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lokidiabolus · 4 years

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The Deal - Chapter 2

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (web series)

Pairing: Alastor / Angel Dust

Warnings: human!Angel Dust (Anthony), Deal with a devil AU

Summary: Sometimes you had nobody to spend the Christmas with. Sometimes you didn’t want to. Sometimes you took a chalk and drew a pentagram on the floor fully ready to deal with anything that would come out as an alternative to self-pity occurring otherwise.

The time when Anthony thought if he can’t get anybody to love him properly, he can just make a deal with a devil and find out what affection feels like. Alastor thinks this mortal is pitiful beyond belief and concede. Cuddles happen.

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: I think Cajun Alastor is wonderful but for the love of god I can't write that shit, so I apologize in advance. Please pretend it's readable.

Unbetad!

2020, January 16th

“Mamaaa, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he’s dead~.”

Alastor raised his head from a book he snatched from Anthony’s poor excuse of a collection and narrowed his eyes. Anthony could see him in the corner of his eye, even though the demon excused himself to the living room because Anthony insisted on playing his music and not Alastor’s radio, and he couldn’t help it was Nicki Minaj for the first three songs. He even put it on shuffle too!

I’ve already died once, don’t need to repeat the experience, Alastor rudely scoffed at Anthony’s phone and left the room, even though he was bragging just night before he’d totally help with cooking. He didn’t even touch the knife before storming out rather than listen to anything modern.

“Mama, life had just begun, but now I've gone and thrown it all away. Mama, ooh, didn't mean to make you cry~,” Anthony singsonged with the melody while grating cheese and could literally feel Alastor’s eyes stabbing the back of his head. Probably not a fan of Queen either.

“If I'm not back again this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters~,” he twirled around the counter to get plates out of cupboard, “Too late, my time has come, sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time. Goodbye everybody, I've got to go, gotta leave you all behind and face the truth~.”

He made a pirouette and his voice skipped an octave when he almost crashed into Alastor suddenly standing in front of him, right in Anthony’s personal bubble, just looming (which was strange he could, since he was half a head shorter than Anthony, yet it couldn’t be described otherwise). He didn’t say anything, just watched Anthony handle the plates clumsily until the human finally managed to put them on the counter without incident.

“See something you like?” Anthony batted his eyelashes while making a pose with pursed lips and Alastor looked him up and down and smirked:

“Not really.”

“Ouch.”

“What is this song about?” the demon ignored him and nodded towards the phone in the middle of Bohemian Rhapsody, surprisingly sounding curious instead of displeased like before (but alright, it was fair of him to be put off when Anaconda was the first thing he heard, Anthony didn’t blame him).

“Don’t have Freddie in hell?” Anthony chuckled and returned back to filling the plates with Carbonara. It wasn’t like he wanted to fall into an Italian household stereotype but Alastor seemed to like Italian cuisine and it was something Anthony was confident in anyway. Also the praise was always a pretty nice bonus and Anthony might have been fishing for it a little bit.

“Not that I know of,” Alastor hummed. “So what is it about? Murder?”

“I mean… I guess? Sorta?” Anthony shrugged and pushed a plate of steaming food into Alastor’s hands, then gestured towards the table. “Should be about a man who accidentally killed somebody and then sold his soul to the devil.”

“How intriguing!” Of course Alastor would like that topic, grinning like a loon. “You knew the lyrics by heart.”

“It’s a famous song,” Anthony stuck out his tongue. “Everybody knows the lyrics. It’s like an anthem, ya know. Great song.”

“Likeable,” the demon admitted and sat at the table while Anthony handed him a fork and a spoon. “Thank you, dear. Looks splendid as always.”

“I try,” Anthony beamed while sitting down as well. “Oh. Actually, what if I killed somebody too, like, in the future-,”

“Now that would be an adventure, would it not?” Alastor interrupted him with even a wider smile, while the invisible audience cheered, like the idea of murder appealed to him. Why wouldn’t it, as a demon of course he wouldn’t go ew, don’t.

“I’m too pretty for jail, ya know,” Anthony gave him an unamused glare. Alastor hummed in agreement and started eating, his eyes lighting up happily. For a hell person he sure was such a foodie.

“Aww, so you think I’m pretty?” Anthony cooed at him and Alastor glared. It was a thing with this guy – he handled flirtations very badly. Either he got angry or super frustrated, and the latter was honestly so adorable Anthony risked the wrath too often for his own good. “So, what do you like about me?”

“When you don’t talk.” Came a curt reply and Anthony snorted and let him get off the hook.

“What I meant was – what if I killed somebody but didn’t want to go to jail. And wanted to make a deal with you about keeping me safe from them? Would it work?”

“Why wouldn’t it work?” Alastor glanced at him from the food. “Safety is nothing difficult to achieve.”

“I mean,” Anthony leaned against his palm. “We already made a deal. Can you make two deals with the same person?”

“I can make as many deals as I want with the same person,” Alastor answered while twirling his fork in spaghetti. “Why would you think I could not?”

“Not that ya couldn’t but… more like it’s not worth it for ya anymore, right?” Anthony suggested and it seemed like he made an interesting point, since Alastor stopped eating to fully concentrate on the problem. “As in, ya already have my soul-,”

“Heart.”

“And undying love, of course,” Anthony winked at him, earning an eyeroll. Fair. “But another deal would not give ya anything else. Ya already have what ya wanted.”

“Oh, indeed,” the demon nodded thoughtfully. “Obviously true. It depends on the individual. Some demons can take years off the remaining life of the mortal, or actually only state the remaining years for their service, then come collect the life once the time is up.”

“Like they give ya an amazing painting skill, but you have… ten years to live and enjoy the fame?” Anthony prompted and Alastor nodded in agreement. “That sounds… pretty rough. Why would anybody take that?”

“Why would anybody do anything? Mortals are greedy. They want to be acknowledged. Or they fight sheer, absolute boredom and want to elevate it by any means necessary,” the demon tapped his claws against the table in quick staccato. “You think it is not worth it?”

“I mean maybe when I’m fifty, sure, ten years sounds fine,” Anthony shrugged. “But ten years from now? I guess I’d be bummed.”

“Maybe you are not thinking big enough,” Alastor gave him a wide smile. “Not all demons take remaining life force though. Everybody has different methods if necessary. Though the heart is usually a priority.”

“Not for everybody though?”

“Some don’t want underlings,” the demon opposed. “Some only work for Hell itself and don’t take anything, only assure the soul will belong to Hell once the mortal die. Some actually feed on the life force of humans. Hell is having all kind of horrors you can think of, you see.”

“At least yer a daydream,” Anthony winked and Alastor’s smile twitched. Easy. “Building your own harem down there, ya kinky bastard.”

“And here I thought we’re having a meaningful conversation,” the demon sighed and returned to the food, which made Anthony snicker.

“I mean… what do I know, it could be,” he teased him. “What else would ya need some poor bastard’s hearts to do your bidding?”

“To tell them when they need to close their pretty mouths shut if they want to keep them,” Alastor smiled at him sweetly, his crimson eyes shining, and alright, okay, threats on Thursday evening were a thing now. Anthony imitated a zipper on his mouth and quieted down, but still, it was kind of hilarious. Maybe a week ago he’d still be afraid of Alastor pouncing at over the table and slashing his throat but now it was more like no talk, I’m angy sort of meme.

The silence didn’t last very long when Alastor set the fork down and looked at Anthony with curiosity.

“You are full of vigour today,” he observed. “Something good happened? You seem to be in jolly mood.”

“Just glad ya could make it,” Anthony grinned. Alastor became very reliable when it came to the dinner dates and weekend plans after the New Year’s fiasco, never missed one when he promised to come. They found a certain rhythm in the cohabitation and Anthony got used to his presence maybe a little too fast. The man was an enigma with the way he behaved – they slept huddled together no problem, Alastor could be super clingy when he wanted to (rarely though, usually more like only when somehow too tired), but once they were out of the bedroom, any contact was met with stiffness or a five foot rule. The latter became a thing about a week after New Year’s thanks to Anthony’s inability to keep his hands to himself when it came to Alastor’s fluffiness. The hair, the ears and the tail that wagged when he liked something enough, which obviously couldn’t leave Anthony calm, right? A damn cute fluffy wagging tail just… there, for touching.

Well, Alastor wasn’t amused, not by a long shot. The moment Anthony gathered enough courage and touched the thing, the edge of Alastor’s microphone was pushing against his chest to keep him away, and he would have sworn there were creepy symbols flying all around the demon’s head like he was ready to let Anthony get swallowed by some Eldritch monster. Therefore five foot rule became a thing unless it was Alastor who initiated the touch – which was another weird thing about the man. He had no respect for personal space whatsoever, like at all, when he wanted to point out something, make a statement or just felt like it, but once somebody else breached his personal bubble, he bristled like a cat with murderous intent. So Anthony kept his hands to himself but started flirting. Honestly kind of expected a five words rule to happen at some point, but until then he just wanted to have his fun.

“I see,” Alastor watched him carefully and then picked the fork again. “And here I thought you won a lottery or maybe fell in love.”

“Yer the only love of my life, don’t ya worry,” Anthony winked because he could and Alastor let out a sigh that honestly didn’t even sound that fed up, more like just out of habit. “But like. It’s kinda convenient. If somebody confessed to me, that is.”

“Oh?” Alastor’s eyes were sharp.

“My heart belongs to another!” Anthony stated dramatically and then let out a small laugh. “Not even lying? Like. My heart is taken, literally, by the deal we made, it would be like an ultimate move.”

The demon seemed to ponder it, then said nothing. Probably didn’t want to rain on Anthony’s parade on shutting him down needlessly. Naturally, Anthony didn’t think any romance was possible, or even vaguely interesting for the demon, so all his jabs were good-natured but without seriousness.

Or almost all of them. He would be lying if he didn’t admit at least to himself he liked Alastor as a person, not only as a convenient body pillow with Bambi tail he didn’t even let him touch. But such thoughts were private, and he kept them hidden and locked inside of his mind. He learned well enough not to hope to protect himself, and the only relationship there could be was a master and an underling – eventually. Once Anthony die.

Though… who knew when he was going to die. Was Alastor willing to do this his whole life? What if he was going to live to 80? Was he going to cuddle with him and eat dinners every three days in a week for 49 years?

But then again… what is time for a demon? He didn’t even know how old Alastor was. By appearance he’d say maybe around Anthony’s age, but then again, he was never half deer so… could be different. Did deer age count the same as dogs?

“If you ever needed an excuse for that kind of thing,” Alastor suddenly spoke, his voice staticky as always, a weirdly comforting noise lately. “I would recommend saying your husband has a wide collection of knives. It usually scares people away.”

“Pfff.” Husband. “Would need a ring for that, ya know.”

“Mhm,” the demon hummed, not adding anything else. Seriously. He just kept leaving so many openings, there was no way Anthony would not use those when he had a chance.

“So how many knives you have, husband?” he sent him a bright smile and Alastor carefully twirled carbonara on his fork before putting it to his mouth primly, chewed and then gulped down, as a show of how not amusing the jab was, Anthony thought.

Then, after another moment: “About twelve.”

Anthony made a croaking noise and completely missed a smile Alastor hid with another bite of food.

***

“Anthony.”

“Mmmm?”

The clock showed 1 in the morning and Anthony couldn’t fall asleep, no matter how hard he cuddled Alastor under the blanket. He tossed and turned and Alastor had to pull him back to him about ten times, but sleep eluded them both, even with the white noise of Alastor’s static floating around that usually lulled Anthony well enough.

“Can you play the murder song again,” Alastor requested from under Anthony’s weight, sprawled around the middle of the bed.

“Hah, sure,” the human reached for his phone resting on the nightstand and almost blinded himself when the display lit up. He clicked few times until Bohemian Rhapsody broke the silence of the otherwise quiet flat before returning back to lie on top of his demon.

“Sing with it too?” another request and Anthony prompted his chin on Alastor’s chest.

“Can’t sleep either?”

“You keep tossing and turning,” Alastor said simply. “Not me. Sing?”

Anthony raised an eyebrow, but there was no reasoning for the request, so he just softly sang along with the music, looking at Alastor with half lidded eyes until he couldn’t hold them open anymore. The song eventually ended, and Anthony finally felt sleep tugging on his consciousness like he just performed a lullaby that worked a bit too well.

“You asked about more deals for one person before,” he distantly felt a hand going through his hair and only hummed. “For you, my dear, I would close more deals if you ever asked me.”

“Aww,” he chuckled sleepily, his arms circling Alastor’s torso with possessiveness.

“The happier you are,” he heard, “the better your psyche becomes. The stronger the demon you’d be down there.”

“Boo, how cold,” Anthony pouted. “And here I thought ya actually liked me, at least a little.”

“You are… tolerable.” Anthony missed the small smile playing on Alastor’s lips, his face buried in the man’s red shirt. “But I am a professional, you see.”

“A professional dealmaker,” he yawned.

“Quite so.”

“Ya have that in your resume too?” Anthony couldn’t stop the tease. “Ya know, next to professional cuddler?”

“Probably as much as you have an immense tease in yours,” the demon uttered and his voice was thundering in his chest, which was weird, because it sounded like a completely different person without the static echo. Anthony liked it though.

“Sure, but also a good cook,” the human chuckled, “and a quality wife, ya see.”

A hum, then silence. Anthony considered the conversation closed, until Alastor spoke again softly: “There are always ways to get something in return for another deal, beside the servitude or life force.”

“Mmmlikewhat.”

“Why don’t you find out yourself?”

And with that Anthony fell asleep before any kind of dirty joke could come out.

***

2020, January 17th

It stayed in his head the whole next day. He kept thinking about it at home when getting ready to go out, then at work when taking orders and wondered, if a favourite dish made for dinner would be a possible kind of payment for the deal in Alastor’s book. What a demon like him could possibly want beside the heart he already got? He knew Alastor enjoyed good food, but was that actually something that could be exchanged for a supernatural request?

