#this is from the new kettle item that came with For Rent

[jasminesilk]

Unicorn tea!

[smivic]

Dancing Boxes

As you likely know, we’ve been relocating.

I’m still taken aback when someone asks for my address and I can no longer say Cuprite Trail, Flagstaff, Arizona. Now I have to say my new locale: Tiffany Lane, Hamilton, Montana. From the southern border to the northern one, from the Colorado Plateau to the Bitterroot Valley, from the land of Coronado to the land of Lewis and Clark. 

By June 7 the big fun had started, dancing boxes, an empty garage, and then sylvan green. . Boxes, the legos of packing, loading, unloading, and arranging, were purchased. A slow track started playing in my head, Christian McBride on a string bass, insistent but not strident.

We stacked, piled, and boxed. We sought quotes from  commercial moving companies: first $16K, then down to $14K after a schedule change (both assuming we did the packing). I saw that a  26 foot truck could be rented from Penske for $3K. We filed the reservation, thinking that skated past the cost challenge.

We continued packing. Piles of stuff and of boxes rose. Hours, days, several weeks. It seemed like we were supporting Home Depot’s cash flow. As the boxes closed and the garage filled, a sense of soft eviction joined with bursts of losing something we needed, “where are the leashes? …packed” “damn. Our artifacts and life spaces, our histories, our relationships were being slowly disappeared right under our noses.

The boxes were organized, the packing done. This blissful feeling was illusory because then help appeared. There were three teams in our unstable scrum.

First came the hired help, Firemen Movers, a local group run by firemen, using various friends and younger relatives, all energetic all unrelenting, all strong like bulls. They stacked our stuff like I never thought possible like ants on a sugar pile. 

Our stacked boxes were being disappeared, dancing from place to place in the Rubik’s Cube. Everything not nailed down went in (boxes, suitcases, tools, papers: Have you seen…? Many times). All moved into carefully built walls of randomized (any box with any other box). 

Second, the family help, son Adam and granddaughter Joia from Alaska, along with Son Nathan and his children, Alielah, Twilla, and Micah from Arizona, arrived. They presumed they would be loading, until they saw just effective the kids were at arranging the perfect Rubik’s Cube slices. Then they grabbed other stuff to carry into the garage, more stuff disappeared.

Third, Us. We helped where we could, but it seemed we were more often dazed by the noisy monsoon that was rolling over us as last minute discoveries were made. 

I had guessed that we would need a big truck, 26 feet, for $3K. It was supposed to hold the contents of a 1300 sq ft house. Ours was 1800. Some big items were being left behind, so we should be OK, right? Sure, but just in case we’d upped the ante, I’d added a 6x12 trailer, another $350. Soon the big truck was filled. Then the trailer was filled. But some important stuff was still homeless.

Quickly I had to throw a Hail Mary and pick up a smaller truck, another $1150, praying that it would solve our problems. Whew.  All was in. We were still much less than half the cost, not yet counting fuel costs.

Then it became the family adventure. The road called, time to go. I imagined Aaron Copeland leading his Fanfare For The Common Man. The convoy began. A pickup with trailer, big truck, small truck, an SUV as a dog & cat taxi.

The first stop came quickly, the afternoon of the load-in.  In we went, 4 adults, 1 college student, 3 children, three dogs (cats stayed in the SUV). Two rooms, where to sleep, where to eat, when to stop. Repeat the next night.

Then it was time to land, the promised land. Time for cymbals and kettle drums. Where to land? 

This was day 3 of our Don Quixote adventure. The new house wasn’t ready and there were no “ready” promises offered.  Oops. damn! Some welcome, no cymbals, no kettles drums.

It was time to adapt. Stuff was stuffed into the 3 garages next to the new house. More chaos, much too little organization. Our hope was that we’d use two for furniture, one for as many boxes, bins as possible. But, like the loading, the unloading became a further shuffling as everything, boxes, et al., danced again.

We also launched a frontal assault on the house provider, with bombast, with desperation, with some begging and attempted negotiation.

When would we really land? At day eight the walkthrough was finally scheduled. Good. Victory? Not really. Adam and Joia had gone home several days earlier. Nathan, Alielah, Twilla, and Micah left the day before the walkthrough. 

Did the initial bass line play again? Not really. It became a bit of a dirge, with Jessie, me, Jessie’s daughter, Traci, and son-in-law, Joe, from near Hamilton, at the center of the lament. Long hours in the Bitterroot heat. Lift, open, carry, stow, repeat, “have you seen?”, repeat. We had labelled many of the containers, but didn’t know where they were in the garages. The dancing boxes were moving to their own rhythms.

Finally we did take a break from the dirge, thankfully, for a drive up Lost Horse Creek, our sylvan escape, sinking into the local luxuriance of green and the flowing water, lots of splashing and playing. Time has now passed. Boxes have re-introduced themselves. Furniture has been re-appeared. The silver, Zuni-inlayed money clip given to me by Sue Richardson at her trading post in Gallup NM, with my cash collected from Road Scholar tips is now back.  We started to celebrate our anniversary at 6 weeks and a day. It felt pretty dang special.

There have been hills to climb. These changes will get easier to accept, I hope (no matter how much easier it gets, no matter where my dwelling is, I will always be from the Colorado Plateau and the Southwest). 

Thanks to all who’ve thrown themselves into our adventure.

[roboticchibitan]

A cottage witch and her dragon 7

(The other episodes of this story can be found on Ao3 here)

The market was a ten minute walk from Serenity’s home. The outdoor market had dozens of booths, including the one Serenity rented three days a week. They were arranged in and around the main square of Valley Commons. It was always bustling, even on rainy days. There were jewelry booths and booths where artists sold their art, but most of the booths were selling more practical items, like the potter who sold plain, inexpensive dishware, and the fruit stand Serenity frequented.

Lining the main square were shops of all kinds. There was a butcher’s shop, a used bookstore that had a resident cat that Serenity adored and Dragon considered his nemesis, and a handful of other miscellaneous shops. It was the economic center of the neighborhood, where you could get most things you needed for day to day life.

So when the empty corner shop started showing signs of being repaired and turned into an active shop of some kind, it became the hot neighborhood gossip topic. Everyone had heard from someone what the mysterious new store was going to be, but somehow no one could agree on what they’d heard. Mrs Roberts heard from the man who ran the vegetable stand that it was going to be a clothing store. Liz thought she had heard it was going to be a locksmith. Granny Thomas had a different theory every time the topic was brought up, though she never said where she got these theories. Serenity suspected she was just having fun at the expense of her neighbors.

The knock that came on Serenity’s door was urgent. It definitely sounded like Granny Thomas’s knock when she had something particularly juicy to share.

“Oh, good, you’re home!” Granny said when Serenity opened the door. “Serenity dear, you’ll never guess what I just saw!”

“Oh?” Serenity said, letting Granny in and going to start her magic tea kettle. Gossip is best had over tea, after all.

“The store! The store that everyone has been talking about! It’s open!”

“Is it?” Serenity was more amused at the heated neighborhood gossip than she was an active participant.

“Yes! I just came back from the market and it’s open! You’ll never guess what it is!”

“What is it?” Serenity asked, rummaging around on one of her herb shelves. She was in the mood for a nice Ceylon black tea today, she thought.

“It’s a chocolate shop,” Granny said dramatically. “And it’s run by a witch! It’s magic chocolate!”

Now Serenity’s interest was piqued. “Magic chocolate?”

“Yes! It makes you feel emotions! He has all these little chocolates with different fillings and they’re called things like joy, hope, contentment, friendship. All sorts of emotions! And when you eat it, you feel those emotions! They even have melancholy, though I don’t know why anyone would want to feel that. You have to buy a joy chocolate with it. They come as a set.”

“How unique!” Serenity exclaimed.

“Yes, and there’s this huge sculpture of a snake in the window, and it’s made entirely from chocolate! It’s so realistic! It looks just like a statue! It’s painted and everything.”

“Did you try the chocolate?”

“Oh, no, I wanted to try it with you! And little Lucy, let’s bring her too! I’ll buy her some chocolate. Kids love that kind of stuff.”

“We better ask her mom first.”

“Of course! They make plain chocolate too, without the emotions. The street outside the door smells heavenly.”

“Well, I’m at a good stopping point for the day. Why don’t we go talk to Liz? I’ll leave Dragon here. He’s fine on his own now and the market is a little overwhelming for him,” Serenity said, deciding against tea and turning off the kettle.

Granny cheerfully agreed and they made their way two doors down to Liz’s place. The neighborhood was laid out in a grid, with barely enough room for a person to pass between each house. Each house was backed by a very small garden. Serenity’s garden sat unused, but Granny had some flowers and a few yard ornaments in hers. LIz’s garden was full to the brim with vegetables and herbs, which she shared generously with her neighbors when she had extra.

“Granny! Serenity! Come in!” Liz greeted them. “What brings you by today?”

“That shop in the square is finally open!” Granny exclaimed. “It’s a chocolate shop, of all things! So we were wondering if Lucy would like to come with us to try some chocolate.”

Lucy popped her head out of a bedroom door and said, loudly, “Chocolate?! I want to go!”

Liz smiled at her. “Will you behave yourself? Hold Granny’s hand the entire time and don’t run off. Don’t yell, and don’t bother people you don’t know.”

“Okay!” Lucy said, not quietly.

“And don’t yell.”

“Okay,” Lucy said, quieter.

“Let me grab some money for the chocolate,” Liz said, going to her purse, which hung on a hook by the door.

“No, no,” Granny said, “I invited her. I’ll pay for it.”

Liz knew from previous experience that it was useless to argue with Granny Thomas, so she put her purse back and said “Thank you, Granny.”

“Of course! Now, let’s get going! Come on Lucy, hold my hand.”

Lucy hop-skipped the entire way to the main square. She could barely contain her excitement. She kept up a steady stream of chatter the entire way. First she wanted to know what kind of chocolate the store had. Then she wanted to know how it made you feel emotions. Then she wanted to know how magic works, followed by an announcement that she was going to be a witch when she grew up, too.

There was a line outside the chocolate shop. A sign on the window read “Grand opening! Magic and mundane chocolate for sale! Open until we sell out.”

“Wow, they sure are popular,” Serenity remarked.

“Are we going to have to wait long?” Lucy asked, in tones of complaint.

“Just be patient,” Granny Thomas reassured her. “See, the line is moving quickly!”

The line was, indeed, moving quickly, and soon it was the trio’s turn at the counter.

“I want to eat joy!” Lucy exclaimed.

“Don’t yell, dear. We’ll get you a joy. Serenity, what do you want?”

“Granny, I can buy my own chocolate.”

“Nonsense, it’s a special day. I’m paying.”

Serenity, like Liz, knew there was no point in arguing. “I’m not sure what I want to get,” she admitted.

“We have a three pack of positive emotions,” the clerk, who was suffering through the universal retail experience of being totally ignored by customers right in front of him, interjected.

“What does that have in it?” Granny asked.

“Three truffles. Joy, love, and contentment.”

“We’ll take that, then,” she said. “And give us an extra joy and three bars of mundane chocolate.”

“Sure, that’ll be ten crowns.”

“So cheap! My goodness! You’ll go out of business!” Granny scolded. “Oh well, good for my wallet I suppose.”

The clerk picked the appropriate chocolates out of the glass case next to the counter and wrapped them in little decorative papers and put them in a cardboard box that said “Feelings of goodness” on it.

The three squeezed through people in the crowded shop, and managed to make it back out into the square and to a bench next to the small fountain that kids liked to play in during the summer.

“Okay,” said Granny, “Lucy, here’s your joy chocolate. Eat it slowly. Serenity, do you want love or contentment?”

Serenity thought for a moment. Contentment was something she felt often, sitting alone next to a fire and knitting away, or in quiet moments sharing tea with Granny. She didn’t need a glamorous life to be happy. She was already content.

“I’ll try love,” she said.

“Here you go!” Granny handed her the chocolate. “Lucy, you try yours first.”

Lucy suddenly looked a little shy. “It’ll make me feel happy?”

“Yes, that’s what it’s supposed to do. Go ahead now.”

Lucy gingerly bit into the small chocolate truffle. Slowly, her face lit up. “It’s so good!” She wasn’t quite yelling. “I’m so happy!” Now she was yelling. “I feel so nice! Granny, I’m happy!” She did a little dance, as if she couldn’t contain her joy.

Granny smiled down at her. “Good, I’m glad. Serenity, you go next.” Serenity was starting to suspect Granny was using them as guinea pigs before trying her own chocolate.

Feeling slightly nervous, Serenity took a bite of her truffle. She noticed the flavor before the emotion. The chocolate was delicious and smooth. The center was a rich buttercream filling. She felt herself warming up. Thoughts of Granny and Dragon popped into her head. Her heart was so full of warmth and happiness. She looked down at Lucy and felt another surge of emotion. She loved her neighbors. She found herself thinking of every time her neighbors had ever treated her with kindness. She felt the gratitude, the happiness, the softness, and the warmth all swirling together. How was love made up of so many other emotions?

She looked at Granny and was almost knocked over by the rush of happiness, gratitude, tenderness, and trust she felt. That’s right. Granny was her family. Found family, perhaps, but family just the same. She loved Granny. They were much more than neighbors. They were friends, and they loved each other. The softness, the love, she felt was overwhelming. Serenity gasped. How long had she been holding her breath?

Slowly, the sensation faded, leaving a slight warm afterglow behind.

“Well?” Granny asked expectantly.

“That was incredible,” Serenity said. “Granny, you have to try that one.”

“I have plenty of love to go around,” Granny replied. She eyed her contentment truffle dubiously. “I suppose it’s my turn.”

Granny took a cautious bite. Serenity watched as her look of distrust softened, and she smiled as if she was experiencing the same warm feeling in her heart that Serenity had felt. She closed her eyes, a look of complete happiness crossing her face. After a few moments, she opened her eyes, looking calm and relaxed.

“Well. That was definitely an experience,” was all she said.

“Can we give my mom some?” Lucy asked.

Granny smiled down at her. “That’s what the extra joy truffle was for! And I got a chocolate bar for each of us to take home!”

Lucy’s eyes lit up. “A chocolate bar? I get a chocolate bar too?!”

“Yes, but I’m giving it to your mother for safekeeping. You’ll get sick if you eat it all at once.”

“Awww,” said Lucy, pouting.

“Don’t pout. It doesn’t work on me.” Granny said matter of factly.

Lucy glanced furtively at Serenity.

“Don’t look at Serenity like that. It doesn’t work on her, either.”

Lucy sighed, then shrugged. “Can I go dip my hands in the fountain?”

“Sure, but come right back.”

Lucy ran off happily, leaving the adults alone.

“That was an interesting experience,” Granny said. “You can do really amazing things with magic. But sometimes it’s the little things that matter most.” She seemed wistful, as if looking back at a long lifetime of little things that mattered.

“It seems like the chocolate doesn’t force you to feel the emotion, it just reminds you of things that already make you feel that emotion,” Serenity observed. “I’d absolutely love to meet the genius witch behind the idea. Who would come up with that!”

“I said the same thing about your magic knitted items,” Granny told her. “Young witches are so clever! A creative witch can do anything they can think of! Being a witch might not be the most glamorous profession, but the world would grind to a half without us.”

“I sincerely doubt my shawls are keeping the world going, Granny.”

“You’re wrong. Think about how cold life would be without them. Besides, so-called scientists depend on our help with new technology. Even the street car that takes us around the city was created to run on magic and is repaired by witches. We really are underappreciated.”

“And underpaid,” Serenity added.

“Yes, that too. Well,” Granny standing up. “Lucy looks like she’s ready to climb into that fountain even though it's the dead of winter. Let’s go home, shall we?”

They collected Lucy, who had water on her dress now, and hurried home so she could change. Serenity thought about the chocolate when she got home. She felt a lingering warmth. She knew from her magic senses that there was no spell on her anymore. It seemed the chocolate, by showing you what you loved, changed your mindset just a little bit. Serenity wasn’t complaining, though. Appreciating what she had was one of her constant goals in life. Today, that was just a little bit easier.

[completely-zucked]

I've been homeless and immobile for a while, but I'm in danger of losing my accommodation and wheels (again).

Mentally and spiritually, I have been homeless for nearly two decades. I have once again been threatened with eviction because I don't have enough money in my bank account to pay my rent or meet my car repayment and other loans. Each time it happens, things get worse and there's no negotiating.

This time around, though, I might call their bluff, because I was already being driven mad (quite literally) by the restrictions, manipulating and gass-lighting (being called a cold, uncaring self-centred, irrational, illogical, lazy, stupid, narcissistic and paranoid sociopath — enough to make a guy with self-esteem and motivation issues suicidal). What's changed is that now I've been banned from using, cleaning and/or performing any maintenance on any room in the house except my bedroom (including bathrooms and toilets), which was previously one of my responsibilities. I have to use outdoor ones/the old servants' quarters, which doesn't have a door on the bathroom. )I live in the southern hemisphere; it's winter here.) I'm not allowed to hang a curtain or take material to make one, so I use an old chlorine bucket in the passageway/corridor outside as an indicator that I'm in there. I'm not allowed to be out there past 21:00 and am not allowed to move my stuff to the servants' quarters or garage because they are being used as storage space for tools and, occasionally, as a home gym by/for my landlord. I'm also not allowed to use any tools or appliances (including vacuum, cleaners, brushes, brooms, dustpans and cloths), because no maintenance. Everything of mine that I don't keep hidden and locked away has been confiscated. Of that, everything that I bought myself has been discarded or claimed as belonging to my landlord and landlady. (My soap, of all things, was the first casualty, which is what tipped me off and prompted my buying locks for those things I could lock away.) I am also not financially able nor permitted to buy more tools, containers or locks (and replacements for those) since my finances are being scrutinised and my choices, decisions and purchases criticised.

My broom is a paintbrush, my dustpan a plastic shopping bag and my duster a roll of paper towel. My vacuum cleaner is a cardboard tube glued to a Pringles can with a PC fan inside. ... And they wonder why I've taken to doing DIY projects that repurpose recyclable household items ; how irrational of me ... Le sigh.

That means no fridge, kettle, microwave or stove. I also don't get cooked meals. That would be fine on its own if I weren't subject to restrictions. I live off powdered milk, coffee, cereal, peanut butter, marmite, bread, orange squash concentrate, syrup, biscuits and bananas. Sometimes, I skim a couple of tablespoons of yoghurt out of the container when they're not around, or dilute fruit juice with water at a ratio of about 1:3, just to have some variety/luxury. I had some meal replacement shake powder too, just to keep me from starving, but that's gone and I can't afford to replace it. If I ask for more, I'll have to pay it back; they keep track of everything they buy for me (including a bottle of vitamins) that I'll have to pay back if/when I get a job again. I already owe about $220. It was, of course, a big deal when I bought myself twelve beers on special for $9 the day I got paid for the first lot of contract work I'd done in nearly six months since losing my job, despite the guy underpaying me by just over $100 because I hadn't insisted on a written agreement and was in no position to haggle/negotiate; the last time I do favours for friends, especially those who're religious. (The fact that I'm rationing out the beers at one a week and am only on my sixth one next weekend doesn't have any relevance to my landlady, who tried to confiscate a couple with intent to give them to my landlord and made an almighty fuss about how selfish I was being when I said I'd be fine with sacrificing them if either of them had just asked for one, how she'd noticed my ex always bought the wine despite our having agreed on certain divisions of costs when we were together, and a whole lot of other irrelevant bullshit.)

I need help getting out before the end of June, assuming I find a job and somewhere to go by then. Otherwise, I'm quite likely to end up on the street or attempting to off myself again. Currently, I have no job, nowhere to go and not even enough money to buy a cheap bicycle for $175. Even if I take my car to a dealer who'll settle the balance of my loan with the bank, I get nothing for it because it's an old model which I haven't been able to afford to take better care of and is pretty much a lemon four years after I drove it off the showroom floor. (I should have traded it in after two, before the new model came out). That's the best deal I've been offered. The alternative is to either trade it in for something else and extend my loan or take an amount that's less than it's worth and continue paying off a loan for a vehicle I no longer have. Hooray for death by a thousand cuts under Consumer capitalism.

Apparently, it's all my fault for not learning my life lessons, growing the fuck up, sorting my life out and GTFO of the family home a hell of a lot sooner (by at least a decade, nearly two), when the physical abuse by my peers first started in small and subtle ways. I thought that would all be behind me when I left high school, then varsity, then two corporate jobs. But no, I'm the kind of person who attracts bullies and toxic, abusive relationships.

