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gouraminnow · 7 months ago

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Galley on 4th

Pt. 1 (Modern AU- Yandere Thatch x gender neutral reader)

On Ao3 | Pt. 2

Raising your kid sister all by yourself is hard enough on it's own. But add classes, poverty, and several jobs to juggle and the pressure builds awfully fast. Most employers will drop you on a whim and it's all you can do to stay afloat... So when you somehow manage to land a well-paying position at The Galley on 4th Avenue, a famous, high-end place run by some well renowned Chef- You're desperate to hold things down. Good thing your new Boss is so friendly and understanding, huh?

Warnings: General yandere sketchiness. Pretty light this chapter but Thatch is a liiitle creepy. Panic attacks, reader injury, very brief mention of an overdose(not reader) and THE LENGTH OF THIS DAMN THING.

Thank you @hannahbarberra162 for beta reading this monstrosity and helping me iron out some bits!

Biking uphill is such a pain.

It’s cold today, a soft gray drizzle gradually soaking through your clothes. The cold brings a slow, tired ache to your joints too, not at all aided by the deadweight of the backpack pulling the meat of your shoulders down and back. Your chest is almost painfully tight, the fog of your labored breath released in short, steady puffs as your left foot occasionally catches awkwardly on its respective pedal. Even through the thick soles of your work boots, you could feel the wad of duct tape you had hastily wrapped it in when you found a jagged crack down the center, “hamburger style” your little sister had said.

At least the view was pretty. You were high up enough to see over downtown, a sliver of the beach and boardwalk, and the darkened water beyond it. Rays of light pierced through the cloud cover, illuminating sheets of rain as they fell like gauzy curtains onto the dreary cityscape below. The air smelled crisp, and if it weren’t for the chill, you might prefer to stay outside and find somewhere to relax. But your shift starts in twenty minutes. Thankfully, you’re making good time despite your exertion.

Once you hit the top of this hill, The Galley on 4th Avenue would be three blocks away. It’s your second job, and far nicer than the little diner you worked some of your mornings at. Not that the bar was all that high, of course. You hadn’t known it when you went in for the interview, but apparently the owner was somewhat famous, which explained why the place was fancier than you expected. Thatch Newgate, part of some hotshot rich family, or something like that. You had more important things to care about. At least he was nice. Hopefully this would translate into higher wages- lord knows the diner owed you one after single-handedly reorganizing and repackaging everything in storage to avoid food safety violations- but you weren’t gonna get your hopes up. At least the starting pay here was higher and the place was clean before you got there. Your sister would get mopey if you refused to bring her anything from this restaurant job, too.

Speaking of, what should you bring back for the little Grub? You didn’t get food from work often- it was a treat you save for the end of the week or special occasions. Employee discounts don’t do much, especially with how much nicer this job is. You’ve admittedly been spoiling her- you’ve only been a server at The Galley for roughly a month, and your proximity to quality food is just too tempting. There was a new soup you haven’t tried- a fragrant stew with tender lamb and little pearl onions. You could get a couple servings to take back, and some of the buttery rolls you both like. Maybe you could finally spring for one of those cartoonish roasts with the bone still sticking out, that would leave you both with leftovers. Or, you could forego a hearty main course and bring her one of those fancy desserts, instead. She hasn’t tried creme brulee before and you’re sure she’d love it-

There’s a sharp jolt, and your train of thought is utterly derailed when your front tire catches on a pothole concealed by a shallow puddle. “Ugh! Shit!” You scramble, feet struggling to steady yourself against the ground, but you’ve already lost control, awkwardly tumbling to the left and onto the wet asphalt. You catch yourself with your hand, the cold sting of rocks and pebbles digging into the meat of your palm as the sharp jolt of the impact shoots from your wrist up to your elbow. “Fuck!” You hiss, hauling your bike up onto the curb. Ugh, the water’s in your shoes. Your socks are utterly soaked. You swing your old backpack off, an old canvas thing you’d found second hand after the one you’d had since you were 12 finally gave up on this world and fell apart at the seams. Checking it over, it thankfully wasn’t soaked. You had your work uniform and a nicer pair of shoes wrapped in plastic grocery bags, but your textbooks had nothing. It was the wild west for them. Maybe you should wrap them up… following that, you properly turn your attention to your hand. A sizable scrape accompanied by a few small pebbles embedded into your skin, specks of grit littering the surface. You wince as you try to gently pry them out, wiping your hands on the front of your sweater. A small jolt of pain shoots up your arm again at the motion. Shit. Did you sprain it? Oh, god damn it!

