#wedding jewelry store near me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jillsandwhichs · 4 months ago

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RE Character x Reader Smutshot Collection , Chap 4 , Shine bright like a diamond

Masterlist

Pairing: Claire Redfield x F!Reader

Summary: Your sugar mama, Claire, takes you out to buy jewelry and just an exchange of a few words leads to much more

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: not dating/married but have mutual feelings/attraction

WC: 4.5k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Massaging, Dirty talk, Making out, Thigh kissing, Oral (Reader recieving), Readers first time with a strap, Claire uses her strap on you, Orgasm kink/fetish ??

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

"Now I think this would look great on you." Claire held up the fancy necklace, admiring how sparkly it was. You looked down at it, there were so many gemstones inlayed in it, it must cost a fortune. You could hardly believe she was willing to spend this much on you. "It is... Pretty..." You raised an eyebrow slightly. It wasn't not pretty, it just seemed like it was a bit to much for a wedding. The bride should be the one sticking out, not some random plus one whose attending.

"What? What's wrong with it?" Claire cooed out, taking the necklace away from your neck and analyzing it. "Nothing, it's just... Shouldn't the bride be the one wearing flashy jewels? Not some random guest...?" "You're right... Sorry love, I just thought you'd look beautiful in it." Claire agreed, setting it back down into it's casing.

Claire brought you to this super expensive jewelry store, they have all sorts of stuff here, the most expensive thing probably cost damn near a million bucks, it's nuts how much money some of these gems are worth. You spotted a bracelet earlier that nearly costed two thousand dollars, it's not over priced, it's just how much it is truly worth. You've never been to a place like this. Claire insisted on taking you, you couldn't help but agree, you wanted to see what they had, even if you didn't buy anything.

"Will you be getting anything for yourself?" "No sweetheart, just you, I wanna find a necklace that suits you that isn't too out there, you were right earlier." Claire stated, her painted finger nails trailing along the rack of cased necklaces. There were so many, you could see the glare off of them randomly hitting your face. "I think something like this would be nice on you." Claire then picked up a smaller necklace.

The chain of it was silver, which you most definitely preferred over gold. The charm on it was a small circle, the gem was a light blue but you didn't really know what it was specifically. "Is there a theme for the wedding?" "Not that I can recall, but this would match well with just about anything, don't you think?" "Sure." You responded to Claire, placing your palm to cup the gem. It was very elegant looking, and it wasn't flashy at all.

"I wonder how much it is." You went to turn the tag around but Claire grabbed it from you. "Ah, ah, ah, no, I don't want you to try and back out of me buying it for you, my love." Claire snickered, checking the tag and giving out a slight nod. Whenever she did that, it usually means it's expensive in general, but not to much for her. "Listen, I get you're like my... Sugar mama... Or whatever, but I still have a guilty conscious." "I know you do, now, let's go try this on you, yeah?" Claire slithered her thin arm behind your back, the two of you walking up to one of the body length mirrors.

"Are we even allowed to take it out of it's packaging?" "Well, I can do whatever I please, so." Claire snorted, unhooking it from its cardboard back. The necklace was meant to rest higher up on your chest, hence why the chain is smaller. The jewel was absolutely gorgeous, Claire has a good eye for things. "Alright." She grunted, undoing the clasp and setting it into your neck before re clipping it together.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, turning your head at different angles to get a good understanding of how it looked on you. You loved it, it made you feel so beautiful. "Oh, just look at you." Claire hummed out, she was now standing directly behind you. "I like how it's not super long, y'know?" You mumbled, your eyes gandering down at it again. "So, do we like?" "Yes, it's very nice, I like it Claire." You confirmed your liking to it. You aren't one of those women who fawn over expensive things but this was a keeper.

As you were still admiring the piece of fine jewelry, you sighed softly, feeling the touch of Claire on you. Her gentle hands slid up to your shoulders as she began to slightly massage them. "You're tense sweetheart." "I know." You chuckled. She wasn't wrong. You've been dealing with some bullshit the past couple of days and it's done numbers on you; Physically and mentally. Her hands firmly rubbed your shoulders, attempting to release any stress knots from them. It felt great.

Your head slightly tilted back as she continued, the motions of her hands making you devilishly weak; She knew exactly what to do. Her lips met your upper back, leaving loving kisses along it til she reached your shoulder. "That feels amazing." You breathlessly chuckled, turning your head to the right more so you could see her gorgeous face. "Yeah...?" Claire kissed you more, the air from her nose blowing onto you now - She was so very close to you. "Mhm." You groaned out.

Her hands than slid to your midriff, her fingers scrunching onto your knitted sweater. Her lips never left your upper back/shoulder area, she continuously marked her territory on you. Her darker shade of lipstick left imprints too, you didn't mind though. The way her fingers worked on you was magical, you felt immensely relaxed now.

"Claire...?" "Yes lovely?" "How about we pay for this necklace and just go?" "Eager, are we?" "Very." You breathed heavily, your fingers failing to remove the necklace. With a titter, Claire took it off for you, grabbing it's packaging and gazing up at you. "Get in the car, wait for me while I pay for this, got it?" "Will do." You shrieked slightly. Now you were excited. Whenever Claire tells you to do something, you gotta do it.

The jewelry shop is modern looking, very modern. The primary colors are black and white. The lights are extremely bright, pure white, it honestly hurt your eyes to stare up at. Each one of the worker's is wearing either a fancy suit or a ravishing dress, nothing else - This place must have a strict dress code. Most of the jewelry is also in clear glass cases, but some of it was set up on a rack. Overall, it was clearly meant for wealthy people only.

Pushing open the glass door, you exited the building, immediately heading towards Claire's vehicle. She was nervous for what Claire had in store for her.

After waiting in the cool car, you watched as Claire made her way to it, climbing into the front seat. "Here you go." She handed you the necklace. You went to look for a price tag on it, but there wasn't one; She's to sly sometimes. You set it in your purse, ensuring it will stay safe. The last thing you want is to lose something Claire gifts to you, you cherish everything she gifts to you.

Claire's hand went to yours, taking it in hers. "Where are we going?" "My place." Claire cleared her throat, pulling onto the busy roads ahead. "For?" "I think you know what for." Claire squeezed your hand, her thumb colliding against it. Her words had you all over the place. You turned your head to face the direction of the car window, biting your lip gently. Your stomach was doing flips in itself.

The car ride from the jewelry store to Claire's home wasn't very long, quite quick actually considering she lives in the main part of the city. But gosh, it felt like the drive was taking an entire century. There was no talking the entire time, just some low pitched music playing in the distinct background. Her hand was still in yours too, you'd occasionally feel her squeeze your hand - It is just one way of her letting you know she's there.

While you and Claire aren't in some serious relationship, there's times where you wish you two were. It would just be difficult. Often, she's gone, not even around. Then there's times where she's home for weeks on end. Her job just takes her away from you and originally, the two of you were going to give dating a try but you don't think you can handle being apart from her for extended periods of times and vice versa.

For now, she's like a sugar mama. You hated the term at first, but it definitely grew on you and well, she technically is exactly that. She makes good loads of money and a vast bit of it is used on you, you mind of course but at the same time, it's awesome. You rarely have to worry about money now, even when she's gone she'll cash app you. Honestly, you prefer it this way but still, there's that part of you that wants to be with her.

Claire pulled into her driveway, pulling the key out of it's holder and setting it into her wallet. "Come on sweetheart." Claire smiled at you, opening her door and stepping up onto her porch, beginning to unlock the front door. You got out as well, taking your purse with you. Her house is quite large, massive even. It's always been an eye grabber. It's well designed; Claire told you she had it commissioned. That's one thing that will definitely let someone know she has rich taste.

The interior of her home was expensive too. Although, she's definitely apart of the stereotype that rich people have little to no furniture to fill out their large homes. It feels so spacious, unnecessarily though. But, at least her home is actually colorful. It's very exquisite looking, you always liked that. She has a unique taste pallete.

"You go on to my bedroom, okay? I'll be up there in a second darling." Claire hummed out to you. "Okay." You nodded, looking over at the spiral staircase. You began to step up them, making your way to the tippy top. You always enjoyed how open the upstairs was, you could look down at the lower floors from above, it felt like a deck but just inside instead of out. In her home, there was three bedrooms, hers was the most extensive, but that is to be expected. She is the only one who lives here after all.

Ambling into the bedroom, you let out a quiet sigh, taking in the sight. The room was pristine, everything was dusted, bed was made, floors were vacuumed, etc.. Claire was a tad bit of a neat freak, it seems. This is also only your third time being inside of her house within the four months of hanging out with her. You remember absolutely being appalled by it when you first came over, it was nothing like what you are used to. You grew up simply mediocre.

You sat down on the end of the bed, the feeling of the plush comforter was comforting, ironically. Her bed was large, the largest it could get. Her bedsheets were a deep red too, reminded you of Christmas colors sort of. You let your fingers roam the blanket, the softness felt nice. You didn't know what Claire was doing and why she needed to do something before coming into her room with you, but whatever it was better be good. You want her now.

The two of you have hooked up before, a few times. In total, maybe five...? You two have only been speaking for about four months now and didn't get as close til midway through the second one, so it's definitely a slow yet worth it process.

