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already and taken it anyway.”

Another burst of insolence shot through your brain. “You wouldn’t be able to find it without my help.”

He snorted. He actually snorted. “Sure.” Another bang, the seal around the top of the door popped and thick tendrils of grey smoke slipped into the lab. “We’ve got about thirty seconds before the bust down that door. So what’s it gonna be?”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to clear your head. What choice did you have, really?

“Right,” you finally nodded, ducking under your desk. Fumbling with your keys, you unlocked a hidden compartment and pulled out a large green binder. “Formula. Check. Can you get us out of here?” You tried to make it sound like you didn’t secretly think he was going to grab the binder from your hands and leave you to fend for yourself against the oncoming hoard but the tremor in your words gave you away.

Buck nodded, “Get behind me and whatever you do, stay close.”

“Right.”

The men outside were shouting again.

“They’re setting up their explosives.” Buck explained. “When that door opens, hit the ground, and when I say run, you run. Understand?”

“I understand.”

The heavy footfalls behind the door faded away into silence. One second. Two seconds. A sound like thunder tore through your ears as the heavy door creaked and groaned and finally game way under pressure, falling inwards with a crash. All at once there was chaos. You threw yourself to the ground as a team of men in black tactical gear burst through the opening. Buck launched himself at them, striking out with just his fists against a hail of bullets. You slammed your hands over your ears. They were shouting. The room was filled with the scrape of metal against metal and the sickening squelch of metal against flesh. Then you heard it.

“Run!”

You jumped to your feet, your vision locked on the clearest path through the door. You took off, not bothering to check to see if he was behind you.

“This way,” you heard him shout. Casting a furtive glance over your shoulder, you saw him coming up on your left, passing you with a few easy strides to lead you to the stairwell.

“Why does it have to be stairs?” You puffed, not meaning for him to hear as he jumped them two at a time.

“Because you work in a basement!”

Damn.

You kept pace behind him, binder still clutched tight against your chest, until you reached the top, where he waited a moment to let you catch your breath.

“You good?”

“Most days,” you quipped, getting agitated.

“Let’s go.” He took off down one of the main corridors, leaving you to trot dutifully behind. You were dizzy with questions, every nerve in your body burned, overstimulated. You wanted to stop. You wanted to sleep. You needed something to focus your mind. A thought nibbled at your brain.

“Hey!” You called, louder than you meant, hoping to get his attention.

“Yeah?”

“How did you even get into my lab? It was under quarantine. Airtight. Nothing could get in or out. And if you were in there before I activated the protocol, I definitely would have seen you. You’re not exactly a ninja.”

Silence. Maybe you were pressing your luck? Just because he agreed to get you out doesn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind at any moment.

“I have a very particular set of skills.” He took a sharp turn down another hall lined with large windows set in wide panes. The moon outside glistened full and bright and menacing on the blood-spattered tile.

You couldn’t help the panicked laugh that bubbled up out of your chest. “Shut up. Everyone’s seen Taken.”

Great. Well done. Sass is a sure-fire way to get yourself killed. You waited for him to snap at you, or glare, or something.

“Not everyone,” he chuckled.

He rounded another corner. Suddenly, he turned to you, grabbing you by the arm and tucking you into a window alcove.

“Whatever you do, don’t look down that way.”

“What? Why?”

“You’re gonna have to trust me on this one.”

Raising his stolen gun, Bucky fired three shots into the glass. The sound burst through your eardrums like thunder, making you jump and grip the frame for support. Spiderweb cracks spread out across the glass but it didn’t shatter. You cast a furtive glance over his shoulder and were met with the sight of something dark and red pooling across the moonlit floor. Bile rose in your throat and you had to swallow hard, snapping your eyes closed in a futile attempt to stop yourself from collapsing in a fit of panic. You didn’t want to see. You didn’t want to know. And you certainly didn’t have time for this.

“Hey,” Buck coaxed, nudging your foot with his boot. You opened your eyes, startled to find him staring at you so intently. “You gonna make it?”

You shook your head, you could feel panicked tears welling up in your eyes. “Nope. Nope. My coworkers are dead. There are people trying to kill me. You might be trying to kill me. And now I’m crying so I don’t even get to die with dignity like they do in movies.”

He smiled a soft half-smile. There was something about it –sad and warm and comforting all at the same time. He didn’t look as evil when he smiled. Saying nothing, he pulled his left arm back, the moonlight glinting off the metal plating on his hand, and struck the glass, sending shards flying out over the cliff.

“You know we’re like a thousand feet up, right?”

“This is nowhere near a thousand feet.”

You stared out through the shattered glass and down to the rocks below, the inky sea roaring over them in a menacing spray of salt and foam. It wasn’t until Buck Blue-eyes snapped his fingers in front of your face that you realized he was staring back at you, expectant, with his arm outstretched.

“This is the part where you hold my hand,” he murmured, voice steady as he cast a furtive glance down the whitewashed halls, now spattered with blood. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“This is going to hurt,” you grimaced, gripping his hand tightly.

“You may want to shut your eyes.”

You did as you were told and with a sudden yank, the floor was pulled out from under you and you were plummeting fast through the air. A scream bubbled up through your throat and out your lips before you could stop it. You felt Buck’s hand slip through your fingers as you hit the surface like a bullet, swallowed up by the icy depths. You choked, a spastic breath that burned as the fluid filled your lungs, the muscles in your throat desperate for air. You kicked out, struggling for the surface but only succeeded in taking in more water. The world turned, fading to dusky shadows, then nothing.

#kumi #bithors #marvel #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #steve rogers #reader insert #kumis5kchallenge

53 notes · View notes

allenmendezsr · 5 years ago

Text

Backyard Healing Herbs

New Post has been published on https://autotraffixpro.app/allenmendezsr/backyard-healing-herbs/

Backyard Healing Herbs

Buy Now

18th Century Ship Doctor Pioneers Scientific Health Remedies – 200 Years Ahead of His Time

“Your numbers are worse than your last visit,” My doctor told me.

Her voice was clinical and unfriendly… and a thousand miles away.

I sat there… like a deer in the headlights.

I’d gone in for my regular check-up and blood work with high hopes.

I was so proud of the changes I made to my diet and exercise… and thought my doctor’s report would be good news.

But instead of a good report, it felt like a punch to the gut.

“How is this even possible?” I insisted.

“I’ve done everything just like you said!”

“Well, your bad LDL Cholesterol and triglycerides are still way above the acceptable range. They’ve gone up, not down,” she said, pointing at my chart.

“This has a big impact on your blood pressure… which is now in the unacceptable range.”1

“This, in turn, puts you at greater risk for other problems with your heart.”2

“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t tell you we really need to get control of this with the right medications.”

“Based on your numbers, it’s the only way to stop this dangerous trend.”

“One more bad report like this, and there might not be anything more I can do.”

My doctor’s report left me in stunned silence.

Now… I know I’m not alone in hearing heartbreaking news just like this one.

Millions of Americans are fighting health big battles just like this every day.3

High cholesterol.

Heart problems.

Joint Pain.

Thyroid problems.

Erratic blood sugar.

Weight gain.

Memory loss.

And the list goes on… and on.

But like millions of Americans…

I’ve become concerned about the slippery slope of prescription drugs… and their unpredictable and potentially dangerous side effects.4

And after that heartbreaking meeting with my doctor, I thought the “professional pharmacy” approach was my only option to restore my health… and my hope.

But… I was wrong.

Message essential for anyone struggling with ANY health challenge

Hi, I’m Donna Nicholson.

And the message I have to share with right now is essential for anyone struggling with ANY health challenge that keeps them feeling like they’re in a constant uphill battle.

