#I mean I also think I have a mould problem in the bathroom (not to mention the slugs fro the other day) but this is more fun

[the-busy-ghost]

My home is at risk of infection by mid-century modern inspired furniture and I’m being so brave about it

[its-all-a-moonage-daydream]

i don’t really know what happened here but i found this in the deepest darkest depths of my docs so 🤷‍♀️ also don’t ask why i have a really annoying habit of writing in second person i’m too lazy to change it

(850 words)

you sigh as you finally hear the swoosh of the lock. you breathe out, and slump to the floor. cold tile against your head as you close your eyes, letting tears roll down your face. safe in the bathroom, locking out the world because it’s the only place you can. you need to get away from it all for once. it’s no one's fault nothing bad has happened, you just need to leave for a bit. take a break. change the environment and get away from people who know who you are. or think they do. because at this point you don’t even know if you know who you are anymore. the more you think about it the more you realise what a mismatched puzzle of little bits of everyone else. you get your music taste from your friends, favourite books from your mother, character traits from the book characters you adore. some people would say this isn’t a bad thing, it just shows you love so many people so fiercely you want your favourite bits for yourself. but you feel disgusted nonetheless. the way you didn’t like your personality well enough as it was and yet when you decided to mould it into something new you couldn’t even be arsed to be original. instead you stole and snatched and ripped away parts of other people and characters and forced them onto yourself. forcing two puzzle pieces to fit together when they shouldn’t. too young to understand what you were doing and yet old enough to know you needed change. you forced yourself to forego having opinions. what good did they do you anyway? instead you taught yourself to follow not lead, listen not talk. you learned to wait, to smile, to nod along. you memorised a list of favourite book, movie, song, tv show, celebrity, subject, hobby, colour, dog or cat, night or day, summer or winter, coffee or tea and every other daily opinion you were supposed to have. you created a false personality to hide your false personality. and yet you no longer have a real one. you don’t know who you are even though you can’t help but wear your heart on your sleeve. you can’t even live your fake personality right how are you supposed to own a real one. when you were 13 you fell in love. too bad they were gay fictional and dead. so instead you lived them. you made them your own even if that meant forcing yourself to hate life and everyone in it. you taught yourself hatred and loathing and to say things you didn’t mean because you needed so desperately to have this love. ironic really. you made yourself despise the one you needed to love. but that was years ago. surely by now you should have grown out of it, you know it was a fucking awful thing to do. you’ve learnt your lesson. so you should move on. it makes sense! and yet here you are a fucking mess and you can’t decipher what’s you and what’s remus fucking lupin or depressed_person68, you still force yourself to agree with every opinion, not by choice now but because you don’t know how not to. last time you had an opinion it became your entire personality for over a year. you are ‘that girl who likes the secret history’ and nothing more. people see you as dull and leave you alone. not that you mind that but it would be nicer if it wasn’t true. especially when you end up needing change so much it hurts. you need something big to happen so you have something else to focus on. you need to discover something about yourself that begins to pour light onto what you’re actually like. your real personality. but now it’s come and you’re back to square one. you can’t unpiece the puzzle you’ve made. you’ve poured glue on it for too long and now it’s set in stone. and although this isn’t always a problem, when you need to start evaluating yourself it makes it hard when there is no ‘self’. only a distorted mismatch of others. because now you need to decide if you’re just projecting or if you’re actually like this. if you need help or you want it. if you understand or you don’t. because now it affects other people. now you’re hurting more than just yourself and you need to get it fucking together. this is gonna get hard.

and yet here you are, still sitting in the bathroom, still staring at the same smudge on the wall. the tiles have gone warm and your legs have gone numb and you feel no sure. but now it’s sorted into piles and can be put away into a draw for another day. when you absolutely have to you can revisit this but now you have work to do and friends to talk to and a person to be. whether you know that person or not doesn’t matter. because you’ve got pretty good at being them, and that will do for now.

[loudprincepost]

Things to Think About Before Remodeling Your Bathroom

A bathroom remodels is a big project. It's also an expensive one. But if you are in need of a new shower or your kids want their own bathroom, it may be worth the investment. The first and the foremost things, as per Plumber st Kilda are some critical considerations to ensure that you are sure about the idea of remodelling your bathroom. Here are some things to consider before starting your bathroom remodelling job.

How much can you afford to spend?

Next, you'll need to figure out how much of your home remodel budget you want to devote to your bathroom. If it's a major renovation, chances are that your budget might not be as large as you'd like. But don't worry! A smaller bathroom project doesn't necessarily mean that it has to be cheap—you just have to make sure that all the materials and fixtures used in remodelling are high quality, so they last through the years.

If this is going to be a significant investment for you, it's smart to take some time and really think about what matters most when it comes time for renovations. For example: Do I want marble countertops? Do I want new flooring? Will there be enough space without making the room too big (or small)? How can I make my dream bathroom more affordable?

Does your bathroom need repairs, or do you just want to update it?

If you're just updating your bathroom, then you can do it yourself with a few small tools or hire a contractor.

If you're just updating your bathroom and don't want to deal with the plumbing aspect of things, then call in a plumber st Kilda.

If you have some experience doing home improvement projects but aren't sure about remodelling bathrooms yet, try contacting local general contractors who specialize in remodelling bathrooms so they can give you advice on how much work will be involved and what their fees are.

Do you want a quick fix, or are you interested in a major overhaul?

If a quick fix is what you're after, there are plenty of do-it-yourself options available. If you have the skills and time to tackle the job yourself, then you will save money on labour costs. However, if you have no experience in this area, it would be better to hire a professional contractor who can help guide you through your renovation project

However, if a major overhaul is what you're looking for (whether it involves updating or remodelling), then hiring a qualified contractor should be considered because some renovations require extensive experience and expertise. You should also factor in whether there will be any unforeseen surprises or delays during construction—this could result in an increased budget or extra costs along the way.

Are there any existing problems with the plumbing, such as leaks, mould or mildew?

If you have any existing problems with the plumbing, such as leaks, mould or mildew, these must be addressed prior to starting a remodel. If there are no existing problems with the plumbing in your bathroom and you're ready to get started on your remodel, skip this section.

Conclusion

It's not just about picking out new tiles and fixtures, either. You need to consider the structural aspects of your bathroom as well—if it needs plumber st Kilda repairs or if there are any existing problems with the plumbing (such as leaks, mould or mildew). So make sure you take a thorough look at what needs fixing before making any changes!

[realcube]

BABYSITTING WITH HIM

characters ♡ oikawa, tendou & sakusa

tw ♡ children, cursing & mentions of arson

TŌRU OIKAWA

♡ he is pretty much a professional babysitter, or so he thought

♡ which is why he accepted when you asked if he could help you take care of your nieces/nephews for the weekend

♡ i mean, he takes care of his nephew all the time so how hard could babysitting possibly be? it was basically a free pass to spend the day with you 

♡ however, he began to regret his decision as he sat on your couch and realised that he wouldn’t be able to get even somewhat intimate with you when there was constantly an annoying little boy clinging to his arm, asking him if he had any games on his phone

♡ “sorry, kid.” oikawa smiled, clenching his jaw to hide the rage but it wasn’t very effective, “i’ve not got any games. maybe you could go play with your toys or something.” 

♡ he let out a sigh, making the mistake of thinking that would be the end of their interaction

♡ “can’t you just download some?” the boy retaliated

♡ you snickered, watching as the energy visibly drained from oikawa, yet he still wore his frighteningly bright grin

♡ “i’ve not got any storage.” 

♡ “then delete some of your apps or photos.” the boy said with a shrug, then proceeded to point at oikawa’s home screen, which happened to be a picture of him and you in front of an ethereal sunset, “start with that one. you both look like dorks.”

♡ you and oikawa’s unified gasps of offence were enough to show the boy that he was able to do exactly what he intended; piss y’all off

♡ hence, with a final mischievous snicker, he dashed off

♡ “i hate kids.” oikawa muttered, inspecting his homescreen to see if he really did look like a ‘dork’, “what is his problem?”

♡ “what if our kids turn out like that?” you joked 

♡ his eyes widened momentarily, turning to look at you with an uncharacteristically sheepish expression, “our w--”

♡ “mr kawa!” a cry could be heard from the kitchen so without hesitation, you both hopped to your feet and rushed over there as quick as you could 

♡ once you both reached the area the yell came from, you were fortunately not greeted by anything gruesome 

♡ instead, you both got to behold two children trying to reach the top shelf with the power on friendship; the taller boy was standing on a chair, while the toddler held it still 

♡ however, his grip on the jar of the Nutella must’ve loosened at some point as it now lay dejectedly on the ground, half spilled across the tiles and the other half drenching the toddler, not that they seemed to mind though 

♡ in fact, it looked like they were having the time of their — albeit, short — life

♡ the container was only plastic, hence you didn’t have to worry about shards when you darted over to the poor, chocolate-covered baby and scooped them up into your arms, “are you guys, okay?!”

♡ “yeah.” the boy chuckled, noticing that holding the toddler was transferring the chocolate onto you too

♡ “if you wanted nutella, you could’ve just asked.” oikawa sighed, helping the boy get down safely from the chair before putting the object back at it’s intended spot at the dinner table 

♡ “you could have gotten seriously hurt! i thought you would know better than to do something like this.” you scolded, becoming even more furious as the baby continued to playfully slap your face with their grimy hands, “please don’t do that again.”

♡ before they boy got the chance to do anything besides murmur a vague apology, oikawa interjected, “they won’t get the chance.”

♡ and he was right

♡ after cleaning everything up (including the child, which took forever), you didn’t let either of the rascals out of your sight until your duties as babysitters were complete 

♡ “i think we handled that pretty well.” oikawa mused, gathering his stuff along with you as you both got ready to leave

♡ “yeah, maybe we should do this again sometime.” you suggested, but it was followed by a few second was complete silence

♡ until you both burst out laughing 

♡ “yeah, never again.” you agreed

♡ “the kids can take care of themselves.” oikawa said with shrug, offering his hand to you, before you both strutted out of the disaster house

♡ ever since then, it was a common inside joke between you to, when in the vicinity of a kid causing mayhem or being a nuisance, whisper to each or exchange a look that says, ‘it’s a great day to not be babysitting.’  

SATORI TENDŌ

♡ at first, you thought that asking tendou for help babysitting would be a bad idea bc he is just as hyperactive as the damn kids sometimes so he’d probably not be the best influence 

♡ and you knew this bc one time you happened to run into him while out in the park with the kids and you asked him to watch them for literally a minute so you could run to the bathroom but when you came back all you almost had a heart attack because tendou was teaching them fkn tricks on the monkey bars 

♡ however, you then realised that if the kids were busy committing arson with uncle tendou, then they wouldn’t be bothering you 

♡ so here you are, playing monopoly with your boyfriend, a seven year-old and a one year-old

♡ well, it was less like monopoly and more like debate class since none of you could agree on the rules

♡ “well, uncle ten,” the older sibling began, in a very matter-of-factly tone, “if i burn your property down, then i  don’t have to pay you for landing on it.”

♡ “but then you also go to jail.” you pointed out

♡ “not if the police don’t catch me.”

♡ you burst out laughing, meanwhile tendou kept his business face on, “good point, but watch this.” tendou spoke as he rolled the dice, though no matter what if he got a number between four and seven, he would end up landing on somebody’s property

♡ he got a four

♡ picking up his piece, he moved it across each square individually and once he was due to land on your property, he knocked his piece over

♡ “whoops, i slipped.” he chuckled, though his friendly aura immediately dropped as he looked you dead in the eye and said, “i’m suing.”

♡ “you can’t sue me because you tripped!” you yelled 

♡ “i guess i just fell for you.” he said, resulting in the kids both making gagging noises before he stuck out his hand, “100 monopoly dollars, please.”

♡ “like i said,” you tried your best to stay strong and not laugh at his shitting pickup line, “i’m not giving you any money, you fell!”

♡ “i guess we’ll have to take this matter to court then.” tendou said, tapping the shoulder of the one year-old who was currently chewing on a 500 bill which you quickly had to confiscate 

♡ “judge, do you think (y/n) owes me 100 monopoly dollars for poor health and safety conduct?”

♡ “yes.”

♡ “that is the only word they know how to say!” you cried, begrudgingly handing over the money 

♡ “thank you, angel.” tendou cooed, adding your singular bill to the pile he had already stored up; the winner of the game had already been decided 

♡ and although you and the seven year-old kid both cried later after getting your asses kicked in monopoly (the one year-old cried too but they were just hungry), you all went out to get food and actually had a pretty good time

♡ it became a routine for tendou to help you babysit whenever he got the chance and y’all would always play table top games

♡ also when tendou got accepted into culinary school, he’d teach/show the kids what dishes he has learned to prepare and let them help by stirring the pot, adding spices etc etc

♡ and even when he moved to Paris, on special occasions, a box of chocolates would suddenly appear at the kids’ door and all the little pieces would be shaped and moulded into some of their favourite characters or made out of their favourite flavours 

♡ and at one point the kids even insisted that you teach them how to make chocolates so they can send some back to uncle tendou <33

♡ they weren’t the best, but when tendou received the misshapen, slightly stale chocolates at his apartment, addressed from you and the children, he cried

KIYOOMI SAKUSA

♡ his first response when you asked if he could help you babysit was ofc ‘ew no 🤢’

♡ needless to say it took a lot mansplain manipulate malewifing to convince him to come over 

♡ but once he did, obviously he was in his full protective gear; there was no way in hell he was going to catch whatever germs the little goblins have

♡ honestly he almost sprayed a chid in the face with hand sanitizer when they came running up to him with open arms, trying to give him a hug 

♡ which was unusual because the kids don’t tend to be overly friendly with new people, but you just brushed it off and figured that sakusa must’ve been an exception

♡ during his time babysitting, sakusa spend most of his energy trying to avoid the children at all costs that it basically became a game of tag, with you helping the child try to reach sakusa, and him hiding

♡ but honestly you couldn’t complain since the whole time the child was playing, they were safe with you rather than playing with fire 

♡ until later you were reminded of their odd fondness for sakusa when they insisted that sakusa carry them to their bedroom when it was their nap time

♡ and as you were shifting through the books, looking for a story to read, it hit you why they seemed to be so familiar with sakusa

♡ it’s because he looked exactly like the prince in one of their favourite story books; same hair, both tall and they even had similar moles to each other

♡ upon noticing this, you immediately showed sakusa and was quite amused

♡ in fact, he found it so cute that he gave both you and the toddler a lil’ kiss on the cheek, as a parting gift — mask off and everything

♡ he ended up reading the story and the kid fell into deep slumber by the time he reached the second page

♡ letting out a sigh of relief, sakusa slumped onto the ground, allowing his own eyes to flutter shut for a moment, “what a day.”

♡ you shuffled over to you could lay down beside him, “indeed it was, prince sakusa.”

♡ “shut up.” he teased, poking your rib slightly before absently intertwining his fingers with your own

♡ next thing you knew, you were both awakened by the sound of a grumpy toddler...

[jenoismydad]

perfect.

pairings: Jeno x reader

note: i’ve been writing so many Jeno smuts its crazy, but thanks to the angel who requested this! also i think i’m gonna start using this format for some of my longer smuts. remember requests are always open! enjoy....

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jeno was perfect. And you weren’t. That’s why they say that opposites attract. As you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, you looked at your boyfriend, peacefully asleep, oblivious to the chaos in your mind. You didn’t deserve someone like him. He was beautiful and everything a woman looked for in a man. He was way out of your league and yet he was in love with you. You stared at yourself. Why you? You had average looks. Your hair was fine. You weren’t fat but you still had to go to the gym to stay in shape. You often wondered how someone like Jeno had even noticed you. It could have been anyone, but it was you. And that made you feel terrible. What if the light hadn’t shone on you so brightly that day at the concert? What if it had been shining on the girl next to you? Then would she have been the girl standing where you were at this very moment? Your train of thoughts were abruptly ended by a strong pair of arms wrapping around your waist. 

You looked at his arms, trailing your finger across his prominent veins. He pressed a warm kiss to the nape of your neck, sighing as he breathed in your scent. “Good morning.”, he whispered, burying his neck into your shoulder. You didn't say anything, still a bit lost from your previous thoughts to really pay attention to him. This didn’t go unnoticed by Jeno who looked up to see you staring off into space. “Baby what’s wrong?”, he asked, concern lacing through his voice. You shook your head, not wanting him to know what you were thinking. He furrowed his brows and stood up straight, turning you around to face him. “Y/n? Are you okay?”, he asked, lifting your chin up so that you would  look him in the eye. You nodded and tried turning back around, but to no avail. He held your arms tightly at your sides. There was no escape till you confessed. “I know you're not y/n. Why don’t you just tell me what happened.”, he said. You met his gaze. “Its nothing too serious Jen. Don’t worry, I’m okay.”, you spoke. It was rushed and Jeno knew you were lying. “Was it something I did? Are you mad at me? I’m so sorry.”, Jeno said, panicking slightly. You cupped his cheeks and gave him a small reassuring smile. “You didn’t do anything, trust me. It’s just me. I’m the problem.”, you said, disheartened. Jeno frowned. “No you’re not! Y/n please tell me what's wrong? You’re scaring me a lot right now.”, Jeno confessed, holding you tighter. You thought it through. You could easily tell Jeno you had a bad dream and fabricate some ghost story. But Jeno would know you were lying. He always did. You couldn't brush it off because he wouldn't let you rest till you told him. You hesitated before falling apart. 

You didn’t know when the tears started falling, but they just did. All of the insecurities, self doubt and self hate poured out of your mouth as you revealed your chaos to Jeno. He felt terrible, almost as if he was the one to blame. He hated himself for not making you feel loved enough. As you finished emptying your thoughts out, you leaned into him, sobbing into his bare chest. He tucked his head above your own, repeatedly apologising for not being good enough. “I’m so sorry y/n, I can’t believe I made you feel like that. I swear I will never let you feel less loved by me.” You sobbed even more. You hated yourself for making him feel guilty when it wasn't his fault at all. Jeno had always showered you with so much love, but it was the thoughts in your head that fucked with you. 

Jeno pulled you away and wiped the tears off your face. “I love you.”, he whispered, leaning in to mould his lips with yours. The kiss was slow, laced with  passion. Jeno held your face carefully, as if he was scared of breaking you more than he already had. You latched yourself onto his neck, pressing your lower body into his. He held you close, trying to eat up all the space between you. The kiss soon became more wet and sloppy. Jeno tugged at the end of your shirt, sliding it off of your body and running his hands up and down your body. He pushed you back till your back pressed against the bathroom counter. He lifted you onto it, placing his hands at your sides. You pulled away for air, opening your eyes to meet Jeno’s. They were full of lust and admiration. He ran a hand over your swollen lips, caressing your face briefly before letting his hands trace down your neck, across your collar bones and finally into the valley of your breasts.  “You are literally so perfect. Why do you think I’d ever look at another girl when I can’t even take my hands off of you?”, he said. You couldn't help but let a tear fall. He wiped the stray tear and placed a chaste kiss on your lips, moving down to plaster love bites all over your exposed skin. You let your fingers comb through his soft hair, occasionally tugging at it when he’d suck harshly at your sweet spots. 

“I need you.”, you mumbled. Jeno looked up at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “I was wondering when you’d ask.”, he spoke against your lips, giving you a quick peck before helping you discard your remaining clothes as well as his. He opened a drawer pulling out a condom. He was about to tear it before you stopped him. You took the condom from his hand and placed it back where it was. “I want to feel you Jeno. All of you.”

Jeno growled at your request and lined himself up at your entrance, pumping himself a few times before slowly pushing himself into you. Wetness leaked out of you at the feeling of his cock stretching you out. You could sense the vein in his dick throbbing inside your heat. Jeno held your waist and looked you in the eye, before thrusting into you once again. He set a sensually slow pace so that you could feel every inch of him move in and out of you. Jeno observed every part of your face, from the way your lips parted in a silent moan to the way your face flushed with each thrust. You were ethereal to him, and he wanted you to know that.

He pulled out of you and flipped you around so that your knees were on the counter. Jeno placed a trail of kisses form your shoulder to your neck, biting your earlobe. “Look in the mirror baby.”, he instructed. You glanced ahead of you to see your naked body, Jeno standing right behind you. Your eyes trailed over the ever darkening hickeys that he had painted on your skin. “Those mean your mine. Only mine.”, he said, positioning you before slipping back inside you. This time Jeno’s thrusts were more powerful as he chased both of your highs. “Look at me baby. I want you to see just how I make you feel so good.”, Jeno said, meeting your gaze in the mirror. The sight of Jeno fucking you was enough to make you both cum. You moaned loudly, the situation turning you on greatly.

Jeno’s thrusts became increasingly rough, your breathy high pitched moans signalling that you were close. Jeno tugged at your hair, pulling your head up. His eyes bore into yours. “Cum for me now.”, Jeno instructed. With one last hard thrust you let your orgasm take over. The wave of pleasure washed throughout you. Jeno cursed at the sight, pulling out of you so that he could cum. You pushed yourself onto him, halting him completely. “I want you to finish inside me.”, you said, begging him through the mirror. Jeno wasted no time in re-entering you and giving a few sloppy thrusts before releasing his hot seed inside you. You let him ride out his high, pressing your back against his chest as he pulled out of you. The mirror had fogged up and a thin layer of sweat covered both your bodies. Jeno lifted you off the counter bridal style, taking you to the shower. He switched the water on and pulled you into his embrace. “You are literally perfect for me.”