Or was it something kinky, like that in hell the only title Anthony would be able to use when talking to him would be Master? Or My Lord? Anthony could see himself do that, sure, though only in a joke to rile him up a little.

Funny how any fear of the guy went down the drain after the Bambi revelation, no matter how scary Alastor tried to be sometimes.

“Love, this is the third time you messed up an order, are you okay?” his colleague patted his shoulder and he blinked at her in confusion.

“Oh shit, did I?” he realized, after a long loading screen in his brain completed, what she just said and snapped back to reality where the demon in red didn’t bat his eyelashes at him. Not that he ever did. But he could dream. “I’m so sorry, my mind is in a gutter.”

“Yeah, can see that,” the girl patted his arm this time. He wasn’t sure why she was so touchy-feely all of sudden, but didn’t comment on it. “Something on your mind?”

“Weekend plans,” he shrugged and well, he wasn’t even lying, really. This was their weekend together and since Alastor didn’t mention any kind of obstacle in attending, it was Anthony’s turn to think of something to do. The forecast looked glum though, so going outside was probably not the best choice of outing, unless it would be short, so indoors activity sounded a little more satisfying. Maybe they could order some good food home, rather than cook this time. Or drink. Oooh, they could actually drink! He wondered if Alastor even liked alcohol.

“Man, Tony, are you in love or something?” the girl sighed, snapping her fingers in front of him. “You keep spacing out!”

“Well,” he glanced at her with a grin. “My heart has definitely been taken-,”

“In which gangbang this time?” another colleague cut in, smiling at him with fake sweetness while putting empty glasses in the sink with a loud thud. He didn’t even see her coming. “Did they pay you enough to buy you completely? Or just a quickie outside like always?”

Ouch.

“Don’t be salty just because nobody would fuck you even for free,” he cocked his hips. “Heard duster is good for cobwebs though.”

“Whatever you say, slut,” she made a face at him. “I’m not being the one spreading STD.”

“Good at spreading bullshit though,” he shot back, making her give him an uptight smile and a smack of her ponytail when she dramatically turned away and left for the kitchen. He decided not to comment on that and was kind of glad the other girl kept her mouth shut too.

Obviously, everybody at work knew about the New Year’s and his fall from grace – though that would indicate there was grace to begin with, which honestly was not. Maybe he should start looking for another job with how bleak things looked in this pub. The whole week after New Year’s random guys kept making pass at him even in his regular waiter clothes, like somebody just decided to advertise the pub as fuck-to-go eatery and it made his skin itch, especially when some of them were more handsy than others and didn’t understand no sent their way. A slap on his butt there, a grope here, hey cutie called from another table, and the girls he worked with either glared at him or had nasty remarks he should have already been able to deflect, but sometimes he just could not. He wasn’t made of sugar, some bad words and pointed fingers didn’t make him cry, but they didn’t add to good mood either.

He was always relieved if that evening Al showed up and took his worries away with the well-known staticky voice and invisible audience cheering at some of his bad dad jokes. Honestly, he had lots of bad dad jokes it was almost unreal, and the saddest thing was he unironically liked them while Anthony groaned every time he told some. He was just glad so far Alastor didn’t use those cringe worthy abominations against the flirting, because that would definitely shut Anthony down fast.

There were still four hours to his shift and for the first time since he knew Alastor he regretted the demon didn’t have a phone, so he could hear his voice while he locked himself in the bathroom stall with knees under his chin and quivering lip.

***

Anthony still didn’t know what to do over the weekend. It felt like he should have a plan, like there should be a diary or something, with post-it notes and differently coloured entries, but all he could do when he got back home was to sag down in the living room like a bag of potatoes on the couch and open a bottle of tequila. No limes, no salt, just the bottle and big gulps of it. He chugged it several times until the annoying tightness in his chest slowly eased off, until he could breathe normally and the bitter words he heard every time he turned his back towards the bar dissolved in burning taste of alcohol.

Who cared. People were mean and greedy, and he was broken and rotten to the core. Those things usually never combined well together, and he was a living proof. When was the last time he even had a friend? When did somebody expressed concern for him? Damn, when even was the last time somebody held his hair when he threw up?

Self-centred bitch. Show-off. Attention seeker. Dirty slut. A whore.

All fun and smiles and oh, I will do your make up, sweetie, oh, let me do your hair, honey, oh, this costume looks so cute on you, and oh, was it just a quickie outside or you fucked the whole train station? Did he just give you a ride home or you sucked his dick for it? Oh, new shoes? Which sugar daddy’s money was it today?

“Nobody’s fuckin’ money!” he yelled at nothing, swinging the almost empty bottle of tequila around. “None of yer fuckin’ business!”

Maybe we should do next costume event BDSM themed, our little darling angel Tony would love to lick somebody’s boots again.

“Fuck off!” A loud shattering noise when the bottle hit the wall felt like his sanity was breaking to pieces. “Just leave me the fuck alone…”

His brain was so hazed he barely registered arms circling around him, pulling him into a hug. He was swayed from side to side with a soft, crooning noise above him, and thought damn, how bad is it I even hallucinate? Up until he finally focused enough to realize he was engulfed with blackness without any real warmth, just suddenly there, holding him.

“Oh…” he chuckled pathetically. “It’s you.”

The Shadow nuzzled his face but didn’t say anything, just continued to hold him. Frankly, Anthony had no idea what day it was, even what time or where exactly he ended up, if he moved at all, if Alastor was supposed to come but couldn’t make it, so he sent Junior instead, or if this was some kind of weird, alcohol induced vision of much needed comfort.

“Whacha do’n her’, big boy?” The words were slurring together, the alcohol was doing its magic. “Al’s busy busy busy?”

Another nuzzle. Was that a touch therapy? Nobody touched him so readily before. Not even Al who cuddled him at night, but usually touched him only in two prime locations – his waist and around neck and head for pats, but otherwise kept his hands to himself. The Shadow on the other hand just pawed at him pretty much like a big dog wanting to rub all over and Anthony blearily wondered how a man and his shadow could be so different.

“Th’re, t’re,” he patted the Shadow’s head, a strange ghost-like tingling going through his hand. “Ar’ ya sad too?”

The hold remained and the dark tendrils from the shade were covering half of the couch like an expensive Persian rug. That mental image made Anthony bark out a drunken laugh. Could somebody’s shadow be sad? It was clinging to him like a lifeline and Anthony felt the tequila churning in his belly as if it were trying to burn its way through.

“Ah,” he finally realized what the shadow was doing. “Yer tryin’ t’ comf’rt me.”

A hum, clearly agreeing. It made Anthony relax into the hold, feeling a little like floating and not sitting on his tequila-stained couch, and yeah, it was relaxing, it was nice, it was… different.

“Wond’r how Al’s hugs ar’,” he sighed then giggled stupidly. “Prob’ly warm an’ nice. D’es he ev’n hug pe’ple?”

Maybe he did hug people. Just different people. Not Anthony, at least. Touching only when necessary. Maybe he could make a deal about hugging, Al said more deals are possible. Maybe he could ask for one hug a week or something, like one full body hug and then wait for seven days for Al to get his barriers back… or whatever he had. Human contact aversion, probably. He just wasn’t sure what to give in return. Being a personal cook? Not flirting at any point ever again?

Would Al even want shit like that? Or would he want some of his life force? Years off his back? He would give them… for Alastor. If he wanted his life force, Anthony wouldn’t mind if it was him. His life was not worth much anyway.

Would Alastor want something as rotten as his life energy though? Sure, he wanted his heart at least, but it just meant to have a servant later on, nothing he would feed himself with.

Unless he ate his servants. That would kinda suck.

“I k’nda like ‘im, y’kno,” he confessed quietly, slowly slipping lower in the hold. The anger he felt was already gone, now the tequila tried to pull at melancholy, and he didn’t like it. Didn’t need to be sad over the fact the only person at least vaguely resembling affectionate concern was a demon from hell that got paid with his soul and heart for acting out of his character three times a week. “Path’tic me, huh.”

Nuzzling ensued. He liked Al’s shadow. He was like a big animal soaking up bad vibes and making Anthony calmer.

“Wish I c’n talk to ‘im when I feel sad,” he mumbled to himself and barely registered the shadow pulled them both down to the cushions. “’s he French? He sounded French ‘nce…”

“Cajun,” rang through the room and Anthony attempted to focus, but his vision kept on blurring. Maybe he drank too much after all. “Louisiana.”

“Bayou boy?” he giggled anyway. “That’s cute.”

“You drank too much, cher,” rang through the room again and then another sigh came, and radio static buzzed to life. “And you. I was wondering where you slithered to.”

There was a rumble from under Anthony and he felt the force supporting him up to now disappearing until he only felt the couch around him and nothing else. He blinked in confusion before his vision cleared enough to realize all the darkness around him was gone, but legs clothed in red were standing next to him instead. They definitely weren’t there prior to his meltdown, he remembered as much.

He rubbed his eyes and attempted to look up before it finally dawned on him that this was Alastor standing here, flesh and bone and he didn’t even need to get all the way up to his face.

“Look at you,” the voice sounded a little exasperated and human. There was no static whatsoever. “Dat’s da second time you did somethin’ like dis.”

“Hi, Al,” Anthony tried sheepishly, and a clawed hand pushed him back into the cushions when he tried to sit down. Maybe for the best, the floor seemed to wobble more than usual.

“Hi yo’self,” the human voice was so warm. Or maybe he was drunk enough to imagine it that way. “How’s dat you make my shadow to just go and disappear from ‘ell just fo’ you?”

“I guess he likes me,” Anthony slid down the armrest and finally took in the whole Alastor’s height, gazing at his face he couldn’t read even if he tried to. He watched the demon look around until he stopped at the corner where the bottle landed and fell apart and his eyebrows knitted together.

“Hey Al,” Anthony raised a hand and tried to grab at something of the mans’ but missed. He tried few more times but couldn’t decide which of the three Alastors were the right one, so he just fumbled around until Alastor took a pity on him and grabbed his hand in his, stilling him. Also, warm. So, so warm. “Do you ever hug people?”

“No,” the demon answered back simply. “Do you?”

Anthony took a breath with sure answer, then stopped and thought about it.

“…I guess not,” he conceded momentarily. “Nobody t’ hug, really.”

“D’you wanna hug?” came a question and Anthony looked at their joined hands and let out a long, tired sigh.

“Ya,” he croaked out. “I wanna hug. I dun even rememb’r who or when I hugged someb’dy last.”

“I think I hugged ma mum last,” Alastor slowly lowered himself on the couch, sitting at Anthony’s feet, his hand still gripping his prey tightly. “Long time ago.”

“Was she nice?” the human whispered softly.

“Very nice.”

“Do ya miss her?”

“Ev’ry day,” Alastor had the softest expression Anthony ever saw on him. It was almost painful to see and yet somehow beautiful it would be a waste not to look. He wondered if Alastor was ever in love with somebody other than his mum.

“She in heaven?” he asked gently and only got a nod as a response. He felt his head clearing a little and hoped he would remember this tomorrow as clearly as he saw it now. He tried to scramble up, though it probably was the least dignified climb he ever did and then shuffled close to the demon, sitting down with his knees almost touching Alastor’s thigh. Almost.

“Tell me ‘bout her,” he nudged him gently.

The demon tilted his head, the buzz of the static coming to life all of sudden it almost startled him. Probably not the best topic to breach, he realized and looked down at the clawed hand that was still holding his with surprising gentleness.

“Your shadow is pretty independent, huh,” he changed the topic for peace of mind of both of them, and the buzzing intensified. Fuck, not that either.

“My shadow has no filter,” the static voice rang out, the tenseness of Alastor’s smile indicating the situation bothered him more than he let on at first. “He does what feels right.”

So, it felt right for it to come here and comfort Anthony when he felt like shit and wanted to drink himself into stupor?

“It’s nice sometimes,” Anthony tried carefully. “To do what feels right instead of worryin’ ‘bout consequences.”

The static picked up in obvious disagreement and Alastor was glaring at him, his eyes redder than ever.

“Like you do all your miserable life?” the demon uttered venomously, and Anthony felt his heart drop into his stomach and dissolve. When Alastor let go of his hand and abruptly stood up, it felt so far away it could have been considered out of body experience for how cold it suddenly became.

“Well,” his mouth moved by some miracle, though he felt his lower lip quiver. “Some days are hard and lonely. And then I get called a slut at work and groped by random guys because they think they’re allowed, and I feel like I need a hug and safety, but nobody can give me what I want, so I cling to somethin’ that feels right at least a little, even though it’s not good… or healthy… or… “

Sincere and not a lie.

“Or I just wanna forget all that shit by doin’ more dumb shit, because… why not. At least it makes me free for a while, other than just… surviving,” he tried to take a breath but it came in wet and hiccup-y and he realized he was already crying like a pathetic fool thinking a demon could give a shit about anything more than the end of the deal and one more chess piece on his black and white board.

Fucking, stupid idiot, like always. Even though he knew. He knew.

The static was so loud now it made Anthony cover his ears and shut his eyes and he felt sick in the stomach and the fucking tequila wanted to fuck him up now, because why not now, at this exact moment, when everything else was falling apart.

Just go away, go the fuck away, leave me alone.

Then everything stopped. When Anthony opened his eyes, he was alone.

***

2020, January 18th

Anthony woke up on the couch with a crick in his neck and stomach unstable like nitro-glycerine ready to explode. The room smelled of tequila shots and vomit and heartbreak and his whole body was in weird, gut wrenching spasm.

He stared into the ceiling with a splitting headache and wished he’d draw a blank about last night, because nothing about this situation gave a merciful vibe, only bad, bad consequences.

Like Alastor leaving, angry and staticky and cruel.

“FUUUUCK!” he yelled into silence and then grabbed a pillow so he could shout in it again as loud as he could. Regret immediately followed, but he probably deserved to suffer a bit more than usual after a vicious hangover and a dealmaker break up.

Obviously Alastor thought Anthony’s life was miserable. Even Anthony knew it was miserable, he was living it, and he got it. He even made a deal with a devil to make himself less miserable which only added to the pathetic part of the diagnose, so in the end there was nothing much left of him but a huge, pitiful mess.