You sigh. Well, your job is less than a block away. Grumbling, you stand your bike up, deciding to walk it for what remains of your route. You gently rotate your injured wrist as you go, trying to gauge how bad it is. It’s not quite a sprain, you think, though the adrenaline could be dulling some of the pain. You sigh, guiding your bike to cut across the parking lot and behind the building. You always lock it up there, in the nice little patio area the back door opens up into. There were a couple tables with four chairs each, and wooden benches facing inward whose backs formed a sort of fence along the perimeter. The whole thing is topped with soft string lights hung from the pale-brown awning sheltering the concrete brickwork of the patio floor. The little rest area was nice enough that occasionally some… “difficult” customers claimed to mistake it for a smaller outdoor seating area. Maybe you’d believe them, if it weren’t for both the signs saying otherwise and it being very clearly separate from where they were actually meant to sit- the much larger and better furnished patio on the right side of the building that also happens to be lacking in nearby dumpsters.

You lean your bike up against the back of the bench, securing it with an old corded lock looped through the wooden slats, and make your way inside. Pushing open the door, you sigh when the rush of warm air envelops you. You take a moment to just stand there and enjoy it, before heading to the breakroom. This was the nicest rest area you’d seen at any of your jobs, let alone a restaurant. At the diner, you’d just sit in one of the booths, but The Galley practically had a lounge in comparison. One large red couch pushed against the back wall, accompanied by a coffee table and a small, squeaky arm chair. There was a kitchenette on the other side of the room, but you’d seen your coworkers use the main kitchen on their breaks if things weren’t busy. It made you nervous, but you weren’t a snitch. In the adjacent corner to the kitchenette rests a larger table, a sturdy wooden piece a few shades lighter than the dark oak flooring. There were a number of differently colored tablecloths that could be swapped out- right now, it was a red and white checkered pattern, like a picnic blanket.

You set your backpack down on the armchair, the bite of the old canvas straps fading into a dull ache, and roll your now unburdened shoulders with a satisfied hum. You go to fetch the first aid kit from under the sink- one of several on the premises, of course. You crouch down to open the blue laminate doors- leaning forward to grab the bright red box and-

BANG

The doors to the kitchens slam open and you jump, banging your head on the ceiling of the little cupboard. “FUCK! UGH!” You yell before you can help yourself, whirling around to see the shocked faces of… Millie, a younger coworker with promising culinary talent, and your boss, Thatch. The man is mid-wince, with a light lopsided grimace on his face as he sucks some air in through his teeth. Millie has her hands raised in front of her mouth, wide eyes framed by her messy brown hair and the big circular glasses she wears. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” She starts, rushing towards you as you rub your head, wincing at the jolt that runs through your wrist. Right. Bad arm. Your good one has the kit. Well, if there’s a good time to be injured, you guess it would be now. “I didn’t mean to slam the door like that, I just- I’m sorry for surprising you!” She continues, sinking to the floor beside you. Poor kid can be just as nervous as she is talented. It rarely fails to activate your “Big Sibling” mode, which is funny since your own sister isn’t anxious like that at all.

“I-it’s fine, kid, don’t worry-” You start, but Millie keeps going.

“Were you getting the- here, let me help! I know you’re the med student but I can take a look at your head-” She reaches for your face and you instinctively jerk away.

“Millie!” She stops, shoulders tensing, hands held against her chest. “Millie, I’m serious, it’s really not that big of a deal,” you try to assure her, but judging by the looks on their faces, your smile is just as strained as it feels. Millie’s lips are pressed into a thin line, wobbling slightly. You try again. “Sorry, sorry for yelling. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” You reach for her shaking hands, gently clasping them between your own. “This isn’t something to get worked up over. I was more surprised than hurt, honestly. And even if I was, it was an accident. You can chill.” Millie exhales slowly, slowly relaxing a little bit. That’s good. Your eyes slide over to Thatch and his… impressive hairdo. He’s watching quietly now, arms crossed with a soft smile. “My only worry is getting in trouble for ‘unprofessional language’ at the moment.”