Claire entered the bedroom, a black case in her hand. You have absolutely no clue of what it could be. "What's that?" "You'll see lovely." Claire giggled, placing it onto her white dresser. It was a secure box, a whole ass padlock on it. The only thing that came to mind was a gun of some sort but then again, why the hell would she bring that into the room you two are about to fuck in.

Turning around, Claire came over to you, a cute smirk plastered on her face. She took your hands in hers, lifting you up off of the bed. With a giggle, you wrapped your arms around her neck, hers going to your waist once again. "I can't wait to see how good you look with that necklace on." "Yeah?" You cooed out to her, your head slightly tilted as your eyes were locked with hers. "Yeah... Bet you'll be prettier than the bride even." "Hey, don't say that." You gave her wide eyes. She was so blunt sometimes.

With a snicker, Claire pressed her lips to yours, her hands touching you all over the place. You moaned with tranquil, not quite expecting the sudden movement. You felt your heart rate increase with each kiss, each one making you feel more and more alive. Claire's hands didn't help, they were going all over on your body, making you wanna feel her even more.

"Mmm, I want you." You spoke out in between kisses, your fingers trailing through her thick, soft hair. "I know you do, I want you pretty." Claire responded, her lips encasing yours. Her hands went to your jeans, her fingers pulling the buttons apart. You did the same to her, your guy's outfits were oddly similar today. Jeans, a T shirt and both of your guy's hair was straightened out. It fit to say the least.

You watched as Claire got down on her knees, pulling your jeans down with her. You placed your hands on her shoulders, stroking them with ease. She gazed up at you, her eyes so pretty and dark, you wanted to feel her touch you even more. "Come on." Claire hummed, urging for you to step out of your pants, which you did. Claire slid them to the other side of the room, her gaze going to your thighs now.

She began to kiss all over your thighs. She did always love them. From her shoulders, your hands went to her cheeks, gently caressing them as she left smooches all over your legs. You could tell what she was about to do; You didn't mind. "Claire..." You murmured out, her lips getting closer and closer to your core. Through your undergarments, the wet spot you had going on was visible, and Claire was absolutely mad about it, in a good way. You make her go crazy.

Her lips went all the way up your thighs, not missing a single spot before you nearly lost yourself, feeling her nose press against your clit area and her lips slightly rub against your pussy. "Oh." You sighed out intently, her face felt so perfect in your hands. She breathed your scent in deeply, setting off something in her furthermore. "You smell so good." Claire uttered against you. The tip of her nose was teasing your clit, you just needed her at this point.

Through your panties, she kissed your clit briefly all while her fingers locked on the band of them, ready to pull them down. Claire was dying to taste you - Ravish you. Everything about you causes her to go crazy for you. "Can I?" She questioned you, her eyes on yours. Asking for consent is always sexy. "Mhm." You nodded repeatedly, really getting the point across. With a chuckle, she pulled your wetted panties all the way down, having you step out of them. She grabbed ahold of them and instead of tossing them, this time she breathed them in, then set them to the side. She always does stuff like that.

Immediately, her mouth went back to your center, beginning to eat you out. You held onto her shoulders for what seemed like dear life, given that any moment you could fall over from pleasure. Her tongue did thick licks through your folds; All of your wetness being swept up by her tongue. "You waste no time, huh?" You moaned, gandering down at her. She looked so enticing whilst eating you out like this.

Her hands went to your upper thighs, holding onto them tightly, slightly gripping them as she continued her work. The way her tongue flicked against your bud was phenomenal, it made your legs twitch like crazy. "Taste... So good..." Claire commented against your pussy, kissing your clit quickly before instantly heading back to devouring your entire center. Her lips would part entirely before connecting again, all while doing this, her tongue would slurp you right up.

You squeaked as Claire spread your legs open more, now she didn't plan to stop. She wanted to bring you pure pleasure, and she will accomplish that exact motive. Her pretty lips swathed around your clit, suckling on it with intensity. Anytime she does this, it is what eventually heeds you to your orgasm. As she began, you released a sharp and loud moan, tossing your head back. You could hardly stand still now, you kept finding yourself moving each time she sucked a bit harder and faster.

Breath shuttering, legs shivering and your orgasm is coming upon you, you can tell you're becoming closer and closer to your climax. "Claire, I'm so close." You whimpered, gripping onto her shoulders much tighter now. She was making you feel so fucking good. How she works her tongue on you is magnificent. "Mmm." Claire moaned against your pussy, the sounds of your wetness becoming much more prominent.

Seconds later, her tongue did one more swipe through your lips and that was your complete undoing. You felt yourself falter, your mouth wide open but no noise emitting from it. She didn't let up either, continuing to lap at you til you suddenly pulled away, your body slightly shaking. "Look at you." Claire giggled, standing up now, wiping her somewhat wet mouth. You were still drenched.

"You good?" "Yes." You nodded, a cute snicker coming from you. Claire stepped over to you, embracing you in her arms, "Can I show you something, pretty?" "Yeah, sure." You muttered, plopping down onto the bed, making sure your legs were closed, you were still aroused too.

Claire walked over to her dresser, that black case snatching your eyes again. You truly wondered what it was that was in it. "What's in there?" "You'll see sweetheart." She hushed you, taking the padlock off of it and setting it to the side. She then unclicked the two clasps, opening the case up. You still couldn't see inside of it from where you were, but you didn't necessarily know what you should expect.

You saw her grab out another smaller box and bring it over to you, placing it into your lap.

"Baby, don't freak out or anything, it's nothing bad at all, it's just that... There's a chance you won't like it and hey, if that's the case, I understand!" Claire rambled, sitting down beside you. "Uhm, you're worrying me." You cackled out, beginning to open up the box. "Don't be, it's just... A bit intense." Claire hummed out to you, caressing your back with sweet love. You nodded carefully, beginning to remove the wrapping off of the top of the box.

And yeah, she wasn't lying, it was very intense.

There was an entire dildo and a strap on in the box.

Your jaw was dropped, eyes wide and hand slightly shaking. You never expected this. You didn't even think people truly used these outside of pornos. It looked real too, the skin color was realistic and everything. It was quite decent in size as well. "Wow I..." You gasped, a faint titter being heard from Claire. "I know, I know, it is a big jump... But all I'm asking is that you let me try." Claire smiled at you, rubbing the back of your neck now.

"So, you want to use this... On me? Like you're a man or something?" "Ew, don't say that." Claire snorted, "No, it's just... I want to make you feel good." Claire kissed your cheek quickly, her forehead now resting against the side of your head. You picked up the item, analyzing it. It felt okay, you didn't expect it to be that texture but it wasn't necessarily bad. "So... How do you feel?" "I think I am willing to try it." You whispered, handing the box and dildo to her now.

Claire bit her lower lip in excitement. "I promise, I'll make you feel great, get undressed." You listened to her, now removing your shirt and bra, your breasts popping out of it. The entire time, Claire simply gazed at you. You laid yourself up on the bed, running your hands through the cold sheets. Claire removed her articles as well, and began to put the strap on. You watched with focus as she adjusted it, making sure it was snug on her. "So that's how it works." You chortled.

Grinning, Claire hoisted herself onto the bed, climbing herself on top of you, her lips going to yours, breathing in deeply whilst she did so. "Just let me know when." "When." You laughed, wanting to feel her. Claire chuckled. "Are you sure lovely? This is completely up to you." "Yes Claire, I'm very sure... If I don't like it, then we can stop, but obviously I've fucked men before, it shouldn't be much different, right?" "Right." Claire cleared her throat, sitting up on her knees now.

Claire set her hands on your upper leg area, spreading them apart slowly. Your wetness was clear and goopy, Claire watched as it pulled apart whilst spreading your legs. "Mmm." Claire smiled, leaning down and placing a kiss to your knee before getting in position. "Just let me know if I need to stop, yeah?" "Of course baby." You assured her, stroking her pale cheek. Claire moved against your hand, sort of like how a cat usually does.

You eyed down at her crotch area, watching as she aligned the fake cock to your very real and soaked pussy. She swiped it through your folds a few times, needing it damp so she could slip it in. The texture of it was smooth and real feeling, but it definitely needed more lubricant than the real deal.

She then slowly but surely pushed the tip into you, then the base and then all the way until her legs were pressed to yours. It was a mating press type of position. "Feel good?" "Mhm." You nodded with a gleeful look. She did feel great inside of you. She began to move but her pace was slow. You could feel her hit so deep inside of you, then pull practically all the way out. It was so teasing.

You wrapped your arms around her neck, your eyes on hers as she rocked her hips against yours.

As she picked up the pace, the sound of your inner thighs being clapped against became louder, which you found hot. Most people wouldn't, but it shows just how good she's rocking your fucking world. Even though it wasn't her real cock, it still felt great. It wouldn't feel as good if it was somebody else either. "You look so good like this." Claire whispered to you lovingly, her head going into the crook of your heated neck.

From her neck, you moved your hand to the back of her head, running your soft fingers through her brushed out hair. "Does it feel nice?" "Yeah, yeah it does." You panted out. Her warm breath could be felt against your neck, along with her lips as she would frequently mooch on you there; Leaving lipstick marks on you. You were hers. Even if your guy's relationship wasn't entirely official, you know you'll always be here and same goes for her.