That’s because in the next 5 minutes… I’ll share all about a chance encounter with a near-ancient grandmother…Who helped me get the edge on my bad cholesterol trend… almost overnight…

Using 100% natural herbal remedies I grew in my own backyard.

I’ll also share with you the multiple clinical studies backing up these all-natural ingredients and remedies…5

I’ll tell you all about how my family threw away 7 different Rx meds and OTC pills… in less than a month. We’re now healthier and happier than ever. (*results may vary)

And I’ll share with you the one simple secret I learned in that chance encounter… that can help empower ANYONE to:

Easily address virtually any health challenge… 100% naturally… from the comfort of their own home6

Avoid the unpredictable and often life-threatening side effects of preventative drugs7

Take control of their own health… so they’re not at the mercy of the industrial-medical complex8

Enjoy the peace of mind that comes from supporting your health… with scientifically-proven and time-honored all-natural ingredients

Now I’ll share more about these scientific studies in just a minute…

But, please tune in right now…

Are becoming more and more apprehensive about turning to chemicals foreign to our systems…9

That can end up stealing their health from them.

What’s more…

I guarantee this solution is so completely different in its approach, it’s unlike anything the majority of Americans have ever used before.

That’s because this approach takes the best nature has to offer…

And directs it where it’s needed most… just like Mother Nature intended.

Sadly, it’s something the majority of medical professionals have never even been trained for.10

But… independent researchers are now confirming these natural remedies are often as effective… if not more effective…

Than the traditional approach.11

So, in just a few moments from now…

I’ll share the one secret that can revolutionize any family’s health… 100% naturally.

I’ll spill the beans on the the simple pocket sized herbal system 250 years in the making.

And I’ll share how to have direct access to everything needed to get health under control… quickly… safely… naturally… and effectively.

I feel it’s important to mention that the complete system I’m sharing…

Has hundreds of testimonials from people who have used the secrets it contains to radically improve their health…

By easily growing their own backyard healing remedies.

I feel duty bound to say that it’s likely that what I’m revealing in this free presentation…

May ruffle some feathers.

There are many with vested interests in keeping a lid on this information.

That’s why those who want healthy, all-natural remedies to the most pressing health concerns…

Should tune in very carefully today…

Because this all-natural, at-home solution may change everything for those with any number of health challenges.

Based on the scientific research I’ve reviewed, and based on what I’ve seen in my own family…

I’m confident that anyone who considers this all-natural solution… will benefit greatly from this 100% natural family health resource.

First though… let me tell you a little more about myself and how I discovered this backyard health solution.

So, like I mentioned, my name is Donna Nicholson.

First and foremost, I’m a wife and a mother.

Plus I have a part-time job at an insurance company.

We live a fairly simple life in the Midwest

Our kids are in sports…

We attend church when we can…

I help out in my kids’ classrooms…

And… we’ve had many of the same health challenges most Americans have.

I’ve struggled with high cholesterol.

My husband has high blood pressure.

One of my kids has allergies…

And another struggles with ADHD.

Like I said, we’re pretty much like many American families.

And like most American families… trips to the pharmacy for prescription meds were a regular occurrence.

But… because of what I was seeing with my own eyes… with friends and family and seeing more and more news reports and studies…

I began to have my doubts about “traditional” remedies.12|13|14|15

And it was just after that fateful doctor’s visit…

Where I was scared for my life… thinking I would have to start popping more pills…

That I ran into Grandma Mary for the first time at a Saturday Farmer’s Market.

While I was looking for some local honey…

I came to a booth called “Grandma Mary’s Herbs.”

Inside the booth was most vibrant lady – who could hardly be described as a grandma!

Her smile, her glow, her energy… defied age.

I later found out Grandma Mary… was 87!

Grandma Mary’s booth was filled with hundreds of potted herbs and plants bursting with life and vitality.

Hanging on each potted herb was a 3×5 card with suggestions of what the herb could be used for.

Obviously, some herbs had uses inside the Kitchen.

But… others were filled with uses for OUTSIDE the kitchen.

There were herb “recipes” to help aid with digestion – my husband needed THAT one!

Another helped fight off fatigue… which I desperately needed!

Still another… helped with natural brain health… to help prevent memory loss.

Seeing all these cards made a lightbulb go off in my head: my CHOLESTEROL!

Without hesitation, I made a beeline for Grandma Mary.

I told her all about my doctor’s report and asked if she had something “natural” to help.

I’m sure she noticed my desperation… because she smiled at me so compassionately.

She took me to the back of her booth and pulled out an amber bottle with a golden tincture in it.

She turned to me and said, “Take this once a day for a month Then, go get your numbers checked, and come back to tell me how you’re doing.”

I asked her how much I owed her.

With a wink, she replied, “It’s on me today. See you in a month or so.”

I took it home and opened it up.

The aroma filled my room with a beautiful, golden scent… not like some chemically-laced concoction.

I took the tincture every day for the next several weeks… went to the lab and got my blood work done.

When I read the numbers… I almost couldn’t believe my eyes!

I had to choke back tears… I hadn’t seen LDL & triglyceride numbers like that in 5 years!16

So when the next Saturday rolled around… I was at the Farmer’s Market the very second it opened.

I rushed up to Grandma Mary smiling from ear to ear.

She simply grinned… and said, “Numbers looking better, I take it?”

Well, I made a regular habit out of visiting Grandma Mary’s Farmer’s Market booth.

Eventually, I asked the “million dollar question.”

“Where did you LEARN all your remedies, Grandma Mary?”

“Well, you’ll just have to come over for tea tomorrow and find out!”

After church the next day I sat with Grandma Mary at a white bistro table under a gazebo teeming with verdant vines and flowers bursting with color.

We drank a delicious herbal tea blended from herbs in Mary’s luscious garden.

She pulled out a weathered leather notebook from her tote.

“This,” she began, “belonged to my grandfather.”

“He was a doctor on a merchant ship in the 1800’s.”

“They sailed the globe, buying and selling textiles and spices…

They had to endure storms, battle injuries and diseases, and outrun pirates.

In every port, my grandfather would collect herbs and remedies from the countries and cultures he visited.

He eventually created a system for growing these healing herbs in an almost impossible place: in a ship at sea.

When I unexpectedly inherited this notebook…

I just figured if he could grow and maintain his own pocket garden… on a ship… I could do the same in my own backyard.”

“The rest, as they say, is history.”

As Grandma Mary began to leaf through hand-written notes and beautifully drawn illustrations, I began to see what she meant by this “Ship Doctor’s System” for healing herbs.

It was more than just remedies and concoctions …

It was an entire system for growing healing herbs.

On his ships… he developed small, but bountiful “pocket sized” gardens that provided health-giving remedies to the crew.

She showed me diary entries of how a remedy from India helped crew members get rid of a strange fever… overnight.

I saw notes of how a poultice helped heal his captain’s infected wound in record time.

I was completely blown away.

In awe, I asked her if there’s anything her notebook DIDN’T cover.

Grandma Mary replied: “Not that I’ve found yet!”

In a moment of inspiration… I said, “Grandma Mary, we have to transfer these secrets onto a computer so there’s no chance they ever get lost.”

That led to Grandma Mary and I spending long months huddled around that notebook… transferring her grandfather’s secrets… to my laptop.

Along the way, we double, and triple checked her grandfather’s remedies… against the latest scientific research…

To confirm these were proven effective remedies… and not just a collection of old wife’s tales.

As we worked together, and as I dug into the research on my computer…

What I discovered confirmed many of my doubts and suspicions about “traditional remedies.”

And it confirmed that the work I was doing with Grandma Mary… was more important than ever.

I NEEDED Grandma Mary’s secret system… even more than I thought I did…

Especially since I was smack dab in the middle of my “middle age” years.