That earns a good-natured snort from your boss, who waves a hand dismissively. “Oh please, if I had an issue with that, I’d have to fire every line cook we’ve got. And you always get here early, so there are a couple things I’m willing to overlook. If anything, you’ve earned the profanity.” You quirk an eyebrow, releasing Millie’s hands to gather the kit and stand up.

“Kinda sounds like you’re keeping track. Is it measured? Do I earn swear words based on how many times I get here before my shift, or is it based on the number of minutes left before it starts?”

“Hmm. We can workshop it,” he says jovially, and when you hear Millie giggle, the strained smile you’d plastered onto yourself relaxes into something more genuine. “So, what were you getting that out for, anyway?” he asks, gesturing to the kit you’d risked life and cranium for. “Does it have to do with how drenched you are? It isn’t raining that hard.”

You chuckle nervously, opening your mouth to assure him it’s really no big deal, to just let you take care of it, when your thoughts are interrupted by Millie exclaiming “Oh!” You both turn to look at the girl, who is looking at her hands with that same wide-eyed anxious look. “Y-you, um, you bled on me? You’re bleeding?” She says, holding out her right hand to show the little bit of blood you’d accidentally smeared onto the back when you tried to comfort her.

“Ah! That’s- oh my god, that’s so gross, I’m sorry kid,” you start rambling. Now it’s your turn to be flustered. You look down at your hand, and sure enough the blood is still oozing out. “I just fell on my way here. I wasn’t thinking about it when I touched you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! M-maybe I could look at it?” Millie starts, but Thatch gently puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Nah. Why don’t you go wash your hands, and head back to the kitchen to tell the others about that appetizer idea you had? I’ll take care of our friend here. Don’t worry about it.” Your eye twitches a little bit at that. He’s not your friend- he’s your boss, and you have boundaries regarding superiors getting buddy-buddy, thank you very much. But it’s not worth mentioning, at this point. It’s small, he’s saying it to comfort Millie, and he’s already doing you a favor. He’s never actually crossed the line, you’re just… a bit jaded, maybe?

“Are… are you sure?” Millie asks, glancing between you and the blood smeared over the backs of her knuckles.

You smile gently. “Yep. It’s all fine. Go tell everyone about the thing. And let me know too, if you find a minute once I’m up and running.” You assure.

Millie flushes, tilting her head and looking off to the side bashfully. “It’s nothing that special…” she mumbles, shuffling past you to use the sink. “We just have a lot of cauliflower and only two menu items that call for it…”

You giggle at the comment but nearly jump out of your skin when your boss lays a hand on your right arm. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, hands raised flat in front of him. “Would you hand me that? Let me see your hand.” His voice is soft, and he’s looking at you with that warm look again- the one that really accentuates the crinkles around the older man’s eyes.

You aren’t sure how to feel.

Your boss is pretty friendly, to say the least. It really threw you for a loop when you first started working- you’d been preparing yourself for the predatory bloodsuckers you were used to, the ones who’d wring as many hours as possible while looking for any excuse to dock your pay. Practiced smiles and an ego stroked by exacting power over impoverished retail and fast-food employees. Any friendliness out of these people came with an agenda, and you’d always found it endlessly infuriating how someone so pathetic held so much sway over whether or not you’d get to eat. The Galley was probably the nicest place you’d ever worked- so you expected the attitude to be similar. You went in with your guard up, but the friendliness you’ve been met with thus far seemed genuine. The way that man effortlessly pulled you in despite your reservations was… unnerving. You barely even register that you’ve handed him the bright red box until he’s already holding it.

You blink, then mentally shake yourself off, choosing to finally shuck off your sweater. At least it’s wool, so you aren’t all that cold despite being soaked. The sink shuts off, and Millie rushes past both of you with a quick “See ya!” You smile softly again. She’s a good kid.

“Could I take a look at that now?” Your boss speaks up gently. You look back up at him, at the concerned crease in his brow, the dark eyes scanning over your wrist.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, sir, I can t-take care of it myself,” you try to assure, tensing when he frowns.

“I’m sure you can, but you don’t have to. Hmm… it’s swelling,” he says, moving a warm palm gently resting against your forearm, slowly lifting it. Now that you get a better look at it, you wince. Shit, it’s probably a sprain after all. He clicks his tongue, eyes sliding from your wrist to your face. You don’t meet his gaze. “What happened?”