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 18: Ancient -  Adulting: But Ghostly Chap. 2: The Chronic Age Changer

Screwing up in the Fenton Lab was a pretty normal regular thing, but screwing up in such a way to botch someone’s age and humanness without actually changing said age and humanness was a weird one. The trio mess with the school, ClockWork messes with everyone, and Danny? Well, he is the mess.

Sam and Tucker are effectively ransacking Danny’s closet for clothing. Considering he was the only one that worn clothing in the triple XL size even though he was a medium on a good day. Though Sam has some fish netting to work with, shit was stretchy as Hell. So she cut out the crotch of a pair to make for a decent long sleeve fishnet crop top. Thank the Zone her bra cup size hadn’t changed. She’d also ripped up one of Danny’s older SlipKnot shirts -why did he even have this? He didn’t listen to SlipKnot?- and fashioned a nice skirt out of it with safety pins. The arm sleeves made for nice little pockets. And by nice, she means bigger that what girls' clothing usually came with.

Tucker was pretty well feeling stuck with a pinstriped green sweater and Tripp pants that were way too bloody long. Oh well, the bottoms were already torn to shit. In fact, did Danny own anything that wasn’t in questionable to piss poor condition?

The two turning to Danny, rolling their eyes at him still wearing the sweater sweats combination from yesterday. Him nodding curtly at the mirror, “this will have to do”, before turning to his friends and jabbing a thumb towards the door. Both of them walking out with him to go get breakfast.

Maddie grins at the trio of ‘teens’, “sleep well? No problems with your bodies?”.

Danny grins, “nope”, and honestly? It’s a pure miracle he wasn’t wakened up by some ghost or another. Sam and Tucker both immediately pointing at Danny and nodding. Maddie grinning at them, “good. I’d like to give you guys a very quick check over before you head out though. If that’s alright?”, while setting the pancakes down on the table.

The trio glance at each other and shrug. Looking to the Fenton Matriarch and speaking in unison, “sure”, making her smile more as everyone -mostly Tucker- starts stuffing their faces.

-

The whole getting checked over thing had been smooth sailing and show precisely zero change, which was technically good. More or less anyway. Maddie waving bye to them as they head out the doors. Danny glances between his to friends, “so, the shit you telling your folks? Because I doubt just not going home even resembles a plan”.

Sam rolls her eyes at him, “that’s literally one of your emergency plans”.

“Sam, no one is going to try murdering us over this”, Danny tilts his head, “or at least now that we don’t look like ghosts anymore”. Tucker inspects his hand, “actually I think we do but the spray stuff just cast some illusion shit”.

“Tuck, if that were the case then my hair would feel like fire. It does not feel like fire”. Both his friends grimace slightly but nod in agreement. Though Tucker hums, “I think the illusion includes feeling. Because that would be one mind fuck otherwise”. Sam just groans loudly, effectively communicating that he should shut the fuck up.

Danny rolls his eyes, “anyway, I’m going to run off and see Clocky pretty well as soon as we’re out of sight of FentonWorks. Not like school matters much for me and they can’t be bothered calling my folks any more”.

Tucker points at him, “and we still can’t decide if that’s depressing or not. Though yeah, you go do that”. Sam nodding, “and really? This ‘adult’ thing could easily be used as an excuse why you’re not there and a reasonable one at that”.

Danny blinks, genuinely looking pleasantly surprised, “huh. Who would have thought I ever would have a really good excuse to use?”.

The other two deadpanning, “no one”.

Tucker throwing his hands behind his head, “but who the heck’s going to believe this at first anyway? I’m mean I know I’ve always been good looking but this? Ho boy those poor ladies”. Sam predictably smacks him.

Danny shoves Tucker gently, “honestly man?”, pointing at Sam, “it’s her that’s gonna shock people. Ancients, just the hair alone will shock”. Sam lifting up the end of her hair and muttering, “true. This is going to annoy the heck out of me”, which everyone’s laughs at a little.

Danny glances around before saluting his friends, “whelp, I’m off. Enjoy the Hell of school!”, then switching to an almost comically singsong voice, “🎵Well I’m off to see the wizard🎵“, then promptly falls through a purple portal.

Sam blinks, “I still can’t believe they respond to that”. Tucker snickers, “eh they just like making him break out into song randomly”. Sam just snorts at that as they turn to go the little ways further before entering the school doors to death-Hell.

-

Danny stretches his arms up before dropping them and grinning wide as he spots his mentor, who looks fairly pleased with themselves. “Enjoying the view?”.

“Very much so, Daniel”, ClockWork turns to him and changes to their child form, moving to shit on his shoulder. Danny eyeing them and chuckling, “damn Clockpops, you are tiny. I mean, you usually are in this form but now it’s like, extra tiny”. ClockWork just chuckles faintly, their small smile growing ever so slightly. Which makes Danny smiles himself before gesturing his hands up and down himself, “so....about this....”.

-

Meanwhile. Sam and Tucker walk down the Casperhigh halls getting stared at by every person which was only making the pair of them smirking. None of the teachers looked to be trying to stop them, so obviously Danny’s folks went and called the school. Which was surprisingly responsible coming from them. Neither are surprised when Valerie’s the first to ask what the literal fuck is going on here.

Valerie slams her locker closed as the two come up next to her to open their lockers. She looks them up and down, managing to sigh and scowl at the same time, “okay. What did Danny’s crazy parents do know?”.

Sam points at Tucker and blocks his face off with the locker door, “actually it’s bad luck Tuck’s fault”.

“They invented the stupid spray stuff! And they’re the ones who didn’t make an undo button!”.

Sam outright ignores him. “He knocked over some spray stuff that made us look like adults. The hair’s pissing me off, wanna help me whack it off in the bathroom?”. She didn’t seem to have nerves -ghost nerves but still- in her hair now, so it should be fine.

Tucker sticks his head over, “well I think I look great”, and nods curtly. Sam muttering, “switch places and then we’ll see how you would feel”. Which makes Tucker tilt his head, “I’d be a girl then. Which could be fun”, which of course gets him immediately slapped by both girls.

Valerie grabs Sam’s arm and starts dragging her off to the bathrooms, scowling, “looks like you’re only physically adults”. Making Sam laugh as they get into the bathroom, while Valerie produces a pair of scissors from somewhere. No one bothered questioning how or where she always magically seemed to get sharp pointy things. Sam and Tucker though, are pretty sure her suit just makes them with its nanobots.

Paulina and Star glance over and watch the scene of Valerie yanking out one of the under sink stools and starting to hack at Sam’s hair. Both popular girls grimacing. Paulina eventually sighs, “okay no, machetona (tomboy) honey. You use scissors like peinabombillas (someone who combs light bulbs); are you trying to make her a complete pescada (butterface)?”, and stalks over, Star leaning against the counter.  

Valerie and Sam both turn to roll their eyes at the popular girl, “are you offering to cut my hair? You?”.

Paulina rolls her eyes and huffs, but it’s a dainty pretty huff, “well you can’t have hair longer than mine. Think of how that would make me look? Basura (garbage). And I’m in here so people will simply assume I was involved in this current hair disaster, which would be even worse to be associated with. I want to be a hair fashion hairdresser you know. After all-”, flipping her silky smooth flawless hair, “-clearly I know a thing or two”.

Sam and Valerie exchanges glances, speaking in unison, “figures”, but Valerie does push the stool over to be in front of the mirror. Paulina producing her own scissor from her purse, they’re small nail scissors though.

Paulina looking her over and humming, “pixie cut that’s a little more high fashion? That would piss that annoying mother of yours”, it was no secret, the entire student body hated Pamela Manson, though Sam has no idea how they all still didn’t know her family was stinking rich. Neither did Tucker, Valerie, or Danny. But considering the school still hadn’t figured Danny out, they were probably just supremely oblivious... or stupid.

Star taps her chin gently, “if we had clippers then an undercut would really do it”.

“Her hair is thick enough for it”.

Both popular girls blink at Valerie producing one, Sam snickering, “I’m all for this. Fuck my hair up”.

Paulina sighs but motions for Valerie to come over and starts pointing out where to shave and where -for the love of everything- not to. Star speaking up again while digging in her purse, “well could also put that red moulding paste on the tips of a spikier look”, looking at Sam and Valerie, “we brought it for the boys to look more intense at the game”.

Paulina hums, “pretty sure Dash just wants to mess Fenton’s hair up with it”, pointing at Sam and Valerie, “but you didn’t hear that from me, chica (girl)”.

Valerie tilts her head at Sam, “where is that boy anyway?”. While Sam scowls at Paulina but answers Valerie, “doing shit with his parents to fix this. Also-”, pointing at the bottle of red, “-why not”, smirking, “I wouldn’t recommend going after Danny though. I doubt Dash could even reach Danny’s hair effectively”.

Valerie blinks and laughs, almost fucking up with the clippers, “so the shortest boy in the school is now the tallest? That is hilarious”. Sam just smirks.

The clipper noises wind up attracting curious girls in which just leads to a hair party in the bathroom. None giving a damn about first block. Meanwhile, the teachers are all just very confused and annoyed. They’d heard one or two of the Defect Quartet were involved though and thusly stayed the Hell away. Especially since none of them knew where Daniel was, meaning he might be involved. Mrs. Suspensekee was the most on edge about that considering she had both male halves of the quartet in her biology class and only one was here, his feet up on Daniel’s chair and getting his facial hair ogled by all the boys around; he was clearly enjoying it very much.

Kwan looks overly excited as he speaks, “goddamn that’s so manly! You guys so have to sneak this stuff to school. I want to know adult me too!”, which predictably encourages a round of cheers.

Tucker waves everyone off like he’s calming a group of cheering fangirls, “now now, it only works around Danny and does more than just adultify you”, finger-gunning stupidly, “also ghostifies you but we fixed that, not without getting a face full of ecto-weapons though”. That absolutely makes the entire class cringe, some even experiencing flashbacks to their own unfortunate run-ins with armed Fenton’s.

Jesse waves him off right back, “dude, I’m down to see ghost me too”, which gets more cheering. Nobody questioning why this stuff only works around Danny, he was weird, that was practically expected. Jesse pointing at him, “and does Danny have facial hair too?”, because honestly? no one could imagine that.

Tucker laughs, because again with the fire hair, not that he’s going to mention that. He’s not about to Danny-dude dirty like that, “he totally took after his ‘uncle’ for that. Rocking a spikey goatee”. He’s also pretty sure he saw Danny put his hair back in a low ponytail without even realising he was kinda copying Vlad. Maybe adult Danny looking slightly Vlad-like was a sign the guy’s current trend of not being a villainous psycho constantly was going to be a long term thing. Vlad surprisingly didn’t suck at being a mayor. Guy might get re-elected without overshadowing everyone. He knows Danny’s so going to have to have a talk with him over where all the funds came from to keep up with town repairs. Vlad was an experienced bank robber after all.

Mrs. Suspensekee has to snap for the class to pay attention at this point or nothing’s going to get done.

-

Danny blinks at ClockWork, “you’re joking? Seriously?”, and bends over laughing.

“Indeed I am, they were quite upset”.

Danny laughs some more, “to be fair, Dan getting free and looking human would be pretty upsetting”, sighing, “not that I really appreciate that I look just like him”.

ClockWork doesn’t look away from their screens, “he is you, Daniel. Personalities and choices may differ but genetics and bodies seldom do. You’ll have his suit too, excluding his cape, as an adult ghost as well”, continuing over the boys groan, “it is far better than the green accented monstrosity another timeline featured”.

Danny tilts his head, “oh? That bad?”, and walks over. ClockWork changing the screens to show him and Danny instantly cringes, “okay yeah that’s bad. Why would I do that? What would make me think that looks good? What’s up with the lines all over my neck? Ancients that clashes horribly. And what’s even the point of the wrist blaster? I can shoot ecto-beams already. And the green circle over my crotch? I don’t even want to know. Ew”. ClockWork chuckles lightly and nods in agreement.

ClockWork floats around and fiddles with things some, “how your suit looks isn’t truly up to you I’m afraid. It is much like your skin, a natural part of you that will grow and develop as you do. A human can alter the appearance by tanning or dying their hair, but it never truly changes. Ghosts, however, can not truly alter their base form at all beyond putting things on”.

Danny nods, “like Ember putting clothing over top or Skulker’s suit, right?”.

“Precisely”. ClockWork turns to face him, “now for your current appearance-based predicament, unfortunately your parents are correct, Daniel. This is not something they can correct. Unless of course, you feel like being a full human again”.

Danny immediately blurting out, “Zone no”, honestly? he probably couldn’t handle being a regular human again. Having to actually open doors to go through them? The shame. Having to walk everywhere? How barbaric. ClockWork smirks, “as I thought”.

Danny sighs and slumps down into the purple plush couch, leaning his head back comfortably, “so I’m stuck with this then?”.

ClockWork hums, “think about Dan and I believe you’ll come up with something”. Which makes Danny groan and grumble about never getting straight answers. “Though to answer your friends concerns, no this hardly damages time in anyway”, floating over and wagging their finger in his face, “if it did I would have showed up before your parents saw and that spray would have mysteriously disappeared”. Danny nods and waves his hands around, acknowledging that that was probably pretty accurate and probably should have been obvious to him. ClockWork does something close to a fond sigh and pats his head.

Both turning to the sound of shots, “CLOCKWORK!”. ClockWork turning to Danny, “sounds like it’s time you head back”, holding up a finger, “and I think I might just join you”, promptly changing to their child form and unzipping Danny’s backpack.

Danny screws his face up and starts laughing at ClockWork sticking their small head out of the open top, Danny picking up the backpack, “you know, I don’t think there’s a such thing as bring your ghost to school day, but fuck it, I’m making one”, both of them smirking while Danny puts on his backpack and ClockWork spins their staff to make a portal. The two disappearing through it over the backdrop of screaming Observants.

-

Tucker knocks over his third pan in home ec, tilting his head back and sighing, “being tall is slowly becoming a pain in the ass”.

Ms. Relish sighs, “language, Tucker. Though yes, I would appreciate only having one student that damages practically everything they touch”. Tucker holds up the pan, “but I didn’t dent it?”.

“Which thank you for, but do try to be.. more...”, the teacher trails off as a freaking giant of a man walks in.

Tucker looks around at everyone with a wicked grin splitting across his face, eventually bending over and laughing his ass off at Ms. Relish muttering, “hot damn”.

Danny makes a few facial expressions before settling on a smirk, “why Ms. Relish are you hitting on a student?”, and gives a very overacted charming smile. The teacher chokes, while the rest of the class put together the context clues and scream, “FENTON!”.

Danny bows dramatically, “the one and only”. Then moves to join Tucker, swinging his backpack off his shoulder as he goes. Tucker actually has to sit down on the ground to wheeze when freaking ClockWork pokes their head and arms out, resting their arms on the top of the backpack and throwing a small subtle smirk Tucker’s way.

Practically half the class mutters, “oh yeah that is so Fenton. The fuck is that kid doing”. While Danny waves everyone off over his shoulder, “ignore the little guy, they’re helping sort out some issues in exchange for hiding them from some ghosts annoying them”. The entire class blink at him and shrug after a bit, because come on? it’s Fenton. Lily grumbling, “of course he’d strike a bargain with a ghost”.

Tucker gets up and eyes Danny, “eyeballs?”, while the rest of the class continue to eyeball Danny; and Tucker a little bit but they were at least somewhat used to the guy being tall and sporting dreads. Danny being a brick shit house was a whole different story.

Danny has a ridiculously hard time keeping a straight face as he helps Tucker make the little stir fry dish -like always he was banned from actually touching the food due to multiple ‘food coming to life’ incidences- as everyone starts whispering.

“I can’t believe that’s Fenton, I feel like I’m committing a sin by saying he looks actually good”.

“Do you think literally anyone disagrees? ‘Cause the teach is totally right, damn. Puberty is gonna full body fuck Danny. Hot damn”.

“What the heck caused him to be so.. muscly though?”.

“I honestly wouldn’t even believe this if his dad wasn’t, like, the size of a freaking double-wide door. That man’s bigger than my little buggy car”.

“His dad could also throw your car. And have you seen his mom? Saw them at the swimming pool once and she had a solid pack of abs. Nice rack too”.

“Dude, no. How many times have I told you not to go after people’s moms”.

“Fuck. He could crush my head like a watermelon”.

“I just want to know if he even can use the muscles. Or is it just a looks muscular thing?”.

“Who cares. All I care about is seeing Dash and those other jock jerks cry and go home weeping and begging into their pillows to look like that someday”.

“I’m telling you, Dash is gonna have a beer belly. Totally gonna happen. And what? You gonna climb up to their windows to watch? Break in to collect their tears?”.

“Yes”.

“Doesn't your dad work for a Modeling agency? Should totally sneak a photo and get them to snatch him up early. Age matters you know”.

“Amber... you just want photos”.

“So?”.

“Think I should ask him if he, like, has some secret workout routine he does? ‘Cause no way that all built up in two or so years”.

“Dude, he probably doesn’t even know what he did to get that. You’ve seen that skinny ass twink in gym class, he does not work out. Probably started doing it hardcore after Dash really pissed him off or something”.

“Even if he did freaking steroids he wouldn’t build up that much muscle in two years, you idiot. And the kid makes a point to never change in front of others. Maybe he’s got stuff going on under his baggy ass clothing”.

“Oh fuck, wait, so you think that’s why he wears baggy ass shit? To hide it? But why the Zone would he do that?”.

“Why the Zone did he agree to bring a ghost to school? Why the Zone did he eat a screaming ghost Hot Dog? Why the Zone does he do anything. Don’t question Fenton logic, man”.

“Oh this so has to be his parents fault. Maybe started forcing him to work out to be a hunter. Not like his sisters going to take over their company or whatever”.

“His friends are all pretty fit too though, so must be some kind of group effort”.

“Goth chics always been fit af though. Tucker’s is surprising though. So maybe”.

“Oh whatever, I am so subscribing to whatever the fuck the Fenton family workout is”.

“Its ghost hunting, idiot. Wait, you don’t think-”.

Danny decides to butt in randomly at that, before people start getting ideas, “we have a helmet ghost fighting simulator thing. Makes for an okay workout on low mode”. Tucker pats his shoulder, seeing as the trio knew he never used that thing. No, all this was actual ghost fighting. Danny’s weird-ass biology probably played a part though. Danny was way more muscular than Tucker thinks a person actually can be. Someone would have to dedicate their life to being a muscle builder to achieve something close to this probably.

One of the girls hums, “they should sell that then. ‘Cause clearly it works. Mr. I Could Throw An Entire Brick Wall At Someones Face”.

“That is oddly specific”.

“Could he not?”.

“I didn’t say I was disagreeing”.

Tucker elbows Danny, “Sam got her hair cut by the way. She’s rocking the undercut again”. Danny quirks an eyebrow, “by who??? You cut like you’re drunk and Valerie is more experienced with curly hair I think”.

“Paulina”, Tucker raises and lowers his eyebrows rapidly with a smirk. While Danny raises both of his own eyebrows, “well damn, didn’t see that coming”.

ClockWork gives a cheery, “I did”. Earning chuckles and eyerolls.

ClockWork pipes up again after a while, pointing at the stove, “you're about to burn your food”. Tucker jumping a little, “what? Oh shit!”, and yanks the pan off the stove promptly burning himself and thus shoving it at Danny in a panic, “here! Mr. Cold Touch”. Though due to Tucker’s longer arms he winds up smashing the pan into Danny’s chest and dumping everything on his chest.

Danny stares down at the steaming stir fry covering his chest before dropping his arms to the side -one hand holding the hot pan and thus dropping whatever was actually left in the pan onto the floor- and gives Tucker a deadpan look, “really?”. Tucker bends over laughing immediately, though giving Danny his hand to chill; which Danny takes with an eye roll while mouthing, “you fucker”, down at ClockWork.

Ms. Relish walks over with a sigh, “put the pan in the sink before you burn yourself. And obviously I can’t mark this, but at least it’s not burnt”, that last bit sounds a bit sarcastic. So both boys shrug awkwardly at her; Danny does throw the pan in the sink though. ClockWork just smirks more, which the teacher makes a face at.

No one is surprised when Ms. Relish shoos the boys out, “I've had enough of your destructive tendencies. Out you go”. Though when Danny mumbles, “nice, now I can go change my stir fry covered shirt -fuck you Tuck”, everyone shoots up and over to the door. The teacher sighing and putting her head in her hands as the gaggle of teens poke their heads out the door and shush each other.

Danny and Tucker have their backs to the door but obviously know they’re being watched. Tucker elbowing Danny, whispering, “looks like you’ve got some adoring fans to please”. Danny blinks at him, “I feel like a stripper”, even ClockWork chuckles faintly as Danny hands off his backpack to Tucker.