And… my family and I relied on MULTIPLE medications… we were more than ready to get OFF.

Which is why this collection of Grandma Mary’s secret knowledge…

Became more important than ever!

As I learned Grandma Mary’s ways, I quickly put them into practice.

I’m proud to report that…

Within a few short months of starting my own healing garden in my backyard…

My family and I were able to say “good-bye” to 7 different Rx & OTC meds.

And we’ve never felt better or been healthier!

And that includes my husband’s high blood pressure medications… my son’s ADHD medication… my daughter’s allergy medication… and my Joint Pain relief meds! (*results may vary)

And that’s just to name 4!

Plus, by growing our own remedies, we’ll save more than $541 over the next year on our medical bills.

That’s over $45 per month!

I’m SO THANKFUL to be rid of all those strange chemicals and worrying about their side effects!

It’s no wonder my husband started calling my garden our “Backyard Pharmacy.”

Eventually, there came a point where I knew Grandma Mary and I just could not keep this to ourselves.

It just wouldn’t be right to withhold this health-boosting, life-saving information.

So Grandma Mary and I showed it to a very small group of my friends.

Afterwards, Betsy said, “Donna, I went through this twice. I’m so surprised at how easy you guys made it. I used to think gardening was hard and that my back couldn’t take it. You and Grandma Mary made me feel like you with me every step of the way.”

Liz said, “I have a brand-new sense of peace I never had before. I knew the dangers of pharmaceuticals but had no idea the alternative was so powerful and so simple.”

Susanne commented, “This is hands down the easiest guide I could ever imagine when it comes to growing my own remedies. This is faster and cheaper than what I used to do!”

When we heard this, we knew we needed to do whatever it took… to let others know about this almost lost secret information.

I’m proud to report that we found a way to do just that.

I asked my loving husband if we could take some money out of his retirement account…

So we could print a real book with real pictures on real pages…

And get Grandma Mary’s secrets out to the world.

Fortunately, he said, “YES!”

So we took the plunge … and pre-ordered 500 real life books.

It drained thousands from my husband’s 401k…

But to all of us, it’s 100% worth it to have this powerful knowledge at your fingertips.

We’re calling it “Backyard Healing Herbs” …

So…

If you’re concerned about the side effects traditional remedies…

And if you’d like an easy as pie “masterclass” from Grandma Mary on using nature’s bounty to remedy the health concerns that face your family…

And if you’d like to grow your OWN remedies in your OWN backyard… no matter how large or small your garden area is…

Regardless of your “gardening experience” …

Then I’m excited to share “Backyard Healing Herbs” with you.

It’s 260 full-pages… in a real-life book… you can refer day after day…

And even pass down to your children as an heirloom.

So… here’s a small taste of what you’ll discover inside the 260-page Backyard Healing Herbs:

How This One “Miracle Plant” Helps Support Healthy Cholesterol & Blood Pressure Levels

Plus How This Same Miracle Plant Helps Regulate Your Metabolism, Making It Easier To Lose Weight… And KEEP It Off!17

Researchers At A Leading Michigan University Demonstrated That When This Miracle Plant Is Combined With One Common Kitchen Spice… Its Effectiveness Soared By 2000%! Miracle Plant Indeed!18

The “Sunshine Surprise” Remedy with 3 Power-Packed Herbal Flowers

That Helps Lift the Burden of Anxiety, Stress, & Pressure… Giving You A Breezy, Sun-Kissed Summer’s Day…

Unless you live on a tropical beach sipping Margaritas all day… with servants bringing you breakfast, lunch, and dinner…

Then is the one remedy you must have to support you with the daily stresses of life.

Researchers at the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine found These flowering herbs significantly reduced stress, pressure, and anxiety19.

Why This One Herb, Scientifically Researched By The Michigan University Of Health20, Is A Bullet-Proof

Pain Relief Remedy

With Powerful Anti-inflammatory Properties

This means you now have a powerful all-natural alternative to the traditional approach to anti-inflammatories.21

How To Upgrade Your Energy With A 100% Natural “Power-Drink” From This Little-Known Garden Plant

This Secretly Powerful Perennial Herb Was So Coveted for Its Ability to Boost Energy…

That It Constantly Sparked Wars In The Far East To Control The Forests Where It Thrives.

This Simple “Power Drink Recipe Could Not be Easier… All it Takes is 5oz. Of Water and 5 Minutes of Your Time

To Feel a No-Caffeine Energy Boost!

Not long into our project, I asked Grandma Mary if we could accomplish the same results…

By just getting supplements from the local health food store or Amazon.

But… during my research, I was surprised to learn that most of the big “health supplement” companies are owned by the same mega corporations that own pharmaceutical companies.22

After reading that, I wasn’t too excited to give any of them another dime!

Plus… for our budget… it felt like I’d need a car-sized loan just to try and keep my family healthy.23

That’s why discovering Grandma Mary’s system was such a God-send.

You’ll also be learning…

How You… or Someone You Love…

Can Say “So Long” To Sleepless Nights!

Getting enough sleep isn’t just a luxury… it’s a necessity.

Regular poor sleep puts us at risk of increased weight gain, heart problems, and erratic blood sugar… not to mention shortening your lifespan!24|25

But… getting naturally regular “good sleep” helps:

Improve memory

Boost Immunity

Manage weight

Boost mental wellbeing

Support health blood sugar levels

Plus a whole lot more!26

Drink this deliciously Simple Valerian Root Tea Recipe – and Enjoy the Most Naturally-Blissful Sleep of Your Life.

Why This Dandelion Tea Recipe Blend Will Be Your Go-To Remedy for

Intestinal Issues

… like Constipation, Diarrhea, Gas, and Bloating.

Proper digestion is a God-send. Grandma Mary’s blend helps support the kind of digestion God intended.

How To Blend Purple Passionflower To Quickly Calm A Palpitating Heart

According to WebMD, the majority of heart palpitations… are a result of stress.27

Grandma Mary’s Unique Passionflower tea recipe helps calm a racing heart.

Now… “typical gardens” are a ton of work.

In fact, I had started countless gardens when my kids were younger… only to abandon them…

Because of overwhelmed I got with weeding, watering, bending over, pest control, gophers, birds, etc.

It just never seemed worth all the trouble!

That is…

Until Grandma Mary showed me…

The “Ship Doctor’s Method“

For Easily Growing A Healing Garden ANYWHERE

This 150-Year Old Growing System Makes:

Growing Your Own Remedies in ANY space – easy as pie

Garden Size & Climate Limitations: IRRELEVANT.

Preventing The Danger Of Mysterious Side Effects – Every-day easy

Traditional gardening headaches obsolete

This Is Simply The Easiest, Fastest, and Simplest Approach to Gardening…

That Guarantees Your Family Is In The Safest, Most Trustworthy Hands On The Planet: YOURS.

If Grandma Mary’s grandfather could grow the remedies to keep his crew healthy… on a SHIP…

You can do it where YOU live.

How To Avoid “Overthinking” Your Garden And Suffering

The Complicated & Costly Mistakes

That Haunt MOST Home Gardeners Like A Shadow

Simply follow Grandma Mary’s simple system… and you’ll be up and running in no time… avoiding all the costly, time-consuming, and frustrating mistakes the MAJORITY of gardeners make!

You could spend HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS of dollars following the herd of gardeners throwing time and money at conventional gardening methods.

Grandma Mary’s Nearly Infallible “Mason Jar Soil Test”

To Insure YOUR Soil Never Lacks

The Proper Nutrients

If You Want To Give Your Plants And Herbs All The Nutrient-rich Benefits

You Want, Need, And Deserve… Perform This Test Today.