And Alastor got dragged right into it – a failure after failure, just picking him up with all those fake smiles to keep the deal going because at the end the reward was guaranteed, but it was pretty apparent the equation was not adding up and the result could never be good enough for the demon’s standards.

He just wondered if there was a way to break the deal anyhow, from the demon’s side. There was no way Alastor was coming back after all that, and if he was by some miracle, then only to deliver a killing blow, collecting the soul at least and then leaving him to get eradicated in hell like any other lesser shade.

He managed to drag himself to the bathroom and sat on the toilet lid for 27 minutes before deciding to make himself throw up rather than wait if it would come by itself. It didn’t make him feel any better, sadly, so he just took a shower to get rid of all the sweat and guilt (sadly didn’t work for that one) under streams of water and remained there with head pressed against tiles in hope he would melt through the drain.

Would be honestly quite helpful.

“Anthony?”

He blinked. Did he just hear his name or…?

“Anthony, my good fellow, are you still alive?” Again.

That was Alastor‘s voice. Anthony stared at the door of the shower stand, afraid to even make a sound until he heard his name called once more and that couldn’t be his imagination anymore, right?

“…yeah?” he made himself talk but refused to step out.

“Good! You are still here,” Alastor’s voice was closer now, probably in the hallway. “I am taking your kitchen for now, but please do join me at your convenience!”

Happy, loud voice. The fake cheeriness he heard few times and learned how to recognize – he usually acted like that when he was mad at Anthony for needless flirting but refused to show it.

It made no sense. Why was he here?

The water started to run cold and Anthony gritted his teeth and turned it off, just to carefully step out, bundle up in a towel and added a fluffy bathrobe before cautiously leaving the bathroom. Jazz was playing through the radio in the kitchen and Alastor was humming along while the sound of cutting and simmering added to the ambience.

Was he cooking?

The human stopped near the entrance to the living room and took a deep breath. He wasn’t ready to face him just yet, he still felt like a raw bundle of nerves on two wobbly feet. It was ridiculous – Alastor didn’t exactly do anything wrong. He just stated how things were, Anthony hadn’t been told for the first or last time in his life for sure. He had no right to be mad about the truth.

It was just… such a bad timing. After having a bad day, after going through a depressive episode where the self-loathing starred in the main role, then get this thrown in his face like a hot potato just hurt. Rightfully. But still hurt.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” the staticky voice interrupted his thoughts and the tone was much less cheery now. It made his stomach drop and he unconsciously took a step back. There was a clink sound of a knife being put down and then steps leading towards him, which immediately made him panic and he shut the door to the living room with a loud slam.

The steps halted.

“Should I leave?” Came a question from the other side of the door, loud and clear and scary.

“I don’t know,” Anthony answered back, his hands shaking. It sucked. He should not be this way; he didn’t make a deal for feeling worse than on his normal bad days. He made a deal to be lied to, to be coddled, and then to die and suffer for being a coward, and that was it.

“I will if you want me to,” Alastor said quietly. “I am not here to torture you. Or make you feel bad.”

Too late, bucko.

“I crossed a line yesterday.” It sounded suspiciously like an apology, Anthony thought. “I apologize for saying what I said.”

“What, the truth?” Anthony snorted and leaned against the closed door, eyebrows knitted together unhappily. “Ya don’t need to worry about that one.”

“It upset you.”

“That’s what the truth does.”

“Yes, agreed,” there was a hint of guilt in Alastor’s voice, no matter how he tried to hide it with his radio nonsense. “I was upset too. But still… I should not have lashed out like that.”

Upset?

Anthony turned his head, partly facing the door. What was even Alastor upset about? He just suddenly got all staticky in there, just because Anthony asked… about his mum?

“Because I asked about your mum?” he tried and Alastor on the other side sighed.

“I am going to open the door now,” he stated instead, and Anthony immediately caught the handle in refusal with an immediate no. “Anthony.”

“I don’t get ya,” the human groaned, holding the door closed like it was a lifeline. “I just don’t get ya, why are ya even here? Why were ye so mad yesterday? For a while ya were the nicest person in the whole fuckin’ world and then ya kicked me when I was already on the fuckin’ ground, so why now? Why pretend yer a nice guy when ye don’t care?”

Silence.

“Just because I asked ‘bout her? Ya think it’s somethin’ I can hold against ya in hell or what?” He had no idea if Alastor was still even there. It was deadly silent on the other side, he probably just poofed out of thin air again rather than listen to this.

“No,” sounded behind him all of sudden and it made him curse loudly when he suddenly faced Alastor in his red shirt, with coat nowhere to be seen, his sleeves rolled up and his face not smiling at all. If anything, he actually looked quite hurt.

Fucking filthy lying bastard, that one. Actor worthy of a Golden Globe.

“That’s cheatin’,” Anthony scoffed but Alastor didn’t seem to mind it. He wasn’t immediately in his personal bubble, but he wasn’t far either and it made Anthony unable to collect his thoughts properly. All he wanted was to shout and maybe smack him a bit too. But the demon could bite his arms off, so he refrained from doing anything but glare.

“You seem to like my shadow much better,” Alastor said evenly.

Anthony didn’t get how that was relevant to anything.

“He likes to hug,” he said lamely.

“You like him because he hugs you?” Alastor’s expression morphed into a surprise and Anthony really didn’t get why was he asking about his shadow now of all times.

“Wha… who cares?” he stared at the demon, hating he felt cornered like an animal. “How’s yer shadow even relevant to this conversation?”

“I thought you were asking why I was upset,” Alastor looked away for a while, a strangely nervous gesture. “Therefore, I’m telling you.”

“Because I seem to like yer shadow better?” Anthony almost lost his jaw for how low it dropped and holy fucking shit, was Alastor fidgeting? Was he for real? Was it some refined plan for Anthony to drop his defences again? To act cute as fuck?

His fucking ears were droopy too, Anthony realized, his eyes glued to the top of the demon’s head. No. no no no. This couldn’t be real.

“Are you fuckin’ with me?”

“Since I made a deal with you,” Alastor ignored the question, but still avoided his eyes. “I felt like I lack complete control for some reason. It makes me uneasy when things do not work the way they are supposed to. The way I want them to.”

At that moment it finally hit him.

“You didn’t order yer shadow to come here even once,” Anthony stated, and the static crackled again until Alastor shook his head to get rid of it. Oh. He really didn’t like when things were out of his reach. And his shadow just fucking off to visit the human must have been one of them, especially yesterday.

“But… but you can’t blame me for that?” the human insisted, his eyes wide. “It’s not like I called him here or…”

“Of course not,” Alastor let out a sigh. “He just acts on his feelings.”

“Your shadow likes me?”

“You keep referring to him like he is a completely different person,” the demon crossed his arms on his chest. His forearms were scarred and for some reason showing that bit of skin now seemed like a big step for the man, though Anthony wouldn’t really call him vulnerable. Still scary as fuck.

Silence. Alastor tilted his head to the side, then pursed his lips and looked away again.

“He is not,” he added for good measure. “We are the same being.”

Anthony gaped.

“He has no filter,” he repeated, the conversation yesterday so clear even despite his drunken state, and the more he was staring at Alastor in front of him, the more the demon in red seemed to fluster.

“I, for one,” the demon finally spoke, “have tons of filters. We seem to disagree when it comes to you. On how to… handle you.”

Full body hug versus five foot rule is a pretty wide gap, Anthony mused, still gaping.

“I was unfair yesterday,” Alastor cleared his throat. “You are not… well, of course you are pretty miserable, honestly,” he looked him over, and yeah, okay, fair. He must have looked like complete shit with the hangover, now bundled up in fluffiness of the bathrobe. “There’s no denying it, and you are at least aware of it. But that was not supposed to make you feel bad. It is why we are going to fix this. Eventually.”

“Fix…?” Anthony repeated, not being able to get his expression under control.

“Yes. And then you will die and that would be it, but that is not important right now,” Alastor shook his head again, his voice softer. “Now… you are alive. And you need me.”

“Cocky, aren’t ya,” Anthony sniffed a little. “Mr. Control Freak.”

“At least I don drink tequila like a savage,” Alastor scoffed, the static dropping from his voice like a curtain. “No class at all, cher.”

“Bite me,” Anthony flipped him off and finally opened the door to the living room. Somehow it felt like a gateway where his insecurity had no way to pass and when he walked through, his chest was not so tight anymore.

Then he realized there was a dead deer in the living room, and he hurled out the rest of his stomach contents.

“Tu as fait un gâchis,” Alastor said and went back to the kitchen.

No. No nice things. Alastor was a fucking freak.

#hazbin hotel #radiodust #alastor x angel dust #au #the deal series #human!Angel Dust

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mus-ink · 5 years

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Walmart Credit Card & Online Banking Login Info And Guide

Walmart is unparalleled in the Entire World and America. Its retail shops are anyplace from the US; in each state, every significant city, plus they've over 11,000 locations globally.

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Our informative article details all you want to know about also the charge and Walmart.

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Walmart accepts the traces of Discover credit cards: Visa, American Express and, needless to say, MasterCard. However, they also run.

Both credit cards are:

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Two% off on all gasoline purchases you make at Walmart gas channels or in Murphy USA gas channels.

1 percent off on the other purchases such as those made in the Walmart Store.

A $25 Account Opening Bonus at which you could find a reduction of $25 on purchases performed on precisely the exact same day you start your credit card accounts. Your credit card has been approved on the internet, you receive your discount on purchases that are. You are able to avail of the deal pass you have in the shop if you applied to a store.

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Why not?

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Implementing In-Store:

Go to a Walmart store near you and strategy the agent in the counter.

Ask a Walmart Credit Card application form and then fill it out. Information includes your social security number, mailing address, email, contact number, your name, along with your credit rating.

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You will get your Walmart Credit Card in your mailing address within seven to ten working days after approval.

Implementing Walmart Credit Card Login Online:

You are going to need to produce a Walmart Credit Card login account to submit an application for a Walmart Credit Card login in their site.

Sign-Up Login: Visit Walmart.com log in page the official site for Walmart, and click on the menu choice on the left side. The menu will get an option saying'Account'. Indoors, the solution is'Create Account'. Clicking here will open an internet form requiring a password, email address, and name. Input press Generate Account and all four areas.

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Employ: Again the menu on the left reveals a choice stating,'Employ for Walmart Credit Card. You click on also the credit card application form along with this opens upward. Read the directions and fill in the form with information such as email, mailing address, city, state, your name, contact number, your social security number, along with your credit rating. Click'Continue' and your program will be forwarded. You will get an email notification when it's accepted along with your Walmart Credit Card will be sent to you.

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You can telephone the Walmart Customer Support at 1-877-294-7880. An automated service will react. Ask for an application for your own credit card and you may opt to consult with a representative. All information will probably be requested and your program will be forwarded.

How Can I Make My Walmart Credit Card Payment?

Together With Your Online Walmart Account:

Log into your Walmart accounts and browse to the invoice pay section. When you choose'Credit Card Payment', then the web site prompts zip code and your card number. Input these and put in your bank account credentials to get the payment.

Utilizing mycheckfree.com

This is the alternative if you do not need to generate a Walmart accounts or have misplaced your password.

Visit mycheckfree.com and click Scout! Register' on the site. If you already have an account in mycheckfree you are able to log in. The procedure and the log-in require your email and password.

Go into the national and Local Bill List' and search for'Walmart'.

Select the Walmart Credit Card choice and click on,'Insert'. Press'Continue'.

You will input your Walmart Credit Card number, your bank account number and other information to execute the transaction.

1. By Telephone:

To make your payment by telephone, call the Walmart Customer Support at 1-877-294-7880. The service will lead you through Speedpay being used by the procedure for payment. You will be charged an extra $10 if you decide to consult with their agent for help.

2. From Mail:

Send your payments

Walmart/SYNCB PO Box 530927 Atlanta, GA 30353-0927

3. In a Shop:

Walmart Credit Card payments can be made at any Walmart store in the Customer Service counter. Since the repetitions can not hunt for your accounts, it is ideal to deliver together your Walmart Credit Card with this.

Want to Save Walmart.com? Here is how.

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Walmart provides your competitor's costs. Provided that the thing competition sells is in and equal inventory. The next time you see with discounts, check costs and Walmart in retailers that are large. Prove them on the counter and you'll receive your shopping at a price that is accommodated.

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Time your meals buying trip. You might get discounts if you are in the store shopping for the ideal thing at the ideal time. It is ideal to store early, typically 8% for meat to get a few decent bargains.

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6. The Dollar Deal

You are also given a lot of items for a single buck by Walmart, even. Many goods, such as stationary and deodorant, and shampoos, like cards and gift bags, are offered for a buck.

7. Free Grocery Pickup

Telephone your regional Walmart and tell them how much and everything you would like to purchase. Your purchase will be prepared when you get there and a partner can allow you to load the grocery store in your auto. All free of charge.

You get it delivered in your home store and might purchase your grocery store. Grocery delivery prices will be billed and fluctuate depending on your purchase.

#Walmart Credit Card

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francesderwent · 7 years

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“In Need of a Generic Father Figure” A Veronica Mars Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies Meet-Cute LV AU Week Day 7 Canon-typical language, but otherwise general audiences On AO3 Inspired by this post and that one scene in Charlie Don’t Surf.

______________________________________________________________

It was supposed to be a kind of housewarming-slash-homecoming party, the kind of event that was totally low key in its formulation and planning stage but got completely out of hand once things got rolling. All their friends from the old neighborhood were coming over, and it was supposed to be all nostalgic idiocy born from the eternal familiarity of each having been present for one another’s particular flavor of shitty childhood. There were no delusions about the depth of this bond, and so they weren’t expecting it to be a great party, not the best night of anyone’s life by any means, but it was the sort of gathering you could predict, could depend on. Low-pressure, low stakes, low key.

So, precisely the kind of event which would have a giant wrench thrown into it if you were to add in an unknown factor, say, a perfect stranger to man the grill.