The moral of the story

If I had known what I now know and the lessons I have learned when I was a padawan/young twenty-something, I would have taken my education seriously and applied myself to obtaining both CS and EE degrees instead of a crappy, near-worthless diploma, moved into my own two-room shoebox as a priority and bought a bicycle instead of a car. Anywhere I can't reach by bike probably isn't worth going and a car is an immovable liability/waste of money two years after purchase. At least I would have my own space (which I so desperately crave). At least then, I could be an allegedly horrible, reprehensible and repulsive degenerate of a person all by myself without anybody to hurt or hurt me. I'm fucking done with living with other people for a while. Fuck that noise; I want a thousand days of solitude, even if it's in a corrugated iron shack in an informal settlement. I'm prepared to cook my supper in a three-legged potjie over a wood fire and boil collected rainwater in a cast iron pot while I wait for my orchard and mielies to grow.

Honestly, at this stage, I'm prepared to live on a camp bed with a sleeping bag and a camp chair and folding table in somebody's garage, undercroft or old servants' quarters (as long as there's a plug point and running water) just to be able to get away from here. I just want some space of my own to be myself (horrible or otherwise) again and keep my interaction with people to a minimum while I figure out how to cope with/manage my shitty life situation, get back on my feet and out in the world again without being scrutinised, criticised, judged, condemned, restricted, rejected and ostracised. That shit is literally making me crazy and suicidal. It is not in any way conducive to me so much as thinking of an action plan/way forward, let alone pursuing it. Yet, somehow, I still manage to restrict the time I spend buggering around on social media (still too much), which I apparently need to succeed in the modern world, hunt for jobs, write, make music and try to flog my Patreon to disinterested parties. Oh, and I'm also writing a proposal for a social media site for someone who's attempting to gather funding.

Seeing my shrink for two hours a month (which costs me a month's wages from my part-time weekend job) and the afore-mentioned job is not enough, as much as I love animals.

So if you can spare between ten and twenty-seven dollars a month to help keep me afloat, please subscribe to my Patreon. Your support will be greatly appreciated.

[keanubot]

I Love You Like The Sun Came Out (Keanu Reeves/Reader) Chapter 3

sorry for another bit of a wait on this one, thank you all so much as usual for being so patient 💖 i promise i have so much planned for this fic its ridiculous, so if i’m ever a bit late with the posting it doesn’t have anything to do with me not wanting to write it, don’t worry.

warnings for this chapter: none

You start packing immediately after hanging up the phone, not even bothering to get dressed as you pull things from your closet and shove them into your travel bag. As you pack, you attempt to process exactly what’s even happening right now; you’ve really been asked by Keanu Reeves himself if you want to move into his house. Two weeks ago you hadn’t even wanted this job, and now suddenly you’re so incredibly grateful that you got it. In what other world would you get an opportunity like this to get away from your roommates and actually have some time to yourself for once? You’re already fantasizing about all the rehearsing you’ll get to do without ears pressed against doors, without being told “Well, what if you did it this way instead?”, without constantly feeling like you’re in a never-ending competition.

It feels amazing.

You quickly shower and pack up your bathroom items, then head downstairs with your bags and peek into the kitchen to see what awaits you. All three of your roommates are sitting at the kitchen table, although only Becca and your third roommate Hayley are talking; Alexis sits across from them on her phone, clearly ignoring the conversation. Hayley and Alexis are the ones who haven’t spoken to each other in at least a month after Hayley won a role they’d both gotten to the final auditions for. You’ve never seen such dramatic passive aggressiveness in your life.

You place your bags quietly by the front door and then head back to the kitchen, not wanting to announce your news until you absolutely have to; you know there’s going to be a lot of questions and you don’t even know how to answer them at this point. No one talks to you when you enter, so you fill up the kettle and start preparing your morning cup of tea, hoping they don’t notice when you take the whole box of tea bags down from the cupboard so you can add it to your bag. You’re the only one who drinks it anyway.

Speaking of which…you can’t remember if Keanu has a kettle at his house. As soon as the water is finished boiling you add it to your mug and quickly drain the rest in preparation to take it with you.

Just as your tea is finished steeping, Becca gets up from the table, “Well, I’m going for my run.”

“Have fun.” Hayley replies, looking down at her phone.

Alexis briefly looks up to give Hayley a dirty look before going back to whatever she’s doing. God, you can’t wait to get away from this.

Becca leaves the room and about ten seconds later she rushes back, expression confused, “Who’s leaving?!”

“What?” Alexis finally speaks, putting her phone down, “Leaving?”

“Someone’s bags are in front of the door,” Becca explains, voice anxious, “Are one of you guys moving out because a group meeting definitely wasn’t called and if you’re leaving without giving us a warning, that’s fucked up.”

You try not to roll your eyes, taking a sip of tea before licking your lips and sighing, “They’re mine,” everyone looks at you and you can practically hear them gasping internally, “I’m not moving out though, I’m still paying rent. I’m just gonna go stay somewhere else for a few weeks.”

Becca looks at you as if you have three heads, “Somewhere else? Where?”

Before you can answer, Hayley chimes in, “Somewhere closer to Keanu’s house? Because of all the driving?”

You’re honestly surprised that someone’s been paying attention, and Hayley’s assumption gives you a new way out of all the dreaded questions.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding, “One of the other girls from the housekeeping service said I can stay at her house for a little while. She’s, um, going away for a bit. A vacation or something.” For an actress, you’re not the most amazing liar, but they seem to be buying it, “It’s only about a ten minute drive from Keanu’s.”

“Must be a nice house, then.” Alexis mutters bitterly, and you can feel her jealousy radiating from where she’s sitting; cleaning Keanu’s house was one thing, but moving somewhere nicer to do it? She’s annoyed. As mean as it sounds, her irritation makes you feel a bit smug.

“I’m gonna take the kettle with me, if you don’t mind,” you’re not sure why you’re asking for permission – you’re the one who bought it after all – but you feel bad for lying.

Becca waves her hand, “Oh, go ahead, you know none of us use it.”

“So, you’ll still pay your part of the rent? Next Friday?” Hayley asks, and you nod.

“Yep, don’t worry about it, I got it covered.”

Just as you say this, your phone rings – Keanu’s assistant. You excuse yourself from the kitchen and walk to the front door to escape the listening ears behind you. Your call is brief – she tells you that your rental is ready and you plan for it to be waiting outside your apartment as soon as possible.

She also tells you that Keanu actually did end up picking it himself, which admittedly makes you nervous as hell.

-----

An hour later, after scrolling through some casting calls and responding to a few e-mails, a car pulls up outside. You’re the first to see it, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach when you see how nice it is; it’s definitely expensive, and definitely not like anything you’ve ever driven before.

“Whose car is that?” Hayley is beside you before you can even process everything, and you splutter a bit before replying.

“Um – uh, mine, I think,” you get up and slide into your shoes, eyes glued to the car, “It’s a rental.”

“How the fuck can you afford an Audi?!” Alexis asks, suddenly standing on the other side of you looking confused.

Before you can reply, Becca appears in the doorway, back from her run with a shocked expression on her face, “Is that for you?”

You really hate attention, absolutely despise it, actually – which certainly isn’t what you’d expect considering the profession you’ve chosen – and all the eyes of your prying roommates being on you makes you feel incredibly uncomfortable. You pick your bags up off the floor, slipping past Becca and walking out to the front step.

“I’ll talk to you guys soon.” you say, with every intention to do the exact opposite. You turn around and walk quickly to the car, the driver getting out and helping you put your bags in the trunk. You don’t look back at your roommates, knowing full well they’re already talking about you.

The drive to Keanu’s house is relatively quiet – you don’t really know what to say and you’re also extremely distracted by how luxurious the interior of the car is; Alexis had said Audi, and your very, very limited knowledge of cars tells you that it’s a pretty high quality brand. It’s sleek, with a black exterior and interior, and the number of gadgets on the dashboard is already overwhelming – and you’re not even the one driving.

The driver does say a few things throughout the drive, telling you that all your necessary information for the insurance has already been forwarded by Keanu’s assistant. According to him, you have the car for 2 months, which is more than enough time to get your car fixed. It can’t be cheap to rent a car this nice for that long, and you spend most of the drive simply marveling at Keanu’s generosity.

You pull up to Keanu’s house and quickly sign a few documents for the driver, who hands you the keys and then gets out to walk over to the other car in the driveway – his associate. You watch them back down the driveway before disappearing down the road.

And that’s it. Suddenly, you’re sitting completely alone in a beautiful car in front of a beautiful house that you will be living in for the next few beautiful weeks. It honestly feels like a dream you hope you never wake up from. It’s crazy to think that you’d initially never even wanted to apply for this job. Hoo boy.

You carry your bags inside and immediately come to the realization that you have no idea where you’re sleeping. Obviously Keanu’s bedroom is out of the question, so you know there are two guest rooms to choose from. There’s a small one on the left side of the house, closer to the garage, and there’s one across the hall from Keanu’s room, a lot bigger with a jacuzzi in the en suite bathroom. The choice is pretty easy, so you bring your stuff to the room and start unpacking.

It’s been tempting the past two weeks to try out one of the beds, but obviously it had been incredibly inappropriate and you hadn’t dared. Now, however, there’s absolutely nothing stopping you. With a sly smile, you fall backwards onto the bed, the black and red blankets enveloping you as you sink into the soft mattress. You’re not sure if you’ve ever laid on something this comfortable in your life. Oh my god…this is heaven.

You’re not sure how it happens exactly, seeing as you only woke up not long ago, but the sudden relief and relaxation you feel sends you into unconsciousness pretty quickly.

-----

The sound of footsteps in another part of the house wakes you up a few hours later, and you practically fall over trying to get off the bed. You hear distant voices, none of them recognisable, and for a moment you’re terrified that you left the door unlocked and accidentally let fans or paparazzi into the house. But no, you distinctly remember locking the door, so it must be someone who has a key.

You walk out into the main hallway and see two men placing bags on the floor – groceries. One of them turns and heads back out to grab more, while the other notices you and gives you a smile, reaching his hand out.

“You must be the housekeeper,” he says with a charming smile, then pulls his hand away and points to himself, “Gardener.”

“Oh, nice to meet you.” You tell him your name and he smiles wider.

“I’m Jay. Sorry for letting myself in, I usually just stay outside but this guy was knocking and I had to let him in.”

“Totally fine,” you say with a reassuring nod, “I didn’t even hear him, so…”

You both stand there a bit awkwardly for a second before the grocery man re-enters and places the last few bags on the floor, “Have a nice day.” He says before walking back outside and getting in his truck.

“Let me help you with those.” Jay says as you reach down, and you feel yourself sigh internally – you came to this house to be alone.

Even though you’d rather he just go back to his duties, you figure he has just as much of a right to be here as you do, considering he’s been working here longer than you. Plus, he seems harmless. You both carry the groceries into the kitchen and Jay begins to pull items out when you put your hand up to stop him.

“No, that’s okay! I’ll do it, seriously, it’s my job,” you try to say it without sounding like you want him to leave, but he sees right through you.

“You wanna be alone,” he says with a laugh, and before you can interrupt he laughs again, “No, it’s fine, I get it. But it was really nice meeting you!” he backs away, winking one of his blue eyes at you, “I’ll see you around. I’m here once a week so we’ll bump into each other again.”

He’s got a very flirty vibe surrounding him that you’re not really feeling, but you toss him a smile, “See ya.”

As soon as you hear the front door shut, you sigh in relief and begin to put away the groceries, trying to figure out where everything goes. Keanu doesn’t have that much in any of the cupboards – you suppose there’s no need for him to keep it stocked when he’s away.

He doesn’t have many magnets on the fridge but he does have those word ones, the ones you can mix and match to make sentences and poems with. The words have been scrambled since you arrived, no poem or sentence discernible, and now that you’re staying in the house for a little while, it doesn’t feel as weird to put one together.

Once all the groceries are put away you spend a few moments standing in front of the fridge, pulling and pushing the magnets back and forth with your tongue between your lips, trying to come up with something good. In the end, you end up with this:

Please be quiet I am busy being alone.

“I mean…it’s fitting.” You say aloud to no one in particular.

-----

After feeding the fish and doing a few things here and there, the urge to test out that amazing bath in your bedroom becomes way too strong. You soon find yourself kneeling beside it, dipping two fingers in the water to test it before standing and beginning to undress. At first you have to admit that it feels a little bit creepy to be taking a bath in the house of someone you’ve never met – not to mention even creepier once you’re naked – but there’s a slight thrill in it too. You have to keep reminding yourself that you’re allowed to be doing what you’re doing; Keanu wants you to be here.

(Yeah, definitely a thrill.)

As soon as you’re submerged in the hot water you feel immediately at peace, closing your eyes and leaning your head back. After a few moments of relaxation you reach for the mug of tea resting on the side of the tub and take a long sip, putting it down again when your phone suddenly dings. You pick it up and see an e-mail notification.

It only takes a few seconds to realize that it’s from your agency, notifying you that you’ve booked an audition for another commercial. You bite your lip, skipping through most of it to see what you’ll be advertising: dish soap. Great. You put your phone back down and completely submerge yourself in the water.

----

You spend the rest of the day puttering around Keanu’s house, not really doing anything in particular but also not wanting to stay in one place. You find yourself by the koi pond a lot, watching them and trying your hardest not to name more of them, though you’re pretty sure one of the orange and black ones is a definitive Nemo.

The couch in the living room is extremely comfortable, and in your solitude you end up somehow managing to take another nap. You hadn’t realized how much stress being in that house with those girls has caused you; finally having a chance to be away from them is already doing wonders.

You wake up to another email, this time containing your lines for the commercial. You really hate reading off a screen so you head to Keanu’s office where you know there’s a printer, hoping he won’t mind you going in. He’d said in his initial note that no room was off limits, but you’ve only been in here once, so it still feels a bit odd. Especially with the space being so obviously personal – the movie memorabilia, awards, and treasures from sets and places all over the world peppered around the room.

You sit down in the black desk chair and turn on the printer, setting up the bluetooth and humming to yourself. Once it’s set up, you lean back and wait for it to print, your eyes scanning the room and taking in everything. This is what he sees when he’s working, you think to yourself, wondering if this is where he rehearses. You look at the computer and hesitantly reach down to shake the mouse, your curiosity getting the better of you. I just want to see what his desktop wallpaper is.

You come face to face with a picture of a beautiful view, from what looks like a canyon. You wonder if he took it himself or if it’s something he found online. His administrator icon is the logo for his motorcycle company.

Not wanting to go any further than that, you turn the monitor back off and grab your script, getting out of the chair and heading to the door. Before you can leave however, you gravitate toward the award shelf again, eyeing each of them meticulously. He doesn’t have any of them protected by a glass case, they’re kind of just… sitting there.

Your curiosity definitely getting the better of you at this point, you place your script on the desk and reach out to grab one of the bigger awards – a Bambi from Germany shaped like a fawn. It’s sleek and smooth, and you notice there’s dust all over the top of it, like no ones touched it in years. Feeling incredibly vain, you turn toward the mirror on the wall and stare at yourself holding the award for a few moments, heart in your throat. So that’s what it would look like.

During this extremely selfish moment, you’re interrupted by your phone ringing, and it surprises you so much that you almost drop the award, a shocked gasp escaping your mouth as you frantically grab it before it hits the floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you say aloud, relieved but terrified as you hold the award in one hand and pull your phone out with the other. There’s no name but that number looks familiar, and your eyes widen when you realize it’s Keanu, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Still holding the award, you bring the phone to your ear, “Hi.” you say, and you hope he can’t hear how breathless you are.

“Hi there,” his voice replies, kind and pleasant, “Just wanted to check in, make sure everything’s okay over there.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great,” you say immediately, licking your lips nervously, “All settled.”

“That’s good to hear. What do you think of the car?”

“Oh, uh, very fancy,” you say with a breathless laugh, “Like, way fancier than anything I’ve ever been in. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“Nah, it’s nothin’,” he says, brushing your words off quickly, “But yeah, Audi is definitely a favorite of mine. It was between that and a Porsche but I felt like that might have been a bit too much, if you know what I mean.”

You walk around the room as you talk, eyeing all the objects as you pass them, “Yeah, I mean, not that I really know the difference but I appreciate it.”

He laughs, and the sound sends a strange thrill through you that causes you to almost drop the award again, an audible yelp escaping your mouth as you catch it.

“You okay?” he asks, voice concerned.

“Yep,” your voice is higher than normal as you carefully place the Bambi back onto the award shelf, backing away slowly, “Almost dropped something, sorry.”

He chuckles, “Where are you?”

You freeze, “What do you mean?”

“Like what room? Are you in my office?”

You stand perfectly still, blinking a few times in disbelief, then pull the phone away from your ear to look down at it in confusion. You’re suddenly worried that you’ve accidentally facetimed with him, but nope, the camera is off.

“How…did you guess that?”

He laughs again, your anxiety ebbing, “Don’t worry, I don’t have cameras on you or anything, don’t get freaked out.”

“Too late.” You reply, meaning for it to be a joke but the nervousness in your voice is obvious.

“I heard the printer beep,” he explains, “It does that until you disconnect from the bluetooth, I have no idea why. Were you printing something?”

“Well, uh –”

“’Cause that’s fine!” he reassures you immediately, “I told you nothing was off limits! Actually, ignore that question, it’s none of my business.”

“No, no, no it’s totally fine, I was printing off a script.”

There’s a pause in the conversation and you stand there waiting for him to say something, scrunching your eyebrows.

“Like…” he trails off, trying to come up with the words, “Like, one of my scripts? Are you copying something?” The sudden hint of confusion in his voice brings all your anxiety back to the forefront.

“Oh my god, no, not at all! It’s one of mine, it’s for an audition I have coming up,” you explain, stumbling over the words, “It’s only short, they e-mailed it to me but I like having a physical copy.”

“You’re an actress?” he sounds interested – genuinely – which makes you even more nervous, and you swallow before slowly sitting down in his desk chair again to calm your nerves.

“Um, yeah. Your assistant, uh, didn’t tell you that?”

“She didn’t,” he replies, sounding a bit disappointed that he’s only just now learning this information, “How long have you been working?”

You laugh without humor, leaning back in the chair, “I mostly only go to auditions, if you’d call that working.”

“No, I mean, when did you first start? When did it come into your life?”

His gentle curiosity makes your cheeks warm a bit; a famous actor asking you questions about your craft? You’d never expected something like this to happen so early in your career, and it’s nerve-wracking but thrilling at the same time to get a chance to tell your story – or, some of it at least.

“Um, well, in elementary school I did this school play. It was a Christmas concert thing, I played Mary,” you snort, “I think I had maybe three lines, I was only in one scene. But from that moment I knew it was something I wanted to do.”

There’s silence, and you realize Keanu is listening intently to you, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow, “After that I started going to theater camp every summer; it was kind of just a hobby for a while. I was in a few more productions in high school, and that’s when I decided it was what I wanted to pursue, like, officially or whatever.”

“You started earlier than me, I like that,” Keanu says softly with a chuckle, “So, have I seen you in anything?”

Fuck. The question you dread constantly when telling someone about your job. How the hell are you supposed to sit there and tell Keanu Reeves that your most recent acting gig was a tampon commercial? The humiliation alone would probably make you never want to enter this house again.

You think on your feet, but probably not in the most well executed way: “I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”

He laughs immediately, gentle and child-like as usual, “Ah, a mystery,” he says in a faux mystical voice, “How intriguing.”

You can’t help but giggle, playing absentmindedly with a button on your pajamas, “I met the gardener today – Jay,” you change the subject, wanting to move away from the acting stuff before he presses it further, although a part of you feels like he wouldn’t, “He’s nice.”

“Oh yeah, Jay’s a cool guy,” Keanu agrees, switching subjects easily without making it awkward, “If you ever need help with anything around the house I’m sure he wouldn’t mind lending a hand, I’ll ask Candice to give you his number.”

Yeah, I’m sure he wouldn’t, you think to yourself, remembering the flirtatious way he’d carried himself, “Sounds good.”

“Well,” Keanu says with an exhale, “Sorry to keep you from rehearsing, let me know how the audition goes, okay?”