You'd do anything to be with her like that.

"Sweetheart..." Claire grunted, her hips grinding harder now. Letting out a moan, you wrapped your legs around her, her ass occasionally hitting your feet. The dildo was hitting deep inside you now. It felt real but even better? But that was probably because it's Claire doing it. She knows how to work herself on you. "Let me know when you feel like you're about to cum." Claire hummed, nibbling on your earlobe.

You felt like you'd look stupid while cumming, you always try to avoid letting her see your face. But you already know that if you try, she will not let you succeed. Pulling away from your slick neck, she made eye contact with you, her strap still plowing into you. You could feel your insides contort, the need to cum arising with haste. "I wish I could actually feel you baby." Claire said softly, one hand of hers now holding onto your structured face.

You wish so too.

Your eyebrows curved and your lips went apart, your orgasm was coming at you hot, you knew any second you'd cum - Claire could tell too. You nearly broke right then and there as you felt her fingers go down to your clit, beginning to rub it as she fucked you with intense speed. She rubbed circles on your nub, her tongue slightly sticking out onto her lower lip as she concentrated on you and your face, oh how beautiful you are to her.

"Fuck," Claire blurted out, "I bet you feel so tight and so wet." She praised, the tip of the fake cock hitting that G spot it so desired. "Only for you..." You giggled, tugging on her hair slightly. Claire pumped her strap on into you rapidly, each motion bringing you closer and closer. Her fingers also continued their work, making your clit become more sensitive.

"Right there!" You moaned out, biting your lip roughly as she flicked your clit faster. Her movements came to a much slower speed now that her fingers were the ones moving quickly, she didn't want to overstimulate you or anything.

"Claire..." You sighed out as your undoing hit you like a wave clashing against a rocky shore. Your back arched sharply, the arm that was on the bed now grasped around her neck, mainly for support. Claire chuckled, stopping all of her movements instantly, just watching you unravel beneath her. "Gorgeous girl." Claire cooed kindly, kissing the top of your head with love. You inhaled deeply, wrapping both of your arms around her now. She snuggled you back, pulling the dildo out of you and taking it out as fast as she could.

The two of embraced one another as you layed on the bed. Claire brought the comforter and sheets to cover the two of her. Her arms slithered around your hips, your bareness against hers. Her touch, the nakedness, felt so raw and bare, you quite liked it. "Gosh, that was different in an amazing way." You snorted, giving her an adorable look. Claire kissed your nose at the tip, then rubbed hers against yours. "Glad you liked it pretty." She spoke softly.

"We definitely need to do that again."

"Definitely." Claire grinned.

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tuliptired · 6 months ago

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He's Good People Ch.3

Chapter 3: I Didn't Mean to Take Up all your Sweet Time (I'll Give it Right Back to Ya, One of These Days)

Pairing(s): Gn!reader/Ray, Gn!reader/Egon, Gn!reader/Winston

Summary: (Winston centric, briefly Egon centric) To get out the firehouse, you 're invited for a day out on the town with the "common man" of the Ghostbusters, and he won't stop opening doors for you

Warnings: Reader wears masc presenting clothes for like one paragraph

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE :((( hope a longer update makes up for it!

read it on Ao3!

It was fairly late into the night. You felt weird about going to bed while none of the others had returned, like you were overstepping. You were content with being curled up in a chair as Egon annotated a book in the dimly lit lab. He had offered you one of the many works from his personal collection, but the words started to lose their meaning after the first handful of pages. Maybe he ought to read it to you, instead. You set the book aside, much more interested in watching him. He had his sleeves rolled up again, fairly unnecessary because he was only working with paper and pencil.

He discarded his work for the second time that day, looking over at you. The need for sleep was creeping up on him, as his eyelids sat low and his gaze remained soft.

"I´m sorry for boring you."

"I´m not bored. Are you tired? You don't have to stay up with me."

He put the pencil back into a mug full of others. He rose from the workbench, opening the book to a heavily noted page. Crossing over to where you were sitting, Egon joined you, holding it open for you to see. There were large, square photos of terrifying looking sculptures. Upon further inspection, they were really just recreations of exotic animals. A boa constrictor, an alligator, a giant salamander, a…platypus. Behind each of them stood a Victorian era man, beaming with self-worth at the spectacles surrounding him.

“See him?” He pointed to the man. “That’s Benjamin Fairhooke. He had a penchant for imported animals. And too much money. So much so he had the theater near your building constructed to show them off.” He turned the page to a large spread of the theater in the late 1800’s, advertising an oddity show.

“They started showing plays and operas soon enough. But everyone knew how passionate he was. Piranhas-in-the-bar sink, frogs-on-the-staircases-passionate.” There was a photo of Fairhooke next to a woman. Despite her exquisite clothing, elegant features, and extravagant jewelry, she had a fairly sour expression, while he still beamed at the camera, an iguana in his lap.

“That was his wife, Claira. Their marriage was falling apart while ticket sales peaked. They held their son’s wedding reception in the lobby of the theater.” He had a grainy photo bookmarked. There was a newlywed couple, normal. Claira’s in the background, though. Not happy her son was just married, but instead staring down the barrel of the camera like it was a gun.

“She had just found Benjamin in a parlor, tending to a snapping turtle. She got so mad, she took the shovel from the fireplace and managed to decapitate him in 10 minutes.” Holy shit.

He could feel your shock. “I know. She left him there for the rest of the night. They searched for weeks, until they found his body. She told them everything- just not what became of his head. His animals went missing, and his kids wanted nothing to do with the theater. Local legend says that the souls of his then neglected animals are still searching for Claira. Anywhere she could be. But it fell into obscurity. Everyone who believed in it died at the turn of the century.” He shut the book.

“So. The ghosts of a bunch of critters are running around my block, looking for his murderer? And one ended up in my washing machine?”

“Essentially. I’ve wanted to investigate since I heard the story, but it was always word of mouth. I only just found it buried in an anthology of neighborhood ghost stories in Ray’s store.” He sighed, getting up and placing the book back into its place on his shelf. “He was pretty excited about my findings. He always is. But he’s been dragging his feet about it.” Egon looked worried, if not at least a bit frustrated, as he took a seat back next to you, knees touching unintentionally. You could understand, this was his longtime friend, after all. This all seemed very perplexing to him.

“Maybe he’s just scared? Of what he’ll find?” The words really don’t serve much purpose other than to soothe his nerves- they don’t convince you, even as they fall from your lips. Ray was a discerning and generally happy man, but he was still brave. He wouldn’t be a paranormal expert, a Ghostbuster if he was scared of what he loved.

You could tell his fears were still there. You placed a hand on his, silently grateful as you felt that they were still the same hands you held earlier.

“I promise, the moment I can get back into my apartment I’m gonna look for the key.”

There was the predecessor to a smile, before he had a look that read as accepting defeat. “I apologize for you being stuck with us so long. Only a day more.” Before you could protest, tell him that you’re having a wonderful time and you’re sorry for being in their hair, you heard cursing downstairs, followed by heavy steps approaching, making you jump.

Ray and Winston joined you upstairs, covered in thick, oozing slime of some sort. Winston held a smoking machine like the one Ray had after cleansing your house, only this time a bit more scratched up.

“It wasn’t a mannequin at all. God-damned-ghost-komodo-dragon on its hind legs. Sprayed us bad- we hosed ourselves off 6 times on the way home.” Winston tried wiping the slime moving from his glove to his wrist off on his pant leg, only making the viscous substance spread more.

Ray didn’t look angry, but he wasn’t bouncing off the walls. “This is big. Y’know that old theater-”

“I already explained it.”

“You’re kidding.”

‘’No. I explained Fairhooke, Claira, the ghosts. All of it.”

Winston could feel the start of a petty back and forth, so he discreetly asked you to follow him. He laughed and shook his head as he went down the steps to the very bottom of the firehouse. You had seen this room when Ray brought you down for pajamas, and you recognized the door he had peeked into, but not what was on the wall. A large, red electrical looking panel stared back at you.

“Ray taught me how to do this when I was new here.” He went through the motions of showing you how they used it to hold ghosts. You were glad he took the extra step and explained what it really did under the surface, because lord knows you were puzzled.

“He even made a rhyme. ‘When the light is green, the trap is clean’”.

“Does this make me part of your team now?” You complain, purely jokingly.

“You don’t wanna be? I wouldn’t mind.” You had to hand it to him, he had a charming way of disarming you. He didn't give you time to respond, as he made his way to the laundry area. He came back with new pajamas, softer looking ones.

“I hope these are a little more personable.” He handed you a light purple t-shirt, and dark purple sweatpants. There was thought behind these, definitely not something they had laying around in the hamper.

You smile at the consideration. “Thank you.” He returned it, very white teeth and all. He gave you privacy to change, and was peeling his suit off upon your return. It looked incredibly uncomfortable, the mire of today´s job trying to stick to his skin. He finally got the soiled jumpsuit off, and it stuck to the floor like a glue trap. As he stuffed it into the industrial washer, another one tumbled out a laundry chute and onto a pile of dirty, but not slimy, clothes. He sighed, carefully picking up the soiled suit and garments and placing them in, too.