“But he wouldn’t be a stranger,” Dick is insisting. “He’d be a dad.”

Logan gapes at him. “Whose dad?”

Dick shrugs, ineloquently.

“So by dad, you just mean some unknown-as-yet male person who has at one point fathered a child?”

“Sure.”

“So, some unknown person’s father, standing on the corner of our property, making hamburgers.”

“Grilling hamburgers, that’s essential.” Dick looks up from his computer and gives Logan a look like he’s disappointed in him for missing an obvious point. “And it’s not just some random sperm donor, dude, he has to be fatherly and shit. I put it in the ad.”

“Ah yes, the ad,” Logan says. “The Craigslist ad, which you put up online without consulting or telling me. I read the ad. And yet here I stand, questioning the entire premise behind it.” But Dick has returned to his computer, presumably to scroll through his emailed responses. Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright, the court recognizes that grilled hamburgers are better than any alternative. But why do we need someone else to come grill? You and I are fair-to-average at setting things on fire already.”

“We don’t have a grill.”

“No, but we both have trust funds that kicked in some time ago. You may remember them. They’re how we afforded the house…”

Dick huffs. “So we just buy a grill?” Logan gives him the raised eyebrows and jazz hands: duh. Dick bangs on the space bar. “Just buy one, from the depths of our rich boy pockets, without working for it or anything.”

Logan stares. “Are you having some kind of break?”

“It’s stupid to spend money if we could just borrow one.”

“Okaaaay,” Logan says. “So why aren’t you advertising for a grill we can borrow?”

“Because!”

“Because what, Dick?”

“Your dad is supposed to teach you how to grill!” Dick bites out.

They stare at each other for a long beat, then Dick tears his eyes away and starts clattering angrily on his keyboard. Logan sighs, then gingerly sits next to him on the sofa.

“You know,” he says, careful to keep his tone conversational, “if you wanted to sign up for one of those programs for kids with deadbeat dads where they hang out with well-adjusted adult men and learn life skills, I would have happily signed up with you, but we really should have done that when we were younger.”

Dick throws an elbow into his ribs half-heartedly. “Shut up.”

“I’m not saying, like, when we were twelve,” Logan goes on, warming to the topic, “because we mostly hadn’t figured out our dads were deadbeat by then. But definitely before we finished college and joined the workforce. I’m thinking like nineteen or twenty would have been the ideal age. Our father figures could have taught us to consume alcohol, in addition to teaching us to grill.”

“We were already pretty good at drinking alcohol by then,” Dick reminds him.

“Then they could have given us a strict talking-to about underage drinking,” Logan says. “It’s far too late for that now, and we’ve missed our chance.”

“Missed our chance…” Dick echoes.

Logan looks at him sideways.

Dick catches his eye and actually sniffs a little. “I know it’s stupid. You don’t have to tell me it’s stupid.”

Logan shifts uncomfortably. “It’s not stupid, man. I just wish we knew of some actual father figure we could get to sub in for you, rather than resorting to Craigslist dads.”

“It’s not just for me, dude,” Dick insists. “I know you care about this shit, too.”

Logan cracks a smile despite himself. “If some guy with a beer gut shows up and grills me a hamburger and calls me ‘sport’, that’s not going to make the old man any less of an abusive asshole.”

“I know, but we can make some nicer memories can’t we? Some nice dad-memories?”

For a second, Logan allows himself to enter into the delusion, but almost immediately becomes sidetracked on the mental image of Gregory Peck from To Kill a Mockingbird standing in their backyard, holding a light beer and grinning affably. That would be one thing – but he can’t imagine that any fathers like that actually exist in the world. No, this dad was probably going to be more or less a deadbeat himself, or else how would he have time to babysit a bunch of profligate twenty-somethings? At best, it would be some old guy whose kids were too grown-up and busy to talk to him anymore, a dad whose desperate neediness for attention and affirmation matches Dick’s. But then again, Dick will inevitably be drunk for the entire party – he wouldn’t notice if the dad was an escaped convict in black and white stripes with a literal ball and chain on his ankle. What harm could it do? He sighs, asks in a wry tone, “Are you going to ask for proof of paternity, or is this person going to be a fake dad on top of being random?”

Dick lights up. “That’s a great idea, I’ll edit that in!” He resumes typing at a frenzied pace; Logan watches bemusedly.

Still. It’s one weird thing on one day. It won’t make any difference one way or another, in the long run.

Nobody’s life was ever changed because a stranger made them a hamburger.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

After that, Logan tries to extricate himself from the whole dad-audition process, but Dick is, as usual, both oblivious and incorrigible. Logan very quickly comes to dread the phrases “hey, listen to this” and “what about this”, since both are sure signs that he’s about to be read a joke resumé with phrases like “excels at offering positive reinforcement”, or shown a headshot of a guy in a sweater vest. So when he gets home from work and the first thing he hears is “Logan, dude, this is the one”, his first response is to groan and flop face first onto the sofa. They found the sofa at the side of the road the second week in the house and it is therefore a little worn out, so the decision to be dramatic hurts.

“Asshole,” Dick tells him absently, wandering in from the next room holding his laptop. “Listen: father for twenty-plus years, expert level jokes and manly affection, bonus secret-family-recipe hot sauce.”

“The hot sauce is a nice touch,” Logan admits, rolling over onto his back and kicking his feet up onto the sofa arm. “All of the other applicants have really fixated on the ‘dad’ part of ‘grill dad’.”

Dick nods so enthusedly it looks painful. “I know, right? And get this, there’s an attached letter from his kid,” he says. “Dear advertiser, I can confirm that the applicant has been my father for my entire life, and I can honestly say that he has excelled at the position. You would be lucky to have him at your party, where he would strike just the right balance between embarrassing and fun, call all of you by the wrong names and then substitute “son” or “honey”, and repeatedly tell you he’s proud of you. His hamburgers are to die for, and he brings his own fire extinguisher in case anything should go wrong. He has my unreserved recommendation. Also, if this is some kind of dad kidnapping scheme, I will hunt you down and kill you. Cordially, V. Mars.” Dick looks up expectantly; Logan fights a smile.

“They wrote a letter of recommendation for their dad?”

“Uh huh.”

“Hmm,” Logan says neutrally, then says, “Mr. Mars,” trying it out, hitting the ‘r’s and dragging out the ‘s’.

“Keith Mars,” Dick adds helpfully, and turns the computer so Logan can see the attached photo. Keith Mars is bald, just slightly on the portly side, staring adoringly down at the tiny pigtailed child with whom he is dancing, her feet on his – V. Mars is a girl, apparently. Dick tabs to the next picture: Keith Mars standing next to a grill holding a hot dog over the head of a plaintive-looking pitbull while a gap-toothed, elementary-school-aged V. Mars laughs in the background with a blue-haired friend. In the third picture Keith is older, wearing a suit and grinning widely, hugging someone in graduation regalia, her face obscured by her cap. “He looks cool, right?” Dick prompts eagerly.

“Yeah,” Logan says, tearing his eyes away from the graduation photo. Neither he nor Dick had had any relatives attend their college graduation, and he’d seen plenty of family reunions at the baccalaureate celebration that seemed more stiff and awkward than anything else, but Keith looks like he just might burst with pride. “Yeah, he seems nice.”

“Like a real dad, right?” Dick persists.

Logan snorts. “As if I have any experience with which to judge that quality.”

Dick offers a fist bump and Logan complies. “Trauma twins!” Dick says, sing-song. Logan rolls his eyes. “But he seems legit?” Dick says, returning to the salient point. “This is okay?”

Logan stands and claps his roommate on the shoulder. “Sure, man. If you say this is the one, I think you’re probably right.”

Dick beams at him. “I’ll tell him he got the gig!”

“Cool,” Logan says drily. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Since Dick thinks it would be acceptable to simply explain the dad-for-hire situation when their guests show up, Logan finds himself calling each invitee one by one the day before the party and beginning with the statement, “So you know how Dick has a tenuous relationship with reality?” Lilly laughs for a full minute and a half, and Duncan, no matter how many times Logan runs through the concept, just doesn’t seem to get it, but everyone else just thinks it’s sad.

“Oh my god, our lives suck,” Gia says, sounding as if she just realized it. “Does no one in our group have a functioning father figure?”

“Carrie’s dad was okay,” Logan offers. “But he moved out of state a few years back.”

“And he never knew how to grill!” Dick yells through his bedroom door.

“And he never knew how to grill,” Logan repeats.

“Yeah, well,” Gia says skeptically, “I’m bringing extra booze for when this weird-ass idea causes someone to have an emotional breakdown.”

“Appreciated.”

And when the day arrives, booze is the one thing they do seem to have enough of.

“Why did we say we were going to supply ingredients?” Logan wonders aloud as he methodically opens and shuts every cupboard in their kitchen. “You forgot to buy onions, we don’t own any spices, I don’t even think we have salt and pepper –”

“Logan. Man! Relax.” As anticipated, Dick is already halfway to trashed, and far from caring if their hamburgers are seasoned.

“This was your idea,” Logan says, accusing sliding into sardonic. “You’re the one who wanted to make some new dad-memories, and now because you were overly confident in a Craigslist ad, our new dad is already going to be disappointed in us.”

“Dude, holy shit –” Dick bursts out laughing and can’t continue his thought. Logan turns around to glare at him in exasperation. “What if –” Dick stammers, chortling, “what if he says the thing? ‘I’m not mad I’m just disappointed?’ How absolutely sick would that be?” He’s wheezing now, and Logan can’t think of anything to do except stare at him. “Just like a real dad!” Dick howls.

Logan stands, frozen, for a beat longer, and then abandons his search for the probably-nonexistent spice cabinet to reach for the scotch instead. “Gia was right,” he says flatly. “This is going to end in tears.” He pulls a little too sharply on the tab of the wax seal and it snaps off with the seal still in place. He looks at it in consternation, and it is at this point that the doorbell rings. Dick makes no sign of moving from his position, giggling slumped over the kitchen table, so Logan jogs to the front hallway, only to discover that Dick has placed all the beer they bought in front of the door, barricading it closed. He’s kicking six packs out of the way and trying to open the scotch bottle with his teeth when he finally manages to wrench open the door and is greeted by the genial but not-quite-non-threatening face of Keith Mars.

For a moment the desire to say something dismissive rises up, as if this was still high school and he was still incapable of engaging with an adult on mutually respectful terms, but Logan takes a deep breath and forces it down. “Mr. Mars,” he says.

Keith sticks out a hand. “Richard?”

Logan snorts, but accepts the handshake. “Richard is inside. I’m the roommate, Logan.”

Keith’s eyes drop to the scotch bottle still in Logan’s hand. “I hate it when that happens,” he says mildly.

Logan makes a non-committal noise. “We probably have a wine opener somewhere that should do the trick.”

“We don’t!” Dick yells from the kitchen. “I told the chicks to bring one!”

“That would be Richard,” Logan tells Keith wryly. Keith raises his eyebrows, but then reaches into his jacket pocket and offers Logan a multi-tool. “Thanks,” Logan says uncomfortably, looking down to flip through utensils instead of making eye contact. “Can I offer you anything?”

“Nope,” says Keith cheerfully, “just point me to the backyard and I’ll get the grill fired up.”

“Get the grill fired up!” Dick’s voice repeats, maniacally.

“He’s fine,” says Logan, unconvinced himself. “The backyard’s through this way.”

“No!” Dick stumbles into the hallway and spreads his arms wide, probably so as best to show off the tshirt he bought specifically for the occasion which reads “you’re all up in my grill”, a decided improvement over the grill-themed shirt Logan had to initially talk him down from, which had a meat-related innuendo on it. “I will show you to the backyard, sir!”

Keith offers a hand. “Keith Mars.”

“Awesome, dude.” Dick shakes his hand, which is apparently hilarious because he cracks himself up again. “Welcome to the party!”

Keith glances at Logan, who shrugs. “I’m just happy to be included,” Keith says, sounding, against all odds, like he means it.

“Dope,” Dick responds. “Follow me, mon capitan, I will show you to your grill kingdom!”

“Please stop mixing your metaphors,” Logan tells him, but Keith waves him off and allows Dick to sling an arm around his shoulder and lead him towards the screen door to the backyard.

“Dude, seriously, your application was whack,” Dick says. “I was like, whoa, this guy is like a serious dad!” Logan is watching them go, wondering if he’s responsible for making Keith feel safe and if he should therefore follow, when there’s a voice at shoulder-level behind him.

“So that’s the Craigslist guy?”

He turns, smoothly accepts the proffered casserole dish. “Craigslist dad, actually, or you’re missing the whole point.”

Carrie stands on her toes to look over his shoulder at where Keith is patiently observing Dick’s wild gesticulating at all the ingredients they bought. “Huh,” she says. “I guess he does kind of look like a dad.”

“I should hope so, we took the casting call very seriously.”

Carrie rolls her eyes. “That’s a fruit salad,” she informs him, indicating the dish he’s holding. “I’ve just gotta grab my guitar out of my car and then I can help set up or whatever.”

“You brought your guitar?” Logan repeats. “Are we gonna sit in a circle and sing campfire songs? What the hell kind of barbecue do you think this is?”

“A nice wholesome one, of course. You were kind enough to invite Susan and her kid, and you specifically got a random dad to come grill you food.” After a pause and seemingly despite herself, Carrie asks, “You really couldn’t have just bought a grill yourselves?”

Logan sighs. “Actually, the grill is ours. Keith had one but it wouldn’t fit in his car, so Dick went straight out and got the most expensive one there was.”

“Don’t all serious dads own pickup trucks?”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“And now you have your own grill.”

“We even managed to work it ourselves; we made marshmallows over it last night.”

Carrie makes a face. “I can’t believe you guys are living together. You’ll both starve to death or suffocate under dirty laundry within a month.”

“Nah,” says Logan, dismissive, “we can live on marshmallows for at least two months, and we can just buy new clothes and burn our dirty laundry on the grill.”