It’s incredible that despite not knowing you at all, he really seems to be genuinely interested, not a hint of insincerity in his voice whatsoever. You can’t help but smile wide, the warmth in your cheeks spreading to the rest of your body and sending a surge of confidence through you.

“I will,” you reply softly, “Thank you for calling.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he replies, that familiar huskiness you’d heard early this morning back in his voice, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

[jungshookz]

android!yoongi drabble - the vase

→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: android!yoongi has retuRNED, usual dosage of crackheadiness, touch of anGst ouch, jealous!yoongi is always spicy, fluff!!!!, a lil bit of making out lol it’s what the birthday bot wanTed 

→ wordcount: 3.4k

→ summary: you take yoongi to a cute lil pottery place for his birthday so how did is it that jungkook is the one who ends up with his arms wrapped around you helping you form your vase? 

→ note: a lot of people have been wanting an android!yoongi drabble because appArently you guys miss him (me too binch) so here he is!!! okay i won’t lie this gets a little depressing but it GETS BETTER AT THE END don’t be upset with me i know this is supposed to be a happy birthday drabble lol anyways happy birthday to min frickin yoongi the man of my dreams 

(gif isn’t mine!)

“surprise!!” yoongi yanks the sleeping mask from his eyes and does a quick scan of his surroundings

a huge shelf on the right with a punch of ceramic plates and mugs

there are a couple sinks in the back

on the right are eight little stools in a big circle with a spinner in front of each one

each spinner has like a… a grey loaf of bread sitting on it

what in the world

“we’re making pottery! isn’t that exciting?? i rented out the entire place for us!”

yoongi ruffles his newly-dyed blonde hair (courtesy of tae) and looks around again

no

not really  

namjoon’s checking in at the front desk and he has to keep a firm hold on tae anD kook to make sure they don’t accidentally knock something over

joon doesn’t know why you chose to bring these animals to a place with very fragile and delicate items everywhere you turn

he can already imagine the cost of the damage bill that he’s inevitably going to have to pay

“Pottery? But it’s so messy. And the end result isn’t going to be pretty.” yoongi frowns and lets go of your hand “Pottery isn’t fun.”

you falter but quickly shake it off and recompose yourself

“well yeah i know but it’s all about the experiEnce and also it’s really fun playing with wet clay you’ll see-“

“Why don’t you just take me to an actual ceramics store and buy a professionally made, beautifully painted and polished, brand-new vase for me? That’d be much better than making one for me.” yoongi scoffs and pulls his phone out

okay

ouch

you’re about to fight back but you bite down on your tongue

you know what

he’s the birthday boy

if he doesn’t wanna do this that’s fine

you’ll admit you’re a lil disappointed because you thought this’d be really fun for him and u wanted to make things with him and also it’s a little too late to refund and cancel the reservations but

what can u do

“okay, well… are you just going to sit here and wait for us?” you gesture to the waiting area near the door

“I’m more than content with that.” yoongi plops down on the squeaky plastic chair before gesturing over to where the boys are “Go have fun. I’ll be here.”

ur not gonna have fun if your boyfriend is sitting all the way across the damn room

you purse your lips and let out a sigh

“ok i will.” you try your best not to sound disappointed and you hAte that your eyes are prickling with tears

u hate that you’re so sensitive

you just!!! wanted to have fun with yoongi and you really thought he’d at least put in a little drop of effort but appArently noT

yoongi’s eyes flicker up from his phone because he immediately sense your distress but

he doesn’t do anything

you hurry over to your spot and yoongi lets out a little sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose  

okay look

yoongi just doesn’t like celebrating his birthday because it’s not even a ‘birth��� day

today is just the day that he was officially put together and turned on and that’s just?? not a birthday to him

and that just makes him feel,.,,. weird

and it just reminds him that he’s not actually a human being celebrating their birthday

and then thAt reminds him that he’s not a human being in general

but he’s in a relationship with a human being which complicates things in the long run

and like

…

it’s pretty depressing stuff that he won’T get into right now because that’ll dampen his mood even more

anyways

the point is

he’s not human

he’s just a robot celebrating its.,. 2nd year of its creation

and he doesn’t want you guys saying ‘happy birthday you’re two years old!’ to him because that makes it sound like he’s a baby which he is definitely not

and he’ll admit

he’s being a little grumpy about the whole thing which isn’t fair to you because you did plan the entire day for him and he’s just shitting on your plan which is making him feel

not so great

yikes

maybe he was a little harsh on you

“you okay?” jungkook’s brows knit together in concern as you sit down next to him

“m’fine.” you murmur and quickly wipe away the tear that’s threatening to fall “yoongi’s just… being a yoongi.”

“he’s not going to… he’s not making anything with us?” jimin cuts in and glances over at yoongi over his shoulder

“nope.” you clear your throat “it’s okay! we’ll have fun without him. he’s just in a mood that’s all.”

there’s a bit of awkward tension in the group and you work quickly to dimINISH it

“so! what’s everyone making??”

“i’m making a mug!”

“i’m going to try to make a kettle”

“i’m making a gravy boat”

“we don’t even eat gravy”

“well..,.. we can use it for soy sauce or something idk”

“i think i’m going to make… a vase.” you dip your hands in the bucket of water sitting next to you before poking at your clay

yeah

you can probably make a vase

it shouldn’t be too hard of a task

“you’re copying me!”

“how am i copying you??”

“i make a mug and suddenly you’re making a mug??”

“wha- there’s only sO many things i can mAKE”

“i can list a hundred other things you can make that’s noT A mug”

“what is your pROBLEM”

“you know what i’m going to make a plate”

“well in that case i’ll make a plate TOO”

jungkook and jimin continue to bicker in the background and jimin gaSPs when jungkook slaps his arm and gets some clay on his new sweater

“you little puNK-“

your brows furrow in frustration as you step down on the pedal gently and your lopsided piece of clay starts spinning slowly

you place your hands around it and feel the clay beginning to take shape around your fingers

you’re just so

you’re mAD OkaY

you’ll admit it

you are mAD

you put so much effort into planning this for yoongi and he doesn’t even give it a chance????? he just rejects it immEdiATELY with no remorse and that is a pretty sucky feeling

he didn’t even explain himself he was just like i don’t like pottery and you should just let me buY a ‘’’’’’professionally-made’’’’’’’’ vase

you’ll show him

you’ll make a GREAT vase and you’ll rub it in his face whenever the opportunity arises

in the midst of your internal rage you don’t realize you’re pressing down on the pedal harder and your chunk of clay starts spinning wiLDLy

“y/n…”

like serIOUSLY he couldn’t even say a simple hey thanks for planning this for me but i’m really not into pottery!!!!!! and you would’ve been okay with that

“uh, y/n-“

oOH you should’ve given him a piece of your mind instead of backing off and reSpEctiNg tHe BirtHdAy bOy’s wiShes

you’ll take his wishes and shOVE IT UP HIS-

“y/N-“ namjoon shoves your foot off the pedal before your clay can ziP off your spinner and whack someone in the face “what is the matter with you???

“nothing, i’m just- don’t worry about it… your, uh… your bowl looks nice so far”

“i’m making a cup” namjoon frowns and looks down at his blob

“yoongi’s just being a dick, you know??” you blurt out and everyone glances over at yoongi who is still playing games on his phone and who stILL looks bored out of his mind

if he wasn’t so stubborn and just came over to make a plate or something hE WOULDN’T BE SO BORED BUT OBVIOUSLY HE DOESN’T WANT TO BECAUSE-

namjoon shoves your foot off the pedal again and scowls at you

“look. if he doesn’t wanna celebrate his birthday, he doesn’t wanna celebrate his birthday. what can you do, you know? don’t force him to do something if you know he’s not going to enjoy it. and yeah i agree with you!! he’s being a littLe bit of an asshole but-“

“yeah, yeah. i know. i’ll let it slide.” you mutter and squeeze the clay through your fingers

“okay, good. you can get mad at him tomorrow. now, i’m going to go and paint a pre-made cup because obviously the cup i made doesn’t even look like a cup.” you give him a sheepish smile and watch as he disappears to the painting station where most of the other boys are

actually all of the boys are there because they’ve already put their creations in the drying station and have moved on to paint some pre-made ceramics

it’s just you

alone

making this stupid vase that doesn’t even look like a vase

you spend the next ten minutes trying to mould the blob of clay into a vase but it seems like eveRYthing is against you today because it kind of looks like a dildo but like a really reALLy sad dildo that’s frowning at you

“whatcha doin” you hear jungkook behind you but you don’t turn around because that’S how focused you are

“making a vase - or tryIng to make a vase.” you mutter

you’re faintly aware of the sound of a stool screeching behind you and suddenly-

jungkook wraps his arms around you and hooks his chin up on your shoulder

you jump in surprise and turn your head and your cheeks flush immediately

“what are you up to?” you laugh lightly and reach down to grip at his forearm to try and wiggle him off

“petty revenge, that’s what i’m up to. play along.” jungkook shrugs innocently as he nudges your foot aside and steps down on the pedal

“petty- what’s that supposed to mean?” you dot a bit of clay onto jungkook’s nose and he wrinkles it

“i think you know what i mean. and it’s already working.” jungkook murmurs lowly before his eyes flicker over to the front

both of you glance over at yoongi and you’re surprised to see him glaring riGht back at you because

uh

UM

well thAT DOesn’t look like how pottery is made at all

yoongi feels his cheeks flare up immediately

he raises a brow and jungkook waves enthusiastically at the bot

yoongi continues glaring

jungkook maintains his smile and explains himself through gritted teeth “yoongi obviously is being an ungrateful ass android, so we’re going to see if triggering a particular emotion will make him get off his ass and come over. i’m all for being the bigger person and letting it slide, like namjoon-hyung told you to do - but i’m also all about being as peTTy as possible.”

he slides his hands down your forearms before his hands are rested atop of yours

and he steps down on the pedal gently

now

y/n like teN months ago would’ve been freaking out because wOW it’s junGKOOK and he has his arms wrapped around me and oh mY god he smells so good

but y/n now?

y/n now is freaking out because woW this is totally working yoongi looks so angry and it feels so good to have this power coursing through my veins >:-)

now

you’ll admit

this is petty

like a little tOO petty for you

you’d never think about doing something as extreme as this but you know what

it feels nice 2 be held when you’re feeling kinda gloomy

and jungkook has nice arms

but so does yoongi

and honestly

you find yourself imagining it’s yoongi’s arm wrapped around you as he continues helping you shape the vase

yoongi is

livid

absolutely

positively

l i v i d

first of all

how dare you

HOW dare you

how dare you let jungkook hold you like that right in front OF HIS EYES

and second of all

he is going to kill jungkook

the second namjoon finaLLy caves in and gives yoongi laser eyes

yoongi’s going to FRY jungkook to a crisp

he knows what you’re doing

he’s aware of how upset and angry you are right now

and he wasn’t going to say anything because he hates conflict and he hates fighting with you

but now

now he has to say something

maybe he’ll say something later

he’ll let you have your moment and then he’ll-

jungkook nudges his nose into your cheek affectionately and yoongi swears he feels a screw pop loose inside of him

that’s noT ALLOWED

IT’S NOT ALL O WE D

“Move, you brat.” yoongi is next to you guys in less than a second and jungkook looks up at him with his big round eyes

you, on the other hand, you’re pretending like yoongi isn’t even there

“hyung! i was just helping y/n make-“

“Move, or I’ll make you.” yoongi hisses and jungkook immediately raises his hands in defence before getting up off the stool

yoongi gives him a little shove and jungkook scowls

he’s about to shove back but he knows yoongi could probably crush his bones just by blowing on him

yoongi takes jungkook’s seat behind you

a beat of silence goes by

ok

he didn’t think this through

he doesn’t know how to approach this situation

is he allowed to touch you

on a scale from 1-10 how angry are you with him (it’s a 12 and he’s well aware of that)

you freeze when yoongi slinks his arms around your waist and props his chin up on your shoulder

“I’m sorry, jagi.” yoongi mutters and you immediately relax

you’re so soft for him it’s crazy

you took it too far so you should probably apologise for that

“it’s okay” you murmur and keep your eyes on your spinning vase “i’m sorry i-“

“No, don’t say anything. It’s not okay. I shouldn’t… I was rude earlier and it wasn’t right. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that. I just… I’m not going to get into everything right now but I just feel like this whole… birthday thing reminds me that I’m not actually a human being, you know?”

oh

aw

:-(

if you’d had known you wouldn’t have done anything in the first place

you’re about to speak up but yoongi continues talking and you feel him shift behind you and wrap his arms tighter around you

“It reminds me that I-I won’t be able to grow old with you and we won’t be able to have children and- that sucks because I…” he nuzzles his face into your neck and furrows his brows “I don’t wanna think about that.”

and then you feel it

your shoulder is

wet

“yoongi…” you turn your head and your lips part in surprise when you realise yoongi’s crying into your shoulder

oh my god

yoongi’s never

cried before

“oh my god, yoongi,” you breathe out and twist around so that you can wrap him up in a hug immediately

it’s kind of an awkward position but your comfort is the lasT thing on your mind

“And now I’m leaking fluids which proves that today must be cursed.” yoongi grumbles and wipes at his face frustratedly “There’s dust in my eye, probably.”

you’ve never been good at comforting people so you’re not sure what the best thing to say here is because like

there is an inkling of truth behind everything he’s said

unfortunately

“don’t think about today like we’re celebrating another year that’s gone by with you being a robot. think about today like we’re celebrating another year of… us! of you waking me up every morning by ripPing off my blanket and attaCking me with kisses. of you noT allowing me to eat an XL pizza in one sitting.” yoongi scoffs and wipes away another tear

“Is there a point to all of this?”

“another year of… you loving me and me loving you even more.” you lean back against yoongi and plant a small kiss on his cheek “i love you.”

“I know.”

“we don’t have to celebrate your birthday next year if you don’t want to-“

“No, no. I want to. I want to celebrate my birthday… with you. Thank you for planning all of this for me. I really appreciate it.”

he looks down at the vase on the spinner “…But please let me fix this vase because there’s no way I’m proudly displaying this lopsided mug in our apartment.”

“god,,.., looK at them” namjoon gags dramatically before turning back to continue painting his (nicer) cup

“i’d gladly let them have sex in the back if it means he’ll be less grumpy.” hoseok snorts and continues to paint a little daisy on his plate “why’d you make him so grumpy in the first place??”

“i didn’t!!!!! he kinda just came out like that!!”

if you guys were in a cartoon there would be a plethora of pink and red cartoon hearts floating around you and yoongi

obviously yoongi took over with the vase-making responsibilities because he’s a perfectionist

you were going to make a mug or something next to him but yoongi insisted this was the beSt way for him to focus

which is interesting because this technique seems very distracting

you’re perched on yoongi’s lap facing him

“are we getting flowers for the vase?” your arms are wrapped loosely around his neck

yoongi leans forward and gives your nose a kiss

“Obviously. Red roses, preferably.”

“it took me like an hour just to form the shape of a plate and it’s taking yoongi like three seconds to make a perfectly round vase.” jimin pouts and looks at his sorta-flat-sorta-not plate

yoongi’s not even looKIng at the vase it’s like his hands have minds of their own and they’RE shaping the vase pERFECTLy  

like he.,., he’s definitely making out with u a little but his hands are still!!! workING away!!!!!

“that doesn’t seem like a very effEctive way to make a vase, you freaks!” taehyung whines and yoongi flips him off quickly “wha- don’t flip me off! i can cut your generous eight-inches down to a puny-“

“nO PENIS TALK” namjoon smacks the younger boy

“are you sure this isn’t distracting?” you twist your body to take a glance at the vase “because i feel like-“

“Nope, I’m good.” yoongi reaches up and pinches your chin in between his thumb and his pointer finger so he can twist your head back so that you’re facing him

you whine and swipe at the wet clay on your chin “you got it all over me!!”

yoongi grins and leans in to give u another kiss

he’d be happy to celebrate his birthday evEryday if it means you perched up on his lap showering him with kisses

also

there’s a handprint on your ass now thanks to him  

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

masterlist

[musicprincess655]

Atsushi blinks his eyes open, wincing at the crick in his neck. He uncurls from the ball he had to sleep in to fit on the chair. It’s better than the floor, but only marginally.

They all agreed yesterday that he would stay with the Akutagawa siblings. Even with the murderous intent growing in Akutagawa’s eyes, it was still preferable to going with Dazai and Chuuya. For one, they didn’t have the space, and for another, they fought like cats and dogs.

“Why do they live together if they hate each other so much?” Atsushi had asked Akutagawa. Akutagawa had just rolled his eyes at Atsushi.

“They’re married,” he snapped. Atsushi had decided he didn’t really want to know. 

It isn’t like the Akutagawa siblings have all that much more room, though. They’d taken a larger room in the underground bunker – Atsushi thinks it might have been a bank vault, once – but at the cost of taking most of the storage. The room is covered in shelves holding all manner of strange items, everything from books to spare machinery bits to gear to things Atsushi can’t even identify.

Because the siblings, Dazai, and Chuuya are all part of a smuggling ring. Atsushi hasn’t quite gotten all the details, but the four of them steal just about anything they can get their hands on from No. 6, and that’s how they make their living.

It’s a life, or so Atsushi supposes.

The cluttered room means there’s not much room for furniture, though. There’s the skinny twin bed Gin uses, the couch that’s nearly as wide that Akutagawa sleeps on, and a pair of chairs that have seen better days. Between one of them and the floor, Atsushi took a chair.

He’s starting to think he might have been better off on the floor.

Both siblings are already up, already sipping at mugs of what Atsushi thinks might be coffee, based on the smell.

“Do I get a cup?” Atsushi asks, voice cracking with the sleep that hasn’t quite left his system yet.

“If you make it yourself,” Akutagawa says. “The kettle’s behind the last bookshelf. Don’t touch anything else.”

Atsushi glares at him, but doesn’t say anything. Despite Akutagawa’s desperate need for an attitude adjustment, he did save Atsushi’s life. And then gave him a place to stay. Even if it was only because Dazai told him he had to.

Dazai and Akutagawa’s relationship is something of a mystery. There’s strain, that’s for certain. Akutagawa doesn’t hate Dazai, though. If anything, Atsushi thinks Akutagawa is trying to win Dazai’s approval, and Dazai doesn’t seem to want much to do with that.

It doesn’t quite make sense to Atsushi. Akutagawa is so quick to hate Atsushi, for reasons Atsushi can’t fathom. He hasn’t done anything, after all, and when they were kids, Akutagawa seemed to tolerate him just fine.

There’s history between Dazai and Akutagawa, and Atsushi can’t help his curiosity.

There’s a lot Atsushi doesn’t know about Akutagawa, actually. He only just learned that Akutagawa has a sister. Why he was arrested, why he’s keeping an eye on No. 6, why he stays so close when the safest place for him would be far away from here…Atsushi doesn’t know the answers. And not knowing is not something that’s ever sat well with him.

“So how does all this work?” Atsushi asks. He mixes hot water with instant coffee and hopes it’ll taste okay. He sips it as he walks back up to join the siblings. It’s not the best, but it seems effective. “The smuggling business, I mean?”

“That’s not your concern.”

Akutagawa isn’t even paying Atsushi any attention. He’s flipping through a book. Gin almost looks like she’s meditating, staring blankly at the wall while she sips at her coffee. She’s pretty without her mask on, which is a comment that would probably get Atsushi murdered twice.

“I still want to know,” Atsushi insists.

“Just because Dazai let you stay here doesn’t mean we have to work together,” Akutagawa snaps. “And I’d really prefer not to.”

“So, what, you just want me to sit around here?” It comes out hotter than Atsushi intends. Akutagawa raises a single nonexistent eyebrow – had he shaved them off? Atsushi remembers him having eyebrows at fourteen.

“Quietly, if that’s possible,” Akutagawa says, returning to his book. Atsushi wants to throw it away from him. He squashes that urge down.

The door swings open. Atsushi tenses, but neither Akutagawa nor Gin reacts much.

“Hope everyone’s decent and caffeinated,” Dazai says, strolling in. “Atsushi-kun! How are you settling in?”

Atsushi throws Akutagawa one more baleful glare that doesn’t even make it past the book in front of his face.

“Fine, I guess,” Atsushi says.

“Good! I’m here to offer you a job.”

Dazai looks entirely too pleased with himself. Atsushi isn’t sure whether he’s trustworthy, but he is the one that insisted Atsushi stay with them, and it’s a damn sight better than chancing his luck with the West Block. He might just have the kind of face that’s hard to trust because he’s so good at controlling it.