“I fell on the way here, like I said. Dumb accident,” you mumble. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at you. You start to sweat a little. Thatch knew you biked here- but even so, transportation was something you preferred to be vague about. Even if he knew you didn’t have a car, you didn’t want to draw attention to it. Incidents like this could be used against you, potentially creating the argument that you didn’t qualify for the position due to a ‘lack of reliable transportation.’ It was bullshit, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t do it. “It’s not a big deal, I promise. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time,” you insist, and he sighs.

“Do you want to take a night off? We both know this doesn’t look good…” he speaks tentatively and gently, but you still jolt, finally looking him in the eye.

“Wh-? No! No no no, it’s fine, I can still work!” You cringe inwardly for sounding so frantic. You’re reminded of a time where Grub had gone home with a school friend without telling you, sending you into hysterics when she hadn't gotten off the bus. You shake yourself off- you aren’t anywhere near that freaked out at the moment, but it was a memory that always encouraged you to calm down. “I can still… I’ll just carry less plates at one time, or something. I promise it’s fine,” you say, calmer this time, but he doesn’t seem convinced.

“C’mon, I know you’re pre-med,” he says softly, lowering your arm.

“Yeah, so I’ve got a decent idea of how bad it is, and what my limits are,” you huff impatiently. The sooner you can go change, the sooner you get this shift over with.

“So you know that it’s probably a sprain.”

Your eye twitches. “Yes, and I know how to wrap and tape it. There’s an elastic bandage in the kit.” Goddamnit, drop it. You need this shift, you promised Grub something good to eat, and you need to get her some decent winter boots.

He tries again. “You should see an actual doctor.”

“Not bad enough to be worth it with my budget.”

“Carrying dishes out to customers could make it even worse-”

“I’ve done harder jobs in worse condition.” Your voice raises slightly.

His brows furrow. “You shouldn’t-”

“I have to!” You spit, cutting him off before you can stop yourself. “I need the fucking hours, don’t patroni-” you cut yourself off abruptly.

There’s a beat of stunned silence. The blood rushing in your ears far outweighs the clatter of dishes and pleasant chatter of coworkers drifting in from the kitchens- people whose names you haven’t even memorized yet. You tuck your chin against your chest and stare down at the floor. You… can’t talk like that. Your body goes rigid, stomach clenching. You absolutely cannot talk like that. This is the best job you’ve had. “Sorry, m’sorry, sir.” It’s a whisper, and the sentiment feels laughably hollow. Your tongue feels heavy and numb in your mouth, like a big useless hunk of lead. You’ve been fired for less. How could you be so stupid? So utterly, laughably stupid? Damn it, damn him- you’d never argued like that with other employers, you knew better. His grating, incessant friendliness, despite your caution, despite knowing from the start that it could lure you into a false sense of security, must have gotten the better of you. You got too comfortable somehow- there’s no other explanation for how you hadn’t even spared a second thought to the idea of arguing with your damn boss. Should you plead your case? Apologize again? No, it’s over. It has to be. “I’ll…” there’s a painful lump in your throat. Getting the words out feels like dragging boulders up and out of your own big, stupid gullet. “I can just go. I don’t… k-keep anything here, anyway. Nothing to… clear out…”

There’s a movement, a flash in the corner of your eye- the shadow of a familiar raised hand is pulled from the depths of your brain and you jerk backwards, eyes blown wide, reflexively guarding your face-

Both of you are frozen for a moment. You can feel him staring at you, hear your name being called coaxingly.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Just… Come sit down and let me wrap that up for you, okay?”

“...Right.”

You don’t really make any conscious decision to sit down so much as you just find yourself at the table in a chair turned sideways, facing your boss with your arm outstretched. His hair blocks out one of the lights from where you’re sitting, and it almost makes you crack a smile, but you don’t. You’re wordless as he gently dabs your palm with a disinfectant pad, eyes searching your blank face for something. His brows furrow a little. Does he want something? Are you being too quiet? There’s a soft inhale. “You…” He pauses, sighs, broad shoulders slumping as he leans forward- you instinctively move back, and he stops. “Sorry.” He’s quiet for a moment, maybe waiting for you to say something. When you don’t, he continues. “You don’t need to be so nervous, alright? I try to take care of my people here,” he speaks softly, laying a light square of gauze over the angry red flesh of your scraped palm. There’s another small jolt of indignation. Again with the familiarity. You aren’t his anything.

… But you really can’t risk another little outburst.