“That,” Carrie tells him calmly, “is disgusting.”

“People who bring acoustic guitars to house parties shouldn’t throw stones,” Logan counters.

She laughs and flips him off. “When’s everyone else getting here?”

He indicates careless ignorance with a wave of the hand. “Hopefully soon. I think we need to set up a watch rotation to make sure Dick doesn’t start crying on the grill dad.”

Carrie snorts, tosses him her keys; he manages to switch the fruit salad to one hand and snag them in the hand holding the scotch. “In that case, you go grab my guitar out of the trunk. What did you say the guy’s name is?”

“Keith Mars.”

“Got it. Do not leave me out there by myself for more than a minute.”

“Of course not! In fact, I wouldn’t dream of getting in your car and driving far, far away from here.”

She elbows past him, laughing, and jogs through the house to make a dramatic exit out the back door, where she is greeted by Dick’s incoherent shouts. Logan sighs, then picks his way back through the six-packs to the kitchen to put everything down, finally open the scotch, and knock back half a drink. When he gets back out to the driveway Casey Gant is there with his newest arm-candy girlfriend, and Logan finds himself cajoled into giving a house tour so he can explain to her why he and Dick decided on this house, how all the guests know each other, and that, no, Casey wasn’t lying about the Craigslist situation. By the time Logan manages to extricate himself, everyone has arrived and is milling around the backyard. Carrie waves to him from a picnic blanket in the middle of the lawn, where she is in fact playing guitar for Susan and her adolescent daughter. He likes Susan and the kid fine, but the three of them seem to be working on a warble-y song from the latest Disney princess sensation, so he hides a grimace, waves back, and looks elsewhere. There’s a few people clustered around the grill, listening to Keith tell some story which is apparently fascinating; Logan gives them a wide berth and joins Lilly and Gia instead, who are standing off to the side eyeing the whole scene skeptically.

“Don’t you ladies want to take advantage of this unique opportunity to interact with a genuine, human parent?” he asks.

“Nope,” says Gia, at the same time as Lilly says “Not even a little.”

Logan snorts. “Well, cheers to that, I suppose.”

“Yes, cheers!” Lilly says. “To dealing with our issues in therapy, rather than projecting all of our buried hopes onto a stranger with a novelty apron who could never live up to our ideals anyway.”

“Like motherfucking adults,” Logan echoes solemnly. They clink glasses.

Gia looks contemplative. “It’s not so much that he’s a random stranger,” she says. “I even kind of trust that he’s for real, you know?”

“I know,” Lilly retorts, pausing to take a big gulp of her drink. “That’s the worst part. Dick introduced me to him when I got here, and he was immediately more interested in my life and my job than my parents have ever been.”

“Yeah, but like, actually interested,” Gia adds, “like he thought I was worth his time and couldn’t wait to hear more about me.”

“How dare he,” Logan says mildly.

Gia elbows him in the ribs. “I don’t see you over there talking to him.”

Logan shrugs. “If I met him on the street maybe I’d be able to trust that he’s the real deal, but the fact that he answered the ad just seems fundamentally suspicious.”

“Yeah, but you guys aren’t paying him, are you?” says Lilly.

“Just in beer.”

“He’s probably just lonely,” Gia suggests.

“I thought the same thing,” says Logan. “But if he’s such a good father, then wouldn’t his own kid want to see him? So why would he need us?”

Lilly pats him on the shoulder. “Logan, you’ve honed your trust issues and pessimism into quite an art.”

He huffs, irritable despite himself. “I’m just saying, don’t anyone go writing him into their will just yet.” Gia looks at him little worriedly, and he attempts a reassuring smile. “I need another drink, can I get either of you anything?” They both wave him off, and he makes for the deck where all the refreshments are, but in his haste to get away, forgets to avoid the grill group and accidentally makes eye contact with Dick. Dick, of course, begins frantically waving him over, and though Logan lifts a hand in acknowledgement and tries to stay course, this only means that Dick starts yelling his name. Logan silently swears to himself that he will not enter the fatherland without a drink in hand, so yells back that he’ll be right there and prays that they’ll be out of something on the drinks and appetizers table so he’ll have to go inside to get it, if not drive to the store. Tragically, Carrie is already there, refilling chip bowls, and when he offers to help she just gives him an unsympathetic look.

“Go get it over with, before Dick convinces everyone to start chanting your name,” she says.

Logan sighs, grabs the beer with the highest alcohol content he can find, and skips down the stairs. “Logan!’ Dick crows. “Logan’s here, guys!”

“I live here,” Logan reminds him. The obvious statement is greeted by polite laughs from the Keith fan-club and drunken giggling from Dick.

“Get this, Logan!” he says, childlike excitement radiating off him in waves. “We didn’t even need salt and pepper, Keith brought his own burger rub!”

Logan looks obligingly at Keith, who nods. “Secret family recipe.”

“I thought the secret was the hot sauce?” Logan says.

“I’ve got that, too.”

Logan raises his eyebrows. “Everything’s a secret with you, Mr. Mars. And here I thought we were just on the verge of opening up to each other.”

Keith laughs good-naturedly. “I’m an open book, Logan.”

Logan is mentally scrolling through options for sarcastic replies which aren’t overly combative when suddenly he feels very, uncomfortably cold, from the back of his neck down, and can do nothing but gasp stupidly. For a moment he thinks Dick has poured ice down his back, but Dick is standing on the other side of the grill from him, looking genuinely surprised albeit delighted. Logan cranes his neck and turns in a circle, but can’t see what’s been spilled on him, though it’s entirely clear who’s to blame. “Duncan,” Logan says, flat and edging toward a growl.

Duncan has the nerve to roll his eyes. “Come on, man, it’s not my fault.”

Logan gestures to where Duncan has clearly dropped his solo cup and half a plate of appetizers on the lawn. “And how do you figure that?”

Duncan shrugs. “You know how hard it is to hold a drink and a plate of stuff at the same time.”

“Hmm, then maybe you should go inside and eat at the table – or better yet, maybe the family down the block can loan us their high chair.”

Duncan scowls at him. “Do you have to be like this, Logan, seriously? It’s just a shirt. And it’s your freaking house, you can just go in and change.”

Logan flicks his eyes over at Keith, who thankfully doesn’t appear inclined to use his fake fatherly authority to intervene and is pretending to look intently at something across the way. Logan fakes a laugh and says as evenly as he can manage, “And it was your freaking drink, so you could have just apologized.” Keith abandons his examination of the next-door-neighbor’s maple tree to give Logan a side-eyed smile, and for a moment, Logan feels a vague sense of satisfaction, before he remembers that he doesn’t care about Keith’s approval. He makes a wry face back.

“Logan,” Keith says mildly, “keep an eye on the grill? I need to grab something I left in the kitchen.”

“No problem, Mr. Mars,” Logan answers, saluting sloppily. Keith nods at him, and then pats Duncan on the shoulder as he passes; Logan interprets the move as condescending and is pleased again, and again annoyed at himself for being pleased. As a pathetic attempt at distracting himself, he pulls his arms into what was previously his favorite gray v-neck and puts it back on backwards so he can look at the stain, and then is horrified all over again. “Duncan, what the fuck were you drinking?” he demands.

Now, finally, Duncan has the grace to look ashamed, or at least defensive. “Mike’s,” he mutters.

“Mike’s lemonade is not this color.”

“It was Mike’s hard black cherry lemonade, alright!”

There are various titters from the group; Logan snorts inadvertently and lifts up the shirt to sniff the purple-y stain, which smells more like sugar than anything else. He knows he should stop pushing, but can’t quite restrain a “Dude, really?”, which turns the titters into full-fledged barks of laughter.

Duncan snaps. “Why do you have to be such a –”

“Donut!”

Duncan freezes at the sound of Lilly’s voice.

“Quit being a drip!” she yells. “Or go home!”

For a second, Duncan turns his glare back on Logan with full force, and Logan almost thinks he’s going to spit in his face or something, but then he just kicks at his dropped solo cup and slinks off toward the front yard.

“Wo-o-ow,” says Dick, with barely contained glee. “This really is the best party ever.”

Logan rolls his eyes, grabs the spatula hanging off the grill, and starts idly pushing burgers around to have something to do. “You’re happy with your Craigslist investment?” he asks Dick.

“Absolutely, dude!”

“And the weirdness of the concept still hasn’t dawned on you?” Casey adds, snickering.

“How could it be weird? Keith is awesome, and he’s the perfect addition to the party, just like the application said.”

“Of course he is.”

Logan jumps, almost drops a burger on the ground, and then turns to find that Duncan’s place in the circle has been filled. She’s on the shorter side, with blonde hair falling down her back in waves, a leather jacket slung over one shoulder, and a completely unreadable expression on her face – and based on the looks she’s getting from the others, no one else has the faintest idea who she is either. “Uh –” Logan says.

“Keith Mars is still here, right?” she asks, voice somewhere between businesslike and belligerent.

“Well –”

“He just went inside,” Dick says, helpfully. “He’ll be back out in a minute.”

Logan groans. “Dick, remind me never to commit any crimes you’d have to be interrogated about.”

Dick shrugs, the whole movement exaggerated by drunkenness. “Look at her, man, what’s she gonna do?”

Logan looks at her, less sure that he should be unintimidated than Dick seems to be; she gives him an unimpressed once-over, but then cracks a smile seemingly despite herself. “So was it some combination of getting dressed in the dark and a wet tshirt competition, or is this a bold fashion choice?”

Logan glances down at his backwards v-neck and the damp, purple circle on his chest. “Bold fashion choice,” he answers, looking up to raise his eyebrows at her.

“I wouldn’t have been able to picture it,” she says, looking him up and down again, “but now that I see it, I guess it works. In fact, you should only wear this. Like, ever.”

Logan grins awkwardly, unsure whether she’s mocking him or flirting with him, and still unsure what he, as a homeowner, is supposed to do about strangers in his backyard, even if they are exceptionally cute.

“So, this is weird,” Dick offers.

“Hey, honey!” Logan turns; Keith is coming down the steps of the deck with burger buns and cheese in hand, beaming at the interloper.

“And it just got weirder,” Casey announces.

“Yup,” echoes his date. “More drinks?”

“You bet.” They wander off arm in arm; Casey salutes Logan with his beer can.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” Keith says, dumping his armful of food onto the picnic table so he can hug the blonde girl.

She shrugs, looking considerably more relaxed now that he’s appeared. “I’m an only child, dad, you didn’t honestly expect me to let you adopt a whole party without at least coming over to check up on you. I’ve never had to share before.”

Keith laughs. “Of course, why didn’t I think of that. Why wouldn’t my grown adult daughter show up at an honest Craigslist gig to make sure she wasn’t losing her spot as my favorite child?”

“I dunno,” Dick says suspiciously, “I think she might also be here to flirt with Logan.”

“You two have met?” Keith turns a surprised look on Logan, who does his best innocent blink and tries not to broadcast that a few seconds ago he was considering using Duncan’s spill as an excuse to take his shirt off in front of this girl.

“Only just now,” Keith’s daughter assures him.

Logan nods. “You’re V. Mars?”

“Veronica,” she answers. She offers her hand to shake.

“Don’t take this personally,” Logan says, “but I wouldn’t. I’m honestly kind of covered in Mike’s hard black cherry lemonade.”

“That exists?” she says.

“There’s no limit to the abominations which crawl this earth,” he replies, straight-faced. She laughs.

“See what I mean,” Dick says to Keith. Keith looks at him blankly; Dick belches, shoots Logan a complicated and incomprehensible hand gesture, and wanders off after Casey, leaving Logan alone with the two Marses. He looks back and forth between them, trying not to stare, and wondering if it would be weird to ask what kind of degree Veronica just graduated with based on the picture Keith sent.

“So!” Veronica says, into the strained silence. “You’ve been treating my dad well?”

“He’s getting all of the standard grill-dad benefits,” Logan answers. “We didn’t want to have the agency all over us, or god forbid, the unions.”

Veronica smiles in acknowledgment, but her eyes flick to her dad with something like nervousness.

“Do you two need a minute?” Logan offers.

“No!” says Keith, confidently calm. “Everything’s all fine, here. Son, can you start putting cheese on hamburger buns? Veronica, honey, help him?”

Veronica rolls her eyes, but bumps Logan out of the way with her hip so she can grab the cheese. “So, daaad,” she says, sing-song.

“Veronica,” he says, warningly.

She actually pouts. “Come on, dad,” she says, the words coming quicker now. “It’s pretty clear Logan doesn’t care about you being his fake father for the day; his entire body flinched when you called him son.”

Logan hands her a hamburger bun he removed from the block of them in the bag, says mildly, “I thought I managed to reserve my flinch to only seventy percent of my body.”

“Nope!” Veronica gives him an apologetic smile, and then turns back to Keith. “Dad, please.”

Keith glances at Logan, back at her, and sighs. “Make it quick, Veronica.”

She drops the package of cheese and reaches into her bag to retrieve a giant camera. “So-o-o,” she says, lowering her voice, “you know that guy I’ve been on all week for a completely unrelated…work thing?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Yes.”

“Well, he just walked through the front door of your guy’s house.”

“No, he didn’t,” Keith says drily. She tabs through a few photos on the display, shows him one. Keith looks at her. “That can’t be good.”

She lets out a huff of breath. “No, I didn’t think so either.”

“I can see both exits from here, honey, and I haven’t turned my back once.”

“From here?” Logan repeats.

They ignore him. “If I didn’t notice him going in, it was because I wasn’t looking for people entering,” Keith continues, reassuringly. “Nobody could have gotten away, so they must all just be inside. We’ll wait it out, it’ll be fine.”

Logan is just about to give up and leave them to it so he can find another drink, and maybe even change his shirt, but that, of course, is when the air is filled with the sound of breaking glass.

Some kind of instinct takes over and he dives in between the sound and Veronica, dragging her to the ground with him despite her incoherent noise of protest. He looks up in time to see a flailing person hit the ground below the next-door-neighbor’s maple tree, surrounded by the debris from the shattered second-story window.