“What is it, anyway?” You watched on as he poured a cocktail of different, unmarked liquids, which you assumed were non FDA approved cleaners for these kinds of unconventional stains.

He pressed the washing machine closed, turning a few knobs and pressing a few buttons. “Ectoplasm. As graceful as it sounds.” You follow him, as he makes his way back up the steps.

“Like sticky skunk spray.” He stops in front of the sleeping quarters, and it gives you a moment to wonder why exactly you were still following him. As you start to mull over it further, he places his pointer finger over his lips.

“We oughta get out of here tomorrow. Ray’s gone to bed without dinner. Bad sign. It’s not pretty when he and the professor get into it.” He explains, voice hushed.

“Are they okay?”

“They will be. Ray stresses for a day, but he always apologizes, ‘cause he’s scared to lose his friend.” Winston smiles familiarly, thinking of the men he’s grown to know well over the past 5 years since his initial hiring. You can’t stop the spread of warmth under your skin as you think, too.

“Kindred spirits. I hate to see them both so worked up.”

“They can’t help it. They’ve got a new distraction running around.”

You don’t have time to process it, again, before he’s halfway back down the steps to the first floor. You lean over the railing, just as he passes Janine’s desk.

“Where are you going?”

He doesn’t stop walking, until he reaches the exit. “I promised my mom I’d stay over. Be up early tomorrow, ok? I’ll take you on a joyride.”

“Goodnight,” you wave, as he gives you a two finger salute, letting the door shut behind him.

You can’t really sleep- you don’t want to, anyway. Egon’s still upstairs, Peter’s with Dana, and Ray’s in bed by himself. As tempting as it is to go up there and console him, you really don’t want to come off as pushy. So, you had an apron tied over your front, sleeves rolled up and gloves on as you worked to scrub the slime out of blanched fabric. What a night.

The stickiness was seldom coming off, but you noticed progress. It would bubble and sud with the soap, but it was nothing a frequent rinse didn’t get rid of. The only problem was that it was thick, and it sat deep in the absorbent material. You lost track of the hours you spent, going down the line; Soaking, scrubbing, rinsing, scrubbing, rinsing, soaking- over and over. The need for sleep left you, as this housekeeping mystery kept you unwilling to give up until it was completed.

There was a click of the heavy door, and your thoughts of finishing the task as you feverishly scraped a suit against a large washboard suddenly ceased. Winston stood at the door, dressed and holding 2 cups of coffee-shop-coffee.

“Good morning,” his face was both impressed and fearful. You figured this was enough, as most of the slime sat mixed with now greenish water in the large sink. You carefully transferred it to the dryer with the others, and peeled your gloves off.

“Goodmorning,” you wiped some soap off your cheek with your wrist.

He handed you a cup. “You think you deserve a shower after all that?” You walked out the laundry with him, the warm liquid having the opposite of its desired effect as it made you the slightest bit sleepy.

Your shower was quick and to the point. In the few days you’ve been there, your towel has had a permanent residence on a hook by the door, a fair distance from the other 4. You figured this would have to be your second day in the blue sweater, but you didn’t mind all that much. You managed to wash it as well the night prior, so it was dried and fluffed as it waited for you.

Winston ran into you on your way out the bathroom, something dark in his hands. He unfolded it, and stepped behind you to put it on your shoulders.

“What’s this?” You whipped your head around to watch his movements.

“Had to pick this up from my mom’s, too.”

It was a dark purple jacket, the sleeves needing to be cuffed by him in order for your hands to appear. You could see a wide, black stripe wrap around the back and little pinstripes around the collar. You knew Winston was a more eccentric dresser than his coworkers, the brightly colored laundry telling you so, but to take something so nice from his mom?

“I can’t take this, She doesn’t even know me.”

“It’s mine. And it’s going to a good cause.” He drops your wrist. Taking a step back, he examines his work with a hand on his chin, an unsatisfied look on his face. He figures out what’s wrong, as he grabs the zipper from the bottom and pulls it up, the blue of the sweater underneath now hidden. There’s a pleased smile on his face as he takes another step back, before starting down the stairs.

“I’ll be waiting for you in the car,” and he disappeared.

While you were excited to get out again, to have some sort of normalcy for a day, but the urge to check the kitchen overtakes your legs. Your heart feared for the worst, you peek across the threshold, and you could’ve died then.

Egon was at the little table, pancakes, eggs, and coffee on two plates in front of him. The thing was, yours was untouched. He sat there, hands in his lap, face unreadable, until he noticed your presence. He didn’t light up, his features didn’t change, but you could’ve sworn there was a slight, upward twitch of the inner corners of his eyebrows. You felt a sort of nausea wash over you, that settled in your chest as you thought of what to say.

Walking towards him felt condescending, as if you were increasing the parameters of whatever obviously negative emotion he was feeling, but it was the proper thing to do. You folded your hands in front of you, unthreatening. Benevolent. He looked at you through his eyelashes, like a wounded animal.

“I’m sorry. That I wasn’t around this morning.” To anyone else, this would seem melodramatic. A meal skipped out on between 2 people who have known each other for 2 days. But the way there was a flash of forgiveness, that you saw so often in the downcast faces of those young men and women around a coffee pot, weeks after their indulgence of passion. One of them did something. And the other so desperately wanted things to be okay again. They’d be engaged. You saw it on the faces of teenage actors, as their parents commented on a poor performance, before bringing them ice cream. It was the small injustices, from the people that you loved.

He opened his mouth to speak, before a honk from the garage cut him off. Winston was calling you, the unfortunate timing making you cringe.

“I’m sorry, again. I won’t be gone long.” He didn’t respond as you retreated to the door.

You reluctantly disappeared out the room, before appearing one more time.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

You take your leave down the stairs, the garage door open as the Ecto-1a runs idly. Winston leaned over, opening the passenger door for you. Settling in with a huff, he turned to you as you pulled your seatbelt on.

“Ready?” When you nod, he pulls the car out the garage, and onto the street. After a few minutes of driving from the firehouse, he reaches for the glove compartment, his hand emerging with a cassette in a purple case.

“Hope you don’t mind Mj,” he grins as he slides it into the car’s slot. The singer’s voice fills the car, and he eventually joins in. He has an amazing singing voice, honestly, and you’re too compelled to take pleasure in his gaiety as he drives.

“The Jackson 5: Jackie, Tito, Marlon, Jermaine, and Winston,” you tease him. The city’s awake with you, as children took their lessons on the blacktop of the school’s playground, and grandmother’s bought fruit placed in their foldable carts. A handful of dogs howl as your highly decorated car passes by.

“I could never take Michaels place,” Winston crosses his heart, the cassette starting to play a Stevie Wonder song. He nodded his head along to the beginning of “Signed, Sealed, Delivered”.

He enjoyed himself for the whole song, even roping you into joining in. Eventually, he turns the volume down a few notches.

“What music do you like?” He questioned, nodding in acknowledgment as you listed off your current favorites. As he waited at a red light, he skipped a few songs, claiming that you’d like this one more after the inventory you gave him.

You take another look around, as the setting gets more and more unfamiliar to you. “Where’re we going, anyway?” You tilt your head.

“Right now, I’m thinking the music store. But I have other ideas, too.” He pulls up to the curb of an aptly named record shop, shutting off the engine and opening your door from the outside before you could protest. The inside was fairly simple, musical equipment sitting on shelves behind a desk, records stretching around the perimeters of the room, and cassette tapes in the square middle.

The layout intrigues you, as your brain pings at recognizable albums. You shy away from Winston, flipping through a few records in your favorite genre. He reappears at your side, a small box of blank tapes in his hands.

“Are you recording something?” You continue to browse. He shakes his head.

“You’re gonna need your own tape to play in the car. We all have one.” He peers over your shoulder casually, taking in music he’s never heard of. You shake your head apologetically, fearing the effort it’ll take. He picks up an album you’d been eyeing.

He turned to look at you, eyes earnest and eyebrows slightly raised. “Make space for yourself.” Simple words. He wasn’t asking a lot from you. But he was speaking to you- I want you to survive. I want you to live.

You have nothing to do but nod your head, no point in protest. He has a pleased smile, and examines the album a little more before putting it down. Something else catches his eye, and he brightens, mouth open in awe. There’s a full stack of reddish yellow squares, and he spins around to show you, eyes twinkling like a little kid.

“Tommy! I thought you didn’t carry Hendrix!” He chides the man excitedly, flipping the album around. You stand behind him to read the song list as well. Tommy merely shrugs.

“Best guitarist since Berry,” he proclaims to you. “Absolutely insane sound.” He had such a look of delight on his face. It was different from Ray’s- it wasn’t analytical, he probably didn’t know everything he could’ve about what he loved, but that only made him love it more. Winston’s joy was simple, but it wasn’t unimportant. As he talked on about the man he looked up to, his soft eyes crinkled, a wide smile meeting them.

“I wasn’t allowed to play him.” He pulled out his wallet, paying for not only his newfound treasure, but the empty cassettes and your own personal favorite. “Not when I was at home, or when I was deployed.” Tommy handed him the items in a plastic bag. “But I paid my neighbor a nickel to let me when our parents weren’t home. I lost a lot of commissary that way, when I got older.” His story had a boyish tone to it, as he held the door open for you. He wouldn’t stop opening doors for you, insisting on it as you got in the car.