Atsushi has no real reason to believe Dazai isn’t genuine.

“A job?” Atsushi asks. He was just asking for something to do. And he’s never been the kind of person that takes to sitting still all that well. Maybe a job is just the thing he needs. “With the smuggling business?”

“In a way,” Dazai says. “It takes all kinds to make this work.”

“You’re introducing him to her?” Akutagawa asks. Atsushi blinks at Akutagawa. Her? Who is she?

“I think they’ll get along marvelously,” Dazai says.

“She’ll eat him alive,” Akutagawa says, and he looks inordinately pleased. Atsushi’s just getting annoyed by the extensive round of the pronoun game.

“Come on, then, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai says. “I’ll introduce you to our spymaster.”

That’s more than enough to get Atsushi moving. If there’s anyone who can answer his questions, it’s a spymaster.

“What kind of person is she?” Atsushi asks as he and Dazai walk. He’s picturing an older woman, greying hair tied tightly in a bun away from her face, kimono perfect and spotless, a katana on her back.

“She’s fairly unique,” Dazai says. “Most people have a hard time getting to know her, but she can be perfectly sweet if she thinks you’re worth her time.”

Atsushi updates his mental picture to include more lines around a tight mouth, an expression beaten into a face that’s seen too much shit. She must be a woman to be feared if even Dazai speaks of her this way.

“And she’s your spymaster?”

“She’s good at collecting rumors, anyway,” Dazai says. “There’s not a word of gossip in all the West Block that doesn’t pass through her doors.”

They’re approaching what looks like a ruined hotel building. Atsushi winces. It looks haunted, or at least, it looks like it’s in danger of crashing down.

“She lives here?” Atsushi asks.

“She sure does,” Dazai agrees. “Welcome to the hotel.”

There are dogs everywhere. It’s the first thing Atsushi notices. Dogs of every shape, size, and color lay in the yard, or play with each other, barking in a way that is happy. Probably.

The second thing Atsushi notices is a young girl standing in the doorway, watching them with dead blue eyes.

“Kyouka-chan, meet Nakajima Atsushi-kun,” Dazai says to her. “Atsushi-kun, this is Izumi Kyouka, resident master of whispers.”

Well. At least Atsushi got the kimono right.

“Who is he?” Kyouka asks, no inflection in her voice. Despite the bright color of her eyes, they seem to suck in light. It’s almost like Kyouka doesn’t feel human emotion, more robot than person. And in a world like this, that’s entirely possible.

“I figured he could help you out,” Dazai says. He either doesn’t notice Kyouka’s coldness, or he doesn’t care.

“I don’t babysit,” Kyouka says.

“It’s not babysitting,” Dazai says at the same time Atsushi bursts out “I don’t need a babysitter!” Dazai pats Atsushi on the shoulder. “He and Akutagawa don’t get along. But he’d still like to make himself useful.”

Atsushi doesn’t point out that he could get along with Akutagawa just fine if Akutagawa would stop threatening to kill him. It’s been four times already, and they’ve been reunited for just a day.

“He can wash the dogs,” Kyouka says. “If he’s bad, he’s not welcome here.”

“Perfect,” Dazai says. “Atsushi-kun, do your best.”

With one more clap to Atsushi’s shoulder, Dazai turns and leaves. And Atsushi has to somehow make peace with this new person.

“Uh…” he tries to start. Kyouka turns.

“You wash the dogs,” she says. “They’re filthy. I can’t rent them out like this.”

“You rent them out?” Atsushi asks.

He rolls up his sleeves, following Kyouka to a fountain in the middle of the courtyard. It doesn’t seem to have running water, but Kyouka uses a water hose to fill it up. Atsushi doesn’t know how people out here can have that so far from the city, but there’s also a shower in the bunker where the Akutagawa siblings, Dazai and Chuuya live, so maybe human ingenuity is just something to be respected and feared in equal measures.

“For anything people need,” Kyouka confirms, voice still a flat monotone. “Some people want the protection. Some people just want the warmth. I don’t usually ask. They tell me anyway.”

Kyouka’s quiet, that Atsushi knows already. He can easily see her listening in, unnoticed by those around her. If there’s a perfect person to play spymaster, it’s someone as easy to overlook as Kyouka.

Atsushi gets to work scrubbing at the dog. He may have been a detective in No. 6, but that came with a fair degree of physical labor, and Atsushi is stronger than he looks. The dog tries to pull away, but Atsushi grabs it by the scruff of its neck, holding it still while he soaps it up.

“Do you really not get along with Akutagawa?” she asks. There’s a small amount of emotion in her voice this time.

“That’s not my fault,” Atsushi says. “He doesn’t want to get along with me.”

Atsushi doesn’t say it, but he also can’t help remembering how easily Akutagawa slit that police officer’s throat back in No. 6, and how he’d berated Gin for leaving the other alive. What kind of person felt such little remorse for taking a life?

“He doesn’t care about anyone who can’t benefit him,” Kyouka says. “They can die, for all he cares.”

That’s certainly true. Atsushi remembers when there were other emotions in his eyes, though, when he teased Atsushi for roaring like a tiger in a typhoon and let Atsushi bandage his wounds and hold his hand, let Atsushi watch over him and protect him.

What happened to the child Akutagawa used to be?

“I guess it’s a kill or be killed world out here,” Atsushi says. Kyouka nods.

“Only the strong survive,” she says. “That’s the way the world works.”

“Or the people who work together,” Atsushi counters. “I can’t believe that people have to kill to stay alive. If that was true, nobody would care about each other, nobody would love. We’d just all kill to be the strongest.”

He doesn’t mean to go on a rant at Kyouka, but instead of telling him to shut up, she considers him carefully.

“Do you know why I deal with dogs?” she asks. “Why I only barely work with people?”

“You like dogs?”

“Dogs don’t betray you,” Kyouka says. “They’ll protect you, and they never leave you behind. They’re better than people.”

“You might be right,” Atsushi agrees, using the hose to spray the dog down. “But I think everyone still has value. I think that’s something you get just by being a person. Maybe if we all knew that, the world would be a better place.”

“You’re a strange one, Nakajima Atsushi.” It’s strange, but she’s the first one to call him by his real name other than Dazai. When Atsushi meets her eye, there’s emotion there. She looks like a regular teenager that way, kimono and all. “I’ve killed thirty-five people. Does that make you hate me?”

“Did they deserve it?” Atsushi asks. He can’t condone murder, but at the same time, a girl as young as Kyouka has to have a reason. Right?

“I didn’t ask,” Kyouka says. “I was just doing as I was told.”

“Told? By who?”

“Someone who’s not welcome in my life anymore,” Kyouka says. Atsushi knows better than to ask. “Does that make you hate me?”

“Do you want to kill anyone?” Atsushi asks. Kyouka’s eyes blink open wider, as if she’s never been asked such a fundamental question. How is that possible? What kind of life has she led?

“No,” Kyouka says softly. “I don’t want to kill anyone again.”

“Then that’s what matters.”

“But I’m good at killing,” Kyouka protests. “It might be the only thing I’m good at.”

“You seem to be running a successful business here,” Atsushi says. “So that’s at least two things. And I’ve never seen someone tie a kimono as perfectly as you. So that’s at least three. Sounds like you might be good at plenty of things.”

Kyouka’s eyes are blown wide now. Atsushi lets her sit with that, washes three more dogs before she finally speaks again.

“You’re not bad at that,” she says. “You can come by a few times a week. It’s better to rotate when they get washed.”

“I’ll do that,” Atsushi says. “Kyouka-chan, what do you like to eat?”

“To eat…?” She sounds faintly surprised at having been asked. Atsushi smiles. If Kyouka is this easy to get along with, it shouldn’t be all that hard to get used to working with her. “Boiled tofu. And sweets.”

“I’ll bring you some,” Atsushi promises.

“How will you manage that in the West Block?” Again, that surprise. Has no one really treated Kyouka like a person? Like a girl with wants and needs and emotions?

“I’ll figure something out,” Atsushi says. After all, he does know a smuggling ring.

“You have to keep promises,” Kyouka says, but something else breaks in her blue eyes, an emotion that Atsushi hasn’t seen since he left No. 6.

Kyouka believes in him.

[patricianandclerk]

some hamish mckinnon notes

feel free to feedback/send asks/discuss!

Brief

Plump, rosy-cheeked and appears to be into his fifties. Thick, blond hair that's thinning ever so slightly on the top, has a tendency towards yellows and browns in his wardrobe - fan of tweed, but also of clothes with various patches on them, and tends to look a few decades out of time. He has sensitive feet, and wears red slippers virtually all the time.

When he was a child (thirteenish) in the late 1600s, he was taken by faeries, who dropped him, for the sake of fun, in the middle of the states in the mid-1800s. Ended up in the middle of a cultist sacrificial ritual, but it went wrong, and instead of being devoured a legion of demons half-possessed him. They're connected to him but can't actually control his actions, and tend to just follow him around and get him to entertain them. They used to be cruel to him, but they've got bored of that and are now just entertained by whatever he offers them as he won't generally attack people.

Bought the antique shop in London in the 1970s and just stayed ever since, as dealing in antiques and speciality magic items is rather easy for him, but doesn't take all too much effort.

He reads voraciously and often, and he's relatively good with the Internet - took a secretarial course in the 70s, learned to type on the computer in the 90s, took another IT course recently.

External Body

Hamish is a short man, plump and rounded off – round belly, thick rounded thighs, thick arms, round cheeks with red apples in them. He has a small mouth, red with plump lips, and heavily lidded, round eyes, which are a softly golden hazel. If you look very closely, you can see the shadows shifting about his irises – the physical reflection of the Horde’s connection to him. He has small crow’s feet and frown lines at his brow and around his mouth, but his hair is thick and deeply golden-blond, burnished with a little brown, and not greying at all, although it is beginning to thin slightly.

His skin is generally pale all over, and mostly unmarked, with patches that go very red very quickly. He has a heavy chest and rounded belly, with broad thighs and calves – he’s quite muscular beneath the fat, especially his calves, his shoulders, and his arms, but you wouldn’t think it to look at him. Holds himself very small.

His feet are only a 5 or a 6 maybe? Quite small feet, and they’re very delicate-looking.

Quite a bit of body hair, but it’s a lighter gold than the stuff on his head, and it tends to dust very finely on his chest, his back, his belly, his thighs and calves. His hands are usually very delicately kept and manicured, with super soft hands.

The horde are a legion of small demons, a few hundred of them that are insectile – they each have six little arms, bat-like wings, little legs, and are a sort of reddish brown colour. They look and feel like bats to the touch, and are that kind of furry-warm, but if you press on them you’ll feel that they’re hard-shelled underneath the soft outside of leathery skin, and on the inside they’re insectile, with hemolymph etc, and their skeletal system is external.

You see them as dark shadows and funny dark spots around Hamish, often under chairs, behind shelves, etc, and semi-non-corporeal so that they just seem like thick shadow. 

Job(s)

Hamish owns McKinnon Antiques in London, which is an antique shop that specialises in haunted and supernaturally charged objects.

His main thing is as a supplier for others, and to get hold of things for some people and pass them over – he’ll usually come in and get hold of something and mostly take it off someone’s hands? Like, he always makes sure that he gets a haunted object away from someone because he’s very aware of how big that weight can be on someone, and then he’ll either put it into storage or sell it on.

He’s a big supplier to businesses and so on.

He makes some income from the several flats above his shop, and also owns some other storage spaces and houses and such that he rents out through an agency. He is not a very friendly, involved landlord – the renters upstairs (usually faeries that are struggling to get the hang of appearing human enough to rent elsewhere, usually as a stop gap before they get work elsewhere) pay him directly in cash, but the others are run through an agency with a director so that Hamish doesn’t have to interact with anybody.

The agency is called the Wednesday Letting Agency, the name being one that Asmodeus came up with when it was established back in the 1970s.

Abode(s)

Hamish owns the entire building McKinnon Antiques is in, which is the flat just above the building, which is two storeys of the actual flat, and then the other like, half a dozen storeys are like, three more flats and some extended storage? The flats are from an entrance at the side, and are usually the faeries and whatever.

Hamish’s flat is two stories, so like.

You enter the shop, which is crammed full of stuff, and then has a whole further area of back storage, a little kitchenette, and then you go up the stairs into the first floor, which is Hamish’s living room/library – a room with a very plush and cushy couch, lots of bookshelves, a nice radio and record player. It’s got a lot of soft surfaces, a lot of the McKinnon tartan hung up, and a lot of blankets and cushions, and you really would feel like you’d stepped back in time to look at it all.

There’s a small, cramped kitchen with a fairly big oven and some okay gas burners, but not much counter space, and just a little dining table that’s made for two people. Hamish does not have a toaster or an electric kettle – I don’t think he actually has anything electric in his kitchen.

Upstairs, he has his bedroom and then the two other bedrooms that are used for storage, although he always has some cots he can fold out for people who desperately need somewhere to sleep, usually JP and Colm, and later like, Velma. Hamish’s bedroom is a bit more cramped than cosy, with a lot more books, clothes, etc, all stuck into the same room, but you do step in and feel like, warm and comfy rather than claustrophobic. His bed is huge, very plush with four posts and a top, and he literally has like, thirteen or fourteen blankets on his bed.

Religion & Worship

Hamish was raised as a Christian, but is now an atheist, and is generally very uncomfortable with a lot  of religion and very religious people.

Childhood & Young Adulthood

When he was 13, Hamish went wandering in the woods to avoid like, his parents and that, and ended up straying off the path when he heard a funny noise, and was seduced by like, a very pretty man just off the edge of the path? Ended up stepping off and off the path, into the midst of a faerie realm

Hamish was kept as a sort of pet and toy as he grew older, once he was old enough to have sex, he did? It was always pseudoconsensual, but it was obviously affected by the whole situation around him – he could choose to initiate it, which he did with other boys, but it was slow and uncertain, and as time got older it was more charged, more complex

He did age in the fae realm, but far far slower, and once he seemed to be around 25, the faerie prince who was most infatuated with him grew bored with him and his blossoming manhood, and they decided to turn him out…

In the middle of a summoning circle in America, where he stumbled in amidst the Christians that had been radicalised by a demon and were trying to summon another demon. It was all just a joke – the idea was that they’d summon the horde of demons and be devoured, which the original demon found super funny?

But because they used Hamish as a sacrifice to open up the split in the parallel realms and not a human, the magic didn’t respond right – Hamish’s capacity for magic had been permanently changed by his centuries in the fae realm, and so the demons were bound to him instead

And then…

He had to deal with the Horde.

The horde are a legion of small demons, a few hundred of them that are insectile – they each have six little arms, bat-like wings, little legs, and are a sort of reddish brown colour. They look and feel like bats to the touch, and are that kind of furry-warm, but if you press on them you’ll feel that they’re hard-shelled underneath the soft outside of leathery skin, and on the inside they’re insectile. They’re one of the smaller species of pseudo mammalian demons.

For a few years, as Hamish began to work himself out – this was just after the civil war, so he managed to find for himself a place in the country to work with the demons, who just fucking tortured him the first few years, but once he got a handle on them and learned to live with them, and then he made his way into Dinwiddie, Virginia.

When he started travelling north toward New York, in like, a little bit after the civil war, he met the angel Asmodeus, who immediately took an interest in him. He, Jean-Pierre and Colm had just landed in the US and were spending some time in NY – later, obviously, they’d move elsewhere for another like, fifty years, I think going across the top of the US, then down to California in the mid 1900s, then to Texas, and then back East to go back to Ireland as they came into the 21st century

The demons were immediately fucking terrified of Asmodeus, which meant that like, for the first time in nearly a decade, someone could get close enough to actually touch Hamish, who was beginning to show his age now, starting to look a little bit older, now looking like he was in his thirties, and Asmodeus didn’t know why, but he was super interested and engaged with Hamish?

He slipped a little bit closer, took Hamish into bed, and to his surprise kept thinking about him afterward?

Middle Age

Hamish settled in NY, began working with a carpenter in the city and then began working in furniture making, so that when he makes his way back to the UK in the 1920s, he looks the age he does in the 21st century, that he looks like he’s in his 50s, opened up the shop in town, and then just. Stayed there.

Asmodeus comes to visit regularly.

Hamish buys and sells antiques, is generally quiet with himself and is often uncomfortable with a lot of people because he’s still frightened of bringing the demons out in public because they’re little cunts. They’re not actually cruel anymore, they’re just mischievous and sort of stupid, which makes it all difficult.

Velma comes in regularly enough, and she very much encourages Hamish to come out of his shell a bit – Ash does the same when he’s around, but isn’t actually hugely social himself, so isn’t the best at it, whereas Velma encourages Hamish to come to bars, restaurants, parks, etc. The Horde likes Velma.

When Ash comes in, he’ll normally sleep with Hamish in the same bed and give him a little taste of domesticity? They tend to settle in together, Ash will take him out for dinner and expensive wine, will often take him dancing somewhere quiet, and then they’ll spend a few days together, reading, etc.

Asmodeus isn’t at all big on botanical gardens, libraries, or museums, but will specifically go out of his way to bring Hamish to places like that.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Burned Part 2

Summary: Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there, the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Chapter Summary: Louise begins her role as Alfie’s secretary. 

Warnings: Swearing, mention of past violence

          Ishmael knocked on the door of a three-story apartment. It was squeezed between the same brick style buildings so it didn’t stand out on the street.

           Louise waited on the sidewalk, holding her purse close to her stomach. “I really don’t want to be a bother.” She said to the young man. “If it’s easier, I could go find a room to rent.” Although her words were somewhat misleading. Her wallet was basically empty. She’d given all the money she had to Tommy Shelby. There was only so much she could pull out from the loose floorboard. The money from her parents after they passed. Money she had to hide from her husband. She stuffed what she could into her purse while her husband began his warpath. Then he entered the bedroom with a knife.

           “Mr. Solomons said you could stay here for the night. He’ll take care of things.” Ishmael interrupted her thoughts.

           The door opened and Ishmael perked up. A young woman no more than twenty stepped out. She seemed happy to see him as well.

           “Did he forget something?” She pushed a few stray hairs from her forehead. Her face was flushed from housework and she made a few tugs at her simple skirt. The adoration for the young man was crystal clear in her dark green eyes.

           Ishmael didn’t seem bothered to see her a bit out of sorts. He was so smitten he nearly forgot what she asked. “Oh, no. Uh, he said to bring his new secretary here.”

           She glanced around him to finally notice Louise. “Okay.”

           “I’m Louise.” She stepped up on the stoop to shake her hand.

           “Evelyn, I try my best to keep Mr. Solomon’s home running smoothly.” She explained, taking Louise’s hand. “Come in, I’ll put the kettle on. Ishmael, will you stay for tea?” Hope glimmered in her eyes.

           Looking conflicted, he sighed. “Can’t right now, Ev, Alfie’ll be needing me. See you later, though, I hope.” He nodded.

           She smiled warmly. “Yeah, see you soon.” Their eyes met and Evelyn’s face turned an even deeper shade of red.

           Ishmael grinned and went back to the car with a new skip in his step. The sweet interaction was refreshing for Louise after meeting with Alfie.

           “It’s very nice to meet you, Louise.” Evelyn let her inside.

           The apartment was nice and well kept, most likely by the young woman. Alfie’s apparent wealth was put on front display. But it didn’t feel like a home. It felt staged and didn’t show many signs of comfort. There were no photographs or portraits of anyone. No personal bits lying around the rooms, just a hollow sense of lodging.

           “Is Alfie not married?” Louise had seen his rings but didn’t care to notice if one was a wedding band.

           “No, the man spends all his time working.” Evelyn led her to the parlor. “Have a seat anywhere you’d like. I’ll make tea, you hungry as well? Did you eat breakfast?”

           “Oh, I won’t pester you.”

           “Please, it’s not a bother.” She smiled. “S’nice to have a woman here. I’ll make some eggs, that okay?”

           “That would be lovely, thank you.”

           While Evelyn was bustling around the kitchen, Louise walked cautiously around the sitting room. A large mahogany bookcase sat by a fireplace. Curious, she tilted her head to read the spines. There were titles she recognized, well-known works. Some were first editions with heavy bindings and lavish décor. But it didn’t seem like anyone had actually taken any of the books out to read them.