“That’s yours!” Veronica gasps, but Keith has already produced a gun from somewhere under his novelty apron and is pointing it at where the fallen man has gotten unsteadily to his feet.

“Police!” Keith shouts. “Don’t move!”

There’s a stunned pause, Logan takes in the faces of gaping astonishment on his friends, and then the man takes off running in the opposite direction. Keith lets out a brief curse and rips off his apron. “He’s running,” he announces to thin air, and Logan hears a siren start up down the street, so apparently he really is police. Keith throws the apron at Veronica. “Don’t let the hamburgers burn,” he orders, and then he climbs on the picnic table, vaults clumsily over the neighbor’s fence, and takes off after the runner.

“You’re going to strain your back,” Veronica yells after him, almost petulant. She elbows Logan in the ribs and he rolls off her, not sure whether she’s about to join in the chase herself or whether she’s just going to lay into him for tackling her. She gets up, checks her camera and is apparently convinced that its not broken, but still looks dissatisfied about something. She peeks into the grill, lifts a single burger with the forgotten spatula. “They’re not going to burn,” she says, disdainfully.

“Dude.” Dick jogs over so he can give Logan a hand up off the ground. “Dude,” Dick repeats, “is it just me or was our grill-dad packing heat?”

Logan pats his arm. “Not only was he packing heat, but he was almost definitely using us to surveille the house next door.”

Dick looks flabbergasted. “Shit, man. Even my fake dad didn’t really want to spend time with me.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back, once they’ve collared the guy,” Veronica offers. As if inspired, she removes the first burger patty from the grill, puts it on one of their prepared buns, and hands it to him.

Dick looks at it suspiciously, takes a bite, and then nods, but adds accusingly, “Whatever, man. I’m going to need therapy from this.” He shoots a finger gun at Logan. “So, you do whatever you’re doing here, I’m gonna go apologize to Susan for exposing her child to all this violence.”

“That’s really mature and responsible of you, Dick,” Logan says, surprised.

“Duh,” says Dick. “It’s up to us to break the cycle.” And with that, he heads back towards the rest of the party, who are all staring at Veronica with no small amount of apprehension. She doesn’t seem to notice, but absently picks up Keith’s apron and puts it on, and starts assembling burgers.

Logan can’t help but ask, “You’re not going to follow them?”

“Nope,” she says, shortly, “not my case.”

“Do you need to go after…your guy?”

“No, I’ve got the pictures I needed.”

“Then I’m sure Keith would appreciate the backup…?”

She lets out a short laugh, and Logan sees with dawning comprehension that she’s worried. “He needs it,” she answers, “but he wouldn’t appreciate it. I don’t have the clearance.”

“You’re not his partner?”

She turns to look at him like he’s an idiot. “No-o-o,” she says. “I’m his daughter.”

Logan grins, lifts his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure how deep the undercover scheme went.” She snorts, flips her hair over her shoulder, and turns back to the grill. “That one on the right is getting a little overdone,” he says, pointing.

“No it’s not.” She swats his hand away, and then moves the offending burger closer to the coals, Logan suspects just to be contrary.

“So you’re not a cop?” he tries again. She shoots him an exasperated glance over her shoulder, he grins, says, “If you’re not a cop, why were you surveilling the house too?”

She huffs a sigh, puts the spatula down with a clatter, and reaches for her bag where it had fallen on the ground. “Here,” she says, and tosses something at him. He catches it, turns it around, opens it.

“You’re a private detective?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Not a cop?”

“I’m going to throw a hamburger at you.”

Logan laughs. “So, what, you didn’t want to follow in your father’s footsteps?”

“I did, he didn’t,” Veronica says casually, returning her focus to the grill. “He wanted me to aim higher. I got accepted to Quantico, and was sent home after three weeks because of my issue with authority.” She shrugs, spins the spatula like a baton. “Turns out, I’m more suited for private eye work than I am for either the feds or the boys in blue anyway.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

Logan shrugs, thinking that she was already exceptionally cute, but she just became the most fascinating person on the planet. “I don’t know.”

She removes the last burger from the grill and spins to look at him, hands on her hips. He feels a goofy grin spreading over his face, and she rolls her eyes at him. “What, Logan?”

“You should only wear this.”

She looks down at Keith’s apron, which reads in big, bold letters, “NEVER TRUST A SKINNY CHEF”. She snorts. “If you haven’t figured out yet that you shouldn’t trust me, no amount of written reminders are going to do the trick.”

Logan ducks his head, rubs the back of his neck. “So I’m trusting, sue me.”

“Ah!” She taps her chin with one finger, mock-contemplative. “Is that how you ended up advertising for a strange dad to on-site cater your barbecue?”

“That wasn’t my idea.” Veronica raises her eyebrows, Logan adds, “I actually feel a lot better about your dad now.”

“You feel a lot better about him now that you know he deceived you?”

“Well, yeah,” Logan admits. “He seemed way too normal to be the kind of person who responds to Craigslist ads, so there definitely had to be a catch.” She raises her eyebrows at him, he adds lamely, “So it’s nice that the catch was he’s mainly here to catch bad guys.”

As if on cue, Veronica’s cell phone buzzes; she picks up on the first ring. “Dad?” The worry smooths away from her face at his response, and she mouths a quick apology to Logan before retreating into the corner of the yard to debrief. The last thing he hears her say is “I can’t believe you jumped over that fence, are you trying to kill me?”

Logan walks over to where Dick and Gia are relating the main event to Duncan, who has reemerged and is trying very hard to appear as if he doesn’t regret missing out. “Then Keith magically pulled a gun out of nowhere,” Dick says, miming in slow motion, “and yelled get on the ground or I’ll shoot!”

“He didn’t exactly yell that,” Gia puts in. “I’m pretty sure he basically just said ‘police’.”

Dick ignores her, too invested in the story. “But the guy just books it, and so Keith literally vaulted over the fence and chased after him, yelling and firing at him –”

“No,” Gia says.

Duncan rolls his eyes. “This is what you get for inviting strangers into your home,” he says derisively.

“Trained professionals to arrest the criminal who apparently lived next door to us anyway?” Logan pipes up.

“Professional or not,” Gia says, upbeat, “as soon as shit started to go down, Logan shielded the cop’s daughter with his body, which was pretty cool.”

“Aww,” says Lilly, coming up to put an arm around her brother’s shoulders. “And you were out in the car, sulking because everyone laughed at your drink choice!”

Reminded, Logan glances down at his shirt, which he’d mostly forgotten in all the excitement; it is now starting to stick to his skin uncomfortably. What the hell, Keith won’t be back for twenty minutes at least; he can definitely get some mileage out of this. He takes the shirt off. The girls wolf-whistle, Duncan groans.

“You know,” Lilly suggests slyly, “there are definitely easier ways than Craigslist to incorporate a new father figure into your life.”

“What?” says Dick, immediately intrigued. “Is there a more specific service?”

“Is there?” Logan repeats, alarmed.

Lilly starts laughing. “You’re both idiots,” Duncan tells them, with significantly more affection now that his knowing something they don’t has reestablished him in a position of authority.

Gia appears to be about ready to take pity on them, but is interrupted by Veronica’s return. “They got the guy,” she announces. “Dad is driving him to the station. Logan, he says he’s leaving you in charge until he gets back, not Richard.”

Dick flips her off; Logan replies, “I’m touched that he’s ceding authority to me in my own home.”

Veronica performs an elaborate double take, gestures at the house. “This is yours?”

“As far as the eye can see, or at least until where I imagine the police tape will be going up.”

“It’s my house, too,” Dick puts in.

Veronica ignores him. “I took you for an out-of-towner,” she tells Logan.

The fact that she thought of this means she’s not uninterested in the possibility of seeing him again. “Nope, local boy, though and through.”

Veronica eyes him thoughtfully. “And why are you half naked?”

He realizes he doesn’t actually have a good reason. “I was really starting to smell?”

She pretends to consider this. “I guess I’ll take it,” she finally says. Lilly starts cackling.

Logan tries not to preen. “Veronica, this is everybody; everybody, Veronica.” Veronica waves awkwardly.

“Are you going to stick around until your dad gets back?” Gia asks, faux-innocent.

Veronica looks sidelong at Logan. “Stay,” he says, hearing it come out somehow as if he were laying his heart on the line. He adds, more casually, “You can scold him for his fence-jumping.”

She considers him. “Do you have anything other than Mike’s hard black cherry lemonade?”

He cracks a smile. “I think I can scare something up.”

“The good stuff is all inside,” Lilly lies, straight-faced, then elbows Duncan, who says with faux-enthusiasm, “Oh yeah, and while you’re in there, maybe Logan could put a shirt on.”

“Like, if one jumps out at him,” Gia puts in. “Not every color works on Logan.”

“Yeah,” says Lilly. “He went through a whole orange phase. It was bad.”

Veronica looks bewilderedly around the circle, then back up at Logan. “I guess I could stay awhile,” she says, a smile pulling at her mouth.

“Don’t forget to grab hamburgers before you go in,” Dick says, serious. “That’s literally the whole point.”

“Right,” says Logan, not taking his eyes off Veronica. “Thank goodness for those hamburgers.”

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Yahoo answers post from user MeCasablancasIsTooCasablancas:

So a few years ago I met this really cool dad, super great, very wise, lot to offer as a father figure. I put a lot of effort into getting to know him and he’s always been totally chill. My roommate, on the other hand, barely wanted to talk to the dad, from day one. Only problem is, now that’s changed and we’re in competition, and I was wondering, how do I make sure that my prior claim to the dad is respected? My roommate didn’t even want a dad, but now just because he’s marrying the guy’s daughter everyone’s telling me father-in-law trumps the fact that I clearly called dibs? This can’t be right.

Also, the wedding is in two months, and even though there’s no way they go through with it, just in case please go to Craigslist and look for my post seeking a new roommate. If it helps, we have a grill.

#LV AU week #veronica mars #cate fic #vm #this fic brought to you by general insanity and my conveniently timed spring break #aaaaaaaand that's it for now folks!!#I promise I am working on the teachers AU #it's just very difficult to write a teacher AU #without including lots of stuff about students #which takes up space and time

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tbehartoo · 6 years

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Shipping Wars II-Class Warfare

Summary: Alya and Marinette are thinking of alternate partners for Ladybug!

Rating: General audiences? Pretty sure it’s all good for all involved.

“So,” Alya sat down on Marinette’s chaise lounge, “if Chat Noir and Ladybug weren’t together...”

“Alya!” Marinette protested, “Nothing says they are together!”

“Who in our class do you think would end up dating Ladybug?” she continued as if she hadn't heard Marinette’s interruption. They were getting together to “study”, but since it was Friday night it really meant having fun and if homework got done? Bonus.

“What?” Marinette’s face turned red and her eyes opened wide. “What kind of a question is that to ask?” She picked up her box of nail polish and started rummaging through it, but Alya grabbed the container to get Mari’s focus back on the task at hand.

“It's just something I was thinking about today,” Alya said with a shrug of her shoulders. She picked a color for herself then handed the rest back. “Wouldn't it be amazing if someone we know was with Ladybug?” She gave a little sigh. “If it was one of our friends then maybe we could hang out with her. Wouldn't that just be so cool?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess that would be kind of awesome,” Marinette agreed. “What do you think she’d be doing right now if we were with her?” she asked trying to change the topic.

Inside she was struggling between being mortified that Alya would be setting up her alter ego with anyone they knew and being intrigued with who she thought would be a good match. Eventually the curiosity got to her.

“So who were you thinking of hooking her up with?” she tried to ask as casually as possible as she struggled to open the bottle.

Alya took the polish from her and easily opened it. “I guess that would depend on knowing if she's only into guys or if girls are also on her preferred list,” Alya said thoughtfully distracted handing the bottle back.

Marinette went very still, was there some reason Alya thought that? Had she done or said something as Ladybug to give that impression?

“Wh-wh-what makes you think she's into anyone at all?”she stammered. When Alya raised an eyebrow in her direction she continued, “I mean we don't even know if she actually like likes anyone that way. I know you think she likes Chat Noir,” Alya smirked and nodded her head, “but there isn't any real proof for that.”

Alya continued to pointedly stare.

“Or what if she can only be attracted to someone that she knows really well and totally trusts?” Mari asked quietly.

Alya thought for a moment. She grabbed the remover and some cotton balls as she thought. “Okay, for the purposes of this experiment we are going to assume that Ladybug knows everyone in the class really, really well. So that wouldn't be a problem.” She started taking off what remained of last week’s color. “Also, we're assuming that the people in class actually know her, so it's not like they are just using Ladybug to be famous, or infamous if you will.”

Marinette nodded in agreement. She doused a new cotton ball in the stinking liquid and started on her other hand. “That sounds ... good?” When Alya looked up she just smiled. “We wouldn’t want just anybody trying to score Ladybug as their girlfriend if they didn’t actually know her.”

“So, who do you think would be the perfect match for Ladybug,” Alya asked again with more enthusiasm, really getting into it.

Marinette started to paint a stripe of pale pink onto her nails. “Well,” she appeared to be lost in intense concentration which didn’t fool Alya at all. They both knew whose name would come up.

“If we’re finding someone that’s sweet, kind, thoughtful, and handsome then obviously it should be Adrien,” she said knowing that Ladybug would not object to that suggestion in the least.

“No fair Mari!” Alya said, a scowl crossing her face, “Adrien is completely off the list. He’s my future brother-in-law, and I will not have him breaking Ladybug’s heart to be with you.” Marinette rolled her eyes while Alya continued, “i love you, so I’m saying this to you right now. I don’t even want you to say his name tonight. Choose again.”

Marinette thought carefully as she painted a few more nails then tentatively asked, “Um, is Nino off the list, too?”

Alya considered the suggestion as she waved her hand to dry the nails faster. “No, he can be on there. But why would you pair him and Ladybug?”