“Are you hungry?” His question makes you recall the other companion you’d forgotten at the firehouse, your heart filling with cement. You agree to lunch, knowing he really wouldn’t let you refuse.

Your next destination is a little restaurant, the area busier as midday approaches and working class America is looking for something to eat. When you enter (and he holds the door), there’s a teenaged boy behind the counter, packing orders and taking cash. The interior is smaller than you assumed, as the floor is taken up by the buffet-style kitchen behind the spot to order, and a few tables and chairs. It smells amazing, though, and the menu looks even better. Winston watches you pridefully as you marvel over what to get, before his voice breaks you out of your stupor.

“Know what you want?”

“I can’t decide. It all sounds great,” you confess, the idea of choosing making your head hurt.

Winston chuckles at your response, guiding you to a little table and making you wait there as he chooses for the both of you. After letting some highschoolers get in front of him so they could get back to school before the hour ended, you see that he’s an exceptional conversationalist, becoming instantly acquainted with the people in line with him. He asks them about their day, listens intently, and when asked about his own he gladly replies with “day out with a friend,” pointing to you. You give a bashful wave to him and his newfound comrades.

He speaks familiarly to the kid at the register, counting things off his fingers, and even slipping him a bill that was definitely not a part of his total. He soon has two styrofoam containers in his hands, steam rising out the slight openings. He opens yours for you, the water vapor and aroma hitting you like a punch. There’s greens, mac and cheese, and fried fish staring you down as your eyes widen. While you were stuck in your hypnosis, he reached over, cutting your food for you.

It was like you died and went to heaven, before being sent back to finish your plate. You almost absentmindedly held onto the table to keep you tethered to the Earth.

“You guys have kept me fed all weekend,” you say between rushed bites. It’s true- this is the best you’d eaten in a while. You swallow. “I can’t remember the last time I was able to stop and make actual food.”

“Egon treats you to breakfast, I treat you to lunch.” He raises his hands in a shrug. “Good?”

“Amazing,” you chew. “You seem to know this place well,” you suggested.

“I take lunch here everyday,” he wipes his mouth on a napkin.

“I can see why. Is it a favorite?”

“No, my favorite is the Jamaican lady down the corner.”

You raise an eyebrow, setting your fork down as he blissfully kept eating. “But…you know everyone here, they know you, you come here every day.”

He blinks. His tone is slightly quieted. “I know. But the owner’s trying to put his daughter through college. Any penny I can give to him counts.” He talks as if the act of selflessness was the simplest thing in the world. It amazed you, how easily kindness and servitude came to him. In your short time with him, he was nothing but humble and friendly with everyone he interacted with. The small smile that spread on your face was one of admiration, and genuine mystique at the kindly man across from you.

You chatted for a bit longer, about growing up, your families, before you were both finished. He tossed your trash, and bid the teen at the register goodbye before walking you back to the Ecto. Once inside, you couldn’t help but lean your head against the glass, your lack of sleep the previous night manifesting after eating so good.

“I think that knocked me out,” you tried hard to suppress a yawn in your throat as he turned on the ignition, soft rumbling making it harder.

“There’s a word for that,” he laughed. That was the last thing you could remember, before waking back up. The car was still parked in the same spot, and as you sleepily looked around, Winston sat in the same spot, peacefully reading a small book. Your stomach dropped as you noticed the time- nearly 3 o’clock.

“I am so sorry,” you stumbled through an apology, sleep still sticking to your panicked words. He simply took his reading glasses off, eyebrows raised as you rambled.

‘I don’t mind. I had my book.”

“I didn’t snore, right?” Your skin burnt.

He paused. "It made a good ambience.”

You threw your head into your hands, Winston snickering at your expense as he started the car again. He drove out the area, sidewalk now full of families coming from school and work, in addition to teenagers loitering for a bit before they headed home. The scenery became less cozy and residential, and slowly became more retail, tall buildings advertising clothes and businesses. You recognized it as being your downtown area- albeit the parts you felt too low-income to pursue.

“What’s next?” You wondered if there was dried drool on your chin.

“I doubt anyone is talking to anyone back home.” Winston bit the inside of his cheek. He kept his eyes on the road, thoughts behind his eyes. He had a bittersweet look on his face, before speaking again. “When we didn’t have anything to do- or any spare money to do it with, my mom took my siblings and I to the department store.”

You’ve heard quite a few personal stories in the last few hours. Maybe it was his way of connecting. You decided to probe. “What’d you do?”

His face softened a bit, recounting the positive parts of the memory. “All types of fashion shows. Found future gifts to our dad. Made our mom promise to find us shirts just like the ones on the rack- and she did. We pretended we were the richest kids in the world. Preacher’s kids, we weren’t…terribly poor. But there were reminders. Mom made it better.” He smiled fondly, despite the car being stuck behind a bus.

The car moved forward. “I’m sure she’s the reason you turned out so well.” The car suddenly stalled, and you were honked at from behind. Eventually, you were parked against the busy sidewalk of a wide, tall building. The sheer size was enough to intimidate, as you still sat in the car, gazing at the top of the structure as he had the door handle in his hands.

You were estimating the floor count, before you felt a hand grab yours. His palms were soft, slightly calloused, but warm nonetheless. He looked down at your conjoined hands, before simpering back up at you. “So you don’t get lost.”

As Winston guided you through the bustling floor, your anxiety was substituted for security. The makeup counter was absolutely packed, as were the prom dresses upstairs. That made a fair amount of sense, as the school year would be ending soon. While on the escalator, you can see all the patrons, hurrying in and out with their bags. At the top, something in the toy section catches your eyes. Winston lets himself be led over.

“What a find,” you take a rectangular box off the shelf. It’s a nearly identical Smokey the Bear plushie, just a newer model. There’s a tribute to the old one printed on the back of the packaging. Winston watched as you reveled in the coincidence.

You remember his presence, and the lack of context he has for you suddenly admiring a children’s toy. “Ray sleeps with an old one. Smokey’s seen better days.” Winston smiles as you place it back on the display.

“Why not get it for him?”

You shake your head swiftly. “I’d be dishonoring your mom. I thought the point was to not spend money?”

He picked the bear back up. “She also says that you can’t take money to the grave. Maybe it can be a goodbye present? We can find something for Egon and Peter, too.”

You think on it. At this rate, there wasn’t much for you to repay their kindness with. Well-thought-out gifts paid for with Winston’s money will have to do, for now. You agree, before disembarking to a clothing department. You end up in the men’s section, articulate and hip pieces you couldn’t even dream of affording. Winston gazes up at the flashy, electric purple suit vest on a mannequin, as you sit back on a chair behind him.

“You like that one?” You sit up.

He puffs out a laugh at the outfits' pure hedonism. “It’s a lot. Even for me.”

“And you want it,” you rise, skimming the racks for the matching pieces in his size as he protests. You wordlessly hand them to him, and he surrenders, disappearing behind the entrance to a men’s dressing room. In the meantime, you’d look for Peter’s gift. To be fair, you knew him the least out of the 4 men. But Winston had told you he messed around too much in the lab, and lost his favorite tie to a small fire. He apparently never had time to replace it, and Winston could remember the exact brand, style, and color, so you figured he could single out the one you were looking for out of a short stack of silky, red fabrics.

As you waited in a warmly lit lounge area by the fitting room, he emerged, holding his arms out and up to model it for you. The satin of the cream colored undershirt fit around him nicely, the bright vest even coming in at his waist a bit. He had the full ensemble on, even down to the suede loafers. He looked like a moviestar, even if he was too humble to actually admit it himself, the price tag swinging underneath his arm.

“It’s something,” He looked at himself in the mirror, hands on his square hips.

“It’s great, that’s what it is,” you say honestly.

“You like vampire-soul-train?” He turned.

You put your hands up defensively. “I love vampire-soul-train.” He continued to look indecisive about it, confidence visibly falling. “Are you gonna come back for it?”

“Where would I wear it to?” He peeked at the price tag one more time, dropping it like it burned his fingers.

You shrugged. “You don’t need an occasion. Sometimes it’s just fun to dress up. Ask Janine.”

He laughs. “I guess you’re learning from the best.” He looks down pleasantly surprised at what he’s seeing on the floor. “If anything, I’d come back for the shoes.” He looks at you through the reflection in the mirror. “Did you find anything?”

You look around at the dozens of clothes behind you. “I guess not.” There’s a lot to choose from, and a lot of bright colors fighting for your attention. It’s all a little overwhelming, looking at clothes you’d fall in love with and never buy. You end up standing in the middle of the department, scratching your head swimming with uncertainty, until Winston taps you on the shoulder.

“They have it in your size.” So you matched.

“We look like a magic act,” you tease him, remembering Peter’s tie situation. After he pinpointed the correct match, you admired yourselves a little longer- at least until the staff were tapping you on the shoulder and asking if you needed anything, courteous smiles twitching as they watched you saunter around in their merchandise.