Why Spend Hundreds on a fancy “soil test”…

Then Wait For Weeks…

When Grandma Mary’s Mason Jar Test Will Get You The Results You Want?

How To Skyrocket Your Herbs’ Potency Using

The “Guardian” Method

This Method Helps Ensure Nothing In Your Herb Garden Gets Infected By Foreign Chemicals Like Pesticides, Fungicides, or Artificial Fertilizers…

Including Your Seeds, Soil, Containers… Even Your Water!

By now, you might also be thinking…

“I can just buy these herbs, flowers and plants at the store… and avoid planting a garden.”

Again… I thought that too.

So, I asked Grandma Mary about this.

She showed me some research that raised some concerns.

Here are just a few:

The Frightening Reason Why…

The New York Times… Consumer Reports… and Time Magazine ALL Said You Should Avoid:

Store-bought “Fresh Foods” And “Herbs”

Due To An Over-abundance Of Toxic Chemicals28|29|30|31

The Simple (But Shocking) Science Behind Why

Store-bought32 Turmeric May Be

Flushing Money Down The Toilet…

But Why Home-grown Turmeric Is a True Anti-inflammatory Antioxidant Superfood33

Why Scientific American and The University of Texas Reported that

“Over-Farmed” Soil Has Emptied Crops Of Vital Minerals And Vitamins Present Decades Ago34|35

Making Store-bought Fruits And Vegetables “Mostly Empty.”

I want my family to get ALL the vital benefits from the herbs, vegetables, and fruits they eat.

Sadly, the ONLY way to do this… is to grow your own.

Why You Should Never Buy Pots, Planters, Or Containers At

The “Big Box” Stores

Due To Soil-Sterilizing Chemicals

Used To Make Them Look “Pretty”

Why You Could Treat The Next Infection In Your Family With The Germ-busting Blend Of

Echinacea And Cornflower Extract

The Centers for Disease Control calls Antibiotic Resistance is one of the biggest public health challenges of our time.

Each year in the U.S., at least 2 million people get an antibiotic-resistant infection, which creates complications.36

This unique elixir helps fight infection 100% naturally… without the concern of Antibiotic Resistance.

So you can fight infection… with peace of mind.

The Strange “Ginger” Recipe The University of Exeter Proved Can Help Treat Nausea & Vomiting37

How To Reduce ThrobbingHeadaches To Clear-Headed Bliss In Minutes… With This Blended “Peppermint Rub”

This Expert Blend is Based on Clinical Trials Reported by a leading European Medical Journal.38

The study found it as effective as traditional remedies.

How To Blend Healing Elixirs PERFECT The First Time… And Leave Uncertainty And Costly “Experimentation” In The Dust For Good.

You’ll Discover The Complete List Of “Superhero Herbs” The 24 Plants That Have At Least 5 Medical Uses Each!

EXAMPLE: Turmeric alone has over 10 proven medical benefits. (From pain relief and anti-inflammation to helping support heart and brain health.)

You’ll Get a Variety of Echinacea-based Elixir Recipes That Help Boost Nearly Every Body System:

NCCIH39 Reports These Elixirs Can Help:

Boost Your Immune System (Get Sick Less)

Aid healthy gums

Support Healthy Joints

Manage Acid Indigestion…

And more…

The PMS-Busting Recipe That Helps Send “Aunt Flo” Packing When That Time Of The Month Comes Knocking!

This “Grandma Mary” exclusive can be combined as a tincture… or as a tea infusion. Share this with anyone who struggles with Aunt Flo’s monthly visit!

“Backyard Healing Herbs” is the smart, simple, and easy way to pharmacy independence.

This is hands down the simplest, easiest to use A to Z blueprint… that ANYONE can use to make their own healing remedies…

From their very own Pocket Sized garden…

… no matter if someone has never gardened before, or have tried before and failed…

… no matter if someone has limited space or live in an extreme climate…

… no matter if someone is a “gardening expert”…

Look – when Grandma Mary showed me this simple system… I knew I’d found my own little slice of the garden of Eden.

People can now easily grow virtually everything needed to take care of a family’s health…

In a garden that requires not much more than a “postage stamp” sized area.

And that requires a minimum of time.

Just plant the herbs and plants using the “Ship Doctor’s System” …

Harvest them…

And follow Grandma Mary’s clear and easy to follow instructions…

Everything needed to keep s family healthy, strong, and protected from the side effects of traditional remedies.

Here’s our promise: if someone can read a table of contents… and follow simple directions…

They’ll have everything needed to make their very own “pocket sized Garden of Eden”… and have a “forever fruitful” source of healing herbs and remedies.

If anyone wants to avoid spending hours and hours a week bending, weeding, watering and working…

… if anyone wants to be “pharmacy” independent…

… if anyone wants 100% natural and trustworthy ingredients…

… if anyone wants healthy, effective remedies at their fingertips

… and if anyone’s ever wanted a simple, easy, and fun way to create an unlimited all-natural “medicine cabinet” …

Then those prayers have been answered.

Backyard Healing Herbs is an heirloom quality book – worthy of passing down to the next generation…

With detailed step by step instructions to plant, grow, and maintain…

A “pocket sized garden” that produces the plants, herbs, and remedies every American family needs and deserves.

It’s a step by step, newbie-friendly system that puts God’s honest herbs and remedies at your fingertips in a matter of days… not weeks, months, or years…

So anyone can confidently address virtually any family’s health needs…

And slash monthly medication bills to near zero…

All while saving your valuable time.

Most of all… it will give you the peace of mind that comes from knowing that your family is getting the best nature has to offer.

“Backyard Healing Herbs” is chock full of specialized knowledge handed down from generation to generation…

Saving months of painful trial and error.

It took Grandma Mary… and her forebears… more than 200 years to perfect the remedies and growing strategies…

That now make it easy as pie to be super successful… right out of the gate.

Grandma Mary’s system… is about as “hands free” as it gets.

Unlike “traditional gardens,” there’s zero wasted time with needless weeding, and the backbreaking up and down that’s hard on a body.

Now, one comment I’ve gotten is this:

“Donna, this all sounds too good to be true. Will I be able to follow Grandma Mary’s directions, even if I’m 75 and never had a garden and don’t know if I have enough room?”

First… don’t forget… this is Grandma Mary’s system… and she’s 87!

But the real answer is this: following the “Backyard Healing Herbs” system is simple, quick, and easy.

Sure, there’s some planting to do… if someone want a little help potting plants and lifting soil, that’s totally ok.

Once we were finished with our manuscript, I printed a copy and gave it to Veronica, my teenage neighbor… who had never planted a thing in her life…

And I challenged her to pick just 5 herbs and start a garden.

Veronica was up and running with a beautiful pocket sized garden in a matter of days.

All that to say… if you don’t want to do it yourself… you could pay a teenager $40 to do it for you!

Truth is, if you have kids in your life, they’re going to love doing it with you.

My own kids have laid claim to their own “corners” of my own garden.

Backyard Healing Herbs is THE solution…

… for anyone who wants 100% natural and effective alternatives to traditional remedies and unpredictable side effects…

… for anyone who wants the A to Z step by step blueprint for the fastest and easiest way to cultivate the healing remedies a family needs and deserves…

In just minutes a day.

Now, even though Grandma Mary and I have tried to make this system as complete as possible…

We know there will always be questions that pop up now and again.

That’s why… with the book… you also get 12 months of unlimited email access – where you can ask us just about anything related to Backyard Healing Herbs.

Oh, and there’s more…. And this is important.

Grandma Mary and I have gathered some other powerful secrets… SINCE we pulled the trigger on publishing our big 260-page book.