           Turning, Louise took in the room. A landscape painting hung above the fireplace. Ornate vases sat on a credenza and would be collecting dust had Evelyn not kept the home properly polished. The rug was an Oriental with rich red hues and gold accents.

           She sat down on a stiff couch and tried to fathom how Alfie had accumulated such wealth. The bakery was obviously a guise, but if the man ran a distillery, would that really give him the money for such pricey items? He’d made it clear he wasn’t born to well off parents so it wasn’t inherited.

           Frowning in thought, Louise gently picked up a crystal paperweight off a side table. She had been raised among fine things. Alfie had been right; she never had to worry about a thing. Everything was taken care of. Everything was done for her. Everything she wanted, she got. Now she had nothing but the job he’d given her.

           “Here we are.” Evelyn brought in a tray for her. Plates of eggs, biscuits, and fruit cluttered next to a delicate teacup and a china jar filled with sugar cubes.

           “Thank you, Evelyn,” Louise said graciously. She began adding sugar to her tea and stirring it in. “I know you’re probably busy, and I don’t want to disturb you but I was wondering…”

           “’Bout him?” She nodded understandingly.

           “Interesting man, isn’t he?” Louise wasn’t sure what else to describe him as.

           “Interesting? S’pose that’s one way to put it. He’s a dangerous man, there’s no sugarcoating it m’fraid.” Evelyn appeared accustomed to the idea. She wiped her hands on a cloth and fixed the pins in her hair. “He’s rough ‘round the edges and got a bad temper, but he takes care of his own. Don’t think he’d lay a hand on you, always treats me well. Gets moody, but that’s manageable. Much better than being his enemy.” She reached around to tighten her apron. “Anyway, I’ll let you eat. I’ll make up the guest room for you. If you’d like anything else, just give me a shout.”

           “Yes, thank you,” Louise said quietly. The man’s profile was becoming more ominous as the morning went on and she wondered what she was getting herself into.

           The day wore on; Louise tried to keep herself occupied. She read a bit from Alfie’s book collection to keep her mind off her current situation. Evelyn made her lunch and the two chatted a bit more.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

           Around four in the afternoon, there was a knock on the door. Evelyn went to get it and let in a man that Louise recognized from the bakery.

           He carried in a few bags into the parlor. “Miss Barnes, Mr. Solomons asked me to bring some things for you.”

           “Oh, yes, sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” She stood and put the book down on the couch.

           “Ollie.” The curly-haired man nodded. “Let Evelyn know if things need to be tailored. I figured you were around my wife’s size.”

           “I appreciate that, thank you, Ollie,” Louise said and took a few skirts and dresses out of the bags. “These should work perfectly.”

           “Mr. Solomons wanted to know if you’d be needing anything else?” He asked.

           “Well, I know he said he would find accommodation for me.”

           “Haven’t heard anything about that but I’ll ask.”

           “Okay, thank you.” She nodded and ran her fingers over the silk material of a blouse.

           The man nodded and took his leave.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

           The sun started to set and Evelyn began dinner. Louise changed into some of the clothes Ollie brought. The skirt was a little loose around the waist so she decided to pin it for now and alter it herself later.

           “Will Mr. Solomons be home soon?” Louise walked into the kitchen.

           “No, he rarely comes home ‘fore eight or nine.” She answered and prepared a plate. “Always working, hardly eats, and barely sleeps. I tell him s’bad for his health but ‘course he doesn’t listen to me.”

           “I could see that,” Louise recalled all the times Alfie had interrupted her.

           “Sure he won’t keep you that late though.” Evelyn set the table for her. “He only works himself to death, usually spares his men.”

           It didn’t sound hopeful though and Louise began to prepare herself for early mornings and long nights.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

           Louise didn’t wake up when Alfie came home that night. It was almost midnight and she was deep asleep. The next morning, Evelyn woke her up for breakfast.

           She got dressed, a black skirt that hung just below her knees accompanied by a burgundy blouse. She pinned her hair up and applied makeup before sliding on her heels and going downstairs.

           “Morning, Louise.” Evelyn smiled. “Breakfast is ready. Tea or coffee?”

           “Oh tea is fine, thank you.” She sat and surprisingly felt well rested despite the early hour. The bed was extremely comfortable and Evelyn had given her fresh, silk sheets that were like a dream.

           Cyril was happy to see the woman who had called him handsome the day before. He chomped up his food hastily and went to sit at her feet. Louise smiled and reached down to pat his head.

           A few minutes into her breakfast, the sound of heavy boots came down the stairs. Alfie was half dressed, his loose shirt untucked and suspenders hanging against his thighs. “Morning, Evelyn.” Cyril stood up when his owner came down and went to greet him as well.

           “Mr. Solomons, how did you sleep?”

           “Fine, fine. Miss Barnes, were you well taken care of?” His eyes turned to her.

           “Oh yes, very well. Evelyn is very hospitable.”

           He nodded and went to get his cane by the foyer.

           “Breakfast, Mr. Solomons?” Evelyn called.

           “Not now, Evelyn, running tight on schedule.”

           Louise eyed her unfinished breakfast but decided she needed to make a good impression. So she stood up and headed for the door too with Cyril at her heels.

           “You should eat, Mr. Solomons. Take a bit of time to get your day started.”

           “Later, Evelyn.” He tucked in his shirt and fixed his suspenders over his shoulders. “Miss Barnes?”

           “Yes?” She walked to the hallway where he was buttoning up his waistcoat and tucking his pocket watch away.

           “Ready?”

           “Yes.” She nodded and slid on her coat and hat

           He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “Right, car should be here.” He clipped on Cyril’s lead and opened the door. “See you tonight, Evelyn.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

           Alfie was an imposing figure as he limped through the distillery. Men shied their eyes from him but caught a few glances of Louise as she followed him to the office.

           “Right, have a seat.” He let Cyril find his spot near the desk.

           Louise sat and watched as Alfie settled himself in. “Just gonna get some information down then I’ll let you know what I need you to do, yeah?”

           “Sure.”

           He put his glasses on and flipped through a few papers, grabbing a pen among the cluttered desk. “Louise Barnes your full name?”

           “Louise Mae Barnes-Kelly, legally.” She answered with a hint of discomfort in her voice.

           “That’s a fucking mouthful, innit?” He grumbled. “Kelly your husband’s name?”

           “Yes. But I don’t use his name anymore.”

           “Right, Tommy said something ‘bout him being a bastard. Year you were born?”

           “1896.”

           “Fucking hell.” He scratched the back of his neck as he realized she was ten years his junior. “Right, d’you say you spoke Russian?”

           “No, sir. I’m always willing to learn though.” She offered.

           “Mhm, not Jewish, right?”

           “No, I was raised Christian.” She wasn’t following his line of questioning. None of it seemed very relevant to being a secretary. “Can’t say I’ve been to worship any time recently.”

           “Mhm…” He kept writing. “You good at keeping your mouth shut?” His eyes flicked up to her.

           “Excuse me?”

           “Right,” He set his pen down and leaned back in his chair. “You’re smart, but I can’t have you chatting ‘round London about what you do. What you see, what you learn, and what I do is confidential, innit?”

           “Yes, of course.” She nodded without question.

           He eyed her with firm eyes. “Right, have you look ‘round with me then. You’ll spend most of your time here though; don’t need you in the bakery.”

           “And accommodation? Did Ollie speak to you about it?”

           “I’ve found an apartment for you.” He nodded. “Whatever you need, you tell me, yeah? Can have Evelyn help you too.”

           “That’s okay. I can take care of myself.”

           “Surrey-girl can take care of herself.” He chuckled and stood up. “Come on then, keep up.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

           It was about a week before Louise saw Alfie’s temper first hand. He was moody some days like Evelyn warned her. But he was fairly kind to her just in a rough way. He furnished her new apartment, allowed her to come into the bakery around seven, and let her go home before eight. His kept his word of two pounds a week for her as well. He made small comments about her accent sometimes and didn’t spare her ears of his excessive swearing. But it didn’t bother Louise much once she became accustomed to it. She was just happy to feel safe and have a steady income.

           But one morning, she arrived at the bakery to a shit storm. Even before Louise opened the door, she heard Alfie’s loud voice shouting. She stepped inside and found the distillery in a state of fear.

           “If another fucking shipment comes up short, yeah, I’ll start dealing out punishments. What? You fucking don’t believe me? You test your luck, I fucking dare you!” He was squared off against a teenager who looked close to fainting out of fear. Alfie’s face was turning red as he shouted.

           Louise automatically feared a man shouting. But at least she wasn’t on the receiving end. Trembling she approached her boss. “Mr. Solomons?”

           The men all turned to her. Alfie looked over and held up a hand. “I’ll be with you in a minute, Louise.” He told her fiercely. “What?” He grabbed the kid by the collar. “What you looking at her for? Fucking think she’s gonna save you? Ain’t no one gonna save you, mate, God can’t even save you. You continue to test me, right, I’ll start taking fucking fingers.” He released his hold on the boy and shoved him back. “Anyone else have a fucking issue with that?” He roared.

           They only shook their heads, too afraid to speak.

           “Fantastic, now get back to work!” They all skittered away. Alfie took a deep breath and turned to his secretary. “Louise, come in.” He waved a hand to let her into his office.

           She walked in and found Cyril happily chewing on a bone, unbothered by his master’s shouting. She sat and took out her diary with Alfie’s schedule carefully penned in.

           “Sorry, ‘bout that. Can’t fucking learn, those gits.” He grumbled as his temper simmered down.

           “That’s okay.” The woman didn’t dare challenge him after seeing him so angry.

           “What I’ve got for today?” He asked and folded his arms over his chest. His face returning to his usual complexion.

           “A meeting with a man named Darby Sabini at noon.” She said. “After that, you said you wished to call Mr. Shelby.”

           “Great, thanks.” He slid on his glasses.

           “So I’ll come to take notes in your meeting?”

           “No, I’ll have Ollie do that.” He muttered and looked down at his papers. “You take a long lunch break.”

           “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

           “Don’t want that man looking at you.”

           Louise was surprised. Alfie hadn’t acted so protective over her before. He usually just treated her as an employee. “Whatever you think.” She shut the diary. “Should I do something else?”

           “Could take Cyril for a walk, if you’d like.” He offered. “Mutt would appreciate that.”

           “Of course, Mr. Solomons.” She smiled and stood up, tucking the diary away.

           “Can call me Alfie.” He grunted. “I call you Louise, not much different, is it?”

           “Okay. Anything else?”

           “No, that’s…actually no. Got an event tomorrow night, some fucking art thing.” He waved his hand, brushing away the need for correct terminology. “Gonna be French people there, you said you speak French?”

           “Yes.” She nodded.

           “Right, I’ll have you come with me, then. I’ll’ve a dress sent to you.” He said not too concerned.

           “Okay.” The sound of an upscale event gave her a bit of anxiety though. It had been a while since she’d been around the type of people she was raised to be like.

           “Right, that’s all then.” He pushed his arm forward and accidentally slid a stack of papers off the other side of the desk near Louise. “Fuck, sorry ‘bout that.”

           “It’s okay, I can clean it up.” She bent down and tugged at her not yet healed stitches. She let out a little whimper of pain but tried to ignore it.

           Alfie lifted himself up a bit to peer down at her across the desk. “You alright?” He asked.

           “Yes, Mr-uh Alfie. Just the stitches.”

           Alfie had nearly forgotten what Tommy said about her visit to the hospital. “Well don’t rip ‘em.” He said as if she would do so purposefully.

           “They’re okay.” She slowly straightened up and put the papers back on his desk.

           He stood and walked around to her. “Can I see?”

           “I uh…” She looked uneasy.

           “I’ve seen blood before, love, don’t worry ‘bout me.” He stood in front of her and leaned against his cane.

           Her cheeks turning red, she untucked her blouse and let him see the stitches above her bellybutton.

           “Fucking hell.” He bent down slightly and peered at the wound. “Your husband did that to you? Fucking animal, a man who could do that. Fuck that, he's not a man at all.”

           Louise lowered the hem and tucked it into her skirt again. “It will be healed soon.” She ignored the comment about her husband. It was accurate but she didn’t want to talk about him.

           Residual anger sparked up in Alfie again. Seeing a fragile woman with such injuries brought him to a dark place. No one got away with hurting someone who worked for him, especially not a woman. “What’s his name?” He asked.

           “Who?” She straightened her hair.

           “Your husband.”

           “Alfie, please, you don’t have to worry. It’s over.” She swallowed and reached for Cyril’s lead on the coat hanger. “You want to go for a walk, handsome boy?”

           Cyril lifted himself up and trotted over to her with his signature slobbery smile.

           “That’s a boy, let’s go then. Be back soon, Alfie.” She said before leaving the office with the bullmastiff.

           Alfie nodded and glanced at the phone. He needed a name and knew who could give it to him.

Masterpost

My Masterlist

[tngrayson]

Once More, With Feeling - Ch1 - The Way I Used to Be

A/N: This took much longer to put out than I anticipated, especially considering I finished season 2 the day it released. Anywho...here you are! The sequel series to Break My Heart

Characters: Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 2000

Warnings: Angst

Your lazy Sunday morning with Billy, fresh from a long tour overseas, was drawing to a close as noon approached. You decided to linger in the shower for a little longer after Billy got out. While you enjoyed your ‘me time,’ he tied a towel around his waist and headed into the kitchen.

Billy had always been a coffee person, while you preferred your tea, so he poured some water in the machine for himself, and put on a kettle for you. As soon as he lifted the handle to run the water, the pipes creaked and the water, a cloudy grey, jetted out into the kettle. “Shit,” he exclaimed, remembering the faulty plumbing.

The shower stopped suddenly, making you pause to fiddle with the knobs on the wall. A second later, the water came back full force and ice cold. You couldn’t help the scream that slipped out.

“Sorry,” you heard Billy calling from outside.

“You need a new apartment,” you said, padding into the kitchen to wrap your arms around Billy, both of you in just your towels.

He laughed. “You’re one to talk. Your place is tiny. You call that an apartment?” he teased.

“My place is not tiny,” you defended, crossing your arms over your chest. “…it’s cozy.”

~~~~

The next weekend, you were helping Billy hunt for a new place. You had obsessed over looking at places online, while Billy was more eager to call some well-known realtors and make a few appointments.

After being led on tour after tour of apartments with ridiculously named floorplans, Billy took you to a building not too far from the space he was looking at renting for his new company. Most of the realtors had been nice enough, but this one took one look at you and Billy in your casual dress of jeans and sweatshirts and her attitude changed completely from how she sounded over the phone.

Rather than giving you a tour of the place, she opted to let you two take a self-guided tour—AKA wait in her car until you were done looking around.

“Well,” you said, writing off the realtor. “It’s not like you’d pick this place anyway.”

“Why’s that?” Billy asked, hanging his jacket on one of the hooks by the front door.

“Don’t get me wrong, this place is nice, but do you really need three bedrooms?”

“Course I do,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “Where else are our kids gonna sleep?”

“Oh, so we’re having kids now?”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, kissing your lips. “The first four can share for a while, but we’d definitely have to upgrade in a few years when the others come along. I’d say this place is a little small for the family I want.”

“You really want that?” you asked.

“With you? More than anything,” he said kissing your knuckles, his tone suddenly serious.

There was a small silence between the two of you as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Come on, there’s plenty more of this place to see.” Billy wandered off into what was probably the master bedroom, while you stopped to admire the view from the kitchen. Just past the island was an open living and dining area. The wall was covered from top to bottom in sliding glass doors that let out onto a quaint balcony that overlooked the city.

For a moment you let yourself imagine living here with Billy and your children as they grew up. Frank’s parents practically raised you, and you loved Maria, Frank Jr., and Lisa endlessly, but you still knew the emptiness and loss of having no family. You never forgot those feelings from after your parents were killed. They stuck with you; they were why you clung to the Castles in the first place. You never wanted to feel that loss again.

You knew Billy felt similarly; growing up in group home after group home with no real family for more than a couple years.  You both longed for families of your own. Billy’s excited voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Babe!”

You hurried into the master bedroom and through to the ensuite bathroom. Billy was relaxing in the oversized bathtub, one leg draped over the edge as he invited you to join him.

“I think I like this place,” he said after a while, eyeing you in the oddly placed mirrors that lined the skylight above the bathtub.

“Me too. Besides, it’s a good twenty minutes closer to my place.”

Billy hummed, shifting a little, “I figure this place is big enough for both of us,” he said, leaving the statement open.

“Oh,” you thought out loud. “I suppose it is—oh! Are you…wait, really?”

Less than 24 hours later, Billy was signing the lease. He also talked the realtor into letting him pay a little extra to keep most of the furnishings.

~~~

The boys brought up boxes while you and Maria unpacked everything.

“You know,” she started, “This would be a nice room for Frankie and Lisa to stay when you two babysit..”

“As much as we love the kids, Maria, I think you’re gonna have to fight Billy on that one. Those rooms are where our first four children are supposed to sleep—at least until we have more than that,” you said with a wink.

“He said that?”

You nodded, taking the “Living Room” box from Maria.

“Is that what you want?”

“I’d like a few—eventually.”

Just then, Frank and Billy came through the door with the last of the big items from the moving truck.

“Thank you, Frank,” you said, handing cold beers to him and Billy after they set down the box.

“Top floor, huh?” he said nearly out of breath, knocking Billy on the shoulder.