You looked at more things in different departments- jewelry that you tried to convince Winston to re-pierce his ears for, home decor you’d have if your place was bigger. Eventually, he gladly paid for the 2 gifts, the large bag in which they were placed sitting next to you at an ice cream counter. As you ate, you both came to the conclusion that Egon deserved a decadent little chocolate cake from the dessert store you were at, and you hoped it would keep in the fridge overnight.

“You ready to go home tomorrow morning?’ He put his spoon in his mouth. Butter pecan. You groaned lightly. You wanted to give them their space- and their money back, but it was like the ending to a pleasant dream, going from companionship and a warm place to sleep in a hard time to a now-damaged apartment and job fairs.

“As ready as I can be. Thanks, for putting up with me this weekend.” You put your spoon down.

“You won’t get rid of us that easy. We’ll be there to help you clean up.”

“The 4 archangels. I promise, when I get back on my feet I’m finding new ways to repay you all.” He dismissed your offer.

“It’s the minimum. Louis’ office was in the boiler room for a bit, you know.” He lightened your guilty mood. As he smiled, you noticed the now dark bruise against his jaw. Impulsively, you reached out and manipulated his face gently.

“Does it still hurt?”

There’s a crash from the first floor. You both rush to the balcony railing, watching as people run to the exit, as feral growls vibrate around the large store. Winston grabs your hand again, though less tender now, running down the steps of the now disabled escalator against waves of people running up instead. When you reach the bottom, you watch in terror as an angry alligator destroys the store. As you looked on, you could see that the tail of the beast was vaporizing in front of you, as it hissed out a slime like the one you worked to wash out early in the morning. This wasn’t just an escaped animal. It was a ghost. Winston came to this conclusion at the same time that you did, pulling you towards the exit and to the Ecto.

“Should we call Peter and Ray and-”

He opened the door to get his equipment. “They won’t get here in time. And they won’t have any of this.” He grabbed a proton gun, staring down at it before sighing. “I’m gonna ask you to do something very dangerous.”

Your eyes flickered down to the weapon in his hands, before your mouth fell open. “Absolutely not. Dr. Spengler said that it was ‘unregulated units of atomic energy.’” He ignored your protests, putting the proton pack onto you. He pulled the belt tight around your waist.

“It’s easier than you think,” he said hurriedly, adjusting the straps on your shoulders. “Have you ever flown a plane?”

You stare at him, eyes blown and wide, before burying your head behind your hands. He pries them off gently, placing them each on different points of the gun. “Well then it’s just like driving a car. You shoot the ghost with this, okay? Just keep holding onto him, and I’ll open the trap for you. We’re gonna do it, and we’re gonna do it together.”

Before you could revel in him talking you through it, he’s pushing you inside. Herds of frightened customers cling to the walls, out of the way of the ghost, and make room for you and Winston as they quietly whisper to each other that help has come. The alligator is ripping up a display, the woman in the ad subsequently dressed in Victorian style dress. Winston creeps up towards it slowly, before advising you to stay behind one of the makeup counters.

“I’m gonna tell you when. When I do, hit this button. That’s all. Okay?” You purse your lips, nodding, and crouching despite the nerves being felt in your weak legs. He leaves you behind, the ghost with its back turned as it tears up the poster. From your hiding spot, you can hear it notice him, growling loudly as it charges. He signaled you, and you popped up like a toy, shaky fingers igniting the stream.

He did the same, exclaiming loudly as you immobilized the spirit. He advised you to raise it up slowly, as the phantom flailed around.

“What now?” You called over the volume of the particle accelerator whirring like crazy on your back, separated from your skin by a spring jacket and a sweater. He didn’t have an answer.

He hesitated. “You didn’t manage to grab a trap while you were out there, did you?” You could have fainted. You saw his stream falter. “I’ll be right back. Keep holding him- I’ll be two seconds!’

His stream stopped, as he sprinted out the door, nearly slipping on ectoplasm in the process. The ghost thrashed harder, trying to resist the force suspending it in the air. You felt like the weight of holding up an adult alligator suddenly, and your arms couldn’t keep up with its fight. Your stream gave out for a split second, and in that time it was free, and on the floor. It locked eyes with you.

Your cry for Winston echoed throughout the department store- hell, throughout the city as you ran as fast as your legs could take you around the floor once, then up one of the escalators. You skidded to a stop at the end, as the chaos of the escaping crowd managed to knock down a large glass case, sending glass all over the floor. Your momentum didn’t stop you soon enough, and you slid over the shards before falling to the waxed floor. The ghost got closer, sending your heart to your toes as it opened its mouth, expelling a wave of noxious green slime. You saved your pride, ducking out of the way at the last second. You only had a moment to celebrate your triumph, as a quick movement of its ghastly tail reminded you of its ability to interact- and harm, the physical world.

You got back on your feet, before noticing Winston run back inside out of the corner of your eye. You needed to get back downstairs, but all of the possible ways down were blocked. A large decoration swung from the ceiling, reaching fairly low to the ground. The ghost was creeping closer, teeth bared. If you die, please let your soul haunt the firehouse.

Your nerves steeled themselves for you, hesitating on the ledge, before taking your literal leap of faith as the ghost lunged forward. You squeezed your eyes shut, only opening them when you felt your sweaty palms make contact with the course rope. You slide quickly, before remembering you actually had to catch the violent apparition. You reach weakly for the gun swinging behind you, forgotten, and feebly aim your gun at the glass part at the railing where it watched you. The glass shatters in its wake, and as you continue your ride down the rope, the ghost is caught in your stream, the speed at which you’re moving dragging it through the air. You reach a safe enough distance to the ground, letting go of your hold on the rope and dropping on your knees unstably.

Winston’s been watching from the floor, regaining his strategy as the ghost hovers ahead. He sets his stream on it, and kicks a trap directly below. Your ears are ringing, and your heart’s beating at a thousand miles a minute as he calls on you to lower the spirit. With diminished resistance, the ghost is caught in the trap, smoking rising to the ceiling. The entire store is quiet. The smoke reaches the alarms, setting off the sprinklers, and the hostages erupt in celebration.

Winston lays an arm around your shoulder, speaking low into your ear. “I told you, it was easy. You’re amazing.”

But you're still in a daze, and Winston recognizes it as he gently guides you to the car, avoiding reporters and even a few policemen. Before he takes you to the passenger side and aides you down into the seat, he raises your hand for everyone watching the news in the tri-state to see.

“Y/N came, saw, and kicked its ass!”

You don’t say much as he drives back to the firehouse, siren on. You suddenly startle back to consciousness, turning to him in disbelief.

“I caught a ghost.”

“You sure did.”

You laugh weakly, rubbing your eyes. Your laughter picks up, before it turns hysterical. You crank down the window, sticking your upper body out in ecstasy. This was the most alive you’ve felt in your entire adult life, and you let everything in the car’s path know.

“I caught a ghost!” You cry out as the Ecto drives through the city’s streets.

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beardedmrbean · 2 months ago

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WARSAW, Poland (AP) — Stanislawa Wasilewska was 42 when she was captured by Nazi German troops on Aug. 31, 1944, in Warsaw and sent to the women’s concentration camp at Ravensbrück, Germany. From there, she was sent to the Neuengamme forced labor camp, where she was given prisoner number 7257 and had her valuables seized.

Eighty years later, Germany's Arolsen Archives returned Wasilewska's jewelry to her grandson and great-granddaughter at an emotional ceremony in Warsaw late Tuesday during which families of 12 Polish inmates of World War II Nazi German concentration camps were given back their confiscated belongings.

Some relatives had tears in their eyes as they received the mementoes of their long-gone, often unknown family members. More such ceremonies are planned.

Wasilewska's family was given back her two amber crucifixes, part of a golden bracelet and a gold wristwatch engraved with the initials KW and the date 7-3-1938, probably marking her wedding to Konstanty Wasilewski.

“This is an important moment in our lives, because this is a story that we did not fully know about and it came to light,” Wasilewska's great-granddaughter, Malgorzata Koryś, 35, told The Associated Press.

When Nazi Germany was defeated in 1945, Wasilewska was taken by the Red Cross from Neuengamme to Sweden, but later returned to Poland. She is buried in her native Grodzisk Mazowiecki, near Warsaw.

From another family, Adam Wierzbicki, 29, was given two rings which belonged to Zofia Strusińska and a golden chain and tooth filling of Józefa Skórka, two married sisters of his great-grandfather, Stanislaw Wierzbicki. Captured together on Aug. 4, like Wasilewska, the sisters also went through Ravensbrück and Neuengamme before the Red Cross took them to Sweden.

A family story has it that a Swedish man fell in love with one of the sisters and wanted them both to stay, promising to take care of them, but they decided to go back to Poland, Wierzbicki said.

The return of their jewelry is “important for sentimental reasons but also for historical reasons,” Wierzbicki told the AP.

The items were returned by the Arolsen Archives, the international center on Nazi persecution, which holds information on about 17.5 million people. It stores some 2,000 items which were seized by the Nazis from concentration camp inmates from more than 30 countries, and are intended to be returned to their relatives.

When the prisoners were sent to concentration camps, their valuables — wedding rings, watches, gold chains, earrings and other items — were confiscated and put in envelopes marked with their owners’ names. That allowed for the items’ return to the families, 80 years later.