We’re planning on putting all that information (and more) into our next version of Backyard Healing Herbs.

But, since this brand new information is in digital format right now…

I can include these 4 Secret Healing Guides as a FREE GIFT to anyone who orders today.

But be forewarned… these free bonus healing guides could come off the table at any time…

Once we’re ready to publish the NEXT version of Backyard Healing Herbs.

Here’s a brief description of the 4 free Special Guides I’ll include when you order today.

FREE GUIDE #1: Natural Healing Secrets of Native Americans – Retail: $39

Native Americans had powerful, centuries-old healing remedies long before Europeans showed up.

Their very existence was based on living in harmony with nature in every way possible.

They expertly utilized natural resources like mullein, mint, saloli gatoga, valerian root, wild black cherry, witch hazel, geranium, and willow bark…

To keep their families strong and healthy.

And that’s just to name a few.

In this 100% free guide, you’ll discover a host of Native American Healing Secrets.

Grandma Mary and I have also included some of their most prized preservation secrets for perishable ingredients…

So you needn’t worry about electricity or refrigeration.

There’s also a section on Native American “superfoods” that when prepared properly, help sustain health and help you recover from illnesses faster.

You’re going to love this simple and powerful collection of healing secrets!

FREE GUIDE #2: Wild Edibles – Retail: $39

This one of a kind guide could truly be the difference between life or death for you or a family member.

Getting lost in the wilderness happens more frequently than we care to think.

But… your peace of mind will soar knowing you have this critical guide at your fingertips.

You’ll discover how to spot edible mushrooms – and the ones to avoid like the plague.

You’ll learn how to easily identify edible tulips, berries, nuts, and more.

Even if you’re in a desert area, you’ll know how to easily pick out safe food sources like prickly pear cactus, saguaro cactus, desert Christmas cactus, chia sage, agave, pinyon pine, mesquite, cholla cactus, and yucca.

We’ll also give you the simple “Wild Edibles Litmus Test” to determine if ANY plant is edible or poisonous.

You’ll never be uncertain whether a wild plant is edible or not.

FREE GUIDE #3: Veggies You Can Grow in Your Backyard for Self-Sufficiency – Retail: $39

Look, I don’t know about you, but I often worry about crisis and emergency scenarios…

Ones that threaten our food supply, our electrical grid, or our water supply.

That doesn’t make me one of those crazy survival nuts – I simply want to be confident in taking care of my family in the event of a crisis or emergency!

I now grow enough food (and more!) in my backyard to feed my family… come what may, no matter the season.

And I don’t spend hours and hours weeding my garden because I’ve learned some powerful cultivation secrets I’ll pass on in this free guide.

This critical Special Guide covers how to grow some of the most healthy AND hearty foods that do better than MOST backyard gardens at supplying plentiful food for your family.

This guide covers 3 different gardening methods so you can easily grow healthy, nutrient-rich, and vitamin filled foods like arugula, beets, broccoli, carrots, tomatoes, chickweed, dandelion, green beans, kale, pomegranate, rosemary, berries, and more.

Whether it’s a short-term natural disaster, or a long-term infrastructure failure, you’ll do your family AND your peace of mind a huge favor… with this free special guide.

FREE GUIDE #4: The Shoe Box Garden – Retail: $39

This Free Guide is specifically designed for anyone living with limited square footage.

LOTS of Americans don’t even have a yard!

Urbanites, students, retirement communities…

Anywhere where space is at a premium.

We cover everything from the right “shoe box” sized containers to choose – for soil, light, water, and drainage considerations.

You’ll have brilliantly creative strategies to leverage hanging baskets, running planters, and genius tips for vertical gardening.

You’ll discover how to create an upside down garden – and the plants that thrive in them.

And we’ll show you how to easily build your own terrariums for growing healing herbs. These are indispensable in tight areas!

We’ve also included the 14 best vegetables that thrive in small spaces.

This Special Guide a must-have for anyone with limited square footage!

And it’s yours free when you order today.

Now, like I said, these Special Guides will be included in our next version of Backyard Healing Herbs.

That’s the good news.

The bad news is we’re going to have to raise the price of Backyard Healing Herbs by at least $15…

Just to afford the next round of printing.

My husband said our next order of books… is on us!

No more dipping into his retirement account!

Like I said, we had to pay for all 500 of these books UP FRONT.

To our surprise, they’re selling faster than we expected.

I truly want you to get your own copy TODAY….

Before we have to raise the price.

Think about it.

If you order today, you’re getting 4 FREE bonuses worth $156.

Plus, you’re saving $15 by avoiding the coming cost increase.

That’s like me handing you $171 just for ordering today.

Now before I tell you how you can get your hands on Backyard Healing Herbs…

Let me ask a very important question.

How much is it worth to you to see your family… healthy… safe… and free from the unpredictable side effects of traditional remedies?

If this book helps eliminate just ONE side effect…

If it finally allows someone to kick an expensive prescription medication to the curb…

Saving hundreds each and every year…

And providing the satisfaction that you weren’t lining the pockets of the big pharma fat cats…

And if it finally give you the peace of mind that you deserve… knowing you’ve done your best to keep your family healthy, safe, and strong…

How much would that be worth?

You could try buying all these health-giving plants and herbs from a retailer…

Which could cost you hundreds and hundreds of dollars…

But remember… MOST of what you can buy at your local health food store…

Doesn’t have near the level of health-giving nutrients your HOME GROWN produce will.

Remember what I mentioned earlier… over-farming… has ruined the nutritional value of MOST store-bought plants and herbs.

Or, you could spend months and months researching for yourself… spend countless hours of trial and error… trying to get the planting system just right… and trying to find the healing remedies that actually WORK…

And still be right back where you started.

But honestly… the costliest approach… is to do nothing.

The truth is… most people will simply sit on their hands…

And maintain the status quo…

Risking their health… and their family’s health…

To big pharma’s profit-pushing experimentation and mystery side effects that seem to pop up out of nowhere.

But… once you take in “Backyard Healing Herbs”… the possibilities are endless.

Now, I had a “marketing expert” approach me and tell me he could turn Grandma Mary’s knowledge into an exclusive weekend seminar… and charge $1250 a seat.

With so many health-conscious rich baby boomers out there… I’m pretty sure we could sell it out.

But frankly… Grandma Mary and I have very little interest in traveling around giving seminars across the country.

We honestly love spending time with our families way too much to do that.

These remedies were born from the idea that ANYONE…

Living ANYWHERE…

Should be able to grow their own remedies… right where they live…

No matter their socio-economic status!

So, there’s no way we’re going to ask you to invest $1250 in this system… even though I know this information is THAT valuable.

It won’t cost you $600, either.

Truth is, it won’t even cost you $275, even though my husband tells me that’s what I should charge to replenish his 401k.

Grandma Mary and I decided to do something that might sound a bit “off” to sales and marketing “sharks.”

We’re going to set the price of “Backyard Healing Herbs” at just $69.

But… while this very FIRST EDITION of the book is available… we’ll let you have the system for just $39 today.

The only way to secure your copy at this price… is to click the Add to Cart button now.

We can’t guarantee that it will be available tomorrow…

And like I said, once we sell out, we’re going to have to raise the price by AT LEAST $15.

So… don’t get upset if you come back here in a few days and see that the price has gone back up.

Especially since we’re giving away 12 months of unlimited email support.

In reality… the price is immaterial.

That’s because you’re covered by our “Grandma Strong” Money Back Guarantee for a full 60 days.

Here’s how this works.

Grandma Mary and I are asking you to just say “maybe”

To “Backyard Healing Herbs” today.

Get the book. Look it over and try it out for 60 days.

If you’ve ever read a table of contents… you have everything it takes to make this system work for you.