“Well...he’s nice to almost anyone, and a really good friend to Adri...to all of us,” she hurriedly corrected since the near mention of Adrien’s name had Alya giving her one of her patented don’t-even-think-about-saying-it looks. “He’s also got great taste in music, and he makes us laugh so that’s got to be a bonus. And he’s got a deep sense for what’s right and what’s wrong so Ladybug would totally be on board for that. And he’s not bad looking...”

She glanced over at her friend. Maybe mentioning all the good qualities of her best friend’s boyfriend wasn’t the best idea. Especially since they both knew that Nino had once had a bit of a crush on her.

“Who were you thinking about?” she hastily asked as she rushed to start painting her right hand. When Alya didn’t immediately begin talking she prompted her by saying, “You did say you had thought about this today. Right?”

“Right,” Alya gave herself a little shake then started going over her list with Marinette. “Well first I thought that Kim would probably be the best match for her of all the boys.”

Marinette almost choked but turned it into a small cough. She’d ruined the paint on that finger though. “What? Why him?” She had her head down totally focusing on fixing the nail and not at all interested in finding out why Kim would be her next best match, because Adrien was totally still at the top of her list.

“Well, if anyone is going to be able to keep up with her it would be Kim,” Alya said with a one shoulder shrug. She had finished covering her fingers in a rich red color and had started working on her toes. “He’s tall and athletic, and always up for a challenge.”

“But he can be so rude when he’s trying to get a competition going,” Mari protested.

“There is that,” Alya agreed. “And he can be a little hot-headed, too. We need to think about this more.”

Both girls painted in silence for a few moments.

“So, not Kim then,” Marinette said to break the growing tension.

“No, not Kim.” Alya capped the bottle and sat with her hands and feet carefully not touching anything.

“What about...Max?” Marinette offered tentatively. She had never actually considered if she’d want to go out with Max before.

“Well, he is really smart, so that’s something he and Ladybug have in common.”

“But Max is super smart! Like super duper smart. He really likes technology and,” Mari shuddered, “math. Like, Advanced Mathematics, not just regular math.” She groaned because while she used things like addition, multiplication, and division all the time, when the alphabet became involved she and math weren’t always on speaking terms.

Alya patted Mari gingerly on the head. “Not everyone has a hate/hate relationship with math Marinette. I bet Ladybug is really good at it, and that would be a point in his favor.”

“No one really likes math Alya, and anyone that says they do is selling something!” Mari declared.

Alya giggled while Marinette put the box of nail polish away while keeping out the clear coat. This was her favorite part of doing nails with Mari. She watched as Marinette pulled out her acrylic paints and her smallest brushes. Marinette gets to be creative and Alya ends up with some killer nail art. She put her right hand in Marinette’s waiting work area.

“Wait, what about...” Alya started laughing at her idea. “No, it’d never work.”

Marinette paused in adding some white swirls to Alya’s thumb. “What about who? Come on Alya, spill!”

Alya had a big grin on her face, “What about Ivan?”

“Ivan and Ladybug?” Mari began to smile. “He’d probably get akumatized every time Ladybug had to battle because he wouldn’t want them picking on her. And then she’d have to fight him, too.”

They both laughed at the thought of big, tough Ivan trying to both protect and attack Ladybug.

“Nah, he really likes Mylene and they are just so cute together,” Mari said once their giggles had died down. She loaded one side of a tiny flat brush and proceeded to paint miniature white orchid petals to create tiny blossoms on each nail.

“I guess that means Mylene is also off the list,” Alya said, watching with rapt attention as a few white dots added emphasis to the swirls.

“Yes, I think she and Rose and Juleka are all off the list. I don’t think any of them would be totally happy with Ladybug over the people the care for right now.”

A few tiny dots of gold paint for the flower centers and a protective cover of clear varnish made the art on Alya’s nails pop.

“Well if we’re going to be considering girls to match up with Ladybug, then how about Alix?”

Marinette considered then nodded. “She’s strong and tough. And she never backs down from any of Kim’s challenges. She might make a good match for Ladybug.”

“And she’s self-confident just like the Lady,” Alya added.

She watched as Marinette started to decorate her own nails with tiger stripes of black and neon green over the pale pink. There was silence as she worked.

“But Alix can hold a grudge,” Alya pointed out as if just spotting a problem. “How would that be for Ladybug to always be in trouble for having to cancel on her? She would permanently be in the doghouse.”

“Probably not the the best choice for Paris’ hero then,” Mari agreed. When she got to the ring finger Mari made one large oval of black with four smaller ovals above it, then gave them green highlights. A nice nod toward Chat Noir that she hoped wasn’t too obvious.

Suddenly Mari’s face went pale as a thought struck her full force. She dropped her paint brush and looked at Alya with wide horror struck eyes.

“Oh no,” she moaned. “No, no, no, no! That would be disastrous.”

Alya looked her friend over. It was obvious that Mari was in real distress. “Mari, are you okay?”

There was no answer. Marinette sat rocking a little back and forth just staring at the far wall.

“Mari?” Alya was frowning. She waved a hand in front of her friend’s face, but there was no reaction. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng you talk to me right now!”

Marinette closed her eyes and whispered a single word, “Chloe.”

It took a few seconds for Alya to process what Marinette had said but when she did she burst out laughing. Great, bone shaking belly laughs burst out of the girl. Marinette stared at her friend in horror and growing resentment, Alya was almost rolling on the floor in mirth.

“Just think of it,” she wheezed trying to get her breath back. “Chloe already has a matching costume and yo-yo!”

Mari was staring in disbelief at Alya.

“And Ladybug is the only person that can sometimes make Chloe be nice.”

Alya sat up wiping the tears that had rolled down her cheeks. A small smile began to turn one corner of Mari’s mouth toward the ceiling

“And Chloe actually adores Ladybug. She’d probably get her father to outlaw akumas if they were too much for her girlfriend!”

Marinette had a full smile on her face.

“And poor Chat Noir would have to deal with two bickering Ladybugs trying to be the one in charge.”

A giggle slipped past Mari’s pursed lips. The image of a confused Chat trying to get his Lady’s attention over Chloe’s rants was, she had to admit, slightly funny.

“And to top it off she’d get Sabrina as a backup girlfriend!” Alya crowed and fell back to laughing.

Marinette joined her laughing on the chaise. The picture of Ladybug and Chloe trying to battle an akuma with Sabrina being told to do the Chloebug’s part of the work while Chat stands scratching his head in confusion was just too much.

Much later, after the laughter had subsided, and they could look at each other and not break into giggles, Mari had one final suggestion.

“You know Alya, if Ladybug couldn’t be with Adri… well you know who.”

“Voldemort? Never she needs a man with a nose.”

Mari rolled her eyes and tried again. “If Ladybug really wanted someone to be with then I’d have to say the perfect match for her would actually be you.”

Alya smiled. “Well if Chat Noir and Nino don’t mind sharing…”

< Previous Next>

On AO3

#miraculous #marinette dupain-cheng #alya cesaire #Shipping Wars #my writing

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youdecode · 4 years

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6 Badass Skills to Learn to Before College | learn a new skill in free time

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pierrehardy · 4 years

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COVID-19 x Businesses

So far, I’ve written about how the COVID-19 pandemic is wrecking us medically and economically. For this particular write-up, I’ll focus my lenses on its effects on businesses today and in the future.

TL;DR

Businesses are buckling under the stress of the pandemic. Evidence of this is rising unemployment, slashed investments, halted dividends, a sales drop worse than the 2008 financial crisis, and the persistently low price of oil.

Which businesses will survive depends on their size, industry, importance, and government connections. The analysis speculates that companies involved in healthcare, technology, data, factory robots, e-commerce, and communications are a buy, and companies involved in energy and banking are a sell.

After the pandemic, we will probably witness: 1) A renewed vigor to adapting and investing in technology. 2) That the supply chain will be less global and less China-centric, which can make firms more inefficient but resilient. 3) That the pandemic might wipe out enough small firms to give rise to oligopolies and cronyism.

This write-up will have three main parts and two bonus discussions I’ll tuck in the appendices. First, we look at the present and see current signs of stress that businesses are having with this Corona hullabaloo. Under this, I’ll include a bonus discussion on oil’s depressed state (Appendix A). Second, we look in the short term future and speculate which kinds of companies will survive. The second bonus discussion, which is the risks banks face (Appendix B), will come from this section. Finally, the most curious part is knowing the long term and seeing how the pandemic affected the future trends of businesses.

It’s also noteworthy to mention that by reading this, you can deduce some stock investment advice.

Present: Signs of Stress

Basically, it’s not looking good. That’s all you need to know.

But if you wanna know why that is so, here are four of the most telling signs:

FROM THE POV OF THE WORKERS: Unemployment spiked. Several companies are furloughing their employees [1], and applications for unemployment benefits in America [2] and Europe jumped up. This is the most definite sign of the economic cost of the pandemic to the ordinary working people. It’s also the most explicit manifestation that companies are reeling from the economic comatose, as they can no longer support employing their people.

FROM THE POV OF COMPANIES: The main and rather obvious reason for the rise in unemployment is that companies cannot generate enough income to keep them. But one thing to note is that the slump in sales is much worse than that of the 2008 financial crisis (Figure 1: the axes disappeared but the x-axis is chronological and the y-axis is the rise/fall of sales. The highlighted parts were past recessions, the second one being 2008).

Figure 1 [3]

FROM THE POV OF INVESTORS: A lot of companies have suspended disbursing dividends [4] to their shareholders and have slashed investments [5].

FROM THE POV OF OILY BOIS: Oil’s price has hit the lowest of lows. The best way to show this is how, just recently, the price of oil went negative for the first time ever (Figure 2). This was initially caused by the price war between Saudi Arabia and Russia. But the virus wanted to join the game of oil price limbo and proved to be so good that it forced the two countries to a truce. But this warrants a more extensive discussion, which is why I expounded on this a bit more in Appendix A.

Figure 2 [6]

Short Term: Who Will Survive?

I found four main factors that can tip the probability of a firm’s survival, and they’re all interconnected in some way:

The most significant determinant is probably the size of the company. The biggest losers would be the small businesses, with medium-sized firms looking vulnerable too. But the second factor can affect this and tip the scales in the opposite direction:

The second factor is the importance of the firm. Some firms, despite being small, have been ingenious enough. They managed to do something vital in some supply chains that they have no alternatives. This means that if they go down, the supply chain of that particular product is brought down with it. This incentivizes big companies to go above and beyond to support the survival of these small but essential firms. [7]

The third crucial factor depends on what industry the company is in. Every sector is down, but some more than others (Figure 3). For example, the technology and healthcare industry is faring better than the rest (more on that later). On the contrary, banks are being battered due to their risky roles in the pandemic. This one also warrants a more extensive discussion, which can be found in appendix B. Another important detail about what industry a company is in is whether the government considers it essential to national security. Governments would focus much more attention to these firms and throw more money their way. Sometimes the taxpayers aren’t pleased about that. [9] This connects us to the last factor:

Government connections. With the government in the rich world injecting supporting money to the economy, whoever has links in the high office definitely benefits in having their companies prioritized for funds and loans. This can lead to a vicious cycle of cronyism, which I will bring up again later on.

Figure 3 [8]

Long Term: The Crater After The Pandemic

After we are done being ravaged by the virus, the business landscape would be changed, and some changes will be permanent. I speculate that three distinct trends in business will be accelerated by the virus. “Accelerated” is the keyword there because most of these trends were already taking place but were pulled forward.

First is the acceleration in the adoption of things, mostly technologically. Let me highlight four things here:

Before the pandemic, working from home (WFH) was considered to be some sort of experimental thing in most businesses. As we know, the virus shoved businesses straight into the arms of this policy, and it’s not unreasonable to think that a lot of bosses will realize the benefits of it. They could realize that they would need less office space in the future, saving some money. This will push the adoption of remote working tools even more, perhaps also prompting a wave of investments in it (read: buy stocks of companies involved in making these tools). [10]

Second, FINALLY, IT investments are getting some recognition. As I specialize in the management of IT, the prevailing view is that executives usually begrudge IT projects since the cost of IT investments is expensive and just too quantifiable. And due to the nature of IT projects, they also rarely proceed as planned and usually go over the budget. Conversely, the benefits of IT are too difficult to quantify, fueling the animosity of the big chiefs. Mind you, they know that IT is essential in surviving, but these big boys like to see things clearly in numbers and dollars. But now, thanks to IT, some businesses can limp on where others have collapsed by enabling WFH [11]. The benefits of all those IT projects can’t get any clearer than that.

Two sectors that are seeing a boost in adoption is anything related to e-commerce, including digital payments, due to the lockdowns (read: it’s not unwise to invest in those companies). [12]

I also speculate that firms with data in their core would find the situation serendipitous. As someone who specializes in assisting companies leverage data for their businesses, I know that data really has the potential to boost the value of for consumers and companies alike. But the most significant barrier to this, for a good reason, is privacy. [11] As I’ve witnessed, there’s nothing like the fear of a virus to loosen people’s defensiveness of their privacy [13]. This can lead to a new normal of looser privacy standards that can benefit data centric firms (this is another possible investment advice).

Finally, another area worth considering to invest in are companies that make robots for factories. Why? Well, let me first discuss the second accelerating trend:

The globalization of the supply chain will unravel a bit. This trend has been slowly happening ever since Trump waged a trade war against China. As someone with an economic background, my first reaction to this would be to be horrified (as this can lead to more inefficient and more expensive supply chains, making things more costly and even making innovation slower). But after taking a closer look, it seems that businesses around the world had realized that the “global supply chain” is more of a “Chinese supply chain” [8]. It was undeniable that when China went on a swift and massive lockdown, it paralyzed numerous supply chains all over the world. This supply chain shift away from China was predicted even before, since as China grew, so did the salaries of their workers (Figure 4). This eroded the cost-benefit of having a supply chain run through China. So what can we speculate about this? I highlight three:

One can expect that companies would limit the risk of disruption next time and try to move their supply chains closer to home. Firms would, therefore, be more inefficient; however, they may be more resilient.

Or alternatively, they can simply transfer from China and to cheaper Asian countries. Doing so will genuinely diversify the chain and boost poorer economies [15]. (This can be positive news for the Philippines).