It was an uplifting moment when the archives volunteers contacted him, Wierzbicki said, but there was also the thought that “history will catch up with you. It was like my aunts were looking at me from the past."

The archives launched its restitution campaign, “Warsaw Uprising: 100 Untold Stories,” to mark 80 years since the city rose up against the Nazi invaders on Aug. 1, 1944, with the goal of reaching the families of 100 victims and reviving the memory of them through their belongings.

Archive director Floriane Azoulay said they are only custodians of the belongings, which should be returned to the families.

“Every object that we return is personal,” Azoulay said. "And it’s the last personal thing a person had on them before they became a prisoner, before they became a number. So it is a very important object for a family.”

Volunteer Manuela Golc has found more than 100 Polish families and each time it's an emotional moment.

“It is often the case that we pass on information that the family was not aware of at all," Golc said. "So this conversation on the phone ... is also very difficult. But in the end we are very happy that the memento is returning to the family.”

If she was unable to trace a family online or through official records, she traveled to cemeteries, leaving notes waterproofed against the rain for the families on the graves of people whose data matched those in the archives, asking them to get in touch.

The Warsaw Uprising was launched by the underground resistance Home Army with the goal of taking control of the capital city ahead of the advancing Soviet troops. It fell after 63 days of heroic struggle that cost the lives of some 200,000 fighters and civilians. In revenge, the Germans expelled the surviving residents and reduced Warsaw to ruins.

During German occupation in 1939-45, Poland lost some 6 million residents, half of them Jewish, and suffered huge material losses.

#nunyas news

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somethingclevermahogony · 9 months ago

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Find the Word Tag Game

@inkovert tagged me here- thanks! Go to their page and check out some of their stuff, its great stuff!

my words were melody, leaf, smooth, and ache. As of right now I only have two WIPs, books 1 and 2 of The Testaments of the Green Sea (both of which are currently unnamed, oops) and so I will be drawing from there.

I am tagging @apolline-lucy, @illarian-rambling, @that-chibi-writer, @hallowedfury, and whoever else wants to answer, if you want to play! Your words are violet, crunch, flower, and teeth.

Melody

Istek, Dati, and Sihunu danced with a feverish intensity. It was as if, just for that moment, Istek's age and his sickness had melted away. He danced with the smooth movements of a younger man, held close both of his loves, the brave captain of the poems given new life by the melody. Dati and Sihunu leapt and spun with the grace of bounding gazelles. Lat watched his parents from his table, a slight smile on his usually sour face. Though he would never admit it, he was quite fond of weddings. After a moment of hesitation and more than a few bowls of wine he leapt up to join his elders in their frenzied dancing. Penetinos sat near the newcomer Fasti and her son Zures, his face was pale, but the smile on his face was wide. Fasti poured the old man a bowl of wine, though in secret she added just a touch more water than may have been typical. If the old man noticed he did not say. Zures stared in wonder at the tip of Penetinos’ wizened finger as he used his sagecraft to produce a tiny blue flame, only for a moment.

Leaf (Leaves, that counts right?)

"Narul! Look! A forest!" Ninma said as she wiped the tears and snot from her face. Narul was shocked from his stupor by a wet little palm that drummed on the top of his head. At the foot of the crested hill upon which they stood stretched a lush forest. The transition from the arid field and rock to thick greenery was almost unnatural in its suddenness. " Did we go the wrong way?" Narul said. " Nope, northwest just like Burun said! Maybe he forgot to tell us about the forest?" Narul frowned. "I don't even understand how trees like this could be here, the ground is so dry." "Maybe the trees are like you. We should go in!" Ninma said and unconsciously dug her nails into his scalp. Her heart was pounding, and her skin was laced with goosebumps. "Like me?" " Yeah! Like forestfolk with magic but um forest trees? Forest forest?" She said with a giggle. Narul gazed up at the massive trunks. Was she right? The whisper of the leaves beckoned him into the shadows.

Smooth

Narul ran his fingers along the smooth linen which started at his midsection and ended shortly below his knees. It had taken quite some time to assemble the outfit, and in the end after finding no actual garments which could appropriately fit him, the attendants and seamstresses had resorted to wrapping his waist with an ornate table cloth, snatched from some store room and trimmed and shaped to more closely resemble the long pleated skirts favored by Chibalan nobility. A cloak made from snowy white sheepskin, the largest they could find, was draped over his shoulders, held in place by an ornate bronze pin in shape of a snarling bear. His hair was combed and braided, bedecked with rings of Korithian silver and beads of Shamabalan agate and Makoran Amber. The attendants had even tried to shove a signet ring onto one of his fingers, an endevor which would ultimately prove to be in vain. Failing at this, and the application of other more common jewelry, they took to him with bowls of a strong smelling paste, dying his skin with shades of rich red and earthy brown, covering his arms, hands, and chest with wave-like patterns.

Ache

"...I curse you Narul. May you live amongst those vile creatures for a thousand years. May you bear witness to countless atrocities, to every abomination to slither forth from the minds of humans. May you see cities crumble and families wither! May your fleeting happiness be drowned in the filth of the ages! And when time finally catches you, when the names of all who you loved have been wiped clean from your decayed mind by the hands of time, when your petty morals have been smashed by the depravity of man, may you remember my offer. May you remember the kindness I extended. May you mourn your choice. You will die alone, unloved, forgotten, a relic, a lonesome fool who bet his harvest on a diseased field! Enjoy your fleeting time with these humans, but know that when that girl is an old woman, when her body rages against her, when her bones ache, you will not understand her plight, and she will hate you for it. Every love you will ever feel, will end with sorrow and hatred. And when I return to enact my justice for the depravity of your mothers kin, you will receive no kind words from me! This was your choice, Narul. Enjoy it.”

#writeblr #writing #tag game #find the word game #fantasy writing #queer fantasy #testamentsofthegreensea #fantasy world #fantasy #narul

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lavianojewelerswarwick · 6 months ago

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pocketramblr · 1 year ago

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that sailor moon au part one

Holy shit, a talking cat!

“Holy shit, a talking cat.” En breathed, squatting down to look at the animal that had broken in and taken his futon.

“Yes.” It said, amused and batting at his finger when he tried to poke it. “I am Midnight. I’ve been looking for you, En.”

“And it knows my name.” Why had it been looking for him? Was he on some sort of animal hit-list?

“I wanted to thank- oh, I use she/her pronouns actually.” The cat corrected.

En pinched himself. It hurt but maybe that didn’t mean anything. “The talking cat knows what pronouns are.”

“Of course I do; human gender- and sexuality- are so fascinating! Ah, but that doesn’t matter right now, don’t distract me! I wanted to say thank you for helping me out earlier this morning, even though it made you late to your class.”

En would have been late anyway.

“No problem.” He shrugged, fully accepting this was a dream.

“And, I want to give you something.” She spun around, and then held out a golden pin between her teeth.

En stared at it.

Midnight waved her face at him a bit, tail flicking.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, like an answer would make sense if he asked the question out loud, like a dream would have consistency other than just being confusing. “You don’t have any pockets, you’re naked.”

The cat dropped the pin on his futon.

“I’m nude, actually.” She corrected, again. “But take it and put it on, En!”

“So pushy.” He muttered. “You’re just like Nana-nee.” But he put it on anyway, fastening it to his jacket near the collar.

The silver crescent moon stood out against the red fabric, almost shining. It didn’t look bad, and it wasn’t his normal style, but for some reason he didn’t feel the desire to remove it. Probably the weird dream logic.

“Now, repeat after me! Moon Prism Power, One For All!” Midnight said.

“Moon prism power, one for all?” En repeated.

And then suddenly, he was glowing.

An energy raced through him, cold and electrifying, though it didn’t hurt. His heartbeat raced in his ear to a strange rhythm, and stars raced past his eyes.

When they faded, he felt taller.

He looked down to see he was wearing boots with a bit of a platform- oh, and completely different clothes.

In a blur, he darted from his room to the bathroom to look in the mirror.

He was wearing a jacket like his old high school gakuran, except in dark blue instead of black. He had matching blue shorts and high socks tucked into the almost-as-high boots. The buttons and buckles shone silver like the band sitting cool across his forehead, mostly hiding by his hair, which had a moon crescent in the center- it matched the pin Midnight gave him, and so did the earrings dangling from his ears.

Wait. Only one of his ears was pierced.

Dream, right.

It was getting harder to believe that…

“This isn’t a dream, is it?” he asked.

Midnight jumped up onto the bathroom counter and shook her head.

“No, En, it’s all real. And I need you to become the Moon Scout.”

“The moon what?”

“The pretty guardian of love and justice.”

“The what?”

Midnight didn’t get a chance to answer his question- instead all he could focus on was a sudden ringing in his ear- well, just under his ear.

“Help!” a voice echoed. “We’re at the jewelry store off Besupin and 8th, she’s- ah!”

“Shimura-san?” a different voice asked, tinny, through a phone, “Are you still there, Shimura-san?”

En heard Midnight’s voice, but not what she said- he was instead remembering earlier when he’d gotten home from class, heard Nana and Sorahiko talking in the kitchen as they microwaved lunch. Something about an outrageous sale going on, and Nana and her boyfriend heading there after their own classes.