Billy shrugged. “Only the best for my girl,” he said eyeing you as he took a swig of the cold beer. “Besides, elevator worked yesterday.”

~~~

Billy’s mind was fuzzy. At first, the mornings in the hospital were easier. He would remember things about himself and his life little by little, but after so long, things started to even out. The memories came slower and slower until it seemed like there was nothing else left. When he really tried, his mind was plagued by nightmares. Any other memories were hidden behind gruesome visions of skulls and broken glass.

When he asked, no one would tell him about you or Frank; at least, they wouldn’t directly answer the questions he was asking. He couldn’t tell if they didn’t know, or if they just didn’t want to say for his sake.  Beyond the confusion, he was hurt. He’d been in a coma for six months, confined to the hospital with brain trauma for six more months after that, and he hadn’t heard from either of you. They told him you visited once after the surgery, but the only other visitor he’d had since was the drunk FBI agent who came to taunt him nearly every day, even after the formal complaints. Who the hell was she?

Taking the doctor hostage and escaping the hospital had been an afterthought. He didn’t plan for that, and once he’d started, he didn’t stop—couldn’t stop. He knew what he needed was beyond the confines of the hospital. When he’d got on the bus, and after, when he ended up walking, he didn’t know where he was going, but he’d kept on all day until he was in front of a luxury apartment building. The place was familiar, but he couldn’t remember why.

Punching in the door code had come second nature to him. He let himself run on auto; walking towards the elevators and going up to the top floor. He found himself hesitating in front of the door.  When he knocked, there was no answer. Whoever lived there probably wasn’t home. Before he realized it, he was fishing in his pockets for something to break in with. Something was telling him that he had to get inside of that apartment.

Finally, he’d gotten the knob to turn. When he pushed the door open, he let out an audible gasp. He’d definitely been here before.

Before he knew it, he was walking through the apartment. The apartment though lived in and clearly elegant felt lonely. There was a room on the opposing wall, but he avoided it, taking to the two rooms on the side of the apartment he was on. The first room had been an unused spare. The bed inside was made, but there had been time for dust to start collecting on some of the surfaces since the last use. He closed the door quietly and went on to the next room.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was different from the rest of the apartment. There was a hint of cologne clinging to the air in the room; trapped in there for who knows how long. He couldn’t help but think that he liked it. There were boxes on the floor and on the desk. He walked over to the open closet and ran his fingers across the sleeves of the many tailored suits that were hung there so neatly. Dress shoes lined the floor, and probably fifty ties hung from a rack on the wall.

Billy took a deep breath in and thought to himself, ‘what are you doing here? Why’d you break into this rich asshole’s apartment?’

He made to leave, but the corner of a picture frame peeking out of a box caught his attention. He stepped toward the desk to pick up the frame. The picture was of the both of you together. The Castles were in the photo too. Frank and Maria were standing with the kids between them while the two of you clung to each other.

He put the frame down, trading it for a bundle of loose photos in the box. Billy standing with Frank; one’s arm over the other’s shoulder. Billy in the park with Lisa and Frank Jr. Maria kissing Billy’s cheek.  His heart raced as he tried to focus on the memories that accompanied each picture as he shuffled through them. Each memory clung desperately to the edges of his mind, but there was that damned skull, and it took everything he had to push past and try to remember.

Soon enough, it was all too much for him. He dropped the stack to clutch the sides of his head, sending the photos scattering across the floor. He took deep breaths to calm himself. When he opened his eyes again, clearing the frustrated tears that were forming, he spotted a photo of something he remembered clearly.  The second time he proposed to you. The first time you hadn’t given him an answer for three days. Eventually, you turned him down and he tried again a year later.

He bent to pick it up. He was down on one knee holding a black ring box out to you in the middle of a frozen lake. White snow covered the entire landscape as far as the eye could see. Your cheeks were red in the harsh weather, and you both had scarves wrapped around your necks. Billy could practically feel the chill sinking into his bones as he looked at the picture. Frank and Maria had been there, of course, but they kept their distance, ready to snap the photo as soon as the moment came.

Billy had lost a lot of time with this injury; lost a lot of feelings and moments, but he remembered this day with you so clearly. The moment was soured as he was brought back to his old thoughts though. Why hadn’t you been there for him in the hospital? He loved you; knew you loved him. What could have happened to keep you away?

Billy put the picture in his back pocket and left to investigate the last room in the apartment. He turned the knob, slowly opening the door, and there you were; sound asleep in the bed in front of him.

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[britpop-bowie]

Introducing: my writing

So this is only the first part of the first chapter but I thought I'd test it on an audience to see how well it's received and if there's any major changes I should make. As of yet John's character hasn't been introduced but will be later, and I don't have a summary either, but I do have 1700 trial words so let's see!

Dedicated in part, if not entirely, to @freddieseyeliner

A foolish lovers game - Queen

Brian May was sat, arms up on the back of the sofa and impossibly long legs slung up on the coffee table; an impossible air of both calm and incredible energy. His hair was huge and wild and completely contrasted the tidy nature of the flat he was lounging in. “Bri you lazy fucker!” came a rousing yell from the first door on the right as a shaggy head of blond hair and half finished eyeliner was thrust around the frame; “we’ve got an hour and you’re not even ready yet!” Roger stared with his best bitch face as Brian rolled his eyes at his ever so slightly overdressed man in the doorway. “Rog, it’s just a new roommate arriving. Don’t be so overdramatic,” Roger stuck out his tongue and ducked back into the room, presumably to finish his makeup or try on a third outfit to impress their much needed new roommate. “What is he called again?” He yelled from the depths of his horrendously messy bedroom towards Brian who sighed and sifted through the pile of bills, scrap paper and empty forms to find the letter from their perspective friend.

“I think it’s uh… Eddie or uh, Freddie? Yeah, Freddie.” He read out from the piece of paper than had been annoyingly scrunched up, presumably by Roger. “Did he say anything else? I need to know what look to go for,” He shouted back rather than taking what Brian thought to be the more sensible option of having an actual human conversation not shouted through walls. “No! Why don’t you just ask him himself when he gets here?” Roger reappeared for a split second in a flurry of hair and wearing a questionably patterned blazer “don’t be a dick Bri.”

“No, no I’m not being a dick, you’re just getting too stressed out and dressed up for one human being,”

“It’s just the pleasure of getting to spend time with someone who isn’t you.”

Brian made a mental note to remember that next time Roger attempted to rope him into listening to some new song that was no doubt going to be mildly inappropriate. “Ha ha” he muttered, deadpan, before picking himself up and making his way to the kitchen to brew some tea, realising that now he too was in fact quite nervous to meet this newcomer they had decided to let live in their house without ever meeting the man first. Well, as he had said to roger, at least they knew his name and they could double check he wasn’t a murderer later, if, of course, he didn’t do the murdering before they’d had the chance. Brian was sure it could all be fine, he mostly echoed rogers belief that if they saw too much of each other they might just go absolutely crazy and so in the end it was probably best to have someone calmer to sit down and talk to rather than clean up after. The kitchen walls had some sort of awful brown paisley wallpaper that was now noticeably damp from the steam caused by the kettle, the kind of problem you would ask the landlord to fix if you weren’t late for the very first rent payment.

Whilst he waited for the kettle to boil he let his mind drift away to wonder what the new guy would be like, he knew he couldn't be worse than loving with Roger. Although he wouldn't mind at all if he wasn't, Brian secretly longed for him to be reserved and polite, the kind of person who would join in with Roger's antics but only to help Brian not be dragged into them alone. He was going to help tidy the flat, spend a maximum of an hour on hair and makeup (but no less than 15 minutes or he might just be ashamed to leave the house with him) and use a coaster for his drinks on hardwood surfaces. So maybe Brian had planned the perfect picture of a roommate in his head, that didn't mean he would be at all disappointed if he wasn't exactly the way he wanted him to be.

The whistle of the boiling water jolted him out of his train of thought; he moved from his fairly comfortable one-knee-up lounging position against the counter and poured himself a perfectly sized cup of tea, not like the weak rubbish Roger makes him, taking extra care to be spiteful and not make a second cup.

Brian added the wallpaper to his mental list of things to be done (now scraping the floor) and grabbed his mug of tea managing to only slightly scald his hands. He had just enough time to reread the course specification and allocate ten minutes to existential panic or song writing, the perfect hour to wind down before-

there was a loud and rhythmic knock causing Roger to screech and Brian to spill half a cup of scalding tea all down his white trousers at his own dismay.

Early. Of course he had to be early, he couldn't be late or on time or five minutes either way but no, he just had to be early. This Freddie guy had better be worth a trip into the city and £5 he really didn't have on him to spend on new trousers. And so approaching was the whirlwind of a man, Freddie Mercury!

As Brian opened the door with a painful slowness, he seemed to fill it almost instantly amidst the odd apology for the obscene amount of luggage he held. His hair was long and silky to go with the fashion, his clothes were too; bright and sparkly and all the right curves in all the right places. But of course the most noticeable thing about his bizarrely foreign face was his teeth. Brian felt awful for looking as Freddie hurried to remove his smile and cover up his overbite, nodding to an ever more amused Brian. It was plain to see that he was beautiful and a one of a kind mix of energy and reservedness. He was exciting and he was certainly making an impression.

“Bloody Hell Bri, I thought we had ages left why didn't you tell me he was here!” Roger reappeared for the last time with a slightly more even eyeliner and a sudden look of awe on his face. “Well- uh… I'm Roger and you're… not what I was expecting,” he let out a soft chuckle as he too made the mistake of keeping his eyes on Freddie's teeth for longer than was polite and longer than Freddie was keen on. He shrugged it off by turning to his bags, lifting two of the four over his shoulders and proclaiming “which one's mine then dear?”

Freddie Mercury had never felt so far from home, he was sure the boys were nice, they had promise, but they weren't his- not yet at least. Every few minutes of throwing his clothes into a pile in the wardrobe he had to pick out a particularly glam item and look in the mirror just to remind himself that no matter how far away from everything he knew, he was Freddie Fucking Mercury and he was here to be big. He looked in the mirror and somehow (with the addition of a swig from his handy travel gin) he could see a talented musician, an artist and a man who was going to be amazing and happy and bright… if only he waited just a few weeks to find that in this room rather than the one next to Kash's.

When his two gym bags, one suitcase and one shoulder purse for men were empty and the contents happily strewn across the floor he made the journey out into the living room. There was Brian, who he noticed was largely taller than the other (who he assumed must be Roger) and had much more of a sensible air to him; although ,of course, an air of sensibility really didn't mean anything about a man's character.

Brian appeared to be making a cup of tea, so naturally he asked for one before throwing himself down on the sofa and allowing his robe to fall of his shoulders and reveal his scandalous silk shirt to flash over his chest like the rich showing off their posh tablecloth. “Of course mate. Roger might get one too if he gets off his arse!” He called the second part into the midst of the flat hoping that Roger would finally take it upon himself to leave the room properly and massively impose himself as usual. Thankfully the promise of tea and new company redirected the man's entire body out of the door, leaving it wide open behind him.

Now that this was Freddie's first proper impression of Roger he had to say firstly that he was impressed and secondly that he would be borrowing that blazer the moment Dog's back was turned. The pink suspenders too if he wasn't careful; if he kept on dressing like this he would have to start calling him Rainbow, it was a darned sight less boring than 'Roger’ anyhow. “Tea please Bri!” He quipped, grabbing the mug just as Brian finished pouring and leaving a shocked and disappointed stare at his back. Putting his leg up against the doorframe he said “I'm Roger.”

“Yes ,darling, you said, I hope you're usually more talented at conversation,” Freddie fired back, leaving just enough joyful enthusiasm so as to not alienate he flatmates with the first sentence.

Brian squeezed past a stunned Roger and placed himself on the other side of the frame: “I like him.” Roger grimaced and gave Brian a grin and then a gentle but malicious shove; Freddie watched from the sidelines, smiling with only a hint of regret at his clear face.

“So then Freddie, what makes you tick?” Roger posed as he flicked through the book Brian had just thrown onto the table. “Me? Oh everything and anything, find me the right tune and I'll hum along,” Roger seemed fairly contented with that answer, awarding it a small nod. But before he could respond Brian had leant out of his sofa corner and turned to Freddie, “but really, what sort of things do you like? I haven't even asked what course you're doing?”

“Oh well if you must know its graphic art or something of the sort,” he laughed lightly gesturing away in an attempt to avoid any intense conversation he was sure he wasn't prepared for. “Don't ask me all the questions, tell me something about you?”

[tmnt-veelicious]

Across the Stars - Ch.1

Eyyoooo, first chapter of my TMNT fanfic :’) Now, what the fawck is going on? Welp, it’s a lil’ lovey-dovey story based on the 2014-2016 universe. The turtles are aged up to their mid 20′s.Aaannd it’s going to be rated mature (especially for language, anxiety/depression mentions, explicit stuff and future sex scenes yaasss). The main pairing is DonatelloXOC (self-insert). If you’re not a fan of that, it’s perfectly understandable and you may go on your merry way~. Writing this kind of stuff helps me with my own anxiety ( ´ ▽ ` )b  heh Also I want to apologize in advance for any errors I may make. My first language is French and sometimes my brain farts some nonsense. I always try to correct things as fast as I can though ! ANYWHOOORE, time for some reading ! Enjoy :) First Chapter --> You’re here mah precious Next Chapter --> HERE

Done. That was the only word that went through Vee's mind as she closed the apartment's door behind her, leaning into it with a long sigh. She was done with the day, done with her exhausting shift at work. Done with life. Hanging her black trench coat and removing her autumn boots, she wandered to the kitchen, finding the place void of any other presence. April O'Neil, her roomate, had been rather occupied with her job, being a reporter for Channel 6 no easy thing. Also Vee was noticing how the other woman was somehow avoiding her for an unknown reason... She shrugged, trying to chase the thoughts away, filling an electric kettle with water in order to prepare a cup of tea. As she was waiting for the water to boil, she stopped to a standing mirror, grabbing her long light brown hair so she could assemble them in a messy bun. She couldn't help noticing the dark circles under her green eyes, a clear sign of fatigue and stress. A new sigh escaped her lips as she pushed on her glasses, repositionning them to their rightful place. Ever since she moved in to New York city, six months ago, she felt like her spark was vanishing with each passing months. Coming from Montréal, Canada, to work and live here had been a big step in her life, but it had also been a dued change. Her initial thrill and thirst for adventure had fueled her, dreaming of the endless possibilities New York's creative scene could offer her... Alas, she was nothing more but a single raindrop in a massive ocean of artists just like her. Was her life reduced to the endless loop of eat-work-sleep? Indeed. And she despised it. Especially since her job consisted of folding clothes and being a cashier to bratty customers who would complain day and night about not finding the perfect size of jeans or t-shirt. So exciting!... At least it paid the bills and rent. Click Vee turned to the kettle, mindlessly pouring hot water in a cup and dropping a bag of green tea, next making her way towards her bedroom. The place wasn't too big, only offering enough space for her double size bed, a desk on which sat her laptop and, not too far, her prized electric piano, most practical when she needed to practice and would only need to plug in headphones so only she could hear the precious melodies. Vee was an artist in many forms. From music to drawing, with a side of writing, she have had the opportunity to lay her hands on many projects, also spending a good part of her past twenty-five years in schools and colleges, studying and mastering her creative side. Vee was a dreamer, her mind always up and running, never at peace. She had so many ideas and so little time... At some point she wished she could just puke them out of her brain, knowing it'd be way easier to sort them out. Instead, she had a wall filled with post-its, papers, anything that she could write on, filled with words, drawings, things that inspired her or wouldn't just leave her thoughts. That was her way of keeping a planner, knowing it'd be way too frustrating to flip through many pages of a book only to find THE idea she'd be looking for! Undressing so she could put on a large t-shirt and keep her legs free of any pants' restraint, she plopped on her chair, facing her desk and turned on her laptop, the screen's light blaring through her unamused, souless even, expression. Her fingers moved expertedly over her keyboard, typing in her password, next sipping her tea without care. Her thoughts slowly started to shift to a new subject. Him. She hoped he'd be online... A month or two before she departed from Montréal, she had started to notice the sudden interest of a new follower on her various online accounts. At first she didn’t mind, but soon both began to chat and discovered that they had many interests in common. They liked talking about science, sending eachothers stupid memes and simply going from serious conversations to hilarious ones. He said his name was Donatello. A bit of a pretentious name. It was certainly not his real one (or else his parents must have been total Renaissance nerds). And his username was no better: donino, a simple mix of his name and that domino pizza place. He liked pizza. URG. STUPID PUNS. Vee smiled when she noticed he was on, already opening a chatbox. (veelicious): Afbabshabvdfshdsbf (donino): Hi? (veelicious): My brain is trying to reboot. (donino): Long day I presume? (veelicious): HMMMRRR I wish I could land on a good job opportunity in my domain rather than hearing people complain about how they'll just go to another store only because we don't have an item that ran out of stock. (veelicious): I'm not even complaining. Go shop somewhere else, customer from hell. I won't miss your needy ass. (donino): Yikes! Sorry people can be such dickheads :( …. Have you tried looking for another place? I could help you search? (veelicious): You're sweet, Don, but you don't need to go into all that trouble for me. Don't worry, I'm always on the lookout for something else :) She always thought it was cute how he was always ready to help her. … Even though both were now living in the same city, they've never met. He would always give a reason to postpone any actual meeting and Vee couldn't help feeling hurt about that. They'd been chatting, both via text and voice, for a little bit more than half a year, developping a strong friendship …. Why would he deny seeing her? She suspected that he might be lying about living in the city, but on the other hand she couldn't believe that, the guy too truthful in nature. (donino): Is there anything I can do to help and make you feel better though? (veelicious): Yeah, what about a coffee date? She slapped her palm to her face, cursing herself. (donino): Vee idk... (veelicious): For fuck's sake Donnie, what could go wrong? I just want to get to know a new friendly face around here. (veelicious): I really enjoy talking to you. … April's been giving me the cold shoulder for some unknown reason, added to her being almost non-existent in this frickin' apartment. And now you just always come up with excuses. (veelicious): I may be a stupid introvert, but damn sometimes I just hate being alone. … I just want to talk. (donino): We can voice chat if you want. (veelicious): No Donnie. … I want to see you. I want to see your face, be able to put a picture over your name. I want to see you when you laugh. I want to see you smile. … Jfc, I don't bite. She took a long sip of her tea, her hands slightly shaking. She felt like she was confessing something, but deep down she just wanted to be able to hang out with someone other than herself, April or any stupid coworker... She got no answer for a good couple of minutes, knowing she had probably scared him. Ding Her eyes moved back to the screen. (donino): Tomorrow night. Come alone. Go on top of the building that's on the corner of 4th ave. and 12th st. (donino): … I know this sounds super creepy and weird as hell, but trust me, it's the only way. (donino): Oh and yeah, bring coffees :) Vee's eyes were now wide open, her heart suddenly beating hard. She was confused and excited, a large grin coming to her face. The request did sound off, but at least she FINALLY got a result. *** This september night felt chilly, the month nearing its end. Vee was glad to be holding the two cups of coffee, warming her hands. Wearing her black trench coat, she couldn't help snorting at the mental image of herself, dressed like some sort of hip business woman, walking fast with her coffees, ready to tackle any late work. HA! She wished. She found the place, a modest apartment building which had an emergency metal staircase to its side, Vee then going to it in order to reach the top. She found herself alone, gazing upon the nearby streets, sipping her cup from times to times and butteflies destroying her stomach due to stress. Why was she so anxious to meet him? The worst was probably that she had no idea what he looked like. He never described himself much, only stating that he wore glasses and was tall. At least that was a start? Vee was about to leave a cup down to check her phone that she heard a sound; someone clearing their throat to bring attention. She quickly turned towards the sound, noticing a form in the shadows. ''… Donnie?'' she asked. ''Uhm, yeah, hi.'' A large smile came on Vee's face, recognizing his voice. She proceeded to walk in his direction so she could hand him his cup, but was promptly stopped. ''Wait!'' his voice sounding slightly nervous. ''… This is hard for me, please, just stay where you are.'' Vee was confused but obeyed, her eyes trying to scan his form. He looked tall, easily over six feet! He seemed to be carrying some sort of gear- She heard him sigh, finally moving. The first word to come up in her mind was green. Then purple. Glasses. Golden eyes. Technology. Shell. Shell? Turtle?! They stood there, in complete silence, Donatello now immobile and in plain sight. He gulped, starting to feel anxious as he could only notice how wide Vee's eyes were now... ''Wow,'' she finally said. She walked to him, closing the distance. Donnie was tempted to fall back, but remained in place, his eyes never leaving the human. Vee handed him a cup, her hand slightly shaking, her gaze plunged in his. She felt his hand around hers, taking the cup, only then her mind was brought back to reality, trying to find words only to speak again: ''Is … is this why you never wanted to meet?'' she asked, now both her hands around her cup. The turtle swallowed hard again, trying to focus. ''Well, yeah!'' He finally frowned a little in disbelief, a hand going to his hip, trying to understand the