Literally everyone gapes as Danny pulls off his shirt, rolls his shoulders, balls the shirt up like he’s very used to getting his shirts very messy, and looks over his shoulder to wink at them. Both Danny and Tucker bending over laughing right after while a couple girls fake faint, putting their arm over their foreheads and everything. The noise getting another teacher to stick his head out the door and sputtering in disbelief at Danny. “The Picture Of Dorian Gray! Put on a shirt Mr. Fenton!”.

Danny and Tucker exchange glances. Tucker chuckling, “I like how he doesn’t even need to question who you are”. While ClockWork pulls out a shirt from the backpack and hands it over. Mr. Lancer looking to the tiny ghost, “and for the love of Frankenstein, why do you have a pet ghost?”. The two boys absolutely laugh over that.

-

Valerie chokes in art class after checking her phone, someone having posted a photo of who was apparently Danny and with his clearly messy sweater off halfway. The sweater at least looks like something he owned. Her blurting out, “Danny what the fuck!?!? And how?!?!?”. Mrs. Remi just smiles to herself, Danny was one very interesting student to have. She likes interesting though. Oh yes she does as she watches him rush through the door, “I’m not late!”. Of course he actually was but she currently doesn’t care.

Basically the whole class sputters disbelievingly at the boy but not over his comment.

“WHAT!”.

“Oh Zone that wasn’t a photo edit”.

“Why do you have Thor’s voice? Better yet why do you get to have Thor’s voice?”.

“Holy damn”.

Mrs. Remi stands up, putting her hands on her desk and leaning towards the class, “alright, change of plans. Today we’re doing model studies”, pointing at Danny, “find a pair of shorts, a speedo, or strip”.

Danny blinks at her, “what???”.

She grins meanly, “it’s that or next month we’re having Mrs. Testlaff in here to do it”. The entire class immediately pales.

“Fenton get that sweater off now or so help me”.

“Dear Zone no”.

“For my sanity Fenton, please”.

Valerie stands up loudly, “off or I get the flamethrower. There are some things I don’t want to see”.

Danny just sighs, his life was some serious bullshit. Though Valerie might actually do that. Walking over to Valerie and dropping off his backpack, “you're watching them then, and not going murder happy”.

“What-”, Valerie cuts herself off at ClockWork popping their head out, also sticking out the end of their ghostly tail to wave. Valerie blinks, “what the fuck”. While ClockWork grins, “I’m providing the boy a little advice in exchange for some amusement. This has quite effectively infuriated some annoyances I have the slight misfortune of knowing”.

Valerie looks almost painfully slowly to Danny, “the fuck?”. Danny just smirks, finger-guns and disappears back out the door. Returning seconds later in shorts and just lets Mrs. Remi move him into poses all class.

Danny grumbles as class ends, “this was ridiculous and I feel judged”. Valerie walking over and shoving the backpack at him, “I don’t know why. Your body looks stupid good and that’s honestly freaky”, poking him after he pulls the backpack over his shoulder, “you are like a fucking rock. How, when, why”.

ClockWork pops out of the top of the backpack, “you are quite the rough one, aren’t you, Valerie Gray”. She squints at the ghost before looking to Danny’s face, “okay, and why did you tell It, them, whatever, my name?”.

Danny shrugs, “didn't need too”, glancing at ClockWork, who gives him zero sign to shut the fuck up, so he shrugs again, “they're omniscient”.

Valerie stares at him for a bit, “WHAT”. Making both boy and ghost chuckle and give slightly malicious looking smirks. Which she hits Danny over, “stop being creepy, and fuck, do you have fangs?”. Danny grins toothily over that. Her leaning up and forward, “well damn”. Making him laugh.

Danny readjusts his backpack to bring attention to ClockWork, who helps in that regard by messing up his hair, “and their all-knowingness is helping fix our ageing issues. Being all-knowing and shit, they know the fix which my parents do not”, glaring over his shoulder somewhat fondly, “not that the riddle has been all that helpful”.

Valerie blinks as they head to their last class, “so that’s why they’re with you? You’re bribing a ghost”.

“I already told you that. Less bribe, more equalish exchange of services. As for how this all happened”, gesturing his hand over himself as he skilfully avoids bumping into people, “pretty sure Sam and Tuck already explained”.

She scowls at him, “not that you idiot, the muscle. The height’s obviously your dad, but the rest? The Hell”. Danny honestly doesn’t know how to answer that, “well-”, he thankfully gets saved by Dash; which makes this probably the only time he’s happy to hear someone angrily shouting, “FENTON!”.

Danny very intentionally makes his voice noticeably deep and threatening sounding, “what?!?”, even putting a little fang into it. Even Valerie jerks a little.

Dash skids to a stop and just stares at him. So Danny quirks an eyebrow, sneering, “the fuck do you want, Dash?”. Dash blinks once, twice, and three times, “alright, I’ll bite. How?”, then scowling a little and seemingly regaining some of his lost bravado, “how’d a weak scrawny loser like you get to have this as your adult self or whatever your parents screwed up hairspray thing does”.

ClockWork leans over Danny’s shoulder, holding up a finger, “if I may, Daniel here is simply nice to you and lets you push him around. He’s been stronger than you for a while now”. Danny wants to smack ClockWork.

Dash immediately blurts out, “bullshit”. Danny rolls his eyes and points at Valerie, “Val could surplex you. It’s not that difficult. My dad can throw cars, Dash, and mom can kick a tree in half; this feels like this should have been expected”, rolling his hands, “and you’ve seen the shit Sam can do”.

Dash mutters at the ground, “that girl does scare me”, before looking back to Danny and glaring, “you ain’t no gym freak or anything, Fenton. Just a wimpy weak loser and losers don’t turn out like this. At best they wind up like the mayor, skinny suit-wearing and shit”.

Danny blinks and chuckles, “Dash? Vlad is lowkey ripped. Lean yeah, but he could whoop your ass so fast”.

Valerie gives him a funny look, “how do you know that?”.

Danny rubs his neck, “I may have been responsible for that whole incident where he got recorded on the news live naked”. ClockWork chuckles meanly while Valerie and Dash blurt out, “THAT WAS YOU!?!?”. Danny holds up a finger, “maybe. I’m not confirming or denying shit”.

Dash shakes his head and scowls, attempting to shoulder past Danny, who of course doesn’t move resulting in Dash muttering, “ow”, and very pointedly not rubbing his shoulder.

Valerie and Danny shake their heads but getting going to their class again. Valerie elbowing him as they sit down, “if your folks can’t make something to reverse this then why not something that can just make you guys able to change your physical ages at will or revert time to when you were younger”.

Danny blinks at her, “okay, how much thought did you put into that?”, that was actively creative and super out there. Ironic with ClockWork being here though.

She shrugs, “oh since Sam mentioned all this shit. Speaking of Sam”, she points at the door just as said goth strides through. Danny very pointedly looks her up and down, then whistling as she sits down. The faux hawk plus undercut did actually look good, the red tipping worked well too.

Sam rolls her eyes and shoves his head, then eyeballing ClockWork, “for the love of everything, why? Who are you trying to make suffer?”.

ClockWork looks to her and grins, waving a hand around, “everyone. I am rather Ancient, I get my kicks where I can”. Danny just chuckles.

After a while, Danny’s drumming his fingers on his desk and ignoring Mr. Trent’s constant glances. Thinking of it, Valerie had a decent idea. The time messing thing was probably a no go, somehow he doubts ClockWork would go for something like that. The age changing at will though...

Danny smacks his desk, “that’s it!”, making the entire class jump and snapping his desk in half. Him looking down at the broken desk, “shit sorry”. Mr. Trent just sighs and ClockWork pats his head. The whole class watching as he just shrugs and walks out of the class.

Sam, Valerie, and Tucker exchange looks and shrug. But Sam throws her hands up, Val chokes, and Tucker starts laughing as a little five foot four Danny saunters back in like the proudest thing ever with his clothing basically hanging off him. The rest of the class erupts into various freak-outs and descends into utter chaos. Mr. Trent is left grumbling, “I can’t wait till the lot of them get the Hell out of this entire school, please end my suffering”.

Sam scowling, “how?”. Danny smirks as he sits back down, leaning back, “modern problems, Ancient solutions”, leaning closer to Sam and Tucker, “also alternate timely ass could get up to all the age-related tomfuckery”.

They grimace a little but nod. Tucker throws his arm around Danny’s neck, suddenly noting how weird and funny it was how small he was, “guess we got to avoid your tiny ass now”.

Valerie looks at them and sighs, “do I even want to know?”.

The three exchange glances before smirking and speaking in unison, “no”; while the class continues to lose its collective shit in the background. How were they even supposed to explain that Danny’s evil older full ghost self could age shift meaning Danny just so happened to have that ability too? And that ClockWork, being a being that frequently age-shifted, was the best teacher, even if they basically did jack shit, for the ability? Plus, who would want to ruin the glorious beauty of the chaos going on around them right now with silly factual explanations? Bathe in the chaos. Accept that nothing makes sense. Regret baring witness to weirdo trio living up to their name. Worship Satan. Go nuts.

ClockWork, meanwhile, has slipped off comfortably back to their lair. Utterly unsurprised by the two Observants waiting for them with steam basically boiling off their eyes.

End

[doog20]

Fathers, they mould us.

Yakuza, a shaping story

Yakuza LaD spoilers leave now or get shot by Sawashiro, you have been warned.

I been playing yakuza LaD for a while i took a long break bc i got stuck on the Majima and Saejima fight but then i beat them last night and went on to the scene right before the death Arakawa you know the one with dutch angles and stuff. yeah that scene really made me nervous.., like they held shots and things that made me think "oh shit he is gonna die" and then you get that call and it isnt a surprise that he is dead and to put the nail in the coffin (GOD THAT PUN WASNT INTENDED) they show you the body unlike other yakuza characters that die off screen.., looking at you yakuza 5 you know what you did. and that whole interaction is about how Arakawa had a dream about how Ichi is really Aoki and in a weird way he is.

right as all of this unfolded i was dming my friend and they perfectly encapsulate me feelings on the matter. it is just me sending a message to my friend saying something like "HJSHSKJLKS HE IS DEAD SJKSHJS" and them sending back "HSHJSJSHSHG YEAH and then a gif of a crying cat" this is how we communicate, it is highly evolved and i dont expect you to understand ahaha. Sawashiro it turns out is Aoki's father and Ichi's dad is none other than Arakawa-San. Sawashiro explains that that he met a woman whos name he doesnt remember and they play house for a bit and she falls pregnant and they try to forget about it, preying for a miscarriage, oh boy i was done when he said that it just broke my heart. but the baby ends up alright and the woman without a name gives birth in a bathroom of a convenience, she looks after the baby and he couldnt give a fuck, not bc he doesnt care but bc he needs to not care to survive, eventually they decide to leave the baby in the a coin locker and at the very same time Arakawa-San's partner says that she has left their baby at the very same coin locker so he rushes over. Soon Sawashiro and the woman come back to see a crazed Arakawa smashing the coin locker with their baby in it and before they can ask why, he has broken in, grabbed the baby and run off with it. a few moments later 2 men come by the coin lockers just as frantic as Arakawa was, they check all the coin lockers and find one with the key still in and inside is the baby boy of Arakawa, the 2 men that came passed were Ichi's dad and his friend looking for one of their worker's babies. the 2 babies got switched.

It shows so much in retrospect, it makes everything make so much more sense, why Sawashiro was such a Aoki loyalist, he in a weird way just wanted to make it up to his son, and its often said throughout the game that he is soft on the Young Master, and it makes sense. it also explains why Arakawa was so willing to cut off a finger for Ichi, bc he knew that Ichi was his son, whether this was in his heart or in his head i dont know, but i have a feeling that he knew from the second he met ichi. Ichi in throughout this game looks for a family, whether it is with is friends or trying to find his father figure in Arakawa-san, its all for family, but over and over he gets betrayed (Nanba) and his world gets twisted (Arakawa) but instead of letting it change him he sticks to his guns and stays cheerful to seek the truth out. it would have been really easy to forget about them, in fact he is told to do so, but he doesnt do that bc it would go against his core. and in the end his decision not to stop believing in them bares fruit. with Nanba it turns out he is doing all this for his brother and in the case of Arakawa he is doing it for the greater good of Ijincho and Kamurocho. If Ichi had give up, who knows how some of these things would have ended. I think all of these things hit so hard for me bc i have such a good relationship with my dad, yeah sure there are a few problems here and there but we are solid, when i heard Sawashiro talking about praying to get rid of the baby i couldnt help but cry my eyes out, its just so awful to think about, and its really easy to cast judgement onto those that do that, but what other choice did they have, honestly they could do nothing other than that all the games have so many themes and things but there is one core theme that i think is they most show off in these games and its... fathers, whether they are biological or not they are our fathers and they maybe abusive or they maybe distant or just non existant, it doesnt matter, they make us who we are, but just bc they make us who we are doesnt mean we cant break free from this mould. but now which path do you pick, do you stick with the mould or do you break out?

OH i almost forgot, the other lesson, silly me. the other lesson is that AV actresses are everywhere and they work in very weird places and for us to find them we just need to open our eyes ;)

[uk-news-talking-politics]

'As far as I care, you can sleep in your car': The Corona tenants

By Chaminda Jayanetti

"As far as I care, you can sleep in your car."

Maria had just discovered what it means to be a tenant in the time of corona. It was June 5th and her landlady was ordering her to move out of her lodging that very day.

Just 24 hours earlier, she had given Maria a month's notice to leave, accusing her of using too much water when she washed her hands in line with government advice, and of damaging the property.

Now all of a sudden, she was being summarily kicked out.

"I was feeling all the emotions at the same time," Maria says. "I was scared, I was anxious, I was confused, I couldn't believe what was happening. I wanted to cry."

Maria had been lodging in the house in Bristol for three years when the pandemic hit. Despite there being five other occupants, the landlady blamed her alone for the rising water bill.

"She would be literally breathing on my neck [when I washed my hands], checking on how much water I'd use. She kept watching me all the time," Maria says.

"One day she came up to me and shoved the water bill in my face. She wanted me to pay £300 extra."

On June 4th, she gave her a month to move out after accusing Maria of deliberately damaging her bedroom window - "Why would I damage my own window?" Maria asks - and the next day, she called her into the bathroom they both used and unleashed an even more bizarre accusation.

"She points at the ceiling in the bathroom. And she's like, 'oh, what is that?' I was like, 'what do you mean?' 'Oh, there's black mould on the ceiling'.

"She accused me of pouring water and bleach on the ceiling on purpose to damage the property. That's what she accused me of. Why would I do that? Like, that doesn't make any sense.

"She said I'd have to leave the house immediately, and I looked at her and I was like, 'why would I damage the bathroom on purpose?' And she's like, 'no, you have to leave now or I'm going to call the police'. And I was like, where am I going to go?'

"I go, 'you can't put me on the street in the middle of a pandemic'. And she said, 'as far as I care, you can sleep in your car'.

"And the worst thing about it is she's a nurse."

Private rented tsunami

Despite everything, in some ways Maria got lucky - she was able to stay at a friend's place for a week before finding a new long-term tenancy, though she has little hope of getting back her £420 deposit.

But the situation facing tenants is perilous. Amid a crisis exacerbated by underlying inequalities, lodgers like Maria face more inequality than most, with few legal rights or protections. But even renters with long-term tenancies face a multitude of threats.

Politics.co.uk has heard of numerous cases of rising rent arrears and illegal evictions since lockdown began. Vital repairs have been delayed, with one block of flats left without running water at a time when personal hygiene is paramount. Some landlords have even tried to put the rent up in the middle of the pandemic.

Many migrants are at particular risk due to their insecure legal status and lack of access to benefits.

"If you are undocumented or you don't have the right to be here, then obviously that makes it a bit more complicated, because the landlord, if they know that, they hold some power over you - so whether you're going to stand up to them is another matter," says Fizza Qureshi of Migrants' Rights Network.

And then there's section 21.

Section 21 is the 'no fault' eviction route. It allows landlords to kick tenants out for any reason, as long as the correct procedure is followed and three months' notice is given.

The government suspended legal evictions at the start of lockdown, first until 23rd June and then until 23rd August.

But as incomes fall and rent arrears rise, section 21 eviction notices have been piling in, ready to take effect once the evictions ban is over.

“Nobody should lose their home because of coronavirus," says Polly Neate, chief executive of Shelter. "But if the government fails to act, tens of thousands of renters who’ve lost their livelihoods will soon face this terrifying prospect.

"When the evictions ban lifts on 23rd August, anyone in rent arrears could face automatic eviction from their home. This could unleash a tsunami of homelessness that councils would struggle to cope with."

Aidan Cassidy of Acorn, which campaigns for tenants' rights, says he is aware of 10-20 cases of landlords issuing section 21 notices during lockdown, just among Acorn's thousand members in Bristol.

"Due to coronavirus and the whole load of financial issues that it's caused, a lot of people have missed rent payments," says Cassidy. "Lots of landlords have unfortunately decided to act without any sort of thought for the wellbeing and health of their tenants, and have essentially evicted them or given them a section 21 notice because of these rent arrears."

One such case is an elderly self-employed handyman who can't work during the pandemic and has faced delays to his benefits, leaving him £150 in arrears on his rent.

It's a relatively small amount - but it's proved enough to trigger a section 21 notice.

"Instead of the landlord being sympathetic or reasonable, he's just said, 'no, we're not even going to talk about this, you've got three months to get out'," says Cassidy.

What makes this even worse is that he has chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, a lung condition that makes it hard to breathe and places him firmly on the 'shielding' list of people at heightened risk from coronavirus.

"Obviously if he is now evicted, he's at massive risk," Cassidy explains. "There's absolutely no way he can go about his normal business looking for a new place. The lockdown might be over but the virus is very much still out there and I think any suggestion that life is back to normal for people who are very susceptible to coronavirus is just nonsense."

And evictions have a sting in the tail that increase the risk of enduring homelessness.

"If people are evicted with rent arrears under section 21, the landlord can then take whatever they can off those arrears from their deposit," says Portia Msimang of Renters' Rights London. "So people are left with no deposit with which to get another property. And this is how people fall into homelessness."

It's raining rents

Short of eviction notices, rising rent arrears are a looming crisis. With the economy likely to be hamstrung for months to come, many tenants will be financially squeezed while landlords come knocking for missed rent - one of the biggest sticks of dynamite in a bulging debt timebomb also comprising utility bills, loans and council tax.

"The biggest problem we've faced is people saying that they're worried about getting behind on the rent. And those that are getting behind on the rent aren't getting the help they need from landlords," says Caitlin Wilkinson of Generation Rent.

The Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) calculates there were 11 percent fewer rental payments in April and May than a year before. Both the debt advice service StepChange and the Resolution Foundation think tank have estimated that just under 600,000 tenants in the private rented sector are in arrears, while Generation Rent says arrears have trebled.

The government has boosted Universal Credit, reversing years of cuts - but still not enough to cover average rents in a local area.

It has also advised tenants to negotiate rent reductions with their landlords - a laughable prospect for many tenants. Acorn branches report occasional successes, but for the most part landlords hold the whip hand in Britain's housing crisis and don't want to know. The IFS has found only one or two percent of tenants have received a rent holiday.

Biting back

What makes the situation particularly egregious is that the Tories promised to abolish section 21 evictions in their 2019 manifesto. Yet nothing has happened.

A statement from the ministry for housing in response to this article did not specifically mention a ban on section 21: "We are committed to bringing forward legislation to enhance renters' security as part of the largest changes to renting in 30 years.

"We are working with the judiciary to ensure when evictions proceedings start again, arrangements, including rules, are in place to give appropriate protections for those who have been particularly affected by coronavirus.”

Most organisations campaigning for renters' rights agree on the need to increase Universal Credit to cover average rents, and scrap section 21.

The issue of arrears is more contentious. Forcing landlords to waive rents and cancel arrears may contravene the Human Rights Act - one reason Labour dropped this approach under Keir Starmer, sparking anger from campaigners who fear Labour's new policy would leave tenants with unpayable debts.

Generation Rent's solution is to effectively extend the government furlough scheme to landlords, covering 80 percent of their monthly income up to £2,500 a month per tenant - with councils able to restrict the payment on the basis of need.

Then there are rent strikes. Heather, in Haringey, lost her work income during lockdown. After her landlady refused her request for a rent reduction, and with benefits not covering the shortfall, she got involved with the London Renters Union and simply stopped paying. She hasn't heard from her landlady for two months.

"For me it's not just a means thing," Heather says. "It started out like that, but now it feels much more like part of a movement against landlords, against this culture of people accruing lots of wealth by not actually paying anything into the system."

And this is a feature of Britain's economic response to coronavirus. Employers have taken a hit. Workers and tenants have taken a hit. But landlords, the part of the economy that produces the least value, have had the most protection of all.

The names of tenants have been changed in this article.

Chaminda Jayanetti is a freelance journalist. Follow him on Twitter here.