En had asked if they’d been going out long enough for an engagement ring to be considered, and after laughing at how Nana had nailed him in the head with an empty takeout box, Sorahiko had gotten his own jab in: “Do you really want a discount engagement ring? That’s not really romantic is it?”

Nana had sniffed and declared that a wedding she could actually afford to feed herself and her husband afterwards was the most romantic one. Then En had fled before she could aim another throw at him for saying that he was pretty sure she wouldn’t be the one cooking and feeding her spouse.

But now, if Shimura-kun was at the store, and calling for help-

“Tell me how to get there.” He told Midnight, who nodded and leapt from the counter without a word.

En’s heart was racing the whole way, audible even over the pounding of his boots.

The store wasn’t far, but any minute delay-

Sirens, red lights.

The police surrounded the place, a crowd of people by them.

“Maam, stop!” One raised his voice. “You cannot go back in there!”

“My boyfriend is in there!” Nana- oh god that was his sister, she was fine- but Shimura-kun wasn’t.

En blew past the crowd, and the officers.

“Hey, wait!” Another tried to call after him.

“Is that the Deku Scout?” another asked.

En didn’t even turn around. He didn’t want Nana to see his face, because if she knew he was in there she wouldn’t let herself be held back anymore.

He pushed open the door, and almost collapsed against it, panting.

There were a group of people huddled against the back counter, and more strewn across the floor, unconscious or- he didn’t want to think about it.

In the middle of the store, a figured held up a person with one hand, the other glowing on their face.

“Let them go, now!” He demanded, straightening up and walking inside.

The figure turned to look over their shoulder at him- and then kept turning, the neck bending and contorting in ways it shouldn’t.

En’s stomach dropped.

The door shut behind him.

Suddenly he felt cold.

It was hard to swallow.

“Who are you?” The thing demanded, dropping their victim.

“I’m-“ En wasn’t sure what to say- “the Moon Scout.”

“The moon scout?” The thing repeated, and suddenly words were pulled from En’s dry throat.

“Yeah, the pretty guardian of love and justice, if you want to surrender now.”

“Love? Justice? Surrender?” The thing laughed more with each word, and as they laughed their body stretched and bulged, sharp and jagged. “I think not, little boy.”

Then they lunged, arm stretching to claw at him.

En threw himself to the side.

The ground he crashed into shook, and tile cracked under the thing’s claw.

That had almost been him.

“Moon Scout!” Midnight’s voice echoed from one of his earrings. “Fight back!”

“How do I do that?” He asked, racing behind a counter of jewelry as the thing got back up and growled at him.

“Repeat after me, Midnight Shroud!”

“Midnight Shroud!” En screamed, and suddenly dark smoke billowed from his uniform, filling the room in seconds.

He blinked, and realized he could still see the outline of things and people, if not much else.

En began to move, staying low, edging the length of the counter.

Something slammed into the glass where he’d been.

It shattered, some hitting against the back of his coat.

He froze.

“Not so brave are you now, moon boy?” The thing asked. “Come out, let me see where you are… I bet you have lots of energy and individuality my master would love to take.”

En… wasn’t even going to try and parse that. He looked back to where the hostages who were still awake sat. Maybe they could at least leave, under cover, but where was Shimura-kun?

“Midnight, I could use a little more help!” he hissed, and tried to crawl as silently as possible.

“I’m closeby, but my legs are shorter than even yours!” The cat answered. “I’ve called for more backup too, just hold on! And if you can get a clear shot, throw your tiara at the monster!”

As the realization of how bad an idea it had been to trust some random talking cat when she said she turned him into some kind of hero sunk in, the monster shattered another glass case. Eventually, it would find him, and he wanted to be on his feet when it did.

En grabbed a piece of glass and necklace of many hefty gems, and slowly stood up.

He crept around the monster’s back, then threw the necklace.

It hit the thing’s shoulder and snapped apart, and then the thing was turning on him, eyes aglow.

En leaned and slashed with the glass-

Sharp pain in his hand-

Then all over, thrown back. His back, crashing into a wall, out of breath.

The darkness was fading, light beginning to show at the windows, the door, and it cracked open.

Midnight stepped in.

En was looking at her when the monster moved again, and he was too slow to dodge.

“Moon Tiara Action!” The cat cried.

Then something hit the monster’s arm instead.

A rose glimmered in the low light.

“What the hell?” En asked, looking around for where it came from- and the monster did the same thing.

A figure in one window that wasn’t getting as light, a shadow cast.

“Who are you?” The monster demanded.

“Tuxedo Mask.” The figure answered- and yeah, En guessed he did have on a tuxedo. And a mask. The suit was fitted to a tall body, silhouetted sharper in the yellow lining of the cap he wore over it. The mask shaded his eyes, but didn’t hide the strong nose and smirk on his face. “Hey, Moon Scout, hiding and running won’t win this battle for you.”

En blinked. Seriously?

“It was doing a great job at keeping me alive.” He responded, and ‘Tuxedo Mask’ nodded once, as if giving him the point. It didn’t feel like much of a concession. “Anyway, where did you come from?”

“Moon Scout, don’t take your eyes off your opponent.” He said instead of answering.

“What do you-“ En looked at the monster, which was now lifting both arms, even with one bleeding at the rose stuck in it, waving them down towards En and to Tuxedo Mask.

En tugged the silver band off his head. What had Midnight said?

“Moon tiara action!” He said, flinging the circle forward.

It glowed bright as it spun, hitting the thing in their chest, which caved inward- and inward, and inward, their entire body crumbling to dust that barely hit the floor before it faded too.

“You did it!” Midnight cheered.

“Not bad for your first time.” Tuxedo Mask was still smiling as he lifted his cape and turned.

“Wait, are you really going to leave without saying goodbye?”

He left without saying goodbye.

Huh.

“Who was that?” Midnight asked, from near his ankle where she held his fallen tiara.

“I dunno but he’s hand- wait. You didn’t send him?”

She shook her head.

“I wish, he is easy on the eyes. Oh, right. Stellaris, cancel that emergency backup. Moon Scout is fine!”

“How many people are involved in what’s going on, exactly?” En asked, beginning to feel a bit dizzy. The cut on his hand where his attempt at using the glass had failed wasn’t big enough for it to be from bloodloss. Probably.

Unless he’d been bleeding out this whole time or something, everything from the talking cat onward a hallucination as his mind dealt with… he wasn’t sure, getting hit with a truck or something this morning.

But he was pretty sure isekais didn’t work this way, so…

“Let’s get home first, then I can answer your questions… and we need to get you a bandage.” She frowned, but then flicked her tail and went to the window Tuxedo Mask had made his entrance and exit from. “Hurry!”

He followed, shaking his head.

“We have to get back before your sister and her boyfriend do!” Midnight reminded him, and En went double time.

As it was, Nana still got back before En had finished cleaning up.

At least he was in his own clothes, Midnight having taught him how to un-moon-prism-power.

“Enkun, I’m home!” Nana called. “You wouldn’t believe what-“

“Are you ok?” He interrupted. “I, uh, saw the news and I was worried, since you went to that store, and-“

“I’m fine.” She said quickly.

“What about-“

“So is he.”

“I am indeed fine.” Shimura-kun’s voice joined Nana’s. “Just a really weird day. Passed out on the floor and missed the vigilante battle though, apparently.”

“Oh no, that’s too bad.” En tried to sound nonchalant, but the both just laughed.

“I was scared out of my mind, but it was alright in the- Engetsu-chan, what is that.” Nana stepped out of the kitchen and saw him attempting to bandage his own left hand.

“Um, well-“

“Are you bleeding, is that a cat, where- don’t sit on the couch like that you’ll get blood on it, here,” Nana moved in a flurry, tugging him off the back of the couch and pulling him to stand, focusing on his hand as she kept talking. “What happened?”

“Um…”

Midnight meowed.

“Um, there were some kids messing with this cat, and I stopped them.” En said, which was technically true.

“These aren’t from the cat, are they?”

“No, no! She’s fine. Sweet. Her name’s Midnight.”

“A good name for her.” Nana glanced at her. “But you have to be the one to buy cat food. And kitty litter!”

En had expected more pushback than that but was just glad he wasn’t hearing a ‘how dare you almost die so stupidly’ conversation instead.

Nana finished wrapping his hand. He realized hers were shaking.

“Are you okay, Nana-nee?” He asked.

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just glad we’re all alright.”

He nodded. “We are. Hey, how about instead of us forcing Shimura-kun to cook dinner for us, you call Torino and he brings us something for us to eat in instead.”

“Instead of making me what?”

Nana’s smile got a little less even, and a little more true.

“Yeah, let’s do that. I’ll go text him. You start looking for cat things.”

“Got it.” He saluted, then returned to the back of the couch, pulling out his phone. “Hey, Midnight, what do talking cats eat?” he asked, a little quieter as she curled up next to him.

“Caviar.”

“Wet cat food, got it…”

“En!”

#should we keep Sorahiko using the og name or should it be like #'Domino Suit' or something instead of Tuxedo Mask #i can't call En 'sailor' because he's not wearing a sailor uniform he's wearing a gakuran.#anyway ah this is fun #my fic #my writing #planetary scout au

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