We insist that you MUST be completely thrilled with how easy it is to create your own pocket size healing garden…

But if you’re not… simply email us and tell us you’re unhappy…

And we’ll issue you a full refund with no hassle and zero questions asked.

What’s more… you don’t even have to send the book back.

Keep it as our gift for trying out Grandma Mary’s life’s work.

Now some might ask, “How strong is a ‘Grandma Strong?’ guarantee?'”

Try this on for size.

Grandma Mary is so confident that her grandfather’s system is the simplest and easiest system for growing a healing garden…

That we’re willing to bet our own money that anyone can do this.

So, if for some reason you tried to grow a healing garden using Grandma Mary’s system and couldn’t…

Just send us some proof that you at least tried…

And we’ll refund you whatever you paid for supplies… up to $150.

That’s how strong “Grandma Strong” is!

Has a doctor or pharmacist ever offered you a satisfaction guarantee like that???

Simply click the “Add to Cart” button below… enter your shipping and credit card information…

And you’ll get the 260-page “Backyard Healing Herbs” book rushed to your house right away.

So, that pretty much sums it up.

In this presentation… I’ve shared with you how Backyard Healing Herbs got its start.

How I first found a reliable, effective, all-natural remedy for my cholesterol.

How I discovered Grandma Mary’s healing herb system… passed on to her from her grandfather.

How he perfected it through years on the high seas visiting exotic lands and caring for the crew in his care.

And how… if you can read a table of contents… you can quickly and easily grow remedies for virtually any health concerns you may ever face.

How growing and formulating your own remedies can save you from the unexpected, dangerous, and potentially deadly side effects of big pharma’s profit hungry pill machine.

How you can save hundreds by avoiding copays and OTC remedies.

How you can even make a little cash on the side… if you choose to.

And I’ve even shown you how modern, scientific research has revealed that store-bought herbs are likely emptied of their vital, health-giving nutrients.

I’ve shown you how growing your own healing herbs can be simple, easy… and fun.

Plus I’ve shown you how having your own backyard pocket size garden… is the best way to insure you and your family stay healthy and strong… 100% naturally.

Now, I want you to consider one final thought…

For just a moment, I want to invite you to forget everything you’ve been told about medical prescriptions and healing remedies… up until now.

I want to invite you to think of your family’s health… not as a set of circumstances that funneled you into the medical industry’s traditional Rx-based approach.

But rather, I want to invite you to think of your family’s health… as a choice.

Now, do you remember that Robert Frost poem?

Perhaps you read it in high school… the one about “The Road Less Traveled.”

He spoke of coming to a crossroads… and taking the road less traveled.

And how THAT… made all the difference.

The way I see it, you stand… in this moment… at a similar crossroads…

The first road is what MOST will do: nothing… maintain the status quo…

Hoping and praying nothing bad will come from the Rx medications and OTC remedies you get at the local pharmacy.

I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t say I wished this was a reliable option.

I would be happy to be wrong… if it weren’t for the thousands upon thousands of Americans… who have been funneled into trusting big pharma…

And gotten little out of the exchange, except for the side effects that torpedoed their health.

And I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t mention that first road…

LOOKS smooth and shiny… because it’s been paved by all those profits big pharma they’ve been banking for decades.

This road has ZERO accountability… and ZERO guarantee.

Is that the road you want to take?

Of course, there’s a second road – and that’s to do it all yourself.

That’s what a friend of mine tried a few years back…

She spent hours and hours preparing… days and weeks planting…

And then “got busy”… and watched it all go down the drain because everything just got so overwhelming.

And that’s not to mention all the trial and error experimenting with remedies… that can get you nowhere fast.

Think about it: what’s the point of reinventing the wheel… if you don’t have to.

Why throw away hundreds of dollars and countless hours at a big unknown project…

When you could spend your time, money, and energy on more important things?

Backyard Healing Herbs lets you spend your time and energy where it counts MOST.

Not only do you NOT have to spend countless hours figuring it out for yourself… but you can be up and running in a matter of days.

If you truly want nature’s bounty to be your health’s best friend…

I’d strongly encourage you to consider the third road… the one less traveled.

It’s the one road that can… and will… make all the difference.

Because the results are real… so real, in fact, they’re guaranteed.

Backyard Healing Herbs is the most complete, simple, and easy approach to a healing garden…

Because it’s based on two centuries of healing remedies gathered from around the world…

And now backed by modern research.

Grandma Mary’s system doesn’t require a lot of time to set up and maintain…

It doesn’t require a lot of physical exertion…

And it doesn’t require any gardening experience whatsoever.

What it does require is an open mind.

Give Backyard Healing Herbs a try.

You have a full 60 days to prove Grandma Mary and I right.

Remember, you’re getting two centuries of healing remedies… in the most beginner friendly system imaginable…

Plus unlimited email access for a full 12 months.

As a reminder, you’re also getting the “Natural Healing Secrets of Native Americans” that will open up your eyes to a powerful world of natural healing.

You’ll also get “Wild Edibles” that will be invaluable in any wilderness scenario.

Plus, you’ll get “Veggies for Self-Sufficiency” that will help you provide a year-round source of nutrition for your family.

And you’ll get “The Shoe Box Garden” that will give you the strategies for growing a power-packed garden in the smallest imaginable spaces.

That’s $156 worth of FREE backyard healing knowledge!

You get all this… without risking one red cent.

Remember… Grandma Mary and I will pay YOU… if this system doesn’t work for you.

Imagine how down the road… you’ll be able to look back and give yourself a satisfied pat on the back for making a great decision for you and your family’s health.

So, if you’re ready to experience the obvious health benefits of growing your very own healing garden…

I sincerely hope that for your sake… and for the health and safety of your loved ones… that, like me… you’ll choose the road less traveled…

And click the “Add to Cart” button below.

Grandma Mary and I have a special message waiting for you in the member’s area…

Plus you’ll get another special bonus I’m beyond excited to share with you.

Click “Add to Cart” now, and we’ll see you on the other side.

Now, for just a moment, I want you to close your eyes and imagine living your life…

FREE from the fear of any number of unpredictable and dangerous side effects of pharmaceuticals.

Imagine your life… where YOU are in charge of the entire supply chain of your family’s healing remedies.

A life where you’re confident you can address virtually any health concern that crops up for your family… safely, effectively, and quickly.

Ultimately, it’s what you want, need, and deserve.

Imagine what it would feel like to have the joy of waking up every morning…

Knowing that your family… is in the safest hands of all: YOURS.

Imagine feeling confident that the remedies to virtually all your family’s health concerns… are growing in your own backyard.

All you have to do… is simply CLICK or TAP the button below…

And we’ll get your order processed and shipped within 24 hours.

When you click the “Add to Cart” button, you’ll be redirected to a 100%-secure order form utilizing military-grade encryption to insure your online safety.

You’ll then be able to confirm everything that accompanies your purchase today.

Once your payment is confirmed…

You can get instant access to a digital copy… start your backyard pharmacy right away… and start experiencing the peace of mind that comes from growing your own 100% natural and effective healing remedies.

Click the “Add to Cart” button below…

And Grandma Mary and I will see you on the other side.

0 notes

originaldetectivesheep · 7 years ago

Text

A Life of Riley Part 1 - The Problem With Grinckles ch 5

Chapter 4

"No," Wilson said, knotting the metal hooks at the end of the bungee cord together and twisting so that they would bind, "this is how you do it. I will show you all how to do this right, and we will get the rest of the cameras up faster." He pulled the sides of the cord loop, stretching it, then doubled it up to keep it from stretching too far, and turned it once in his hands to put a single twist in the double loop. He kicked off his shoes and pulled away at his socks with his toes, then set the bungee cord around his feet as a makeshift harness, and grabbed for the tree.