As companies decide to shift, governments are already jumping on advertising bringing the chain back home [16]. If this trend continues, governments would want big state champions. This can be good news to big tech, who just last year was under the threat of being broken up [17]. This is good for them but possibly to consumers too because these firms deliver value through networks and cannot be judged on the same competition rules as conventional businesses [11][18]. But this can also lead to the last trend, which will be detrimental to society:

The rise of oligopolies. As corona weeds out the weak of health, the virus also weeds out feeble businesses. Bankruptcies are expected to be widespread, leaving the business landscape to be more concentrated. Big companies will emerge, scathed but alive, to less competition. The smaller ones who survived would be battered, and it would be too easy for the big companies to take them over. Or perhaps, in fear of being eaten by the bigger fish, two small or medium companies might prefer to merge together. Either way, it will lead to even less competition. This is bad for consumers since these oligopolies can abuse their position and raise prices for inferior products (remember when Uber stopped operations in the Philippines, and we were only left with Grab?) But you may ask: what about the government’s antitrust? Well, that’s where the cronyism I mentioned earlier would make things worse. If, during the crisis, companies had to buddy up with politicians to secure aid, this better relationship between businesses and government would make everything worse and more corrupt. This can lead to antitrust regulators turning a blind eye on those who abuse their market power. But what if, instead of all that gloomy outlook, we progressed in the most Schumpeterian way? [11][19] That the creative destruction of the weak is what spurs a new generation of more efficient, more innovative, and more creative challengers and startups. We can only hope. In an information society though, network effects are strong, and big incumbents can make the barrier to entry too high [11][20].

Figure 4 [14]

Appendix A: Oil

To put it succinctly, the price of oil is in the shitter, and any nation that depends on it for their balance sheet is too. As I mentioned, it started with a Saudi Arabian vs. Russian price war. Let’s dig into that real quick.

Here is a very rough timeline and simplified narrative of the whole thing:

The USA became the world’s biggest producer of oil, thanks to shale (Figure 5).

Russia wants to undermine this and would produce too much oil and bring the price down to choke off budding American oil boys (Russia isn’t part of OPEC. OPEC is a club of oil-producing countries that coordinates how much oil each will make so they can artificially keep the prices of oil up. Crazy, right? Saudis lead this clubhouse).

Saudi Arabia, secretly, probably also wants to choke of American shale. However, the country is currently spending a lot on projects that would diversify its income away from oil. So it’s in their interest to keep the price of the oil not too low to balance their books.

America is also twisting Saudi Arabia’s arm by withholding military aid to them if they try to choke off American shale.

Earlier this year, Russia basically ignored the supply restrictions of the OPEC (sometimes, Russia cooperates with the OPEC), which infuriated the Saudis. So the Saudis went, “two can play at that game,” and both countries opened taps that dropped the price of oil.

Not too long ago though, they made a truce because of the pandemic.

Figure 5 [21]

Does the truce help? Not as much as they hope, probably, since this supply-side-caused depression of price is outweighed by the virus-induced collapse of demand for oil. [22]

To make it worse, the future changes in businesses due to the pandemic outlined above will have an effect on oil too.

The possible permanent adoption of some form of WFH policy will lessen travel overall, reducing demand for oil.

Unraveling supply chains can lead to shorter trade routes and less transportation. This can further lessen the demand for oil.

Add to the mix the usual pressure for climate change fueled trends, and we have a gloomy future for the oil industry.

(Advice: I would avoid energy stocks)

Appendix B: Banks

Banks are expected not to have a jolly time during this pandemic, and their stock performance so far shows that (Figure 3). This appendix will quickly enumerate the risks they face:

Low interest rates. As governments cut interest rates to prop up the free-falling economy, this also means less income on bank loans.

The trade-off of being a hero or martyr. Being the villains of the last crisis, this time, some see them as heroes that could help give out loans to support businesses hit by the pandemic. However, this risks the stability that banks have built as a response to the 2008 financial crisis.

Risks of loan defaults are high. In China, the bad-loan ratio could climb up to 8% [23].

Regulators have ordered banks to freeze money earmarked for shareholders [24] and share buyback plans.

Regulators also target the bonuses of various banking executives. [25]

All of these endangers the progress made by weaker banks like those in Italy and Germany’s Deutsche Bank. The most significant risk is probably the rush of policymakers to unravel all the regulations set in place to make banks more secure after the 2008 financial crisis. This includes the loosening of capital buffers and loan-loss accounting [26]. In an effort to save ourselves from the current crisis, we might be making the same mistakes we did that caused that last one.

References

[1]https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/disney-furloughs-100-000-theme-park-hotel-workers-amid-coronavirus-n1188236?cid=public-rss_20200420

[2]https://www.dol.gov/ui/data.pdf

[3]https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/15/business/stock-market-today-coronavirus.html

[4]https://www.investopedia.com/dividends-are-dwindling-4801773

[5]https://www.philstar.com/business/2020/04/22/2008835/philippines-german-firms-seen-investing-less

[6]https://www.ft.com/content/26ea5ef9-0619-4e50-b605-58e36d3fc4d9

[7]https://www.thegrocer.co.uk/suppliers/unilever-offers-500m-relief-to-suppliers-and-customers-donates-hygiene-products/603239.article

[8]https://www.economist.com/briefing/2020/04/11/the-changes-covid-19-is-forcing-on-to-business

[9]https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2020-03-26/boeing-asks-washington-for-help-critics-say-it-doesn-t-deserve

[10]https://techwireasia.com/2020/04/a-remote-working-future-maybe-flexible-working-comes-first/

[11] Trust me, bro, I studied this. It’s just a bit cumbersome to dig through all the academic articles and textbooks I studied during my bachelor's and master’s.

[12]https://www.retailcustomerexperience.com/news/covid-19-pandemic-drives-e-commerce-upward-big-time/

[13]https://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2020/04/02/privacy-mad-germany-turns-to-app-to-track-virus-spread.html

[14]https://www.economist.com/briefing/2015/03/12/a-tightening-grip

[15]https://www.bcg.com/publications/2020/manufacturing-strategy-built-trade-instability.aspx

[16]https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefings-statements/remarks-president-trump-vice-president-pence-members-coronavirus-task-force-press-briefing-28/

[17]https://www.investopedia.com/how-will-elizabeth-warren-break-up-big-tech-4772263

[18]https://www.wired.com/story/dont-break-up-big-tech/

[19] Maddison, A. (1991). Dynamic forces in capitalist development: A long-run comparative view. Oxford University Press, USA.

[20] Shapiro, C., Carl, S., & Varian, H. R. (1998). Information rules: a strategic guide to the network economy. Harvard Business Press.

[21]https://www.statista.com/chart/19367/share-of-global-oil-production/

[22]https://www.economist.com/briefing/2020/04/08/an-unprecedented-plunge-in-oil-demand-will-turn-the-industry-upside-down

[23]https://www.economist.com/finance-and-economics/2020/04/08/how-sick-might-banks-get

[24]https://www.forbes.com/sites/stephenpope/2020/04/01/british-banks-will-suspend-dividends-so-shines-a-good-deed-in-a-weary-world/

[25]https://www.ft.com/content/24740ddb-7cc8-4a3a-8fbe-616ea9b4ac7d

[26]https://www.propublica.org/article/how-the-coronavirus-bailout-repeats-2008s-mistakes-huge-corporate-payoffs-with-little-accountability

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shadowsong26fic · 7 years

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Coming Attractions!

First Monday of the month! So, if that’s my new date, I’m actually on time for once hurray!

Fanfic:

Precipice:

::singsong:: This is the arc that will not end… (j/k, I’m having fun. It is taking longer to get through everything than I thought it would, though.)

We are in good shape, ish. I did miss one week this month, and I was late a couple times due to IRL stuff [a thrilling saga involving two car insurance companies, the registrar’s office of the university where I got my BA four years ago, HR and IT at my current job…]

Anyway. I’ve got about 2-3 more chapters to go, I think? Need to check in w/Coruscant again of course, and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are definitely gonna yell at Anakin after the Poor Life Choice he made in last week’s update. We’ll also hear from Leia and Beru, so that should be fun.

Then we’ll finally start Arc Five,is tentatively titled Lessons and will probably focus mostly on the kids—the twins, of course; Lavinia; probably Winter; possibly Biggs and Leia’s other friends… It’ll be a quieter arc, probably; more along the lines of Homecoming, where we’re getting people situated/positioned for future plotty shenanigans. Although we will most likely spend some time with Darth Infernalis, too.

Also, the next chapter will probably put me over 100k (omg). I feel like I should do Something Special/a bonus to mark the milestone. Any suggestions/requests?

Distaff:

The next chapter is coming, no really. Like I mentioned earlier, this month was A Mess, IRL-wise, so, in dealing with all that, I didn’t get as much writing done as I wanted to on anything, including/especially Distaff. This coming month, though, I swear.

Auxiliaries:

I got the entry bit up this month! Or, well, the first of three parts of it, anyway. Part 2 of said opening might take a while, because it involves people shooting at the boys and I need to iron out who is shooting and why. I actually have most of Part 3 written, but Part 2 obviously needs to go up first.

So I might do that Part 2 later this month, if I get it finished, or I might post Ahsoka’s entrance, since I have that mostly finished and I’m very fond of it. We shall see!

AU Outline:

This month was Ventress accidentally adopting tiny time-travelling Luke Skywalker! She was so annoyed, I love it. As always, all five of these can be found in the #au outlines for the win tag.

Next month will probably be the Mask of Zorro/California Gold Rush AU Fusion No One Asked For, but that I may change my mind.

Masks:

…sigh. See aforementioned “RL was a disaster” comments. I’m almost tempted to just finish this one out as an outline and jump to Machinations at this point, but IDK.

For those of you who don’t know (because I’m not sure I’ve summarized it properly on this blog yet), Masks is the first installment of Masks!verse (ha, I’m creative), which is basically what I call an In Spite of a Nail AU, where Lavinia from Precipice exists in a canon-adjacent timeline. I say ‘canon-adjacent’ because it’s sort of a…weird hybrid of Official Disney Canon and Old EU/Legends Canon? It picks up in the immediate aftermath of Yavin and is a true In Spite of a Nail AU for the OT timeframe (i.e., the story focuses on locations/people that the movies don’t, and, while she does some specific things that change some details, no major plot points during these four years are changed). However, I tend to stick closer to Legends for post-Endor developments (for several reasons, mostly relating to I like the way things played out with the remnants of the Empire and the New Republic in Legends, politically/government-building wise; better than the parts I’ve read in the tie-in canon novels on the same subjects. Which is probably a large part of why I haven’t read all that much of the new tie-in novels; also Mara Jade, also Pellaeon, neither of whom has been recanonized yet sooooo yeah).

Anyway, some of the content from post-ROTJ novels is therefore excluded (as is Rebels, still, for unrelated reasons). But Masks!verse does eventually link up w/TFA (the third part, Martyrs, picks up shortly after the end of said movie). Canon may be locked at that point; it all depends on how much TLJ throws what I have planned already, and how much I decide to care.

Original:

As with everything, did not get as much done as I would’ve liked this month. Did not work on The Caladrius or any other crossover piece, but I got a few short bits out, for all three worlds I post to RF. Sadly did not work on anything potentially publishable/unrelated this month.

Other:

So, I’ve been thinking about doing an open question night once a month. I mean, I’ll of course answer asks/whatever that come to me outside of an event like that, but I’d be online/available for active interaction if I did this, if that makes sense? Considering holding these on the fifteenth if I do this. Or maybe the third Monday of the month, to alternate with the Coming Attractions posts? Something to think about.

I’ll also take prompts (for short/under-5k stories), which I’ll plan to fill by the next Open Question Night, barring RL shenanigans or something.

Thoughts?

ETA: On a semi-related note, I do have a meme open; feel free to send me one of the things!

Monthly Goals:

July Recap:

1. Keep up with Precipice updates.--well, like I mentioned above, I missed one, so...not really.

2. Get the friggin Opera House done and posted already.--...oops.

3. Debut Auxliiaries.--Yay! An accomplishment!

4. At least write some Masks. In order. Bits from Machinations or the timeskip between them don’t count. Even if it’s not a full postable chapter.--Yeah, not so much.

5. Do another crack outline :D--I did it!

6. At least 1k on Phoenix!verse.--Again, not so much.

7. Work on another origfic crossover.--Nope.

9. Seriously, Shadowsong. The archives.--Nope.

10. At least 10k on any/all projects.--uh....::quick tally:: Looks like I did actually make it! Huh, I didn’t think I had... But this was also a long month, so to speak, and a couple of my Precipice chapters were on the long end, so.

August Goals:

1. Keep up with Precipice updates.

2. Opera House.

3. Another Auxiliaries snippet

4. Work on Masks.

5. Another crack outline

6. At least 1k on Phoenix!verse

7. Work on another origfic crossover

8. The archives are sad and lonely and three years out of date. I should fix that.

9. At least 5k on projects that are not Precipice.

10. At least 15k total on any/all projects. [considering that even this month I met my goal, I figured I should up it and see what happens.]

#shadowsong26fic #miscellania #coming attractions #shadowsong writes star wars #shadowsong writes original fic

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harrisjv · 6 years

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ChatterPal Review Should I Buy It

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After you show value as well as make the situation for a greater level of customer service, you can try enhancing conversions by means of upselling. As soon as the representative has engaged visitors by comprehending their demands, they remain in a far better position to suggest upgrades, add-ons, and so on

. Web Seller disclosed that Virgin Atlantic Airways Ltd. makes use of real-time conversation to accomplish conversion prices as high as 23 percent. Clients utilizing its online conversation platform transformed 3.5 times the rate of those clients that really did not use real-time chat.

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While improving your conversion rates is a long-term undertaking, live chat (when executed correctly) can minimize the moment it requires to see outcomes. By complying with the suggestions discussed over, you 'd have the ability to obtain customers speaking, build loyalty, and facilitate action-taking.

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