[aboysbestfriendishismum]

Chapter 55 – Wine, puzzles and Spoon Men (Part Two)

In the previous chapter: Meg and Angie go shopping for wine, food and sexy clothing for the romantic date with Eddie. They also discuss a sketch made by Meg for a tattoo based on the puzzle concept. Eddie arrives at Angie's apartment as she's at the window, trying to open a wine bottle with the help of a boot because she's got no corkscrew. The evening goes on quietly despite the fucked up heating system, Eddie's emotional turmoil caused by the half nakedness of Angie and her legs, and embarrassing moments, but it's also time for some intimacy between them. Angie thinks that the date she planned so well, has now turned into a disaster. Eddie can't read the mixed signals she sends to him, since one minute she teases him and one minute later she backs up. He suggests once again telling someone, maybe Meg, about their relationship.

**

"Come back soon though, ok?"

"Yeah, sure" as if it made any difference. One look at Eddie, at his half closed eyelids and his hair spread on the pillow, and I get up from the bed to go to the bathroom. I find myself face to face with the huff and puff version of me in the mirror, I open the cabinet on the left and grab the cotton pads and the make up remover. As I clean my face and see the make up pad become dirtier and dirtier I think about how useless the whole initial preparation was. What was the point of making myself pretty... well, trying to... if it led to nothing? I thought this could be the right time but then, when we got to bed, after kissing for a while, Eddie calmly pointed out I had still makeup on and that it seemed strange to him that I wasn't going to remove my make up before going to bed, since I'm always 'so meticulous'. Meticulous my ass! Everything went wrong tonight: the wine fell out of the window, the romantic music was turned off almost immediately, candles and flowers? No one gave a fuck about those. Nor for the t-shirt, no comments about it... and now? He even told me to go and remove make up. Congrats Angie, you surely impressed him. I throw the dirty pads in the bin and since I'm here I decide to brush my teeth.I look in the mirror as I try to sync the movement of the toothbrush with the one of my sad head-shaking. Do you really believe that with one wine bottle more Eddie would have had sex with you? Are you sure that putting on a different album you'd have had Eddie throw himself at you as soon as he got here? Or that the slutty nightgown Meg suggested would have turned him on more? Can't you see the problem is not in these stupid things, neither in the kind of flowers or in the color of your lipstick? You can put lipstick on a pig... but it's still a fucking pig. It's so evident he doesn't like me, Eddie can say whatever he wants with words but his actions send a completely different message. I rinse my mouth, towel my face, put the toothbrush back into the blue glass and, as I notice the face cream jar right next to it, it's like a supernatural creature suddenly showed up to me, not the ghost of Hamlet's father, but Meg, hands on her hips, saying stuff like '... anti-age creams are bullshit to make money. The only way to delay wrinkles is moisturize and keep your face off the sun...'. I moisturize a lot with this sweet scented stuff, slapping my face a little in the process with the pretext of letting my skin absorb the product well. I turn off the light and go back to my room. Eddie is turned the other way and he's probably already sleeping. And he suffered from insomnia. Since I started hanging out with him, I've never seen it taking him more than ten minutes to fall asleep: either he's a liar or I cured him. I get into bed and pull only the sheet up because it's still hot. At this point Eddie rolls over in the bed to face me, he kisses me on the cheek and rests his head on my shoulder. He also reaches out and tries to touch my belly but I promptly block him and place his hand on my hip. Looks like it all took me less than ten minutes.

"Uhm... so good..." Eddie kisses me all over the right side of my face, basically nibbling on my cheek.

"Do you... do you like it...?"

"I love this scent. And then... you're all so... creamy..." I try and not react because, I mean, it's not like you can only take the pieces of me that you like: either you like all of me or nothing, take it or leave it. But Eddie's arguments are very convincing as always and I end up rolling in the bed with him N times, a little on my side, a little on his side of the bed. And I'm even more at Eddie's mercy here, in the almost total darkness of my room, since I can't see or anticipate his moves, which surprise me every time. Why does it feel like he has, I don't know, ten hands? Why does he touch me like that? It should be illegal. It's too good not to be illegal.

We roll again,Eddie ends up over me, there's a lot of passion going on and a very small amount of fabric covering us and... and Meg is really anasshole and I gotta beat her up one day because I blame her and the stupid things she said this morning if now I have to bite the hell out of my lip not to laugh at Eddie's face. I can almost see her, standing here at the end of the bed, folded arms and smart ass face, as she's asking me What about now? Is he dying once again?

"Angie?" Eddie's deep and panting voice wakes me up from my silly thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Where are you?"he asks me and doesn't stop moving over me but simply takes it slower, making it all even more intense if it's even possible.

"What... what do you mean? I'm here"

"Physically. But your mind is somewhere else" ok, how can he do it? How can he know it? Can he see in the dark like cats and saw me making one of my weird faces? Can he read my mind? Considering my thoughts right now, I hope not.

"It's your fault... you... you make me dizzy"

"Oh really?"

He's dying pretty bad, isn't he?

Shut up, you jerk!

"Well, yeah" I answer and my eyes are getting used to the dark too because I can see clearly both the color blue of Eddie's eyes and the sparkle that briefly lights them up and sends some kind of smirk to his irresistible lips. I touch them with my fingers and he kisses them one by one, before attacking my mouth once again and I can't reason anymore, I can't think of anything that's not his breath, his skin,his hair tickling my neck, his teeth, his hands that... god, I...

"Wanna sleep?"

"Huh?" what did he say? Wait, when did he stop kissing me.

"I said, do you want to sleep a little?" he repeats and this time I can hear him, and I feel him stroking my hair as I can only see white dots in the dark.

"Ok" I reply.

I'm such a loser. I fall for it. EVERY. FUCKING. TIME. But this mess must end: either we're friends or a couple. Either we have sex or we don't have sex. I mean, either we have sex or we do NOTHING.

He took his time to die, didn't he?

Fuck you, mental projection of Meg!

"Do you have to wake up early tomorrow? I'm asking you 'cause I gotta mentally prepare myself to your killer alarm clock" he jokes and I'd really knock out all his beautiful teeth with a punch right now.

"Not that early, the killer alarm clock rings at half past eight"

"Hehe wow, I'm lucky then" he laughs and rolls away from me, lying on the other side of the bed.

"Right. So... good night"

"Good night, Angie" I feel him crawl under the sheets towards me, he rests his forehead against my temple and takes a deep breath. I basically squeeze my eyes shut and hope to fall asleep soon "Angie?" but Eddie nullifies my plans by calling me again.

"Yeah?"

"What about the good night kiss?"

"Haven't we kissed good night already?"

"I don't think so, when?"

"Like... two minutes ago? And we kissed more than once?" I stay still and keep my eyes shut.

"But those where another kind of kisses, they weren't good night kisses"

"No?"

"No"

"Is there a specific type of kiss for saying good night?"

"Sure. And they even gave it a name, you know? Someone calls it... good night kiss"

"Very original"

"Can I have one?"

"One what?"

"One good night kiss"

"Ok"

"Ok?"

"Ok, let's go with the good night kiss" and I said I was quitting a moment ago.

"Yeah?" Eddie's breathing slowly agains my cheek, it seems like he's almost holding his breath from time to time.

"Yes, you can kiss me" Resolve is my second name.

"Uh. I can" he says with a weird voice. One second later his lips are on mine for a peck, then he turns away on his side "Night"

"Good night Eddie" was that all? Well, it's better this way, isn't it?

**

I'm alone. Ok,Eddie's here in bed with me, but it's like I'm alone. I keep on tossing and turning between the sheets without getting any sleep. Now I've been lying looking up, in complete silence and perfectly stil lfor at least five minutes, focusing on the ceiling in search for something interesting. If I were at home in Idaho, now I'd have Frou Frou to talk to, my favorite humidity stain/little horse/imaginary friend. I inspect the cracks in the plaster trying to assign them a known meaning, the shape of a person, an animal, a random being I can legitimately ask a question a grown up would ask. Not that the things I told Frou about were only children stuff but I honestly can't picture myself asking my childhood's imaginary four-legged friend why my boyfriend doesn't want to fuck me. Or I should say, why my friend who's not attracted to me keeps on playing the girlfriend and boyfriend game. If I ask myself the same question, well, I already know the answer. I need a fake external interlocutor who can balance my insecurity saying that maybe it's not me, maybe he can't just forget his ex or he's got some intimate problem or he's simply asexual and doesn't know how to tell me. Those mould signs, don't they vaguely resemble a salamander? Couldn't the salamander tell me some of that bullshit? So I could then retort that fussing with complicated theories is just stupid when the answer is almost always the easiest one. I mean, to come up with the Occam's razor in a more convincing way, I need a cross-examination, a debate, I can't do all by myself. By the way, rather than a salamander, it looks more like a fish. Umph, maybe I'd better close my eyes and try and get some sleep. I turn on my side again, looking towards the door.

"Is everything ok?" for a moment I almost think it's Patti Smith's poster speaking, only with a sleepy and very more masculine voice.

"Yes, Eddie"

"Can't you sleep?"

"No" and neither can you, I'd say.

"I could open this window too, what do you think?"

"No, I mean, we shut down the radiator. And we've already opened the window in the other room, I don't want to catch a chill"

"Ok"

"I'm not warm anyway"

"Don't you?"

"No. What about you?"

"Uhm no, I'm fine"

"Ok then" I say and hope he'll stop right here and go back to sleep. I can't wait to hear him snoring.

"Why can't you sleep then?" holy shit...

"I don't know..."

"Is there something wrong?"

"No" I answer, maybe a little too quickly.

"Are you sure?"in the semidarkness I can see my boots at the end of the bed and the urge to use one of them to hit his head and knock him out is strong.

"Yes"

"Sure sure?"stronger and stronger.

"There's nothing wrong, Eddie, really. I don't know... maybe I had too much to eat, maybe it's just the thoughts, you know..."

"Which thoughts?"of course he must focus on the second part.

"Normal thoughts,about normal stuff" we're dangerously close to my tolerance limit.

"Like what?"

"Like things I have to do tomorrow"

"What do you have to do tomorrow?"

"Normal stuff, like... grocery shopping, paying the rent, cleaning the windows"

"You don't have enough money to pay the rent, right?"

"Sure I got the money!"

"I can't see what's keeping you awake then" the danger is getting closer.

"'Cause there's nothing wrong, I told you"

"Other thoughts?"

"No"

"Are you sure?"once you cross the limit, you can't go back.

"No. Well, there's one problem actually"

"Really? What is it?"

"IT'S THAT I'M FUCKING SICK OF THIS FUCKING SHIT, EDDIE!" I blurt out as I switch on the lamp on the nightstand and sit up on the bed.

"Angie wha-"

"CUT THE BULLSHIT, I'M FUCKING DONE WITH THIS!" I yell at his face again, startling him and making him and the mattress under our butts tremble.

"Too many questions, huh? Sorry, I'll let you sleep..." Eddie looks kind of intimidated when he apologizes, because he can't understand shit of course, poor him. And that just upsets me more.

"SLEEP MY ASS! I DON'T WANNA SLEEP!"

"Ok"

"AND YOU WON'T SLEEP EITHER"

"Alright..." Eddie, who was about to turn away on his side, realizes it's better to sit up just like me. I'm breathing heavy and fast, I'm sulking and my arms are folded over my chest. From time to time our eyes meet, mine are probably crazy, his are perplexed, but nobody speaks for a long time. Eddie's the one who breaks the silence "Do you want us to talk about it?"

"Yes" I reply before a deep sigh "I think it's really time to talk about it"

"Ok"

"Ok"

"I'm all ears" I mean, he's doing on purpose, isn't he?!

"YOU'RE ALL EARS?? YOU ARE LISTENING TO ME?!"

"Uhm... no?" Eddie's trying hard not to lose his composure and look calm but he's failing.

"NO! I'm listening to you, I am the one who listens, you are the one who has to talk!" I try and take control back because I'm scarying myself.

"Me?"

"Sure, you owe me an explanation"

"How can I explain if I don't even know what you're talking about?"

"Why don't you want me?"

"Huh?"

"Why are you with me if you don't like me?"

"WHAT?" thi stime he's the one who loses his temper and launches a shrill cry at my face.

"You know it's true"

"Angie, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Why don't you wanna have sex with me?"

"Oh my god" Eddie looks down and holds his head between his hands as he shakes it.

"I mean, I know I'm not a hot chick but..."

"Angie"

"But you keep saying we're a couple and... if two people are a couple they're supposed to like each other, in every sense"

"I like you in every possible and imaginable sense"

"So... so why don't you show me?"

"I don't show you??" Eddie looks up at me as if I had just said the earth is flat or something.

"Why don't you wanna do it... with me?"

"Do you really think I don't want to?"

"Well, yeah ,considering nothing's happened yet"

"Angie, I'm literally dying to... I so want to make love to you"

"Then why don't you-" I actively ignore his choice of words.

"I'm only waiting"

"Waiting for what?"

"For you to be ready"

"Ready? But I am,I'm so ready!"

"I doubt it, Angie"

"Look I... I'm...I'm not a virgin anymore if that's what you think" the mere thought of being here having this conversation with Eddie makes me want to die but I can't stay in this limbo of uncertainty for ever.

"I know, I mean, I guessed..." he answers with a rather tense grimace and I can't help remembering the times he unwillingly caught Jerry and I in unmistakable situations "That's not the point"

"And what is it?"

"I don't think you're ready to do it, with me"

"Why?"

"Because you're not completely comfortable with me yet"

"Haha I'm never comfortable with anyone, not even with myself, that's how I am, it doesn't mean anything!" I let out a nervous laugh. If he's waiting for me to turn into Miss Self Confident before having sex, I might as well become a nun.

"It means a lot to me though" Eddie's still frowning and I try and be serious.

"I know. What I meant is that I'm always like this... I'm shy... that's the way I am, it doesn't mean I'm not happy with you"

"It's got nothing to do with shyness. Trust me, I know you're good with me, I can sense it. What I do not know is what you feel. For me. I mean, there are times I seem to understand it, but then maybe you do something that tells me the exact opposite and I just don't know what to do"

"What I feel?" like it's easy.

"Yeah"

"That's not easy... talking about feelings. You know I'm not good at talking in general"

"You don't necessarily need to talk, Angie, there are other ways to show you rfeelings"

"I always show you!"

"No, I always show you. You... you don't do anything"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DON'T DO ANYTHING?!" I raise my voice, spontaneously this time too.

"Angie, you...you don't even kiss me"

"I what?"

"You dont kiss me. Ever" what the hell is he talking about?

"That's not true!"

"Yes, it is. Since that first time at the bus station in San Diego up until the good night kiss earlier tonight. It's always me kissing you, you just reciprocate"

"I'm sure you're wrong. I must have kissed you... sometimes"

"Sometimes? Sometimes when?"

"I don't know, it's not like I remember every single time"

"Had it really happened, I'd remember, trust me"

"Eddie"

"That'd have been a historical event 'cause you never kiss me first. You never do anything first. You never take a single initiative with me"

"Well, ok... I admit that... maybe... since I'm shy, I often let you come up to me first to-"

"Often? I'd say always"

"I'm sorry" I'm so fucking embarrassed and his look becomes sweeter.

"You don't have to say sorry! I don't want your apologies, I only wanna know what the problem is and what I have to do to reassure you" he strokes my arm delicately and I can see he's trying to make me feel better but I feel worse.

"You don't have to do anything, you're not the problem"

"You don't kiss me, you don't even call me on the phone, unless you ask me on advance exactly when I'll be at home, when you can call me, when you're not bothering me and so on. When you showed up at my door with the cake before the concert, you made me so fucking happy"

"Hehe for so little?"

"Yes, because it's not that little"

"And what about tonight? Don't you think I took the initiative tonight?"

"No, not really"

"No? I had you find me basically half naked, dressed only with a t-shirt of your favorite band... I set up this whole romantic and sexy scenario, I even sabotaged the building's heating system... if that ain't an initiative!"

"You... you did what?"

Oops.

"I couldn't show up naked with zero degrees at home, you'd have thought I was stupid. I just wanted to turn on the temperature a little, 'cause if it's always freezing here it's not because the heating doesn't work, it's cause those asshole owners keep it low to save money! Then it's not my fault if the handle came off in my hands as I was turning it" I reveal my evil plan to Eddie who looks more and more surprised.

"So... making this whole mess is easier for you than simply, I don't know, I'll just say it... than simply tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you want to make love to me"

"Oh, that"

"How can you do it if you can't even say it comfortably?" I can almost hear Meg, who apparently hasn't left my bedroom yet.

"I told you, I'm shy!"

"Anyway, if you want my opinion, I wouldn't call yours an initiative. That's not taking the initiative. That was... trying to tease me so that I would then take the initiative, as always"

"I'm not the femme fatale who jumps on you and eats you alive, Eddie"

"You don't have to be! Well, unless you want to, in that case I wouldn't protest" he adds with a teasing smile.

"That won't happen, not even in my next hundred lives"

"Come on, I was just kidding. What I mean is that I'd settle for something much simpler"

"That is?"

"A kiss, Angie. A fucking kiss, which by the way you haven't given to me yet"

"We're talking"

"So what? Who cares, kiss me and shut me up"

"Like you did to me in San Diego?" I smile thinking about it.

"Yes, I want you to fucking kiss me. I want you to feel as free and comfortable as to kiss me, hug me, call me, slap my face whenever and however you want to, without any prior inquiries, announcement or permits on stamped paper"

"That's not easy for me"

"But why? Why can't you let yourself go with me?"

"Because... because I'm scared" it costs me a lot to answer, especially cause the answer is honest.

"Scared of what? Angie, I know we're just at the start and I know you had bad relationships before. I wanna be honest to you: I'm not a saint, I'm very far from perfection, I'm flawed and you haven't seen my worse flaws yet. But I really care about you and this relationship and I won't fuck up"

"Looks like I am the one fucking up" I sadly reply.

"Shut up! Why do you say so?"

"Well, we're discussing..."

"We're talking, we're not fighting. We're trying to understand why you don't trust me"

"I trust you"

"Not enough"

"Eddie, really, I do trust you. It's myself that I don't trust"

"Yourself?"

"I don't trust myself because Im scared. I'm afraid I'll make a mess and fuck it all up. Something I'm already doing"

"You're not doing anything, I told you we're just talking. That's how people solve their problems: talking. Or kissing. As I've been asking you for a while but you haven't done it yet..." Eddie elbows me trying to make me laugh and it works a little.

"Hehe here we are, I try to be serious and you make fun of me"

"I'm not making fun of you, it's an actual request. And it's still valid"

"Maybe I don't take any initiative because... because I'm afraid they're the wrong ones"

"Wrong?"

"I'm afraid of doing the wrong thing, making mistakes. Being too clingy, or not enough. Being too present or too absent. I... I don't do anything because this way I can observe you... and understand what you want"

"And what about what you want? Doesn't it count?"

"I... I want you, that's what really counts" it's like I hear someone else answering in my place and I could see this someone suddenly blushing profusely in front of Eddie, whose jaw drops as I speak.

"Oh Angie..."he takes my face between his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes"I want you too, I want you as you are and I wouldn't change a single thing. I just wished that you weren't afraid of being yourself when you're with me. And that you kissed me whenever you want to. Or whenever I ask you. Something that, I don't know if I mentioned it already, you haven't done yet"

"If it was up to me, I'd always kiss you, Eddie"

"You say it like it's a bad thing" he stretches his thumbs to stroke my cheeks.

"No, you don't understand. When I say always, I actually mean always. I mean, I guess you looked at yourself in the mirror a thousand times but I don't think you did it with the same eyes I have when I look at you"

"Ok, so I look good and you want to kiss me" he takes his hands off my face and shrugs.

"It's not about beauty, something you're not short of anyway. It's like... I mean, your mouth... ok you use it to do a lot of things... talking, singing so good, drinking and eating... but your lips, it's like they're calling me, repeatedly, and not to have a chit chat"

"No?" he looks at me so smug and pleased with himself.

"No. And it's not like your lips are made for kissing: your lips invented kissing itself. I mean, I haven't studied this aspect of history specifically, but I believe people didn't use to kiss on the lips until somebody appeared on the planet who had lips like yours. And at that point evolution just followed its natural course"

"Is it a contorted way to compliment me?"

"It's a contorted way to tell you that if I really let myself go, as you want, I'd glue myself to those lips like a fucking plunger and I most likely won't let you do anything else and I couldn't do anything else either and we'd end up losing consciousness like Marina and Ulay. Only we're not artists, I mean I'm not, and we couldn't live off this kind of art anyway, we'd only look like a couple of jackasses" and so it happens that I try and let myself go and get anxious, and when I get anxious I start bantering random stuff without even taking a breath. And talking about breath...

"Marina and who?"

"And Ulay. Breathing in/breathing out, never heard about it?" Eddie shakes his head no "It was a performance art piece. Marina and Ulay are two artists and used to be a couple too. One day they decided to stick cigarette filters up into their nostrils to block them and press their lips together in a suffocating kiss, exchanging carbondioxide mixed with that single initial dose of oxygen, which was consumed in a few minutes, that led them to almost faint"

"Hehe you make me lose my senses even without nose plugs, so I say we can do it" he laughs and I can't articulate my thoughts, it takes me so long to reply back.