situation. ''Wait,'' he puffed a little. ''No screaming? No fainting? Just 'wow'?'' Vee shrugged, unsure, taking a quick sip of coffee before commenting: ''Okay, let me say something else then. … Holy hell! There. Any better?'' A small laugh escaped her, mostly dued to stress, but she was quick to calm it, sighing. ''Look... I can't deny that I'm a bit scared right now, but I'm mostly curious. I mean, you're a walking, talking turtle person! Gee, that's not something you get to see everyday, at least for me.'' ''… You don't think I'm a monster?'' he asked shyly. ''Oh please, what now? Monster is a synonym for 'bad'? Am I supposed to be afraid senseless and run away? … As I'm aware, you're a good person.'' Donatello's fingers fiddled on his cup. ''… I- I don't know what to say,'' he mumbled. ''Vee, you're probably the first human to be kind when meeting me.'' The woman lifted her cup in a 'toast' gesture, a smirk on her lips. ''I'm your friend. If I were to scream and throw myself off this building in fear, that would make me a terrible one.'' Donnie clinked his cup to hers, a smile now on his face too. ''Glad that didn't happen then. I'll drink to that friendship.'' *** ''April, what the fuck?'' Vee said as soon as she entered the apartment and saw her roomate sitting on the couch, carelessly going through her phone. The brunette lifted her eyes: ''… Yes?'' Vee knew everything. Donatello had told her about how he knew April, how she'd be working with them – yes because there was a 'them' as in there were others like him! ''Why did you never tell me about Donatello being a freaking mutant turtle?'' April's body jolted back to life, sitting straight, her eyes wide open. ''Wait, how did you-'' ''I just met him,'' cut Vee, her hands resting on her hips, a deadpan, non amused look on her face. The reporter was at a loss for words, going through several emotions, trying to find the right words. ''… What, he actually met you? He told me he didn't want to.'' ''SEE! THIS! Why the secret? You knew I was talking to him. If he was so scared, why didn't he stop talking to me? What the fuck is going on?!'' April sighed, gesturing for Vee to come sit by her side. ''Vee, I'm sorry.'' She sounded sincere. ''Can you just understand that this situation was really … delicate? I can't just go around and tell people that I know some freakin' ninja turtles-'' ''Wait, ninjas?'' ''Yes, they're ninjas. Now don't interrupt me! … They've been living in secrecy for many years now and they come up at night to help around with justice and stuff. Their main goal around here is to protect the city.'' ''Wow, okay, so like some sort of super heroes?'' asked Vee, genuinely curious. ''Yes! Remember Shredder? The Technodrome? It's not Vern or the police that took care of all that, that was them! They run around, jumping and stuff and they fight back.... Usually they're very careful, but you had to fall upon the only one who's a real tech genius and probably spends more time on the internet than his brothers.'' She took Vee's hands, looking straight into her eyes. ''… How did you react when meeting him?'' ''I was surprised,'' answered the other with a small smile. ''I did not scream, although I was a bit scared, but I was just so happy to finally see him...'' ''Heh, lucky. First time I met them I fainted.'' *** (veelicious): I can't believe we actually met! (donino): Me too, to be honest. I was so nervous.... (veelicious): I'm really grateful that you went over your fear and showed yourself. … I have the feeling that I sounded selfish and mean last time we chatted and I'm so sorry. I didn't want to rush things like that... (donino): No! Actually, I'm glad you did. … You're a good person, Vee, and I guess I low-key knew that you would react the way you did when we met. I don't know how to explain it... … (veelicious): I want to meet you again. (donino): Same. (veelicious): April told me everything. … If you and your family are okay with it, we could meet up at your place? I'd be curious to see how it looks down there. April would come with me. (donino): Unless you have troubles with slight sewer odors, you're welcome here! I'll keep you up to date regarding the others though... (veelicious): Looking forward to it ;)

[techcrunchappcom]

New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/bit-more-difficult-news-sports-jobs/

‘Bit More Difficult’ | News, Sports, Jobs

Maj. John Merchant of the Salvation Army tends to an “Angel Tree” in December 2019. Merchant is anticipating COVID-19 to pose a significant challenge to the agency this holiday season. P-J file photos

For the general population, the thought of making preparations for the Christmas season during the summer would seem ludicrous.

But, for Maj. John Merchant, it’s essential — especially this year.

“This year is much different than normal,” said Merchant, who oversees the local Salvation Army with his wife, Maj. Kim Merchant.

Indication that this would be a different holiday season for the agency came to the Merchants in June and July as Chautauqua County saw an uptick of confirmed cases of COVID-19. Throughout the pandemic, the Salvation Army, which operates the largest food pantry in the county, has helped served upward of 1,000 families per month — a 15% increase of their usual average.

During its peak season, however, volunteers help raise between $115,000 and $120,000 during its Red Kettle campaign, with all monies from supporting those in need of assistance with utilities, medication, food and shelter, among others.

But Merchant fears that the pandemic will heavily affect that number as well as the number of volunteers.

“It’s going to be a little bit more difficult volunteering for us,” Merchant said. “Only one person is allowed at the stand and can’t have groups — we can’t have a mother with their children, which for many is to help foster another generation of volunteers.”

Annual participants, Tops Friendly Markets and Walmart, have agreed to allow the campaign to take place at their local store fronts, he said. But, precautions will have to be taken: friendly smiles will unfortunately have to be covered by a facemask and even those who look to spread Christmas cheer through music will be restricted.

“Usually the Salvation Army has their band play at Tops on Washington Street. … We can’t even do that,” Merchant said. “One person can play music, but if becomes a crowd, then they’ll have to stop immediately.”

“We’re still trying to figure out how this all is going to work,” he said.

Meanwhile, the organization has not stopped serving those in need, providing pre-boxed food to those who would arrive at the door of the food pantry. Extra food giveaways continued as did the mobile food pantry at the end of each month.

“We’ve had to do things differently,” he said, “Now we’ve opened it up a little bit so that people have choice. We’ll give them a clipboard of what they would prefer from the pantry. We’ve had to change the way that we do things and we are requiring masks.”

The capacity to do so has been made possible by about a dozen volunteers who have continued to serve through March. It’s also been made possible financially from a variety of supporters ranging from an anonymous group that raised $5,400 for the organization to Univera Health Care, who donated $10,000 to help support the food pantry and provide reusable shopping bags for clients to take their food home in.

Other support has come from Cummings Engine, which placed a clothing storage bin at their location to collect items for those who stay at the organization’s shelter, the United Way of Southern Chautauqua County’s Emergency Food and Shelter Program, which assisted with rent, other local foundations and the Ellery Center Volunteer Fire Dept. and the Chautauqua Property Owner’s Association.

“We’ve had a few folks and part of our family help us out and they’re no strangers to the Salvation Army,” Merchant said. “They’ve reached out a helping hand which by all means right now is needed and appreciated.”

Still, as the holidays slowly roll around the corner, and with applications for assistance during the Christmas season starting in September, Merchant still worries about the organization’s ability to fulfill all requests.

“We’re trying to be cautious in letting people know that we can’t make any guarantees,” he said. “All of our stuff comes in through the generosity of the community. We will do our best to make sure all of that happens.”

He added, “We have an operating budget that really has taken some hard times because of COVID. We’re just lacking in funds. There’s not as many resources coming in via the mail appeal and regular donations and if we can’t raise that money, we’re not able to take care of the needs as we have in the past.”

Applications for Christmas are being taken by appointment only. Appointments can be made by calling 664-4108. Once an appointment is made, Merchant is asking that only the head of household visit the agency to fill it out.

Meanwhile, those interested in volunteering for the Red Kettle campaign are urged to call the same number.

“We’re really going to be hard pressed for volunteers for kettles,” Merchant said. “We’re hoping we can get some folks to help us out. If we don’t raise the funding then something’s going to be cut out from what we normally do because we won’t be able to afford it. We’ve already reached into our reserves to pay our employees and to continue the service to the community, we’re really hoping to raise these funds because without them, I’m not sure what we would do at this point.”

“This is not a small task,” Merchant said. “We’re praying real hard on it and we’re hoping that we can get the community to rally behind us again. We do have a wonderful community that helps us to be able to help others.”

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Chautauqua County officials announced five new cases of COVID-19 Tuesday, one day after revealing that 47 of …

The two candidates running for district attorney for Chautauqua County have differing views on the staffing size …

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[made-in-the-hallway]

Playful Fate

Word count: 2.222

Requsted: Yes

Warnings: None

Five hours. You were waiting for five hours for your code to be delivered that you were growing desperate. Your best friend called you some time ago, notifying you that she had received her code for Harry’s tickets and you could hear her relief along with her overall excitement. She asked you if you had received yours yet but your negative answer had her knotting her eyebrows and telling you not to worry.

You weren’t worried. You were just disappointed. When Harry had announced his tour dates and countries you and your friend wanted nothing more than for him to come and perform in your country. And when you two saw that your country was included, you started jumping up and down playing his album. It was a dream coming true. So your friend suggested if you wanted to get tickets, you should be quick to apply for a code.

The thing was that your friend had already her code whereas you were still on edge. Suddenly, you started thinking that you hadn’t made it and that you wouldn’t be seeing Harry in front of you, singing your favourite songs. Or else, why would it take so long? Could the system be stuck? Was your application invalid? So many thoughts, but your inbox was still empty.

“Maybe it is not meant for me to experience this”, you said to yourself and started blinking away a few tears. It was a shame really because the tickets were affordable for once and the concert would take place in your own country. It was a bargain. Yet, you wouldn’t be any part of this from what it seemed.

And you were proven correct. One week had passed and your code was nowhere to be seen. You had cried, as silly as it may sound, but that was how you felt. Y/F/N was devastated herself when you told her that you still didn’t have the code and she too knew that all the encouraging words in the world wouldn’t change anything. You still wished for her to have an awesome time and she promised to be back with as many videos and photos as she could gather.

Days were the same for you after that incident. School, your part time job and visits to Y/F/N’s. When you were waiting for your tickets you had marked down the concert’s date but when you had realized you wouldn’t be participating, you had given your calendar to your friend. In conjunction with this, your busy schedule nowadays didn’t allow to you to think about anything else. So when you were passing outside the local stadium you were a bit taken aback seeing all those people cleaning the place and arranging the stage.

“What have I missed?”, you said to yourself and decided to call Y/F/N and ask her what on earth was going on.

“Y/N, I can’t believe you could forget. In two days….Harry will perform there”, she said pausing a bit and realization hit you. Right. The concert you wouldn’t be attending was in two days. You didn’t cry. But the taste your friends’ words left afterwards was…Bitter.

“Oh”, was all you could muster up but you gained your senses almost immediately. Your friend was going to be there and you didn’t want to make her feel sympathetic or sad just because you were feeling this way. This was what she was dreaming about too.

“Well, make sure you have the time of your life!”, you tried to sound enthusiastic but you were positive you sounded nothing like that.

“Y/N, I appreciate your trying but it is not necessary with me. I know you. And you knowing me, you should know that if I was in your shoes, I would be ten times worse”, even her statement couldn’t make you feel better.

“Still. Just because I am bitter about it, that doesn’t mean you have to lose your excitement. Even though it is impossible. Anyways. I am running late for work. Catch up later yeah?”, you said not intending to sound so harsh but failing miserably.

Putting your earphones on, you headed to the shop you were working to; a small patisserie shop which was well known for its profiteroles. Your small journey was accompanied by Harry’s melodic voice singing Sign of the Times. You were trying to hold back a few stray tears but the tune of the song did not help at all. You really tried to understand why life didn’t want you to meet your idol, but everything happens for a reason right? That’s what you told yourself anyway. Entering the shop, the smell of freshly baked cupcakes put your thoughts at bay and maybe, that was the first time you appreciated this shop.

“Always early darling”, Leslie, the owner of the shop, a sixty year old lady, greeted you.

“Well, you know me Leslie. I want to be punctual”, you said and half smiled. Leslie insisted on you calling her by her first name, because any other name made her feel way older. You didn’t have any problem with this, because when addressing her like this, you felt like she was a friend of yours. And in reality, she was. When your shift would be over, she would turn the sign that read “OPEN” around, and she would prepare a cup of hot tea and some cupcakes for you to chat upon. She made you feel better about anything. You had even told her how unlucky you were and you hadn’t gotten tickets for Harry. Surprisingly enough, she had experienced the exact same thing when she was a teenager. When you had found out, your eyes bulged out of their pockets. You could picture Leslie with youngster clothes, waiting to be in a stadium to sing at the top of her lungs and dance around to her idol’s music. But life always has other plans. She encouraged you that it is not the end of the world and that you would get the chance to see him in person one way or another. Your heart and mind seemed to understand her point, so when you entered the shop, her words would come in mind and you would be calmer.

But today, fate seemed like it enjoyed seeing you feeling blue. After some hours of serving customers and writing down orders, the local radio station decided to praise Harry by playing his two songs. The one after the other.

“Why me?”, you cried out and you gulped down a glass of water to calm your nerves.

“Are yeh closed?”, a male voice spoke behind you. Just on cue, Two Ghosts started blasting through the small speakers the shop owned and you tried your best not to lose it.

“No sir, we are open. Tell m-“, you stopped mid-sentence and blinked harshly.

“Seems like your station likes meh songs”, Harry smirked, standing in front of you in all his glory.

“Well-, yeah-, wow”, you said at last, looking between the speakers and Harry. It was a funny sight if you came to think about it. A few days earlier, you were crying your eyes out that you wouldn’t watch Harry enjoying himself onstage but now here he was ready to order. In your shop.

“Oh your order. Pardon me. You were saying?”, you returned to your professional self and waited for his order.

“Well, I would like two of your best cupcakes and a cup of tea”, he smiled and waited patiently.

“Okay. Take away or table?”, you answered and he looked up at you.

“Table please. Oh and one more thin’”, Harry paused and you waited for his next words.

“Yes?”, you said jotting down his order.

“I think your country is very beautiful. Glad it will host meh gig”, he said and smiled without comprehending what he had just said. When he saw your facial expression clouding, he felt confused.

“Did I say something I wasn’t supposed to?”, he asked all worried and it was your turn to explain.

“No, no. But something messed up and I am afraid I will miss your concert unfortunately”.

“Is that so?” he smirked and you nodded.

“Anyway, you are not here to hear about my personal misfortunes. Your order will be right up”, you said and proceeded to your work.

“I will be more than happy to help yeh actually. Could yeh come to meh table fo’ a minute?”, he suggested.

“I am afraid I will be unable to”, you said gesturing to your apron.

“I will be waitin’ then”, Harry said and walked to an empty table. Who would have told you that Harry Styles would come to the shop which helped you pay your rent and on top of that, wait for your shift to be over. You were fangirling like there was no tomorrow. And while you were heating up the kettle, you realized something; you weren’t so irritated that you wouldn’t be at the concert anymore. Yes, a small part of you still wanted to hear the duck noises in Woman live but as your eyes would dart to Harry, you came to the point that just talking with him was what you really desired. And maybe in some hours this would be real.

“That young man seems to be impatient.”, Leslies’s voice startled you.

“Well, he is waiting for me to be finished with work so we can chat most probably”, you said preparing the tray with his tea and cupcakes.

“But that won’t be for three more hours! Leave the tray and sit with him. I will tell Josh to take over love”, Leslie offered and you squeaked.

“But Leslie, you are paying me to serve people not chat with them”, you retorted.

“You deserve a break. Now go to him”, she said and you thanked her before going to Harry’s table.

“Here you go. Our finest cupcakes along with your tea”, you said leaving each item on the table.

“And the kindest waitress”, he continued making you smile.

“Why, thank you”, you said and he ushered you to sit with him.

“So… As fo’ meh concert yeh can’t come to… Yeh know, I might have a spare ticket that no one will use eventually”, he said while sipping his tea and you stared at him bewildered. Just with one word, your dream would come true and you would enjoy yourself with Y/F/N jamming along to his new album. But you couldn’t accept. Not only would it feel wrong, but you didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness and prosperity.

“You know, some days ago, me and my friend applied to your site in order to get a code for tickets. My friend was the lucky one and got hers whereas I didn’t. I was devastated. And now here comes your kind offer. But I am afraid I will say no”, you said and he almost choked on his cupcake.

“But yeh seem like yeh want to come. I don’t understand”, he truthfully said. He started to feel confused with you; any other fan seeing him and being offered tickets by him would scream in his face and even cry. But that is what he appreciated too; your calmness around him. Even though you were screaming internally.

“You see, it seems to me that these few minutes we are conversing together, are worthy much more than a concert. Not wanting to disrespect your talent, but I hope I got my message across the right way”, you said, hoping you didn’t make a wrong choice of words.

“Yeh are somethin’ else really. I appreciate your company and you make meh feel less anxious when around a fan. And I don’t even know your name”, he concluded chuckling.

“It’s Y/N and I am so glad I make you feel this way”, you said chuckling as well. You knew how disrespectful his fans could be sometimes and how hectic it may seem to him. So why go with the flow when someone can treat him with the kindness he deserved?

“Y/N, yeh have a special place in meh heart from now on.”, he said and you swelled at his words.

“But I am afraid I have to go now. Have to practice. See yeh later yeah?”, he said and you got up to hug him. You were a bit baffled because you would never see him again and you didn’t exactly know how you could see each other later but you decided to push those thoughts aside and cherish the fact that you were hugging your idol. Maybe when you returned home you would let all your excitement out.

But fate knew better. Since that day, and when Harry would still be in the town, he would pay a visit to the shop. Sometimes only to see you. You had exchanged numbers too, careful not to be exposed of course, and your friend was happy that things turned out even better for you. Every once in a while, your fangirl mode would be switched on and Harry would be all playful about it but you didn’t mind. You also didn’t mind that you didn’t go to that concert but who needed a concert when Harry Styles would turn up at their work almost on a daily basis or call them up to chat?

Thank you so much for this request girl! I truly hope you people enjoyed it and don’t hesitate requesting things! I am more than glad to answer to you lovelies! Happy reading!

[lethaderr-blog]

We stayed at two stunning hotels in Glencoe Scotland.

Not only is Glencoe the most scenic and famous glen in Scotland, it was also recently voted the most romantic one in the country. It’s only fitting to stay at idyllic hotels that are as much a part of this fairy tale landscape as the mountains themselves. Justin and I split our nights between two hotels in Glencoe Scotland: the Ballachulish Hotel and the brand new Kingshouse Hotel.

Both hotels offer different yet equally luxurious experiences. I’ll describe our stay at both hotels and you can choose where to stay in Glencoe. However, you might decide to split your time between both hotels like we did for two unique overnight stays. No matter what you decide, you’ll be guaranteed a restful night’s sleep in one of the most beautiful regions of the world.

GLENCOE TRAVEL GUIDE

GETTING AROUND GLENCOE: The best way to travel around Glencoe and the Scottish Highlands is renting your own car and seeing it on your own. You can also get around on your own two feet with epic hikes and walks around this spectacular region.

THINGS TO DO IN GLENCOE: Coming soon! In the meantime, check out the rest of our Scotland blog posts.

PHOTOS OF GLENCOE: Check out our entire photo album of pictures from Glencoe to inspire your trip. You can also purchase prints, housewares, and all sorts of gifts made from any of our photos – just click the “buy” button on any picture.

Ballachulish Hotel

The Ballachulish Hotel (pronounced Ba-la-hoo-lish) has welcomed guests since 1877. This historic home is the perfect base for exploring Glencoe and Fort William. It’s just outside of the village of Glencoe on the shores of Loch Linnie, with brilliant views of the hills of Glencoe. Once we checked in at the front desk, we drifted up the grand staircase to our room. I couldn’t help but wonder about the guests over the last century and beyond who have wandered up this very same set of stairs to their room. Were they experiencing the beauty of the Scottish Highlands for the first time, just like us?

Our Room

It was easy to feel as though we’d been transported back in time at the Ballachulish Hotel. Our “feature room” was filled with antique furnishings, as well as rich, bold patterns. It’s easy to see how this is one of the best hotels in Glencoe Scotland.

While each room has its own individual character, we adored ours at the front of the home. With multiple windows from two sides of the room, we had glorious views of the surrounding scenery. It was a beautiful day outside. The waters of Loch Linnie twinkled, boats drifted beneath the Ballachulish Bridge, and the flags of Scotland outside our room flapped in the breeze. We highly recommend booking one of the feature rooms for the view alone.

As much as the room reminded us of times long ago, it had tons of modern amenities, too. There’s a flatscreen TV set with many satellite channels, complimentary Wi-Fi throughout the hotel, and plenty of tea and coffee to start the day right. Our bathroom had a large bathtub with a shower, and it was quite spacious. 

The Restaurant

Once we reached Ballachulish Hotel after a day of adventures, we didn’t have to leave. With a restaurant right on site, the Bulas Bar & Bistro, you don’t have to go anywhere. There are vegetarian and vegan items marked right on the menu, although the chef came out to help determine the meals that we could have.

We started with the Slow Roast Mushroom and Rosemary Pate (grilled courgette, pickled tomato, sourdough crouton) and an order of artisan bread with lemon rapeseed oil. For the main course, we ordered the beetroot and quinoa burger, without a bun. They’re currently trying to source a vegan bun (right now it’s vegetarian – a brioche bun). The patty was super delicious and topped with onion jam, and it came with a side of sweet potato fries. There was even a vegan dessert on the menu, a raspberry tart with vegan ice cream (just request for the ice cream to be vegan!).