Sajitha snorted, like she would have rolled her eyes and gone "boys" if she had anyone who resembled an ally here to listen, but with just Remy doting on her even weirder than Wilson was, and me who she'd seen pulling these kinds of Tom Sawyer stunts for other chicks and other dudes, she wasn't in a position to really do anything but shrug and hand him the camera. "Be careful," she said, a hard stressed edge to her voice, "and remember to wrap the duct tape around crosswise – the boss will kill me if any gets on the lens or the antenna." Wilson was already halfway up to the branch that we'd picked out, seemingly having a harder time with the inconsistent bark and the need to move around side branches than if he'd been going up a palm back home, so it was anyone's guess if he was listening, but Remy nodded vigorously over Sajitha's shoulder, holding the camera in his hands up to his eyes like this was something he had to pay special attention to. I had to do something, or these woke 21st-century university honor students would be bashing each other over the head with logs and lying about how many mammoths they'd killed in a second or two.

I pulled out my phone and knelt down by the monitoring console, still in Sajitha's bucket – that at least was a positive to having this stupid wannabe love triangle on the team, Wilson and Remy were so gung-ho about one-upping each other that I didn't have to carry any of the buckets any more – and gave it a poke. "So we've got about half the cameras up now; it's gonna be a bit of a walk to get the last two in, and we're not going to have them up till after dark. And jeez, looking at the whole map now, everything's spread way the hell out. Where are we going to have to post up with the console? Doesn't that have to be in the center?" I looked up for a second to tip Sajitha that she should start giving some orders here, and then looked back down quick as the phone buzzed: there was a camera on line on top of us, a new pin in the map, and now Wilson was climbing gingerly back down the tree.

Sajitha waited till he got back over, slapping the tension out of his hands, to reply. "No, the console's independent. I want to leave that in the Facilities office at the sand depot, and then we can stay up in one of the lounges in the Maissel library up on campus and watch out for pictures. Leo, budge over so I can work on it." I stood up and took a step back as she squatted down, turning on the portable console: Remy did not step in over her shoulder, realizing it would be creepy, and Wilson rolled up for a better look, but stayed sat down, pulling his shoes and socks back on.

"The cameras are motion cameras, so they won't go off unless the sensor picks up something in the field of vision – you guys did set them up to cover as much of your potential crossings as possible, right?" She didn't wait for an answer, not quite trusting either of them to really make that determination. "Whatever, I just switched them on, and it looks like the four streams we have so far are good enough, so keep it up. Anyway, they're defaulted to one-meter resolution; if there's three feet of something moving relative to the last frame from a second ago, it'll write it out to the console – and this is new equipment, so it'll just put the frame into a stream buffer on port whatever; we can sit on that port with our phones and get a notification if there's something new. A meter should be plenty for a Bobcat dragging a trailer full of fish, but if they're doing something weird and like moving them by hand, it'll catch it too.

"The only problem is that we're going to tend to get a lot of false positives till about midnight, when there's not so many people just going around campus, even on access roads like this. But if you want to be sure, you need to check all of it, and I'd rather do that at the library where it's lighted and heated, and I can do some homework when we don't have camera stuff to process." Sajitha pulled down an access panel and typed out a couple commands on the half-keyboard inside, probably configuring the streaming slots for the cameras we hadn't connected up yet.

"Sounds like a plan," I said. "And if we're in the library, we can grab other people a lot easier if we need more eyes on this than if we were cooped up in some cabin in the woods. Let's go – only two more cameras to put up, and then we can get your console locked up where it needs to be and catch the bus back to the eng campus." Sajitha nodded and stood up, half-dragging the lid over the bucket; Remy and Wilson each grabbed a handle, on opposite sides, and looked at each other like this was going to go to pistols at dawn.

Instead, we went back to the science library just as planned. We got the cameras up with a minimum of further neanderthalism, got the console set up on a top shelf in the back room of the Facilities shop at the sand depot with some assistance from Jarlan and Paulina, who picked out the place with the least signal interference, where it was least likely to get unplugged or knocked over or something by someone on a different shift, and then gave us a ride back to center campus in the truck, partly like they said because Sajitha was their favorite student worker and partly, I guessed, because they had to pick up one of the temporary leaf-clearing crews and take them over somewhere that connected to the city bus system. It was a good time, and after the air-drying in the back of the pickup I was pretty sure that enough of the pond stink was off me that I wouldn't stand out in the library. Well, in the science library as panicked freshmen in over their heads started grinding for their first midterms.

It was still early when we got in, but instead of just sprawling over the first empty table we came across, Sajitha led us around and down into the basement study area – where Carolína carefully turned down a paper reservation marker or something as she saw us coming. "Hey, welcome," she said, hugging Sajitha and waving at the rest of us. "Did everything go okay? I got the message and marked the table like you said, so we should be set down here for a while; some freshman bros tried to take it, because they didn't know what it meant, but I told them to message their RAs or whoever about Riley, and that got them out pretty quick. Did you eat dinner? We can't get pizza here like we get in the lab or the CS labs, but drinks are okay – so I have a big thermos of blended-up ajiaco from my cousin's place and some cups." Carolína had hustled Sajitha around to the far side of the table, and lifted up a big red thermos barrel with an uff, the rich scent of Colombian potato stew drifting out as she opened the tap on it. Two chairs on their side, three on this, that stuff about Riley to get rid of randos – this was definitely a setup to make sure that the rest of the night went the way Sajitha meant it to.

Wilson picked up the paper tag that was still on the table, reading over what Carolína had sharpied onto it: "'Caution – Applied Physics Lab practical investigation in process – Keep Well Back.'" He looked over at me, sideways at the girls, and then back at me. "The Applied Physics lab – are they in this after all? Did you give it over? You're close enough to them – he is friends with them too – and now they are both in the lab, and now there is this. What is the meaning of this?"

Carolína stood up, hands out. "I'm sorry; I know we have kind of a bad reputation, but that was the point of the sign – to save the table and make other people go away by thinking that I was going to set it on fire or put it in another dimension or something. It's just a bluff; I'm not doing anything crazy here, just my homework."

"She's right," Sajitha said, not looking up from the notebook and textbook and class notes and propped-up phone with more references on it spread out in front of her. "I told her to make something up about the lab to scare off the randos, since we can't actually go up there and do this, because a) you're scared of Riley and b) there's legit not room for three extra people in the lab at once these days. The only AP lab business that's happening at this table is me and Carolína doing our solid-state homework; sit down and watch out for your fish thieves."

"Anyway, I don' think we've met, like, live, for real," Carolína said, extending a hand to Wilson. "I'm Carolína Canaveris, from the Applied Physics lab, but I promise I don' bite."

Wilson extended his hand bashfully. "Wilson. Wilson Msekela. Biology, pre-med, some population genetics. I'm sorry for being angry." Peace restored, I sat down and got my phone out, connecting over to the camera streams; Wilson dropped beside me and busied himself likewise, remote-logging to his cluster to check on the profiling he'd started, and Remy jammed his hands in the pockets of his warmup pants and went to go look for a soda machine or something.

And that's how it stayed, at least for the next couple hours. Carolína and Sajitha dug in behind a rising couch fort of texts and journal boxes, scribbling out equations for silicon permeability, Remy texted with his buddies on the taekwondo team and intermittently stood up and walked around like he was thinking he might move his chair around closer to Sajitha if there was anything he could say about wafer doping that would turn out remotely intelligent, Wilson poked his cluster and chained through the references in this one article in the Lancet like he was writing a survey off it, and randos came by and side-eyed us when they smelled the stew in our cups, then blanched and skittered away when Wilson turned the Applied Physics warning sign back up. And I kept watching the cameras, kept watching the false positives of cars, students on bikes, the wind pushing branches down into the frame, hoping that we'd gotten it right and that this setup, tonight, would give us a clue somewhere about who was doping all the ponds around campus with grinckles, and how they were doing it.