"And what if I let myself go and you can't stand me? What if I become annoying? What if I kiss you when you don't really want to?"

"Angie, I'll tell you a secret"

"You're always telling me secrets"

"Yes, because I'm older and wiser"

"Hahaha please"

"So, the secret: the secret is, there ain't a moment I don't want to"

"There are appropriate and less appropriate moments"

"That simply don't exist. I can't think of a single moment I could even just think about not wanting to be kissed by you. I mean, they could tie me up and torture me, sticking needles under my fingernails and toenails, and I'd still want you to kiss me if you were there"

"You're so dramatic"

"I could have just been shitting razorblades for an hour or have undergone an appendix surgery without anesthetics. But if you came up to me to kiss me, I surely wouldn't turn the other way"

"Hahahaha"

"It's true, I'm not kidding. But also in a positive situation! They could have-"

"Haha they who??"

"Hey, I'm trying to make a point. What was I saying? Oh right, they could have just announced I won a Grammy, an Oscar or another fucking random award and maybe they're calling me on stage to accept it. But you're there and you're kissing me and I won't move an inch and I won't give a fuck about the rest. I mean, yeah, I'd care only because winning the prize would be another excuse for another kiss, only because of that"

"And what if the Cubs win the World Series?" that's too easy if it's about awards, let's talk about the things that really count for Eddie.

"All the more reasons to want a fucking kiss from you to celebrate the event! But I hope I won't have to wait for that event to actually happen for you to kiss me"

"You won't have to wait that long" I answer, shifting a little on the bed to get close to him.

"No?" he whispers.

"No" I get alittle closer.

"How long then?"he insists looking alternatively at my eyes and at my lips.

"A very short moment"

"Really?"

"Yes"

"Ok"

"Ok"

"I'm waiting"

"Just a minute! You're so impatient"

"Yes, I'm kind of impatient, you know? It's only..." Eddie stops talking and stares at an indefinite point behind my back, as he counts on his fingers at the same time, then looks back up at me "I've been waiting for this moment for three months"

"Three months?"I ask puzzled.

"Well, knowingly three months. A little more unknowingly..."

"What does unknowingly mean?"

"Weren't you just about to kiss me?"

"Eddie, what do you mean unknowingly?" I raise my voice a little, Eddie rolls his eyes and gives up and answers.

"I mean that, you know, it's not like I woke up one morning and decided I had a crush on you, it was something... slow and gradual"

"And it started more than three months ago?"

"It started the first time I saw you, at Roxy's"

"Please, you barely spoke to me! And you still were with your ex by then"

"Not really... anyway I said it started then... and still goes on. The first time we talked I started to get to know you and it's like you slipped inside of me, like a seed, which sprouted and then the bud would grow day by day. And the more I got to know you, the bigger the plant grew and the more I liked you. And when I figured out what was happening, it was too late because I was in too deep and the small plant had become a fucking tree"

"Haha a tree?"so I'm not the only one having non sense monologues when I panic.

"Yes, a fucking baobab, Angie. Now if only you could maybe stop laughing at my metaphors and kiss me, please"

"Ok"

"Ok. Can't you see you just can't do it although I'm literally asking you?"

"I can! Just a second, it's not easy this way... like... cold blooded"

"I think our blood is everything but cold right now, Angie"

"Alright, I'll kiss you now so you'll shut up!" I come up to him and put a kiss onbhis lips, then I look at him triumphantly "See?!"

"What the hell was that?"

"What do you mean? It was a kiss"

"And do you call that a kiss?"

"Sure! Why? What do you call it?"

"I don't call it,I didn't even notice"

"Oh so my kisses leave you cold, I see..." I'm about to back up towards my side of the bed but Eddie holds on my hips.

"They don't leave me cold, I know your kisses, that's why I'd want a real one"

"A real one, huh?"

"Yes, please"

"Something like... this?" I speak against his lips before slowly placing mine over his, delicately at first, then pressing them a little harder.

"Uhm... that's better" I give him a little break to reply, then I kiss him again, until I feel him sneak his hands under my t-shirt.

"No, you can't..." I block his hand and keep on kissing him, pushing him on his side of the bed and pulling and holding his joined hands up over his head, as if he was trapped.

"What did I do?"he asks and looks seriously worried.

"If I understand correctly, I'm supposed to take initiatives now, am I wrong?"

"Oh" his frown turns into a dimpled smile.

"So don't move, ok?"

"You don't have to actually do everything"

"DON'T MOVE, OK?" I repeat louder and his amused smile turns into something else.

"Alright, my princess" he answers and I let go of his hands and bury mine into his lustrous mane of curls, and then I kiss him so passionately that at some point I find myself straddling him without even knowing how I got there.

"So?" I pull away and he breathes hard with his lips still slightly parted. Then I sit up astride him "Was it ok?"

"Very ok..." he finally opens his eyes and uses them to burn me on the spot "You like me then?"

"Hahaha oh really? Brilliant deduction, Watson"

"Don't laugh" he grabs my thighs and shakes me as if he was trying to throw me off.

"Why? Didn't you know it"

"How could I know it?"

"That makes no sense. You obviously knew it"

"Obviously? Obvious for you. Had you been in my shoes, what would you have thought?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you were me, if you were the one who always had to take the first step. And I don't mean just the kissing... If you had to always search for me, call me... And if, at the same time, I'd also asked you to keep it absolutely secret and not to tell anyone we were together. And I had cautiously avoided hanging out and being seen in public with you, avoided showing even little more than friendly behaviour towards you in the places our common friends usually go to... If I hadn't told you a single word about my feelings or about us in general, unless on your specific request and with some pressure... In that case, what would you have thought? How would you have felt?" is like shit accepted as an answer? This reminds me of when I used to date that asshole called Drake. Well date is a big wo-... Wait a minute.

"Unwanted. Oh but you don't feel like that, right?"

Fuck.

"Not anymore. Maybe"

"Eddie, I..." I lean forward and pepper his face with kisses. His smile looks relieved but I feel like shit and I speak between kisses "I...didn't... think... that-"

"That I can be insecure too? Well, I can"

"I'm an asshole" I sigh and rest my head on his chest, stretching my legs until I'm completely lying over him.

"I'm the asshole because I should have told you before" he replies stroking my hair.

"Talking to me isn't easy, I'm always elusive. All slippery. I'm a champ at slipping away from difficult situations and serious talks"

"But you're not getting away from me anymore now" he hooks his legs around mine and blocks me in a trap I don't wanna get out of.

"I'm sorry"

"Stop saying that, ok? I didn't say it to make you feel guilty, I told you to make you understand why I couldn't make love to you"

"And now?"

"Now what?"

"Now... could you?" I pull my head up as much as to look at him in the eyes, which are amazing even in the light of my shitty lamp.

"I don't know, I'm not the one who takes the initiatives anymore"

"I hate you"

"That's not true"

"It is" I layback on my side of the bed and drag him with me, over me, grabbingthe hem of his t-shirt and taking it off in the process.

"Do you know what I found out, Angie?"

"What?"

"That I like it when you take the initiatives"

"Oh really?"

"I like it a lot" he repeats as I get rid of the Who t-shirt too.

"Good" I clasp my hands behind his nape and pull him towards me not so delicately for a long kiss, which turns into a long series.

At some point I find myself with my panties slid down to my knees and I can't give any scientific explanation to this phenomenon, because my arms remained around his neck and his hands stayed on my boobs the whole time. So either the friction and grinding made them roll down or Eddie has some extra hands or everything's just happened by magic. And I don't know what came over me, because while I try to take them off completely with one hand, I reach for the elastic band of his boxers with the other hand trying to pull them down. My gesture doesn't go unnoticed because it's like Eddie suddenly went nuts. He starts licking and biting on my face, lips, tongue, neck, on the left side, getting closer and closer to my weak spot and I can't think anymore and I just keep moaning. I briefly come back to my senses when I feel him humping against me again, this time with no fabric barrier, after pulling my legs apart.

"Eddie?"

"Yes?"

"Second... second drawer" I explain pointing left.

Eddie seems to calm down a little too, he caresses my face with the back of his hand, gives me a gentle peck on the lips than opens the drawer of my nightstand, finding the pack almost immediately. He pulls one out and hands it to me, before throwing the pack on the nightstand and plop down on the other side of the bed.

"Here" he says as I try to cover myself with the sheets as much as I can.

"What does it mean?" I give him a puzzled look.

"That you're the one who takes initiatives now, did you forget?" he retorts with those fucking dimples showing. And not just those.

"Oh that's the way it is now?" I try and look pissed.

"Yep"

"And will it always be like that?"

"Why? Do you mind?"

"Not at all" I can hear myself talking but I don't even know where all this confidence comes from. I stop asking questions and try to keep it and hold it tight as long as it lasts, as I force my lips against his and open the wrapper.

**

"Stop laughing" I can hear laughter vibrating in the depth of Eddie's chest because my ear is resting against it, I mean, is basically glued to it, since we're also kind of sweaty. I hope to avoid the vacuum effect, I don't really wanna ruin the moment by blowing out my eardrum.

"I'm happy. I laugh" he laconically answers.

"No, you're laughing at me"

"Why should I?"

"You know why" I pull away from me and lift my head up to look at him and I can see all his beautiful teeth showing.

"You're adorable when you cum, you know?"

"Sure, apart from the sounds I make"

"Actually, I was specifically referring to those sounds"

"The adorable strangulated wailing of a piglet butchered at the slaughterhouse?"

"Hahaha shut up!"he laughs squeezing me under the sheets.

"Of a squirrel squished by a car?"

"Or a squirrel on crack?" he quotes the name of my old and only band.

"Hehehe right"

"Wait: that's not the reason you were called like that, right?" he gets all serious  all of a sudden and seeing his face I think I liked him better when he was making fun of me.

"Hahahah oh my god! Of course not!"

"Are you sure?After all, your ex was in the same band..." he goes on and kind of sticks his tongue out at me right after.

"That's not the reason at all, it was a random choice"!

"Ok. Anyway, Ilike it, it's sweet. You're sweet" he relaxes and kisses my forehead.

"Sweet? So my attempt at looking hot, confident and sexy failed miserably?"

"Sweet is sexy to me. Sweetness is the thing that turns me on the most, you know?" he kisses me over on my temple and on my hair.

"Really?"

"That and the inclination to vandalism. And after tonight, I'd say you scored great in both"

"If they put cameras in the boiler room, I'm screwed" I hide my face against his chest once again.

"Don't worry ,I'll pay your bail"

"With what money?"

"Well, I guess we'll sell a bunch of copies of Ten, I hope"

"Ten?"

"It's the best candidate among the names for our album"

"Because it's ten songs?"

"Actually they'll be eleven, or twelve"

"So what's with ten?"

"It's Mookie Blaylock's number. We had to change the name but we gotta pay a tribute to him, you know"

"You're fixated" I shake my head before burying my face in the crook of his neck.

"Right now I have a different kind of fixation though"

"Oh really? And what is it?" I ask sincerely curious because I honestly think he's still talking about music. So he definitely catches me off guard when in a split second he grabs me and turns me over and pushes me on the bed, jumping over me.

"What do you think?" he asks with a euphoric expression as he mercilessly grinds against me.

"Again? Already?"maybe I react with too much surprise.

"What? What do you mean already?"

"No, nothing"

"Don't you want to? If you don't feel like, it's ok, really" he stops moving and I'd cut my tongue.

"NO, I WANT TO!"

"So why-" he's about to answer, not withough snickering for the heat of my answer.

"I thought it'd take you longer, I don't know! I've never been with someone... well, your age"

"Angie, ok, I'm older than you, but I'm 26 not 62" Eddie looks at me like I'm stupid and he is not that wrong.

"Details"

"I'll show you the details" he threatens and grabs at the sheets and pulls them upover our heads, covering us both completely.

"Wasn't I supposed to always take the initiative?"

"Your Majesty, unfortunately I have no option but to make an exception and give you a practical demonstration. May I?"

"Sir Vedder, please proceed"

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

"What about Butterfly girl?" Mike comes back to the table with two pints of beer in his hands, while Stone and Grace tag along, each bringing their own glass.

"Nuh, I don't know. It sounds more like the name of a fucking superhero or something" I answer unconvinced.

"Superheroine" Stone points out. Who else?

"Ok, it sounds like a fucking superheroine. Catwoman, Batman, Batgirl, Butterflygirl... you know?"

"Yes, thank you Jeff for your reasoned explanation. Anyway it's a fake demo, the titles of the songs don't have to make sense. Actually I think Cam doesn't even expect you come up with titles" during his observations, in which he doesn't forget to make fun of me, Stone keeps his arm over Grace's shoulders all the time and thank god Laura hasn't come here too. I'd have been sorry for Mike if he had to fifth-wheel, I mean, things haven't been going great for him lately.

"If he asked me to take care of the artwork of the demo, then it means the tape will be important in the movie" I explain what seems obvious to me. If this demo gotta have a certain image, it means it'll appear on screen at some point, so it has to look real.

"Oh sure, it'll surely be the most important part of the movie: the whole plot revolves around your demo, Jeffrey" Stone nods before taking a sip of his bear and I'm tempted to crash the glass on his head.

"Jeff is right! If it wasn't important, Cameron wouldn't have given him this task. He'd just take blank tapes and write the name of the guy on them in the moment... What's the name of the character again? You told me but I forgot" Grace chimes in to defend me and it's too funny watching Stone pretend this doesn't irritate him at all.

"Cliff Poncier"

"He's thrown out of his band and starts selling his five-track demo on the streets" McCready points out.

"And how many tracks do you have by now?" Grace asks again.

"Three, I've still got two" I show her the notepad in which I jotted down the titles and made a sort of sketch of the demotape's cover.

Seasons

Nowhere but you

Spoon man

... girl

???

"The fourth one... does it have to be about a girl?"

"Yes ,cause he's been dumped by his girlfriend too, not just by the band. Like every real loser musician, he vomits his pain in songs" Stone answers for me and I try and concentrate again to come up with a good adjective to add to this girl of the title. I give a distracted look outside the pub's window but what I see makes me give another more attentive one: the unmistakable Angie's car that's being parked on the other side of the road, right outside our condo.

"Angelic girl?" I try but I can see it sucks as soon as I say it.

"Jesus no! Let Mike give you suggestions, it seems to me like he's more expert about being dumped" Gossard jokes and the other guitarist gives him a nasty look.

"I wasn't dumped"

"Sure"

"I chose to be alone"

"Obviously"

I follow Mike and Stone's quarrel and, at the same time, the movements outside the pub. Angie gets out of the car cautiously looking around, whereas there is our singer coming out from the passenger side, calmly walking around the car and hugging her from behind as if it was nothing, kissing her cheek. They're cute! But if they don't want to be caught, they should be a little more discreet. Ok, it's all pointless in the end, 'cause everybody knows they have a thing, but if they want to bring on this ridiculous charade, they should at least be good at doing it. They even got me catching them the other day! I mean, you told your girlfriend to come over to our apartment? Just fuckin' tell me! Or if you don't really wanna tell me, because you have to play secret boyfriend, at least let me understand it, drop hints, tell me to leave and stay out and come back much later, tell me we'll meet directly at the soundcheck! But no, you tell me nothing and I must come back home and find you both entwined on the fuckin' armchair. I don't even know how you didn't hear me, as I rushed to get out of there as fast as I could I think I even slammed the door. And it wouldn't have been so bad if they noticed me but, knowing Angie, she'd have been ashamed and wouldn't have talked to me for ages.

"Fly girl?" Mike suggests and this is not bad.

"Uhm not bad, I'll put it among the maybes, good job Mikey!" as I write it down I see that Angie's putting into practice my advice about being cautious. She basically shakes herself free of Eddie and tells him something he must not like that much, 'cause he stares at her with a disappointed face and folded arms. Angie now points at the pub and I turn back towards the others as I'm afraid she could see me through the window and notice that I saw them.

"Yeah, go Mike! Hey, what did Mike do?" Cornell arrives at our table and sits next to me unceremoniously.

"He suggested a possible title of a song" Grace promptly answers.

"From your album?"

"No, from Cliff Poincier's demo" I answer only seconds before anothe rfriend joins the group.

"Did you finally find all five titles? Hi guys..." Hangdog Eddie sits down next to Stone and I can't help looking outside, where I can see Angie sitting inside her car, focused on letting an appropriate amount of minutes pass before getting in not to arouse suspicion.

"Hey Eddie. No, only three and a half" Stone explains.

"Who the fuck is Cliff Poncier?" Chris asks confused.

At this point I quickly update him, telling him about the demo and the little part of the movie plot Crowe shared with me.

"Cool! Let me see... Seasons, huh?"

"What's that? A song about the only two seasons existing in Seattle?" Angie's voice comes from behind my back and I can't help thinking that the minutes she let pass weren't that many.

"Hi Angie! What are the two seasons?" Mike asks and makes room for her right next to him.

"Wet and wetter" Pacifico shrugs and she can't believe she can sit on the exact opposite side of Eddie not to look suspicious. What a jerk.

"Well,if it's actually written, it could really talk about that" Eddie laughs trying to dissimulate his being upset.

"And why don't we actually write it?" Chris pounds on the table with his fist and stands up.

"What do you mean?" I ask perplexed.

"That we should really write these songs, record them and have Cameron listen to them. That would be a nice surprise, don't you think?"

The table keeps silent for a while. Everybody, like me, is probably trying to figure out if Cornell's just kidding or is being serious. Something that happens like 90% of the times with him by the way.

"Are you saying you'd really write..." Angie stands up too to stretch across the table and read from my notepad "Spoon Man??"

"Why not? Artis would be happy, we'd advertise him" Chris replies and now we realize he's serious. And if that wasn't the case, now I'll make him.

"Ok, I challenge you then: I have to present the artwork of the demo to Cameron by Monday, you've got five days to write the five tracks of the Poncier's tape"

"Five? Hahah you'll have them all tomorrow, man!" he exclaims and shake my hand to seal the deal.

"Actually not to nit-pick, but you still have to come up with two titles, I mean, one and a half" Stone points out.

"What about Flutter girl?" Grace makes her attempt and... fuck, it's the best"

"Wow, I like it! Flutter girl it is, sorry Mike" I nod at the guitarist, who shakes his head.

"Nuh, no problem, her suggestion wins for me too"

"Ok, we only got one left then. Y'all put your thinking caps on" I encourage and the other girl at the table speaks up.

"Well, the fifth title is missing so... so why don't you call it Missing?"

"You're two fuckin' geniuses!" I state and add the last title to my notes, before tearing the page and giving it to Chris "And now you're screwed, man!"