Aside from the food, one of the best aspects of dining at the Ballachulish Hotel’s restaurant was the view from the dining room window. We watched the sun go down as we ate dinner. The sky turned brilliant shades of orange, red, and eventually pastel pink and purple.

In the morning, all guests can enjoy a complimentary breakfast spread. It’s a classic Scottish breakfast, so I ate some toast, fruit, and baked beans. It was super delicious. And of course, there was a large pot of coffee to savor and enjoy!

Amenities

Guests of the Ballachulish Hotel can take a short drive down the road to their sister hotel, the Isles of Glencoe, to enjoy the swimming pool, sauna, and jacuzzi. While we didn’t take the advantage of the swimming facilities, be sure to pack your swimsuit so you can fully relax and unwind there. 

Ballachulish Hotel is one of the hotels in Glencoe Scotland that happens to be dog-friendly. If you’re traveling around with your best buddy, there’s just a small fee. Your pup is welcome in all the public spaces too, except for the bar and restaurant. Didn’t bring a pet along with you on this trip? You might have the chance to meet the hotel’s friendly cat, Diego!

Justin and I thoroughly loved our stay at the Ballachulish Hotel, making it one of the best places to stay in Glencoe. If you’re looking for an amazing Glencoe accommodation, look no further. From the warm welcome upon our arrival to the comfortable room and delicious food, we highly recommend that you stay at the Ballachulish Hotel. Book your stay at the Ballachulish Hotel, and read more reviews of this wonderful hotel.

The next day, we went on some adventures around Glencoe and Fort William. The two of us moved on to our next accommodation in Glencoe, the Kingshouse Hotel.

Kingshouse Hotel

For another brilliant choice of hotels in Glencoe Scotland, consider booking your stay at the Kingshouse Hotel. You’ll find the Kingshouse Hotel in the remote eastern end of Glencoe near the road towards Glen Etive. It’s one of the oldest hotels in Scotland, dating back to the 1750s. In fact, after the aftermath of the Jacobite Rising of 1745, the inn was used by the British Army (hence its name, the Kingshouse).

Recently, there were some massive renovations to the Kingshouse Hotel, tearing down an addition from the 1960s and adding a huge modern expansion and refurbishment. The original Kingshouse building from the 1750s was kept and restored. It remains as “The Way Inn”, a traditional pub for walkers and climbers in the area (as well as hotel guests) as a place to relax and recharge.

The Kingshouse Hotel recently opened in 2019 after these brand new and modern renovations, and we were among some of the first guests to stay at this brand new hotel. Walking into the hotel, we were immediately wowed by the modern and pristine design. Even though there was a grand entrance and foyer, some cozy elements to this space remain, like fireplaces and bookshelves full of books.

Our Room

Our standard room was very cozy and updated to every modern standard. There was a flatscreen TV with many satellite channels, complimentary Wi-Fi, USB outlets (and standard outlets) by the bed, a spacious desk to work at, and brilliant views of the rolling hills from our window. At the desk, you’ll find a kettle with complimentary coffee and tea. If you’d like some espresso or a fancier beverage, you can easily pop down to the Kingshouse Bar or The Way Inn pub.

In addition to a king-sized bed, there was also a sofa bed. This can be used as a couch or an additional space for two more people to sleep. This room is perfect for families with children or even if you are traveling as two couples. If you’ve gone hiking in the rain or mud, you can also use the hotel’s storage and drying room.

The bathroom was very clean, spacious, and modern. There was ample space on the counter for all of our toiletries and belongings. Our bathroom had a bathtub and a shower.

The Restaurant

We dined at the Kingshouse Restaurant, which was nothing short of spectacular. The massive windows allowed for picturesque views of the mountains as we dined that evening. The menu has a good amount of vegetarian and vegan choices, which are clearly marked. While there wasn’t a vegan entree, the chef easily adapted a vegetarian one for us. 

We ordered the Wild Mushroom and Thyme Pate (with celeriac and horseradish relish and beetroot crisps) to start, and the Root Vegetable and Barley Risotto (with roasted garlic and parsley dressing) as the main course. 

If you’re looking for a drink or a light meal, head to the Kingshouse Bar. There are an assortment of veg-friendly dishes, like hummus, a cauliflower curry, and a quinoa burger. You can even bring your dog to this area of the hotel. 

After dinner, Justin and I wandered down the hall to the Way Inn for a beer. There was such a charming atmosphere where old meets new. They maintained the classic features of the building’s structure and style, adding a modern wooden bar as the center piece. I loved how some of the tables were wooden barrels surrounded by glass.

In the morning, there was a buffet breakfast for all guests of the hotel, featuring all elements of a traditional Scottish breakfast. I happily munched on the veggie offerings of toast, baked beans, fruit, and plenty of coffee.

Amenities

In addition to the Kingshouse Hotel, there’s also the Bunkhouse for hikers and backpackers visiting the region. For a low price, you can book a bunk bed in a shared space, with access to shower facilities and the pub. You can also book the buffet breakfast at the hotel for an additional small fee.

There are wild deer living around the property as the hotel is right in the middle of glorious nature. They recommend that you view the deer from afar and please do not feed them. We saw one of the deer as we were leaving the Kingshouse Hotel in the morning, as if the deer were bidding us farewell. Be sure to read more reviews from fellow travellers for even more insights.

PLANNING A TRIP TO SCOTLAND?

Book your rental car, train tickets, or a small group tour with Rabbie’s.

Browse tours and excursions around the country for fun day trips.

Don’t forget to pack your rain jacket and umbrella!

Research even more with Scotland guide books to help plan your holidays.

Read the rest of my Scotland blog posts for the best trip ever.

So, there you have it: two beautiful hotels in Glencoe Scotland where we loved resting our heads at night. We weren’t able to pick a favorite hotel, so don’t make us choose! The Ballachulish Hotel was very elegant and contained many stylish antiques, with spectacular views of Loch Linnie and the rolling hills. Alternatively, the Kingshouse Hotel was brand new and modern, while retaining some elements of its heritage and beautiful scenery of the mountains. No matter which hotel you choose, you’re bound to have an exciting and memorable stay.

Thank you so much to the Crieff Hydro Family of Hotels for inviting us to stay at your properties. We had such a wonderful stay and highly recommend your hotels to all travelers to Glencoe and the Scottish Highlands.

PIN one of the above images to Pinterest for future reference. Click the top left corner.

Have you ever traveled to Glencoe, Scotland?

The post Two Luxurious Hotels in Glencoe Scotland Where You’ll Love to Rest Your Head at Night appeared first on Justin Plus Lauren.

[thorndale-industries]

X. A flash of anger. + Bob & Gillian

This text takes place in 2018 and Gillian and Robert are not a couple yet.

Word count: 3344  / Character count: 18466

2 hours. It took her 2 whole hours to get thecardboard boxes sorted and labelled. The biting fume of marker stilltickled her sensitive nose in a more than unpleasant way. Books.Clothes. Figures. Electronic stuff. And those were only thebiggest ones among the little army that threateningly surrounded her.And she knew that those generals will multiply soon enough - she losttrack of the amount of books she owned and she didn’t even visited herfather’s private library yet. She felt overwhelmed by this task andthe fact she didn’t knew the exact number of things made her feeluneasy, distressed, restless. Should she count them right away andcalculate the matching amount of box space or should she simply do itand them the items while packing? Decisions, decisions. 

She sighed loudly into the spacious room and sat downon one of the wooden stools that happened to be in her vicinity. Thesoft cushion that supported her lean exhausted body formed theperfect contrast to her tensed muscles - like a defeated knight inrusty armour.  The cold fingers wandered under her thin, roundglasses and pinched the heated bridge of her nose. Insteadof appeasing the discomfort she felt, the pressure simplywandered to her sides, to her temples, and made them pulsate in airregular rhythm. The young woman groaned, burying her anaemicface in her shaking hands. It felt like the whole world ganged up onher, trying to crush and break her with its weight - like Atlas fromthe stories she used to read as a child. 

The unknown number of books was already a hardlybearable inconvenience - she sensed the demon slowly creepingtowards her, its claws scratching on the exquisite parquetfloor, leaving it’s uncanny marks. But this time it was different.Something was different. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick…. The little mechanic heart on her wrist, caringly createdand assembled by herself, loyally stood by her side and beat in therhythm it should be. Perfectly aligned, the soft sounds of thegears calmed the uprising storm. Another sigh.

Abruptly, she opened her eyes and looked over theroom she was in. Brightly illuminated, all she could see were thebrown boxes and sorted items covering the ebony parquet and makingevery step like a step in a minefield. And this is exactly how itfelt like. She suppressed the sudden urge to kick them all away andsimply leave this place. To lock it down, abandon it, and never comeback. But she knew she couldn’t simply do it. She had avoided thisplace for nearly 3 years now -  the last time when she came backfrom her year abroad in Japan and all she did was to grab a fewessential things and look for a refuge at a new safe haven. 

Knightbridge, she always disliked that area ofLondon. Too loud, too crowded, too close to the beating heart ofLondon. However, since her father never had a penthouse at theheadquarters of Thorndale Industries, strictly separating work formhis private life, he chose his main residence pretty close to it. Incase of an emergency it never took him long to get to his office.Quite efficient. He made some headlines when he bought the wholebuilding, one of the most expensive and desired of the city, and usedall the apartments just for himself and his daughter. Every singleone of those served a special purpose, but right now she sat in theone they actually had lived in. And now all of this was hers on thepapers. 

Gillian still remembers those nights when she waswoken up by sudden movements in this place - nothing but hastyfootsteps, silent cursing and the quiet sound of the door locks. Thenext morning, there was always a special breakfast waiting for her inthe generous kitchen. A little note. A little apologize. But hedidn’t return - instead, Faulke greeted her. This scenario happenedcountless times, like a broken tape on repeat, one exactly like theother. She always just silently nodded towards their personal guardand consumed the prepared meal. Now, so many years later, she lookedat that place she always used to sit and a tired smile decorated herexhausted face. She shook her head -  there were simply too manymemories attached to this place to even consider to stay here. Butshe couldn’t rent or sell this place to another person, a stranger,who will defile this holy place. Perhaps she will only get the thingsshe really wants in her new home in Kingston and leave the libraryand other parts as they were. Most of them were still just unknowndungeons and she was uncertain if she was even willing to uncovertheir darkest treasures. Was it right to cling to that past, to thatmemorial so much? Or should she finally move on and let go? Anotherloud sigh. 

She pressed her palms against her thighs beforefinally leaving the stool, which was just a tiny bit too soft for hertaste, and with firms steps she walked into the open kitchen she justlooked at. The two-door fridge was empty, of course, besides thesnacks she brought here for herself - but she didn’t feel likeeating the leftovers of the Chinese takeout from earlier. She simplyjust needed some fuel to get her gears back running and getting atleast some of the boxed filled tonight. Routinely she checked thewatch on her wrist again - 12:38 AM. At least more 2 hours of workahead before she wanted to retreat to her current apartment. Orshould she already start to sleep in her new loft? The bedroom wasdone, after all. The white haired women just shook her head slightly,scratching the shaved back of it, and opened the tea-shelf she hadrefilled today. There were 4 little bags left, perfectly portionedfor her liking and the perfect amount for the upcoming hours. Gilliansmiled slightly, proud of herself that she managed to get this rightat least. Her head wandered down, noticing the opened cigarettepackage and she could feel how dry her lips actually were. Smoking.Another demon who joined her strange family just last a few monthsago, and it’s making itself already very comfortable around her.But not now. Swiftly she prepared the kettle, let the water boil, andtook a seat on the grey marble kitchen isle - letting her legs swinga bit. Her oddly coloured eyes wandered through this more thanfamiliar place, smiling, letting some pleasant memories flash throughher mind - humming an old tune before the noise of boilingwater occupied the room. Click. The desires fluidwas done, ready to embrace the grounded herbs and satisfy the tiredwoman. One coordinated movement, and the charming smell of fresh teastarted to dance around her, flattering her nose. Yes, this isexactly what she needed.

However, as so often, this moment of calm didn’tlast long. The unexpected sound of the door being opened and heavyfootsteps startled the young CEO - paralysing her body. She clung tothe mug, unable to let go, before she unconsciously dropped itto the ground white tiled floor before she could burn her hand.Shattered pieces of porcelain spread through the kitchen and thepainful feeling of boiled tea knocked her back to reality and shejerked back. 

“Oh, fuck, are you alright?”

A familiar voice rang in her ears, an warmAmerican accent, with a slight hint of Southern origin, and with eyes unnaturally wide open she stared atthe bearded man in the door frame. 5 blinks, a little twitch in theleft corner of her mouth, and 20 seconds of silence before sherealized who was standing there in a fitted black shirt, a white tieand slightly ruffled hair. Robert Page. What the bloody hellis he doing here? How did he… Hunter must have let him in, but why?She told him that she didn’t want t be bothered here. And how didPage even know she was here? Thorndale gulped loudly beforeshe jerkily shook her head with closed eyes. This is nothappening. This is not real. He can’t be..

“Do you need a helping hand with that mess?”

Fuck, he was really here. She didn’treact or move when he approached her with certain steps, grabbingsome paper towels from the isle and starting to wipe the bronzeliquid away. The white haired woman felt exposed,invaded, vulnerable. She just continued to stare at him,her body shaking, not understanding what was happening. 3 blinks, adeep sigh, buried nails the fabric of her pants. Squinted eyes,breath in, breath out. Clangour of shards being thrown into the trashbin. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Gillian. I amsorry and..”

“WHAT are you doing here, Page.”Her voice was firm and confident in contrast to her restless body.Her skinny and delicate hands formed trembling fists, fraught andnearly tearing her slightly defined muscles. Her knuckles came outvisibly, turning the already pasty skin even more pallid. She stareddirectly into his eyes with a fiery gaze. The rusted gears inside ofher yielded to a sizzling blaze. 

“I…,” The young man in front of her froze, hisbright green eyes turned into unmovable objects - returningthe enquiring stare they received. Just now she noticed that helooked troubled, agitated… panic-fuelled. His hair was evenmessier than she first thought, his eyes were bloodshot and she couldsee some scratches on his exposed forearms. His watch was tickingin-sync with her own, merging into a beautiful mechanical duet. Withshort hesitation he came one step closer- his exquisite black shoessquished on small remains of the mug which perished just a few momentsago and created an uncomfortable, crushing sound. She tilted her headslightly in annoyance. 

“Can we please get somewhere more comfortable?I..don’t think the kitchen is a good place, even when it looksreally inviting, I have to admit, but…” Page’s voice tried toregain a calm tone. But Gillian just abruptly his right arm,feeling that his muscles were just as tensed as her -  andforcefully dragging him into the living room.

“Oh, does this looks anycomfortable to you?”

Stunned by her grip and her action, he kept staringback and forth between her distressed face and the cardboard boxesconcealing the the floor with a puzzle expression. He blinked 3 times- the last one was exceptionally long as he tried to swallow down theknot in his throat - before he freed himself from her painful grip. 

“Look, I deeply apologize if this is an unfittingtime..”

“It. Is.”

“So yes, I apologize. But we really need totalk. I really need to talk. Something..happened andI..,” Page sighed loudly, shaking his head. “GoddamnitGillian. I just really need someone to talk to right now, is this sohard to understand?”

She examined the wildly gesturing man in front of heronce again - drops of cold sweat slowly appeared on his forehead,clinging to strands of his auburn hair. His emerald eyes were filledwith desperation, wandering through the room and trying to maintaincontact to her cold, stoic ones. 

“Yes, it bloody is. What rights to do even claim toyourself, Page? Huh?” She sensed the conflagrant demon growinginside of her, fuelled by the sudden lose of control and rise ofanger. It menacing claws eagerly clutched at the massive bars of itscage and slowly melting them. The man in front of her opened hismouth, trying to answer to her rhetorical question, but sheimmediately silenced him with by raising her pointer finger. 

“DON’T. Who do you think you are? You comebusting into this house, my house, like if you wouldown this place yourself. You just simply invited yourself in,because I am Robert Page and I can do what I want. Doyou even consider your actions inappropriate in the slightest bitbesides some empty words you just say to comfort, tomanipulate, others? Of course you don’t, and you neverwill. You act like a king. A king without a kingdom, but it doesn’teven matter as long as you can pretend to have powerand to rule over something. But you are only Morgan’s golden boy.If you need someone to talk to, why don’t you-”

“There has been a CONTAINMENT BREACH,Thorndale. I am an asshole, I get it, you never fuckingshut up about it. But you were the only one I could talk to, get thatinto your spoiled head.”

Silence. The young CEOs remained motionless, as ifsomeone had pressed on the pause-button of a video recording. Noteven on blink, and both held their breaths as they focused on eachother’s eyes -  a silent battle for dominance.Nearly simultaneously they broke contact, turning their headsinto opposite directions. For a short moment she believed to hear hisheartbeat - as wild and restless as her own. Tick. Tock.Tick. Tock. The duet has returned.

“Fine.” she finally interrupted the tensedsilence between them. “What kind of containment breach?”Gillian didn’t look at him as she unconsciously kicked someboxes out of her way, grunting in disapproval, and took a seat on thewell cushioned grey couch - favouring the nocturnal visage of Londonover her gatecrasher. However, Page followed the house-owner and setdown right next to her, invading her comfort-zone once again as theirlegs slightly touched - she could feel the heat his body projected onher. A loud sigh, a quiet snuffle, and he buried his exhausted facein his sweaty hands. For a short moment, she felt sorry for him.

“At Omega Ranch.”

That name rang some bells in her memory, although shecouldn’t quite grasp it. Probably she read it in a report or shehad caught Everett and Page talking about it. Unsure what to do, shejust simply inquired: “Could you please start from thebeginning? And I have to confess I don’t recall what that OmegaRanch is.” 

The man simply nodded, scratching the stubble on hischin in an uncomfortably slow way. She could hear the sound ofhis nails moving over the beard and skin as he would do this rightnext to her ear. “Of course, I want to make sense after all.”  Hejoined her stare out of the window with narrowed eyes.

“I was in Paris just an hour ago, there was acharity dinner Morgan invited me to, but he couldn’t attendhimself. It went well, really, and I managed to make some verybeneficial contacts for PI. As I was on the way to my hotel room, Igot a call from said facility. Omega Ranch is located in Singapore and it is a…research facility opened up by the World Health Organization, andwith the help of several biotechnological companies they startedtheir Disease Control Initiative. VersaLife is one of them.”

The WHO. Elizabeth DuClare. Slowly the missingpieces of the puzzle came into her mind, completing the picture. Ifthe WHO was involved in this, she could already imagine how thatInitiative really looked like, what their real goal was.Page’s voice remained calm, but she could sense temporarytranquillity became brittle, and his collected facade got deepcracks. But she remained at her place, legs crossed, and simplycontinued to listen to the ginger next to hear. A bad feeling coveredher body.

“This all happened before my time, I merelyinherited this project and I didn’t pay much attention toit. I only knew how much money went there and what kind of researchwas done. It turned out that this wasn’t enough.”

“So now there has been this breach, right? Whatexactly happened? Did some kind of virus escape?”

“Yeah, some kind”. Page laughed loudly for abrief moment, concealing the desperation inside of him, before thatlaugh turned into a loud sigh and sobbing. Once again he ran hishands over his sweaty face, dragging down his lower eyelids andshaking his head. “It was a modified strain of the avian fluvirus. I didn’t know, I didn’t care, I just…”

Gillian finally leaned in to look into his fraughtface, gently playing her left hand on his right thigh. She was stillupset that he invaded her privacy like that, disrupting such anintimate and stirring moment, but for now she just wanted toknow what was going on - secretly hoping this would leave to hisdeparture as soon as possible. 

“And it killed several people, I assume.”

“Thousands. We lost control.” He buried his nailsin his pants. 

“And you only got reports about that a few hoursago?”

A loud gulp, a little nod. “Yes. I…as I saidI was in Paris when I got the news and this is..why I am here. Youwere the closest person and I just simply needed someone to talk. SoI jumped into the next plane to London and here I am now. I am reallysorry that I bus-”

“You have to learn to deal with this, Robert.”

Page jerkily turned his head to the young woman, hiseyes wide open and trying to understand what she just said. Her facewas stoic again, emotionless, apathetic. 

“What do you mean?”

He really doesn’t know, poor man. I always wondered what Everett has told him but he has been thrown to the wolves with an exposed neck.

“This is part of the job. You should have read thefine-print before you happily jumped into Everett’s arms.”

Puzzled, confused, his shaking eyes tried to find anykind of emotional response from her, but ther was none. Thorndaleleft the couch and stood right in front of him, lifting his chin withher right pointer finger so that his wet eyes met with her cold ones.

“This is what we do, Page. There will be alwayspeople who die because of our research, our work - sometimes becausewe want them to, sometimes by accident. There are nothing thancollateral damage. But no one will mourn them anyway. A few newsreports, some meaningless and empty words - and it all will beforgotten. The masses are like a goldfish - they memory is patheticand pitiful. As soon as we feed them something new, they hungrilyfill their disgusting mouths with it, happily eating from thehangman’s hand. They don’t care what’s happening to the world,they are short-sighted and barely see what in front of their feet.All they care about are they insignificant, trivial lives, what makeup is fitting to which outfit, if Maggie is really having an affairwith Jack, how their favourite sports-team will play next week. Whenthe things we do are out of their heads - those actions, thosecruelties - , when they are gone, they will be gone forever, as ifthey had never been. And those things have to bedone. We are the shepherds to the mindless sheep, we put them on theright path, and sometimes even the slightest mistake can lead to asmall herd falling down the cliff. And this is something youhave to be aware of if you really want to be part of this club.”

Thorndale left the lounge, grabbing the amberleather-jacket resting on of the the boxes. “I am heading homenow. Feel free to join me, you can sleep on my couch. But I want yougone by the morning.”