It had to be getting in around midnight when Remy noticed me pulling up another Facilities truck driving through the frame, then flipping it off, back to the split-screen view. "Yo, Leo, this has been kind of bothering me for a while," he said, his voice low, like he didn't want to disturb everyone else studying around the table, "but are we even like looking at the right places, the right way for these things? What you said about like with a Bobcat or something and a trailer – I mean it makes sense, but it also don't. Like, when you drive a Bobcat through the woods, it rips up the ground – there ought to be a trail if they were doing that, and there wasn't. I mean, I didn't look real good at both sides of the road around where I saw them fish splattered around in the middle, but I was riding my bike along all the way on one side, and I'm pretty sure I didn't see nothing like that. I mean, I dunno, but I think I'd'a noticed if there was Bobcat tracks going into the woods."

I thought for a second; it did make sense, and even though there were a lot of leaves on the ground so that maybe there wouldn't be wheel scars everywhere, Remy was right – we should have seen something, somewhere. "Let's check the pics over again," I said. "You got all this stuff photoed right when you saw it, so maybe there's something in the picture that you didn't notice the first time. And even if they're not using motor vehicles, they've got to be moving the grinckles somehow, maybe a bucket brigade, or maybe –" The phone buzzed in my hand, and popped out a notification from the number three camera. I slid it open and dropped my phone onto the table with a clatter.

Everyone looked up, everyone looked over. It – I couldn't explain this shit, not in words. "The – the cameras. Number three. You should've just got it. Look. Just look." I somehow got the words out, somehow turned my phone back level again as the picture changed: one meter resolution, one meter's worth of delta one frame to the next – a line one meter longer out of the woods onto the road.

"How," Wilson said, "how is it happening. How are they in the road – what is the file history – where are the men who set them up?" He was flipping backwards in the camera stream, already minutes back of no change, vainly looking for how this was going to turn out to be an elaborate prank.

"Sajitha," I said, "what is the resolution on these cameras?" At some level I didn't want to zoom in – I didn't want to know what the shadows under the fish were, the blurry infrared shadows below the fins as a line of grinckles marched out across the number three camera's field of vision – but if it was possible we had to do it, to establish just how godawful weird this was going to become.

"Seven-twenty," Sajitha said, shaking her head loosely like she did when she ran up against something truly shocking. "It's a frame a second max, so they can go up to half HD. I – I'm already zoomed in, and you don't want to see this." Three fingers poked on our side of the table, three mouths hung open. Crutches. Fish on crutches. Why the hell fish on crutches.

"I'm not a biologist," Riley said from somewhere above and behind me, leaning over in a shower of bagel crumbs to take a look at the phone, "but I don't see why you mooks are so bent out of shape about fish being on crutches. The last time I checked, fish are kind of bad at legs, so if they had to, like, walk on land for a migration or something, they'd probably need some extra help." That answered nothing – that helped the problem where someone was making crutches for fish, or where grinckles were a kind of fish that made themselves crutches to go around walking between ponds, not at GODDAMN ALL, but of course that didn't make any difference to Riley, who wasn't supposed to be in the library now rather than the lab, and certainly wasn't supposed to walk around the library munching on a bagel, but of course "the rules apply to Riley lololololol" was still the standing punchline anywhere touching the Applied Physics lab.

"And look," Riley mumbled, mouth full, pointing at the latest frame, a shadow rushing out of the dark at the edge of the camera's detectable range, "there you go, rest of the problem solved." A new frame loaded, with a Facilities truck barreling through the line of grinckles in a splatter of fish and fish parts, and then a second frame with the survivors continuing through the carnage across the road. "Grinckles are migratory fish, nobody's seeding them and needs to get beat up, perfectly natural circumstances, let nature take its course, problem solved." There was no way of telling whether Riley was serious or trolling.

"No!" Wilson shouted, standing up, backed away from the table, away from Riley towards the stacks. "No – problem not solved – and this is not nature taking its course. You have done this – this is your fault – any problem you touch, any problem your people touch, it becomes stranger and it becomes worse. This is your fault; you are a walking quantum distortion" – this was pointed at Riley, and then he shifted, finger pointing at me – "and this is your fault, for getting me into this problem, for getting all these Applied Physics people into the same problem. You have made it worse – by observe the problem you affect it, you make sure it is the worst and strangest of possible worlds."

I was pretty sure that I didn't know quite enough quantum mechanics to convince Wilson that he was wrong about that part, and that these fish had been weird and awful and probably walking on crutches long before any of my AP friends got involved, but I was also pretty sure that I was the only one that he'd listen to at all. "Wilson, listen, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I roped you into this – I'm sorry that it turned out so weird. I'm as shocked as you are – I don't know what the hell Riley's doing down here either, this totally wasn't something I expected. I get that you don't want to be involved – it's ok. You've done enough – if you want out, you can ditch the map, drop the group chat, and I promise I'll never bug you about this ever again."

"You are wrong, Leo," Wilson said, spitting fury as he gathered up his phone and his backpack. "You were right before – this is a problem that you need to be involved. I was wrong to get involved with you – with your poison friends – but I was not wrong to get involved with the grinckles. There is a problem still – there will be a problem as long as there is a single grinckle on campus – and I should have gotten involved earlier with that. And I will stay involved – I will solve this problem – I will solve this problem my way, and you all will stay out of that way if you know what is good for you." He stomped off for the stairs, and I slumped forward, breathing out hard. This was shit – this was the worst-case outcome. I had maybe probably lost one of my oldest friends at school, and I was stuck in with a bunch of people from the AP lab and fish that walked around on crutches.

"Too bad about Wilson," Riley said, hands on hips, looking off after him. "That dude's a good dude; he's got some moxie. He should quit that pop-gen and epidemiology crap and switch to nuc-med; he'd take over that stupid department in a minute and a half and then he could hang out at the lab. If he says he's going to singlehandedly wipe out all the grinckles on campus I'd almost half believe him. Anyway," Riley continued after half a beat, turning back to the four of us left around the table, "the grinckles ain't wiped out yet, so that's actually what I came down here to find you guys for. Yuping shared out that map for you guys, and like the whole Chinese-speaking internet around this place has been blowing up about it nonstop for the last couple days; everyone's sharing all their fishing spots and snapping the crap out of places that haven't been visited yet, so like everyone's numbers are going up and nobody's bitching or fighting with each other over trying to hit the same spots. Didn't you see all that detail flooding in all over the place?" Riley looked around, face to face, and apparently everyone else was looking as blank as I felt; I hadn't looked at the map at all since we got the cameras up.

"So yeah, everyone on campus who writes their name in hanzi is somehow in this big Whatsapp group called I guess the Spike Red Fish Mutual Benefit Cooperation Society or that's how Yuping translated it, and some of the big wheels in the chat came up and gave him a stack of fillets for getting the ball rolling, and I went down and stole all the crumbs out of the toasters at the Gluino Research Society bagel stand; it's going to make a sick panko breading and we're going to fry up them fillets before they stink. Are you guys in?" Riley looked around, face to face to face, still nothing. Nobody, least of all me, was jumping at the chance to go eat on this fish that we'd just seen walking around in the road on crutches. But Riley was Riley, and there wasn't going to be any way out of this; silently, I wished I'd stomped off with Wilson when I'd had the chance.

Chapter 6

#nanowrimo #alifeofriley #fiction

1 note · View note