[roofrepairmanchester]

6 Warning Signs Your Roof Needs Repair Or Replacement That You Can't Afford to Ignore

Have you ever taken a good look at your roof lately? I mean really taken a good up close look. Would you know how to tell whether it is time have a roofing professional take a look at your roof? Or have you been purposely ignoring the obvious warning signs that you may need to have ones roof examined simply because you fear the thought of what it will cost to repair or replace your roof, if indeed an issue is found? Which ever the case, you're not alone. In fact you are like so many other home owners who just don't have the time or even money or patience for another home repair project, another expense, basically another headache to have to cover. You may have been saving for a family trip, a new car, or even renovating one of the rooms in your home and think that you may can't afford right now. So you ignore the signs and you put it off in favor of the new car, the family trip, or the get good at bathroom renovation. But unfortunately roof repair is not something you want to put on the back burner, as it can end up costing people substantially more money down the road, if it's not already costing you more money now! So you may be asking yourself "how do I fully understand if I indeed need to have my roof repaired or replaced, or if I just need to have it cleaned? " Well you may well always call a roofing contractor and request an inspection. Most roofing contractors offer free inspections that will even assist you with getting your homeowner's insurance to cover most if not all of the cost if it is a result of some kind of hail or simply storm damage. If you are still not convinced you should call a roofing specialist here are nine warning signs that will tell you that you surely need to have your roof repaired or even replaced. Most of these signs can be seen from the ground and by browsing in your attic if accessible. If you choose to get on the roof itself and inspect please use caution as the granules with the roofing shingles could be loose and cause you to slip and possibly fall. So BE CAREFUL! 1 . Dark stained or dirty-looking areas on your roof. One of the most likely causes of any dark or stained looking areas on your roof is a end result fungi or algae growth which in turn causes the roof to appear abnormally black or dirty in certain areas. This issue often occurs in warm, humid climates such as the southeastern part of the country. This can be a problem for your roof as the algae or mold starts eat away at the shingle base causing them to loosen and decay. If you spot any sort of dark areas on your roof and are apprehensive of climbing on your roof to get a better look then contact a reliable roofing contractor to inspect your roof and determine if the stains are indeed algae growth and to precisely what extent. It is better to address potential mold growth before it spreads to other parts of the roof making this headache along with the potential hit to your wallet even worse than you thought it may be. 2 . Shingle and sheathing deterioration. Deterioration for the shingles, or even worse the sheathing of a roof, can be caused by a number of factors; one of which is mentioned previously. Mould and algae can eat away at the organic base of shingles causing them to decay. If this problem passes by undetected and reaches the sheathing panels then it may be too late as the sheathing is the connection between the shingles and the rafters of the roof. If this connection is weak then it makes your roof even more susceptible to loss during potentially high winds during storms can eventually compromise the integrity of your roof. If your roofing appears to be sagging in areas it could be a sign of a much larger problem called roof rot which could lead to the probable collapse of your roof. By having a roofing professional inspect your roof you could be avoiding additional repair costs to not just your roof but to the interior of your home. 3. Missing, buckled, cracked or curled shingles. All of these signs are frequently indications that they may be near the end of their useful life. Due in part to time and prolonged exposure to several elements mother nature may throw at them, the shingles on your unfortunately will not last forever. In fact the effective life of your typical asphalt/fiberglass shingle is 20-25 years depending on where you live in the country and the quality of the shingle company among other factors. Over time the granules that add color to and protect the shingle material with UV rays begins to fall off exposing the material to the elements. Over time this exposure causes the shingles to crack or curl upwards at the edges. Sometimes this cracking can eventually lead to shingles breaking inside pieces and flying off the roof or buckling during storms with really high winds. 4. Blistering and/or peeling of outside paint. This is one of the easiest warning signs to spot. But all too often this sign goes on ignored or maybe attributed to something other than what is most likely causing the problem. This blistering or peeling of outside paint is usually the outcome of excessive moisture or high humidity due to poor ventilation especially in the attic. Inadequate ventilation results in hot air increasingly being trapped and built up in the attic. This excess heat can not only cook or in essence bake the top shingles but it also cause bubbling, blistering and peeling of the exterior paint around the gables and eaves and even this siding. Having properly working attic fans as well as bathroom exhausts are vital to avoiding this issue in your home even though it pertains to your roof. 5. Water marks on the ceilings and/or interior mildew growth. Not all of the indications of the need for possible roof repair or replacement can be seen from outside your home. Some signs are closer as compared to you may realize until it is nearly too late. Yes we're talking about roof leaks. Leaks are usually difficult to help detect until it is nearly too late, and just as hard to pinpoint their origin. Roofing leaks can be a result of insufficient underlayment or deteriorating flashing which can repaired inexpensively. On the other hand they may possibly be the result of a much wider and widespread problem that could end up costing you your next vacation or year end bonus if you don't watch out! Sorry to say the origin of a leak is usually hard to detect as the water may run down the rafters or a chimney, or simply into the drywall of your ceiling where it can collect and build up. This build up and trapping of water and additionally moisture can lead to not only mold problems but also eventual cracks and leaks in your ceiling as the water deteriorates your sheet rock. Now you have an even bigger problem. If you start to see signs of water marks on the fly you should immediately call a roofing professional to inspect the problem before gets any worse. Having regular inspection reports once a year is a smart way avoid undetected repair issues with your roof and the rest of your home. Its always advisable address any repair issues before they are compounded by the passing of time. 6. Excessive energy costs.. More and more buildings today are being designed and built with energy efficiency in mind. From the building materials contractors use down to the kitchen appliances we choose for our homes, the green initiative is catching on with homeowners and builders alike. If you happen to live in homes older homes there are an abundance of light repair projects that can turn that older drafty home to a more modern model of efficiency. One important area of the house to look to for at first is your roof as it can provide you with superior indicator if you are experiencing an increase in the cost heat and cool your home. If not properly ventilated warm air can increase in your attic causing your utility bills to rise excessively in the hot summer months when you are trying to keep the house cool, and in the winter when you and your family are trying to stay warm. A properly installed roof provides for ample ventilation and not experiencing proper ventilation can lead to not only excessive energy costs but also premature roof failure. Often times what might be considered a little repair job can extend the life of your roof. Having a roofing specialist inspect the ventilation in your attic in addition to roof can end up saving you lots of money down the road. So now that you know these important warning signs to spot you can avoid the soreness and hassle of dealing with a potentially much larger and costly project than you may have the stomach for. Don't sacrifice that down payment on a new car or that family vacation you were planning to take, but only if you take action now before it is too late. Remember, most roofing contractors offer a free inspection so it costs you practically nothing to at least have your roof looked at for potential problems that can usually be repaired for less than you may think. Simply make sure you do your homework and get quotes from several different candidates as well as references. Also check to make sure any potential candidate is usually properly licensed and bonded, and that they offer a warranty or guarantee. By being proactive and finding the right contractor for the occupation you can avoid bigger problems down the road.

[paulmay42]

The Brexit Years

More Lockdown

I have been keeping myself busy with several projects during this lockdown. My bathroom, for instance, has been decorated with pictures of Zac Efron that I found on the web and printed off. After a hot shower, the ink runs a bit and he looks like he’s crying. As well he should, seeing as I am not there to comfort him.

Apart from that, I have also created a sculpture in my lounge, made entirely of wire coat hangers, on which I have draped some of my clothes. Every other day, I change the clothes. The irony here should be obvious. I took several photos, over several days, to showcase what can only be described as high art, and sent them off to Charles Saatchi, but he hasn’t replied. Bastard.

I have also been thinking back over the many years during which I ran the White Horse bar, and, of course, recalling the characters who came and went. Which makes it sound a little bit like a brothel, only it isn’t.

It’s important, when running a bar, to keep the pipes clean, the pork pies free of mould, and the lights low. That’s when the conversation starts to get interesting.

It was a few years ago. David Cameron, Prime Minister, was finishing off a ‘Ring Doughnut’. He sucked the last drops off the asparagus and then pushed the empty glass towards me. “Monty,” he said, with that earnest expression he always adopted when being earnest, or not quite understanding what was being said to him, or drunk, “this Brexit thing is just a blip,yeah? I mean, after the referendum, it’s goodnight Brexit, and you, Mr Farage,can fuck off.”

“Suppose Brexit wins?”

David seemed confused.

“You know, people vote to leave.”

“But they won’t.”

“They might.”

“But they won’t.”

“Uh, well, let’s just assume they do.”

“But they won’t.”

I gave up. His earnest and slightly puzzled expression was beginning to wear me down. “Another pork pie?”

“Yes, good idea. You know, Monty, Brexit is just like a pork pie.”

“What, you mean it looks amazing but you know it’s bad for you?”

“Uh..” David was clearly having a problem with that one.

“Do you mean, it’s got a hard crust, but basically inside is mostly air?”

“Not quite sure what you mean…?”

“It’s made of recycled leftovers?”

David’s eyes narrowed, as if limiting the amount of light entering his head might help his brain to process this baffling puzzle.

“Another Ring Doughnut?”

“Yes please.”

At that moment, who should come bouncing into the bar but Nick Clegg, the Deputy Prime Minister. He had, he explained, been working late on the Remain slogan. “I reckon,” he confided, “that we’ve cracked it. We have a slogan that sums up the utter insanity, the lunacy, the, the shameless stupidity of leaving those good, honest people of Europe…” he paused, his lip quivering.

I passed him a tissue.

“Thanks, Monty.” He dabbed his eyes, then blew his nose. 

I didn’t need to be asked. I splashed some Babycham into a half pint mug and pushed it across to him.

“So, uh, what’s the slogan?”

“Ah, now, I was just thinking about pork pies,” David put in.

“David, please.” Nick shook his head. 

David subsided.

Nick continued, “Well, no harm in telling you. Our new slogan will be all over the headlines in an hour.”

“Exciting,” I said. “And the slogan is?”

Nick spread his hands, as if in a state of grace. “What would Jesus do?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the slogan.”

“Wow. And, uh, why?”

“We want people to think about what Europe means to them.”

“Yes. But why Jesus?”

Nick smiled. “Exactly.”

It was my turn to look baffled, bewildered, lost.

David stepped in. “Jesus,” he said. “he fucking loved pork pies.”

“Oh God,” said Nick.

“Also a good slogan,” I added.

We left it there. Thankfully, Nick Clegg and his Remain team came up with a much better slogan at the last minute although it didn’t do them any good. Maybe they should have gone with the pork pies. History, and the title of this blog, would have been very different.

[cripdeaf]

Why do you feel the need to exaggerate and lie about your illnesses? I don't doubt you're ill, but you just pick up every single disability going around. You're not blind or deaf, and certainly not paralysed. What's the point in lying?

Hi, are you my doctors? No? Then why do you feel the need to come here and do this every couple of months? I’m assuming you’re same person who’s been stalking me on here for the last year; if you are, I’m sorry for being an abusive shit to you, but I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve by constantly sending me anon asks yelling at me for being a fake.I’m so fucking tired of this; why do you think this is okay? What the hell do you want from me? I don’t know what to tell you, anon; either you’re doing this just to be an asshole, or you won’t fuck off until I hand you a diagnosis letter on a silver fucking platter.

Also, you do realise to get hearing aids (especially fully government subsidised ones), you don’t just get tested once, right? You do realise that getting an ophthalmology referral isn’t all sunshine and daisies, right? You do realise that spine issues are often degenerative, and also accompany EDS a lot, right?I have spent years trying to be as abled as I possibly can, and I am sick of it. It is exhausting. It is painful. I am done.

Or do you think I’m saying I’m profoundly deaf and totally blind? Because that’s not what I’m saying at all; deafness is a wide range of things, as is blindness.If it’ll sate your shitty attitude, I’ll explain my experiences medically with deafness and blindness, and you can ask another Australian d/Deaf / HoH and / or blind / VI person if I’m bullshitting or not.

It’s also helpful info for other d/Deaf / HoH and / or blind / VI and / or paralysed folx to have this information, so I’ll probably copy-paste it into its own post at some point.

Here’s how getting hearing aids under the Hearing Services Program, specifically the Community Service Obligation part of it (for folx under 26); you get your hearing tested, either through Australian Hearing or another audiologist (I went to the audiology clinic run by Melb Uni on Swanston St, on recommendation of my doctor after knowing I’m deaf for my whole life but just not having a diagnosis because “my child cannot be disabled in any way”, which is something a lot of d/Deaf / HoH and disabled folx experience). They a bunch of different tests; almost all of them are relating to pure tone (beeping noise), where you press a button when you hear the sound, often with various levels of static masking in your other(?) ear. Pretty sure it’s masking in the opposite ear; never figured that part out, even after four different tests in the last year. It sounds like it’s coming from all over.Some of the tests are about word recognition; I, personally, have about 70% in my left ear (with sound magnification), I think? It’s been a while since I got the number. I do pretty well, but they’re also single-syllable words that’re really clearly enunciated, so that definitely helps.Some of them are automatic, and you cannot fake these. These are mostly used for hearing aid tuning, in my experiences; example is when I went in a couple of weeks ago to get my new earmoulds and have them turned up, they did an automatic test to check exactly what needed to be turned up (my high ranges).So, after your initial test, if you’re not with Australian Hearing, they’ll transfer you to them; if you are, they’ll chat to you about what you want out of HAs, what kind of colours you’re after, etc.; I wanted Bluetooth, telecoil (for hearing loops), and nice colours. Sadly, I only got one of those things, and my audiologist is chasing down someone to ask if we can apply for new HAs already because we’re not meeting my goals for them—unfortunately, the colour thing isn’t gonna change though. I got white to make sure they’d be visible regardless of my hair colour, though I wanted this really nice light blue.Anyways, so they order the hearing aids, you come back a few weeks later, have another hearing test; this test determines the initial programming for your HAs, though they’ll be tuned here and there over the next few weeks depending on how well they’re working (or not) for you. This stage is the worst part of it, honestly.For me, I also had to go back and get my earpieces changed a few times because I don’t have the right kind of canals for soft tips, but I also don’t have the right kinds of canals for discrete moulds (plus, they’re uncomfy, imo), but it’ll heavily depend on your needs, the shape of your ears, etc.

I have visual acuity of 6/60 (20/200) + 1 I think; I can see, I just struggle to determine what the fuck I’m looking at unless it’s A) big, or B) I’m straining my eyes (bad for you!! don’t do this!!!). This is pretty common in blind / VI folx, as not every one of us can’t see anything; legal blindness and total blindness are different. I am legally blind (in Australia and the US, at least; not sure about other countries) and also have a near-vision classification of N18, which is moderate near vision impairment. I sometimes wear glasses to read, and it makes things a little clearer, but ultimately, it’s just more hassle than it’s worth to me, so I mostly just struggle and go without.With my distance vision, glasses stopped helping me a few years ago (I’ve been wearing them since I was ten), and I’ve been seeing optometrists a lot lately to keep an eye (ha) on it because it’s been getting worse, especially with floaters and little grey dots that occasionally pop into view; I’ve seen three in the last five or six months because of it. What optometrists can do is pretty limited overall, so at the most recent visit the optometrist just went “we can’t do anything, there’s no signs of retinal detachment or anything, you need someone with better tools”, so now I’ve been referred to the Royal Eye & Ear Hospital and am waiting to hear back from them.

Deafblindness also doesn’t follow the rules of legally blind.For someone to be Deafblind, it just means they’re VI and also Deaf; it’s dual sensory impairment, and how being deaf and VI intersect when it comes to interacting with the world around us. Not every Deafblind person is profoundly deaf and totally blind; it’s a huge misconception!So, no, needing glasses and being d/Deaf doesn’t make you Deafblind, but being visually impaired (”having decreased ability to see to a degree that causes problems not fixable by usual means, such as glasses”) and also d/Deaf does. It’s more of a cultural group than anything.Most commonly (afaik), Deafblind folx have Usher’s Syndrome, but not everyone does, and deafblindness can come from various things, both genetic and acquired; genetic stuff, of course, is luck of the draw. Having a connective tissue disorder did me no favours in keeping my sight—which was better than 20/20 when I was really little, by the way, so it’s interesting now thinking back about it. I’ve been losing my vision in “chunks” since I was about ten; not great, but it is what it is. I’m okay with it; I’m not afraid of it anymore, and that’s why I’m open about it now.

Now onto paralysis:Paralysis is a pretty broad term, and it doesn’t just mean “can’t move at all”, it can mean “can’t move well”, or “struggles with fine motor movement”, or plenty of other stuff; I have paralysis caused by spinal cord damage over the course of my life, as well as repeated herniated discs and spinal cysts, which has landed me in and out of hospital a lot in the last couple of years.For me, paralysis is I have hypertonia and struggle to move my legs, especially lifting them when I’m sitting or laying down; I had to talk to a neurosurgeon about this back in February and was told “if this gets worse you’re going to need spinal surgery” and proceeded to sweep that under the rug because let’s not deal with major surgery right now, thanks. I’m also now taking Lyrica to help manage the neuropathic pain I get from this; takes the edge off a little, so that’s nice.wrt my upper body, I have a lot of issues with trunk control and getting myself back up from leaning, especially to the back, as well as II also sometimes piss and shit myself because I often have moments of “wait, is this spine pain, or do I need to shit?” and just general struggles with holding it until I get to a bathroom (especially when I’m having to chase down security guards to get them to unlock the bathroom). Thankfully, it’s not an overly common occurrence, but it still sometimes is one.A lot of this is suspected to be caused by two bike accidents and someone (a kid) falling on me from two storeys up when I was nine, because I wasn’t the most self-aware child, but the rest is just chronic illness being a chronic illness and going “hey, remember me? I brought you more stuff!” (like the cyst).

Also, in case you want proof of anything:[ID: a pair of white hearing aids with red dragon stickers on them, connected to clear skeleton moulds, and sitting on a yellow cloth, inside a grey, vaguely egg-shaped box. Sitting on the bottom half of the box are two blue Post-It tabs reading “Go Fuck Yourself,” and “Anon”, respectively, in green marker.]

idk how you’d have me prove anything else, but this is a good starting point.

If you’d like to actually talk to me about this, I’m more than happy to, even if it’s from a throwaway blog, go ahead, I don’t mind, just please stop spreading harmful “gotcha” rhetoric; even if I was faking it, who’s the next “actually disabled” person whose disability supports get cut because of false accusations? Because it happens. People die from this sort of thing.

[imfreefallinall]

Socks (Boyfriend Shawn)

2,2k words of funny, fluffy and a little bit horny Shawn. A small blurb inspired by my brother, who always wears socks with flipflops (I do too, sometimes). Anyone else here does it? Also inspired by October and Halloween, while we wait to see what that idiot is gonna wear this year (I'm here for Shawn as Danny Zuko tbh). A little bit of smut but nothing too serious.

Let me know what you think because feedback is, as always, appreciated! If you want to be tagged just send me a message!

Love ya, B.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N’s POV)

“Hun! Just landed. Coming home soon! I love you” he was coming back home, finally, and for the first time, I would have been there. I moved into his condo two days before he left for the festival run, six weeks ago. Since then, I’ve been occupied to transform this place to home. I prepared a special night for the two of us, a cosy but lovely night in with his favourite homemade Italian food and Harry Potter film. I was thrilled because now we would have been able to start this new journey as cohabitees.

I was sitting on the bed when I heard the sound of keys entering the lock. Quickly I slipped on my flipflops, still wearing socks ‘cause it was raining and it was pretty cold. I ran to the hall and jumped in his arms as soon as he threw his bags to the floor.

“Jeez, I could really get used to this, baby” he smiled whispering in my ear, lifting me up and spinning around a little.

“Shawn, slow down! I don’t wanna fall” I laughed, mocking him for being the clumsiest person on Earth.

“You know I won’t let you fall” he smiled, lifting my chin up with a finger and kissing me slowly for a few seconds.

“Uh, I’ve missed you. C’mon, I wanna see how you rearranged the place” my feet touched the floor again and it was in that moment that he noticed.

“Oh my god, not you too! Don’t wear your flipflops like that. C’mon, take ‘em off. Or the socks, or the shoes! Better none of them” he screamed, kneeling to take off the sandals from my feet.

“What’s wrong with that?” I shrugged, curling my naked toes cause the floor was cold.

“Just a bad memory” he laughed nervously, rapidly shaking his head and making his long curls dance a little.

“Wanna tell me?” I said lifting up his bag and making my way into the laundry, putting all of his clothes in the washing machine.

“Mhh no. Not wanna remember anymore” he sounded disgusted and I burst into laughter.

“ Y/N! It’s not funny! I am traumatized!” he continued, high pitched voice.

“Sure, hun. Let’s go, wanna know what you think about our small garden.”

“ Y/N, it’s a condo! We don’t have a fucking garden”

“We have a balcony” I smiled cunningly.

“Oh, god.”

(later that night)

“There’s no way I’m fucking you if you don’t take off those damn socks” he declared, laying already naked on the bed.

“Why not? I thought you had a problem with socks paired with flipflops, not only socks” I laughed, taking off my panties without peeling off my socks.

“I can’t fuck with you while I’m thinking about... mhh about that!” he still didn’t want to tell me what was his problem with socks.

“Fine, it means you’re not that into sexual abstinence” I laughed

“Goddamnit! Fine, but I’m in charge tonight. I’d rather look at your tits than your feet” he said flipping us around and starting to kiss my neck. Ah, the power of vaginas is incredible.

(a few weeks later)

I was looking at my reflection in the mirror, thinking I looked very good. Shawn’s stylist chose a long red dress for me to wear that night, paired with high silver heels.

“Babe we’ve gotta go! Jake’s already downstairs with the car” he shouted from the living room.

“Coming!” I replied, catching my purse and black leather jacket. I walked into the room where my boyfriend was waiting for me, handing me my coat.

“You look beautiful, you know? Everyone’s eyes are gonna be on you tonight” he smiled proudly

“Probably because it’s our first official appearance?” I looked at him, nervously rubbing my hands. He takes one of them in his tattooed one and softly caresses the back of it.

“We’ll be okay, babygirl. It’s just... a different night out with our friends. You know you don’t have to walk on the red carpet with me if you really don’t feel like doing it” he reminded me, but I knew he really wanted me by his side that night.

“Will you always hold my hand?”

“Never letting it go, sweetheart”

“I’ll be fine, then” I smiled a little, trying to reassure the both of us.

(after Shawn’s performance, sitting at the table, waiting for the show to go on after commercials )

“....and he caught me fucking that girl in Liverpool. I was still wearing socks and flipflops, don’t ask me why ‘cause I was too drunk! He didn’t talk to me once the following day, probably too traumatized to look at my face without thinking about my marble-hard butt” Geoff ended to describe me the episode that shocked Shawn that much. The whole table was laughing so hard, except for Shawn, whose cheeks were burning red.

“So this is why you don’t want to wear socks anymore!” I said between small giggles, wiping a tear that escaped from the corner of my eye.

“It’s not that I don’t wanna wear socks anymore, I just don’t wanna see them. If they’re covered by shoes I’m fine!” Shawn tried to explain, embarrassed, but we were all already laughing when he finished.

“Guys, he didn’t even want to have sex with me because I was still wearing socks! I was trying to spill this story out of him but he really wouldn’t say a word!” I said, remembering the first night he came home.

“Yes but then I gave you three orgasms so you shouldn’t complain” he smirked, making me blush. I punched his arm.

“Shawn! Shut up!”

They were all laughing again.

(October 31st, Shawn’s annual Halloween party)

“C’mon baby I wanna see why you denied a couple costume!“ shouted Shawn from the closet.

“You’ll have to wait, Shawnie” I laughed from the bathroom, blow my hair dry and tidying them in a high ponytail.

“What’s up with you and the guys? No one told me how you’re gonna get dressed. It’s still my party!” he complained, joining me to put some gel in his hair.

“You look great, John” I laughed, trying to change the topic.

“I see what you’re doing there. And I’m not John, I’m Danny Zuko” he smiled proudly

“Sure, hun. We have forty-five minutes before everyone arrives... I really wanna ruin that bad hairstyle of yours” I smiled, dropping the soft towel that was covering my naked body.

“Shit, I hate you. Just know that if you show up dressed up as something stupid I’m kicking you out” he smirked, taking off his belt.

“There’s my name too on the door” I smiled proudly

“If you keep smiling like that there’s gonna be only one name and it’s gonna be Mendes” he replied, lifting me up on the cold marble surface

“Mhhh this is such a bad proposal, I expected something better. But I love you” I joked, loving the way he kept things simple. Was he serious though?

“Let me show you how much I love you” he said, kissing my thighs and burying his face between them, making me moan and giggle at the same time.

(forty minutes later)

“Shawn hurry up! Someone’s knocking at the door” I screamed putting on my favourite sparkling pair of pantyhose.

“But I wanna see what you’re gonna wear!” he complained again making his way to the door to greet our guests

“It’s a surprise! You’ll see it in five, just let me finish here”

“Sure” he muttered, disappearing down the hallway.

I smiled and I started to put on the moulded cardboard.

“We’re here” Brian texted me. I made my way into the living room as soon as I heard Shawn’s scream.

“Get out of my building! You dickheads!” he joked, laughing hysterically

“What? Don’t you like it?” I spoke from behind him, making him turn around.

“Uhh I knew you were hiding something in the junk closet but I hoped it was some sexy thing, not this shit!”

“Ehi! We handmade them!”

“YOU DRESSED UP AS FUCKING GIANT SOCKS, Y/N!” he smiled, laughing and hugging me.

“Will you ever let it die?”  he smiled kissing my cheek

“No way, bro” replied Brian, making his way into the apartment with the other fools.

“If you want I bought a matching Sandy costume” I said, happy that our prank turned out funny and didn’t ruin his mood. You never knew with Shawn.

“Mhh maybe later, I like being the only cool guy around tonight. You guys really are embarrassing, I’m gonna have to explain to all the other guests why you’re dressed up like this”

“No need” I smirked, turning my back to him “we are all wearing a sign with the story written on it”

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, giggling and making his way to greet his friends.

(a few months later)

“I’m coming home, love! Got In-N-out with me. Pick up a film, I love you” announced the Snapchat Shawn just sent me. I smiled and started to light up all of the candles I placed around the house. I slipped into my new favourite white lingerie set and wore one of his shirts, who fit me like a mini dress. I also made sure to wear a fluffy, pink pair of warm socks. I laughed at the memory of Halloween.

“Babe I’m here!” a warm, familiar voice exclaimed. My boyfriend’s tall figure entered the room and I rapidly hugged him tightly.

“How was your flight, babe?” I whispered, covering his face with kisses.

“Mhh too long. I wanted to see you”

“What were you doing in Italy again? I’m happy you got to see my family. Sorry I couldn’t join” I added with a quite sad tone.

“Yeah I met them for like fifteen minutes, I was very busy. I met a new producer anyway” he didn’t sound much convinced though. Maybe he was just tired.

“Let me just put your clothes in the washing machine, then we can eat. You wanna take a shower?” I asked kindly, brushing his cheekbone with my thumb before lifting his bag from the ground and walking down the hallway.

“Yes and please join me”

“If we get there in two the food is gonna get cold” I joked, entering the small laundry room with him by my side and starting to put his dirty clothes into the machine.

“Doesn’t matter, I missed you” he whispered standing behind me. I put his bag on the shelf, certain it was empty.

“Hang on, you forgot something” he added, kneeling to collect a strange pair of socks from the left side pocket. He threw one into the machine, opening the other one and pulling a white velvet box from it.

“Oh my god” I whispered, looking at him standing on his right knee at my feet.

“You didn’t believe that was my proposal back at Halloween, did you?” he laughed and I nodded my head, giggling a little to contain the tears.

“Babygirl, since the first time I laid my eyes on you I knew you were special. We get on well so well, honey, you really are my other half. Sometimes it is even scary” he laughed “you complete my days and I love coming home to you. I would love to come home to you and our kids, one day. And since you are so old-fashioned, I guess marriage is the first step in this new chapter of our lives. And I really can’t wait to start this new chapter with you. I promise I’ll be by your side whenever you’ll need me and even when you won’t I’ll be there to support you and be happy with you. I promise to always make you laugh, to always share my food and my bed with you and to always lend you a pair of my socks if your feet are cold. I want this all with you, do you? Will yo-”

“Yes! Of course I will” I smiled, happy tears running down my face while I bowed to wrap my arms around him. He opened the little box to reveal a stunning, shining solitaire. I looked up to find his amazing, bright smile; small wrinkles all over his face, tears making his eyes sparkle. We giggled looking at each other’s watery eyes, his right shaky hand slipping the ring on my finger.

“Looks good on you” he smiled. I kissed him deeply for a few seconds. He smiled against my lips.

“This is the reason why I was in Italy.. to talk to your dad and to pick up the ring. It’s customized. In the band there’s a small stone from Sardinia since your mum was born there and..you know, you’re so attached to that place that I thought it would have been nice to have it always with you” he explained.

“I love it, I love you” I smiled and he kissed me deeply again.

“Now, tell me...was it necessary to put it in a smelly sock?”

“It was a clean one!” he laughed “and, you know, now I will always associate a good memory to socks. Not Geoff’s butt anymore” we laughed.

I couldn’t wait for the rest of our lives.

Masterlist

[freudensteins-monster]

Paint Stained Collar

Pre-Stucky White Collar AU. Also on AO3.

I somehow managed to write this while downing cold & flu meds and liberal amounts of chicken soup, which is ridiculously impressive considering how little writing I've been doing whilst healthy. Unbeta'd - All mistakes are mine and the cold virus's fault. 

The repetitive scratching of the worn-down screw against the concrete was almost hypnotic. If he hadn’t been on such a tight schedule Steve could have easily have lost himself in the process. As it was, the moment the cell doors opened he made a few hasty final touches before chucking the screw under his cot and brushed the dust from his hands onto his tired orange jumpsuit. A guard started on the roll call and Steve double checked that his only photo of his mother was in his pocket before stepping out of his cell just as his name was called, and then it was off to the mess hall for what was hopefully going to be his last breakfast of powered eggs and cold toast.

He moved his food around and tried not to be too obvious about tracking the guard’s movements, making sure they were all sticking to the same schedule as yesterday, and the day before that. He also paid attention to his fellow inmates, gauging each group’s current temperament and whether he could expect any trouble from anyone today. Thankfully he was still invisible to anyone of concern, as he had been since his main tormentor, Rumlow, had been sent to Maximum Security, the guards finally acting the third time he put Steve in the Infirmary.  

An unsuspicious amount of time later Steve dumped his food tray and headed for the east block security check point. He waited there with the rest of the cleaning crew inmates for the supervising guard to let them all through and escort them to the cleaning supplies storage room. Steve filled up his mop and bucket and headed off to his section, working his way towards the clear barriers next to the guard station and, more importantly, the visitors waiting area.

Twenty of the longest minutes of Steve’s life later he glanced up and easily spied his friend amongst the visitors thanks to his trademark purple t-shirt. He winced as he tapped the side of this nose (the damn thing was broken again), the signal for “Operation: Free Bird is a go”. Steve took a deep breath and put his part of the plan into action.

“Finished that section. Going for a refill then heading for the other corridor,” Steve said as he passed the supervising guard. The man grunted a reply, barely looking up from his phone to acknowledge the inmate. 

Good, thought Steve. The guard could be relied upon to be engrossed with his phone until it was time to lock up the supply room, which would give Steve approximately 15 minutes before his absence was noticed. He entered the supply room and abandoned his mop and bucket next to the others, making straight for vent in the back corner of the room. As planned, the vent cover was now unscrewed and it was simply a matter of Steve climbing the rickety shelving unit and pulling himself up into the ventilation shaft opening… eight feet off the friggin ground. 

A few prayers and a lot of muttered cursing later Steve fell into the ventilation shaft, reaching for the respirator mask that had been so thoughtfully left for him – thank you, Clint - before he copped a lungful of the mould and dust that coated the metal walls. Also left behind for him was a small, plastic, keychain-sized torch and a much folded piece of paper, with a crude map of the ventilation system and a handy red line between “You Are Here” and “X” drawn on it.

Ten minutes and only one wrong turn later Steve found the duffle bag waiting for him at the exit point. He checked everything was all clear before dropping down into a cubicle in the visitor’s toilets, balancing precariously on a dividing wall before climbing down, the vent cover clapping softly shut behind him thanks to hinge Clint had managed to attach to it.  

Five minutes later a skinny hipster in clothes two sizes too big for him exited the toilets and took a seat in the waiting area. The guy in the purple shirt was nowhere to be seen.

Two minutes after that, just as an inmate’s absence was being reported by a sheepish guard, two cameras at the opposite end of the compound lost visual and all hell broke loose. The skinny hipster was evacuated with the rest grumbling visitors and headed for the nearest road, a friendly guy in a purple shirt soon pulled up alongside him and offered him a ride back to Brooklyn.

** *** **

Special Agent James Barnes of New York’s White Collar Crime Unit was pacing outside what was, until very recently, the site of a boiler room with ties – allegedly – to the untouchable Alexander Pierce when Probational Agent Lewis approached him.

“Boss?”

“The place has been cleared out. Just like last time,” James spat. “Pierce has got to have someone on the inside,” he added lowly. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. The team got here not even half an hour after the warrant was issued and the place was empty. Not a single computer or friggin headset was left behind. They took everything but the goddamned light bulbs.”

He stopped pacing and stared at his usually talkative junior agent. She was shifting awkwardly, her phone held out to him.

“What is it?”

“Steve Rogers escaped.”

“What?!”

** *** **

James arrived at the prison and had to let rip with a high pitched whistle to announce himself over the bickering of the warden and the US Marshal in charge.

“Agent Barnes, FBI,” he said, flashing his badge and a smile.

“You’re the one who caught Rogers the first time?” the warden asked, almost reaching out to him in desperation.

“‘Caught’ might be a stretch,” he shrugged. “I brought him in. He’s not really the 'on the run’ type.”

“He is now,” the gruff marshal said gruffly.

“Let’s figure out why, shall we?”

James followed the warden to Rogers’ cell while the marshal peeled off muttering something about roadblocks and hen houses.

“I don’t understand it,” the warden fretted. “Rogers has been a model prisoner. Followed instruction, always polite, never caused any problems… He was up for parole next month.”

Something in the warden’s inflection caught James’ attention.

“Did he have any problems?”

“He was one of the smallest guys here,” the warden shrugged like it explained everything. “He held his own, but there was this one inmate, Rumlow, who had it out for him. Despite being a raging psychopath he was careful and the guards only caught him in the act last month. Rogers was in the infirmary for a week.”

“That’s reason enough to want to escape.”

The warden shook his head. “That was Rumlow’s first and last strike. He was sent up to Sing Sing after that. Don’t know how he wound up in minimum security in the first place.”

“Good lawyer, probably,” James mused, stopping short as they reached Rogers’ cell. “Holy shit…”

Etched into the wall opposite the cot was a replica of “The Girl with a Pearl Earring”, if the girl had been a fifty year old kemo patient.

“He’s quite the artist. Had a good business going, trading tattoos for food or books…”

James tore his eyes away from the art on the walls looked around the small cell. The bed was neatly made and the shelf above the small desk in the corner was piled high with ramen and chocolate bars. The desk itself was littered with drawings and the remnants of cheap pastels. He rifled through the pages - character studies of guards and inmates mostly - until he found the catalyst. He passed the eviction notice over to the warden.

“We’ve got the why, now the how.”

“I don’t understand,” the warden griped, struggling to keep up with Barnes as he made his way back to the guard station.

“He was getting kicked out of his apartment.”

“But he wasn’t living there…”

“He was keeping up with the rent payments somehow. The landlord must have only just cottoned on to the fact that Steve’s not around anymore and terminated the rental agreement. He has until tomorrow to clear out his stuff.”

“You think he hid something valuable in the apartment?”

“Depends what you mean by valuable,” James replied cryptically as they reached the security check point, nodding to the guards to let them through.

 “Here’s Rogers,” the guard said, pointing to the blond on the monitor as he exited the mess hall. The security footage sped through the rest of the morning until… “He goes into the supply room, and never comes back out.”

“Keep going until the guard notices he’s missing.”

James didn’t say a word about the idiot guard with his eyes glued to his phone; word had it he was getting fired just as soon as the marshals were done chewing him out.

His eyes flicked to the two camera angles that went dark around about the time the guard realised Rogers’ was MIA.

“What happened there?”

“They were shot out.”

“Shot?”

“With a bow and arrow,” the warden added in the dazed tone of a man mentally drafting his resignation letter. “But we’ve checked the area. There’s no signs of a breakout. And even if there were it couldn’t have been Rogers. He can’t have gotten to that side of the compound without passing through three security check points. Especially not without leaving the storage room first!” the warden reasoned desperately.

“So it’s a distraction. Too coincidental to be completely unrelated,” James countered. “Show me just the cameras from this block. From the moment Rogers walks into the storage room until the place goes on lockdown. … There!” he exclaims, jabbing a finger at a flash of blonde hair. “That’s how he got out: he walked out the front door.”

“But that… that’s just a visitor. Isn’t it?”

James flicked an irritated look at the frazzled warden before turning back to the security footage. “Blow that angle up. Play it again.” On a full screen it was obvious that it was Rogers but apparently the hipster glasses were enough to give the warden reasonable doubt. “Rewind it,” James asked irritably. “Show me when he goes into the bathroom.”

The tape went back and back and back and the moment never came. He gave the warden a non-verbal “I told you so” and made for the visitors bathrooms. He gave the dreary tiled room a once over and didn’t see any obvious entry points, no Shawshank-style holes in the wall, but maybe…

“Give me your baton,” he asked of the guard trailing behind the warden (in case he passed out from stress, James assumed). He extended it with a flick of his wrist and stood atop the last toilet in the row, using the baton to reach up to the air vent cover… And wouldn’t you know it, the damn thing was unscrewed.

“That’s not possible,” the warden scoffed. “It’s not possible. It’s too small! No one could fit in there!”

“No one our size, perhaps, but Rogers is, what? A foot shorter and a hundred pounds soaking wet? A guy that size would have plenty of wiggle room.”

The warden was still clinging to his righteous indignation when James moved to the waste bin and dug out a black duffle bag from under the used paper towels. He pulled an orange jumpsuit from the bag and handed the whole thing over.

“I’d fix those vents if I were you.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find him.”

** *** **

Steve Rogers, in Agent Barnes’ off-the-record opinion, was not a bad guy. He had just been a kid, working his ass off on a partial fine arts scholarship at Columbia, when his talent for recreating old masters was noticed by the wrong people. The guy had an unwavering moral compass and James believed that if his mother hadn’t gotten sick Steve Rogers would never have fallen into the world of art forgery. He was sure Steve had told himself it would just be the one time, but then his mom got sicker and the bills kept coming, so he allowed himself to be commissioned for another forgery, and another. And then Sarah Rogers had died and Steve’s true north died with her. By the time Steve was able to drag himself out of his depression the funeral bills had been added to his pile of debt, the rent was due, and he had a pressing need to eat some time that week. He buckled.

Three years later and Steve was forging everything from “lost works” from old masters to bearer bonds from the forties. He was probably one of the best forgers James had never heard of, until some snivelling yuppie who had been laundering drug money through his art gallery had dropped Steve’s name and crimes in the hopes of reducing his own sentence.

James had gone to Steve Rogers’ home himself to ask him a few questions, get a feel for the guy, but the moment the skinny little artist had seen James’ badge his shoulders had slumped; he knew he was nicked and he wasn’t going to fight it. He did however only do the bare minimum to cooperate with their investigation and didn’t implicate himself in any crimes the Bureau wasn’t currently aware of. He did suggest he wouldn’t be of much help with the crimes they could trace back to him, admitting that all of his jobs were brought to him by an agent of sorts and he never had any contact with the people who bought his work. If he accepted a job he’d give the agent a list of supplies he’d need to pull it off and by the end of the next day they be delivered to his doorstop and he’d get to work. He claimed not to know their name, only communicating via a burner phone that his agents conveniently couldn’t find when they searched his place.

James pulled up at the aforementioned place, an unremarkable apartment building in a corner of Brooklyn that had scared off the forces of gentrification. Back up pulled up a few seconds later and he motioned for them to stay outside and watch the exits. Steve Rogers wasn’t armed or dangerous, and James had a feeling he wouldn’t run.

The elevator was broken again, or still broken from his last visit, so James hoofed it up four flights of stairs to the former residence of Steve and Sarah Rogers. The lock had been jimmied and the smell of fresh paint almost knocked him on his ass as he pushed the door open. It was a small apartment, just two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a cramped “open plan” kitchen/dining/living area, though it seemed less cramped now that it was completely devoid of furniture.

James sighed and checked the bedrooms, and found Steve sitting on the floor of what James remembered as Sarah Rogers’ untouched bedroom.

“Hey Steve,” he called softly from the doorway. “What happened?”

“The bastard lied. He sent the eviction notice to cover his ass but he didn’t even think I’d get it so why wait the full 14 days? He threw everything out two days ago. Now this is all I have left of her,” he cried, holding up the creased photo of his mother.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

James gave him as much time as he could before helping him to his feet and escorting him from the building. Handing Steve over to the marshals was one of the harder things he’d had to do in his line of work and his broken expression kept James up all night. Not that he told Darcy that when she commented on the bags under his eyes the next morning.

“Where are we on the boiler room?” he said instead, taking the proffered coffee.

“Nowhere,” Darcy grumbled. “Forensics pulled a few partials but they’re not confident they’ll be enough for a match. Fury’s given the file to me to chase down some leads that won’t go anywhere.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” she said, brandishing a new file with a smile. “You have something more important to look into: the Ghost might be back.”

The Ghost was called the Ghost because they never left any evidence other than an empty space where a priceless work of art once sat. In the past two years the Ghost had been credited with five high profile thefts, and if the file in front of him was to believed that number was now six. James sighed and tried to savour his coffee. Art Crimes wasn’t exactly his forte, he was a forensic accountant at heart - give him a good embezzlement case and he was happy. But Art Crimes? He’d never quite understood the value and status (rich) people put on it, nor had he been able to, in the five years he’d been an agent, find a reliable CI in that world to give him a leg up.

Maybe Steve knew someone, maybe Steve…

An idea took hold and James threw himself into research, coffee and potential Ghost case all but forgotten.

** *** **

Steve put on a brave face and smiled as James entered the interview room.

“Good morning, Agent Barnes. What brings you here?”

“I wanted to talk you about your parole.”

“Uh, you’re a little late,” Steve chuckled. “The hearing was cancelled on account of my little… furlough.”

“No, I heard about that. I had a little something a little different in mind.”

“Like what?”

“Have you ever heard of Frank Abagnale Jr?”

“The conman they made that DiCaprio movie about?”

“The conman that became an FBI consultant,” James supplied. “I was wondering if that was something you would be interested in.” He smiled as the man across from him did a pretty good impression of a fish. “If you agree you’ll be fitted with a tracking device and be released into my custody. You’d be given room and board – nothing much, I’m warning you now – and serve your sentence consulting on cases instead sitting in a prison cell.”

“If I agree?” Steve laughed. “But why me? I was just a forger.”

“I think you’re selling yourself a bit short there, Rogers. I know for a fact that you were holding out on us when you were arrested, you know a hell of a lot more than you let on, and you’ve got connections in that world which sometimes feels like it’s half the job. So… what do you say?”

Steve smiled. “When can I start?”

** *** **

James smiled as he saw Steve kiss the dog tags and wedding ring that hung from a chain around his neck for the fifth time on their drive back to the city.

“I’m glad you got your personal effects back, Steve.”

“Me too. It’s not much but it’s a hell of a lot better than nothing,” he sighed, relinquishing his hold on them in favour of fidgeting with his new watch-slash-tracking device. “Did they have to make this thing so bulky?”

“Count yourself lucky it’s in standard issue black. I had to talk the guy down from making it in his trademark red and gold.”

“Red and gold? This is a Stark?!”

“Yeah, my boss insisted on something unhackable before agreeing to let you out into the world, and Stark owed me a favour after I solved a patent issue he was having.”

“I feel both honoured and insulted. It’s like your boss doesn’t trust me.”

“Oh, he doesn’t. But don’t take it personally; Fury doesn’t trust anyone.”

James double checked his GPS, took the next right, and pulled up in front of a rundown motel with several letters missing from its flickering neon sign.

“Here we are, home sweet home.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Steve muttered as he followed James into the dingy lobby.

“Agent Barnes,” James flashed his badge at the attendant. “This is Steve Rogers, my office called earlier.”

“Right, right,” the (possibly high) attendant murmured. “There you, Snake Eyes,” he said, tossing the keys in Steve’s general direction.

Steve stared at the keys where they landed on the dirty ground and pleaded with James. “Do I have to stay here? Prison was cleaner. And probably safer,” he added in quiet tones, eyeing the residents loitering in the lobby warily.  

“I warned you it wasn’t going to be much,” James reminded him. “It costs 700 a month to house you on the inside, so that's what it costs here. For the money, this is as good as it gets. You find something better - take it. In the meantime, get settled in, do your homework,” he added, passing Steve a few files, “And I’ll pick you up at 7am.”

“What about clothes – or toiletries? I’m wearing my entire wardrobe,” Steve argued, tugging at his threadbare shirt.

“Your tracking anklet is set up so you can go anywhere within two miles of this place. Find a thrift store.”

“And pay for it with what money?”

“Oh, almost forgot. Here,” he said, handing over a fifty dollar bill. “That’s your weekly allowance. That’s how much it costs on the inside,” he repeated before Steve could argue. “If you need anything extra I’ll show you how to fill out a requisition form tomorrow. Until then: homework, two miles, 7 am. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

** *** **

Steve lasted a whole two minutes in the possibly haunted motel room before walking straight back out again. He splurged on his first decent cup of coffee in almost a year and found a bench in a nearby park to sit and read the files Agent Barnes had given him while the light was still good. After that he wasn’t sure what he was going to do, only that it involved not sleeping in a room that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned properly anytime in the past decade.

He was almost at the bottom of his coffee when something caught his attention; an elderly woman in her eighties, maybe even nineties, clinging to her purse like a life raft, her expression changing from confused to sheer panic at an alarming rate.

“Ma’am, are you ok?” Steve asked, stepping into her field of vision. “Are you alright?” he repeated when she finally registered his presence.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit lost,” she confessed with shaky voice and just the hint of an English accent.

“Why don’t you come sit next to me and maybe I can help you find your way.”

“Aren’t you a nice young man,” she remarked as she allowed him to lead her to the bench.

“Do you remember where you were going?”

“I think… I think I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere,” she admitted bashfully. “I was with my niece and she stopped to take a phone call and I’m afraid I must have wandered off. She’s going to be ever so cross with me.”

“It’s not your fault,” Steve assured her.

“No, it’s this mind of mine, betraying me in my old age,” she tutted. “And it’s got me quite forgetting my manners. Agent Margaret Carter, formerly of her Majesty’s armed forces and Churchill’s S.O.E. But you can call me Peggy.”

“Wait a minute, the S.O.E.? You were a spy?” Steve exclaimed, happy he retained something from his WWII studies.

“Spy, codebreaker, kicker of Nazi asses,” she grinned back. “And who might you be, other than the kind of man who helps little old ladies cross the street?” she teased.

“Oh, uh, Steve Rogers, ma’am. Recently paroled art forger turned consultant for the FBI,” he answered truthfully, returning her firm handshake.

“A forger? Really?” she beamed. “You must be quite talented. You’ll have to paint my portrait for me.”

Steve blushed but before he could answer her a frantic younger woman ran up to them.

“Aunt Peggy! I thought I lost you!” she cried, almost falling to her knees in relief.

“I think it was me who lost you, dear. Steve, this is my niece, Sharon. Sharon, this is Steve, the young man that has been keeping me company while we waited for you.”

“Thank you so much,” Sharon greeted breathlessly, still trying to get her racing heart under control.

“It wasn’t a hardship. You’re aunt’s a real firecracker.”

“Oh you,” Peggy blushed, slapping Steve’s arm. “Steve here is an artist. I was just in the process of commissioning him to paint my portrait, something dark and austere to loom over everyone at family dinners long after I’m gone,” she laughed.

“That sounds great, Aunt Peg. Have you got a card?”

“Oh, no, sorry. Uh, I don’t even have a phone at the moment.”

Sharon raised an eyebrow at his admission but Peggy steamrolled over any awkwardness.

“It’s not the boy’s fault, Sharon dear. He’s just been released from prison, but now he’s working for the FBI, isn’t that exciting?”

Sharon raised both eyebrows.

“Art forger… turned consultant…” Steve repeated self-consciously.

Her eyes flicked to him the files at his side.

“Are those case files?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Can I see them?”

“Um… no?” It wasn’t like they had [Top Secret] stamped all over it, and James hadn’t mentioned anything about confidentiality, but maybe that’s because it went without saying. “Give me a break,” he said in answer to Sharon’s razor sharp gaze. “It’s my first day isn’t until tomorrow.”

“Who’s your liaison?”

“…Special Agent James Barnes. Why?”

Instead of responding Sharon turned her attention to her phone, tapping away until she found the answers she needed.

“Steven Grant Rogers, twenty six years old, convicted of one count of felony forgery though implicated in at least a dozen other cases. Non-violent offender, served 11 months on a four year sentence before escaping only to be captured that same day and released into the custody of Special Agent James Barnes. Currently residing… at the Heart of the City Motel. Seriously? That place is a dump.”

“Yeah, it is, but… How… How did you know all that?” Steve asked dazedly, pointing to her phone.

“Classified,” she smirked.

“My dear Sharon has followed in my footsteps somewhat. She works in Washington,” Peggy supplied with an exaggerated wink, earning an amused snort from her niece. “And that agent of yours doesn’t really expect you to live at that awful motel, does he? That place should have been condemned when Sharon was a girl.”

“According to the Bureau, it cost 700 a month to house me on the inside, so that's all they’ve budgeted for my room and board on the outside. Agent Barnes said if I could find something better for the same money I should take it, but in this city?” Steve scoffed.

“Why don’t you come stay with me?”

“Aunt Peg,” Sharon scolded.

“You said it yourself, dear. Your work is in Washington, and though you visit as often as you can you still worry about me being all alone in that big house once Anna leaves for the day.”

“I really couldn’t…”

“And you,” she said, turning to Steve. “You said you’d paint my portrait. I could be your patron, how marvellous,” she grinned.

Steve couldn’t bring himself to say no to Peggy’s enthusiastic generosity, instead he looked to Sharon to give him out by deeming him an unsuitable houseguest by rap sheet alone, but it seemed she wasn’t immune to her aunt’s enthusiasm either.

“Fine. But if you hurt her in any way, shape, or form, you won’t have to worry about going back to prison because you’ll be dead. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, knowing it wasn’t hyperbole in the least.

“That settles it,” Peggy clapped. “Rent can be due on the first of every month and meals are served at 7am, 12pm, and 5pm, Monday through Friday. Though we’ll be left to our own devices for lunch and dinner on weekends until Anna’s daughter stops working nightshift and no longer needs a babysitter. Any questions?”

“Uh, just one,” Steve replied, holding up his tracking bracelet. “Is your place within a two mile radius of the motel?”

** *** **

Steve parted ways with the Carter’s and wandered back to the awful motel in a giddy daze.

“Hey Snake Eyes,” the attendant greeted. “What can I do you for?”

“Checking out,” Steve grinned, dropping the keys into his hand.

“So soon?”

“Yep. You got paper and a pen? I need to leave a note for that guy that dropped me off.”

“Secret Agent Man?” he asked, passing over the required items.

“That’s the one,” Steve murmured as he crafted his note. “Give this to him when he turns up tomorrow morning?”

“Sure thing. Hey, that reminds me,” he said to Steve’s retreating back. “Someone left something for you,” he said, looking around his small station until he found a familiar brand of black duffel bag. “Left you a note too.”

“To: Cap,” it read in Clint’s familiar scrawl. “Sorry about your stuff. Went dumpster diving behind your building and got some of it back. x Hawkeye”

Steve took the bag and frantically rifled through the smelly contents. It was mostly clothes, some coffee mugs and books, and a few precious framed photos that Steve wasn’t ashamed to say he hugged to his chest.

 A few hours later he was settled in his new digs, a guest apartment in Peggy’s townhouse, complete with an ensuite and its own kitchenette. Steve had spent the better part of an hour following dinner with the delightful Peggy getting better acquainted with said ensuite, swearing to himself he was never going back to prison, and prison showers, ever again. When he finally exited the bathroom, wearing only “guest pyjama” bottoms as his entire wardrobe was in the washing machine downstairs, he almost shrieked at the sight of a woman perched at the end of his bed.

“Hello Steve,” she purred.

“Jesus Christ, Nat,” he swore at the redhead. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” he gasped, leaning against the wall for support.

“Not going to ask stupid questions like ‘How did you find me?’” she teased, moving in for a hug.

“I know better than that. I would ask that you don’t make this a habit though. Peggy’s niece is kinda your level of intimidating.”

“I’m aware,” she smirked knowingly. “So, how’s life on the outside treating you,” she asked, rummaging around his fridge for something to drink and finding only random craft beers and bottled water.

Steve gestured at his comfortable surroundings. “I think my luck’s turning around.”

“All you had to do was sell your soul to the feds,” she grimaced, flicking the bottle cap into the sink.

“It’s not like that, Nat.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“You painted a few pictures, Steve.”

“And forged bonds and stock certificates, and a goddamn printing plate. Nat, I did the wrong thing over and over again. I broke laws, committed crimes, and even if the feds aren’t aware of all of them I’m going to atone for them. This is how.”

“Even if it means ratting out your friends?”

“Hey, I would never. I say a word about you then, I won’t now.”

“So you’ll just lie to your FBI handler?”

“I don’t have to lie. I can just be vague and obtuse. Agent Barnes knows I’m not telling him everything and he seems to accept it.”

“Until a case I’m involved in comes across your desk.”

“I’d go back to prison before ratting you out, Nat. You have to believe that.”

“I do, that’s the problem,” she smiled sadly. “You went to prison the first time because of me, I won’t let you do it again.”

“That wasn’t your fault…”

“It was,” Nat argued. “I got you into all this in the first place. My uncle saw that Degas you painted for my birthday and he kept pushing the idea of that first job, asking me to ask you…”

“I didn’t have to say yes.”

“You were desperate. I took advantage.”

“And what about those last few years, after all my debts were paid… Was I still desperate then?” Nat sighed and picked at the label on her water bottle. “It was my choice, Nat. The guilt should be mine too.”

“And yet I still feel like an asshole, so I’m going to make it easy for you: I’m going to take a holiday.”

“For how long?”

“Four years. Two with good behaviour,” she smiled, abandoning her drink in favour of another hug. “Look after yourself, Rogers.”

“You too, Romanoff. And hey,” he called as she made for the door. “Take Clint with you, would you?”

“Who do you think’s flying the plane?” she teased and disappeared from sight.

Steve’s heart broke a little bit at the thought of his friends being out of the country for four years – because of him. But it wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things, he reasoned, and worst case scenario they’d be back for his 30th birthday, and what a party that was going to be.

** *** **

James read over Steve’s note, and the obnoxious little smiley face tacked on the end, and prayed to his mother’s god that busting this kid out of jail wasn’t going to end up being the worst mistake of his career. He checked the address again and knocked on the fancy front door.

“Good morning, I’m Special Agent Barnes,” he greeted, flashing his badge as was habit. “Is there a Steve Rogers at this address?”

The woman smiled warmly and waved him through.

“Good morning Special Agent Barnes. My name is Anna Jarvis, I’m Ms Carter’s housekeeper. She and Mr Rogers are taking breakfast in the main dining room.”

“Of course they are,” James muttered to himself as he followed Anna through the lavish home.

“Agent Barnes!” Steve grinned contagiously. “You’re early.”

“You moved,” he countered, staring around the opulent room in disbelief.

“Yeah, it's nicer than the other place, don't you think?”

“I don’t think the other place served breakfast. How…”

“Well, while taking advantage of the generous freedom you gave me I went to the park yesterday afternoon and bumped into Peggy here,” Steve explained, enjoying James’ awkwardness immensely.  At the mention of her name Peggy dragged herself away from her morning crossword. “Peg, this is James Barnes, the FBI guy I was telling you about. Agent Barnes, this is Agent Margaret “Peggy” Carter, formerly of her Majesty’s armed forces and Churchill’s S.O.E, and my generous patron to boot.”

“Isn’t he a riot,” Peggy laughed.

“He’s something alright,” James agreed. “Steve, why don’t you go get dressed. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

“Will do. Thanks for breakfast, Anna. Have a wonderful day, Peg.”

“You too, dear,” Peggy waved.

James fell down in an open chair and graciously accepted the cup of coffee Anna poured for him. The drink helped him gather his wits and he turned to address the elderly woman at the head of the table.

“It’s very nice of you to put Steve up, Ms Carter, but he did disclose to you that he’s a convicted felon, didn’t he? And that that thing on his wrist isn’t just a watch.”

“Young man,” Peggy replied sharply. “I was hunting down Nazi’s before your father was even thought of; I know what bad men look like, and Steve Rogers is not one of them.”

“No, ma’am, he isn’t,” James conceded.

** *** **

James was waiting by the car when Steve finally emerged, dressed in clean dark jeans, a loose fitting t-shirt, and a comfy looking button up sweater that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Peggy’s wardrobe.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses.”

“First day on the job and you’re already late,” James grumbled as he got behind the wheel.

“Hey, you were early,” Steve shot back.

“You read the files?”

“Yep,” Steve said, handing them back.

“And?”

“The Bourke and Jones jobs feel like insurance fraud to me, the Bourke especially. I’d put money on the painting that was displayed being a fake; the brushstrokes looked all wrong to me. The Caffrey was definitely an inside job. I’d look for an employee, or a close relative of an employee, who’s got gambling debts with a guy named Berrigan. He’s got a soft spot for post-war abstracts, Rothko’s in particular. The other three… they could very well be the same guy but I’d like to check out the most recent crime scene before committing to that theory.”

“…You know what, Steve?”

“What?” Steve asked.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

In case you were wondering...

- James dropped the nickname Bucky when he went to Quanitco in an effort to be taken more seriously. Steve finds out about it from Darcy, ala Diana telling Neal about Peter's mustache. - Darcy and Sam would be James' main underlings. - James often thinks of Steve as "kid" though he's 26 and Bucky's barely pushing 30. - Clint/Nat are Steve's Mozzie but as Steve is completely different to Neal - no ulterior motives, no big secrets, etc - it seemed right to have them step back from Steve so he wasn't found breaking parole for consorting with criminals, and Steve wasn't torn apart by guilt for covering for his friends/lying to James about their involvement in open cases. - Steve and Clint met as they tried to pass each other in some random alleyway in Brooklyn, both bloody and bruised,  when they were still in high school and have been close friends ever since. Steve met Nat in college though he wasn't aware that she was slightly mobbed up until she brought him his first "commission". - I do say the the vent was too small for guys Bucky's size but okay for Steve - so what about Clint? Apparently Clint+ceiling vents in a fanmade trope, and I had no idea, so let's just say that Clint is bigger than Steve but smaller than Bucky and since he's so accustomed to ceiling ducts it might have been a tight fit but completely doable for him. - Steve may have told himself what he was doing wasn't hurting anyone there would have to be an ep where he discovers how his actions ruined someone's life, etc. - Rumlow would come back as Steve's nemesis/hired muscle for Alexander Peirce.

[yujiawrites]

Cynicism and Hope

As we grow up, we tend to be dull. Most of us are not dull by choice, but by what we view as an incessant moulding by the waves of reality, that smash against innocence, imagination, and hope, and makes us grey, unfeeling, though solid rocks. Growing up can be unbearably painful as responsibilities and difficulties mount. Every day becomes an uphill battle, and over time it’s easier to just give up and let the waves shape us the way they want it to be, and then blame the waves for it.

“There’s no point in trying or dreaming”, “I’m caught in the rat race”, and “reality is like this, what can I do?”

You see it in the adult who tells the kid not to wander off to the beach to pick seashells. You hear it in the exasperated man who slits open the bills every night and swats off his child trying to share with him the story about his Lego bricks. You feel it in your gut when you are treated unjustly, yelled at, given a dressing down or had a bad day.

I guess the material of that grey rock we’re becoming, is cynicism.

Came across this article: “12 rules for life – from a 45-year-old”(https://www.straitstimes.com/lifestyle/entertainment/12-rules-for-life-from-a-45-year-old). Most of the rules were downright funny, to sensible advice gleaned from years of experience and common sense. One of it, however, struck me particularly.

“Somewhere around that same eighth-grade mark, where we all experimented with being mean, we get the idea that believing in things makes you a sucker. We believe that good art is the stuff that reveals how shoddy and grasping people are, that good politics is cynical, that "realism" means accepting how rotten everything is to the core. The cynics aren't exactly wrong. There is a lot of shoddy, grasping, rottenness in the world. But cynicism is radically incomplete.

Early modernist critics used to complain about the sanitised unreality of "nice" books with no bathrooms. The great modernist mistake was to decide that if books without sewers were unrealistic, "reality" must be the sewers. This was a greater error than the one it aimed to correct. In fact, human beings are often splendid, the world is often glorious, and nature also invented kindness, charity and love. Believe in that.”

The aching identification I have with cynicism really jumped out at me as I read it. Cynicism – the belief that the most real and final version of life is meaninglessness, that all dead ends do not simply just stay dead, but have been meant to be dead all along and we’re just discovering it, that there is nothing beyond the sum of our disappointments in life.

Perhaps it’s also something that comes along as we grow up. Is it a cultural force of cynicism that sweeps across our very well-connected world where bad news spreads like wildfire and dulls our heart to any hope? Is it more of the things we see in our lives that become increasingly complex and difficult to solve?

A few years ago, I used to think that being able to talk about problems and describe them in the realest and fullest way possible, was a triumph. I believed that by stating – sometimes even in the brashest, most honest way – the issues that long plagued the environment around me, to be able to rant and be #real and relevant, was what the whole of “superficial society” needed.

But what people need is not just relevance. We clearly, and deeply, already know the issues that we face. Being able to voice it out is not a full triumph. The clarion call of the times is not cynicism, but Hope.

Anyone can call out cynicism in life. But not everyone can point out Hope and point others to Hope.

As I face more and more uphill challenges in my life, the temptation and tendency to retreat into cynicism grows stronger. Yes, 'retreat', because I believe cynicism is just a hiding place for us, an excuse to avoid an issue and face it squarely like it needs to be faced. It is often the manifestation of fear and pain. If something scares us too much to tackle, or is too painful to think about at all, it is far easier to ascribe the issue to some unsolvable issue and rest in our sighs, our “it couldn’t be helped”, “the world is always going to be like this”, and “things are never going to change, so I might as well live with it”.

We think we are pounding on the ground and exposing the hard truths. But we are simply dulling and numbing our own hearts to pain.

Allow yourself to feel pain. Allow yourself to be disappointed. And then allow yourself to believe in hope again. All this is far better than the monotonous chime of cynicism, one that protects yourself from getting hurt, and shields yourself from actually being human.

After all, reality isn't just the sewer, but also the roads around it, that must surely lead to somewhere.

[slytherinkyuubi]

I posted 15,825 times in 2021

5 posts created (0%)

15820 posts reblogged (100%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3164.0 posts.

I added 10 tags in 2021

#happiness - 1 posts

#sounds like me - 1 posts

#please if anyone ever wants to tag feel free - 1 posts

#also why was i dragged into watching this - 1 posts

#kidz be dumb man - 1 posts

#artemis doea not pass the tim test - 1 posts

#masseuse - 1 posts

#im down with this - 1 posts

#🤣🦋 - 1 posts

#imposter syndrome and i are very well acquainted - 1 posts

Longest Tag: 120 characters

#made in 1997 and the cause of the whole school thinking i was an expert on sex because it used to word once in the blurb

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Imagine an elf is given a job to do at a human institution. The humans think elves don’t need bathroom breaks, since they know they can hold it for days, but this elf has been traveling to reach their job, and has already been holding it to the point they are in pain. They ask for a break, but their job is important and time sensitive, so they admit they can still hold it when asked. After a full day of work, the elf tries to reach the bathroom in time, but they were never told where it is.

Dear anon. I really cant recall what would have prompted this ask. However, this would just be too cruel for the elf in question no? I would hope that the human would have bathrooms anyway and that this poor soul doesnt have to suffer for too long.

0 notes • Posted 2021-11-03 10:41:57 GMT

#4

Problems with just using the mobile app is that you have all these messages /asks that you dont really see till you use your computer... So for anyone who sent me an anon, Soz mate...

0 notes • Posted 2021-11-03 10:39:50 GMT

#3

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

no

0 notes • Posted 2021-11-03 10:38:25 GMT

#2

There is for some reason a 4 hr timelaspe video of moulding jelly on the YouTube kidz app.

...

Don't ask me how I know.

0 notes • Posted 2021-10-29 18:18:25 GMT

#1

Pass the happy! When you get this, reply with 5 things that make you happy and send this to the last 10 people in your notifications! ❤

1) babies of any species.

2) songs on my nostalgia playlist

3) being with family

4) playing in the rain

5) being at the seaside (particularly on a rainy /windy day)

1 notes • Posted 2021-11-03 10:45:00 GMT

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