“You don’t need to work tonight,” he says, warm murmur grounding you as he starts to wrap your arm. “But I won’t make you leave, either, if you’re… Really sure about this.” Your brows furrow. You don’t understand why he’s being so… Nice. You’d had a dishwashing job before this- it was mostly fine, until Grub came down with the flu. You had to take five days off to take care of her, and once you’d come back, they started cutting your hours. Shorter shifts, to losing days, to finally being “laid off.” All because you missed five days of scrubbing plates. If you’d argued with your manager there, you’re sure he would’ve smashed a glass over your head.

You sniffle, rubbing your eyes with your good arm. “I-I don’t get it,” you mutter. It still hurts to try and speak. It’s all so embarrassing.

He chuckles, a gentle rumble resonating in his chest as he applies the little bandage fasteners. He gently turns your wrist, examining the bandaging job, before gingerly laying your arm back down on the table. “Please. You think you’re the first struggling employee I’ve had?” He asks. You can tell he’s looking at your face, but you don’t feel ready to meet his eyes. He continues, seemingly unbothered. “I try to be decent, that’s all.” You nod slowly, and he hums. “You’ve still got some time before your shift. I’m gonna go check in with the fine folk in our kitchens, and you take some time to calm down. Let me know what you decide once I get back, alright?”

You blink. That was it? You aren’t even being reprimanded? You… probably should be, at least a little bit. “A-alright,” you parrot, voice faint.

He pats your shoulder before rising to his feet. Good god, he’s tall. “Great. Think about what I said, alright?” And then he’s off.

That’s it.

You don’t move, at first. It takes you a minute of just sitting in that chair, listening to the sounds of the kitchen. Then something finally clicks and you own your body again, springing to your feet and grabbing your backpack as you scramble to the staff bathroom to change- something you manage without incident, surprisingly, considering your night so far. And when you’re done, you amble your way back to the armchair, dropping backwards onto the worn leather. You should… try to clear your head. You need to be able to act like you have yourself together when Thatch gets back.

You still aren’t sure what to make of everything. He’s so painfully nice, but you still can’t help but think you’ve really, really fucked up somehow. But one thing is certain- you have another chance, and you really don’t want to ruin it.

When Thatch finally comes back, you don’t miss the way his face falls once he sees you in uniform. “... I see you’ve made up your mind, then.” You shift under his gaze, clumsy fingers fumbling with the thick seams of the right armrest. He talks nice, and plays the part of a concerned party very well, but you still can’t help but see it all as a possible ploy to get rid of you. You needed to prove yourself, so you could stay. You had to. So you just nod.

“Yes, sir.”

You have practice putting on your customer service voice. The empty smile, deliberately flexing your cheeks just enough that it looks like it reaches your eyes. The friendly voice you put on too, gratingly chipper to your own ears. The shift isn’t that bad. There are a couple tables that express concern, asking about your bandaged wrist, but you’re able to laugh it off and give a vague answer. Taking orders isn’t much of a problem. Holding the little notepad does send twinges of pain through your wrist, but it’s manageable. One table praises you for being oh-so careful with their food, and it’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. They end up tipping very well, anyway. Multiple tables do, actually. Maybe you should wear a bandage more often.

It’s not until you’re two hours in that something eventful happens. You’re on your way to deliver an order to the kitchen staff when you see her. Millie is loitering just next to the doors to the dining area, chewing her lip with a platter of appetizers in hand- a bread basket, shrimp tartlets, some of those fancy cheeses and a portion of breaded calamari, it looks like. Millie is just staring down at them, buckling at the knees in a pigeon-toed stance. “Mills?” You call softly, and her head snaps up to you. “Millie, are you okay..? What’s wrong?”

“Ah, i-it’s nothing,” she stammers, but the way her voice is trembling says otherwise. “I o-only need a moment, a-and I’ll be just fine! It’s just fine!” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she visibly cringes, the rattle of lightly jostled silverware filling the brief silence.

“... Millie,” you start gently, crossing your arms as you automatically slip into your concerned-big-sibling mode. “It’s obviously not fine. What’s the problem? What has you so shaken up?”

Her lips wobble. “It’s dumb,” she mumbles. “Not even that bad…”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You’re a nervous kid, but not without reason. Tell me what’s up, okay?” You say, adding a touch of firmness to your tone.

She sighs, shifting on her feet, looking anywhere but you. “I-it’s just… there’s this table of business-man types, and um… a-at first they were just kinda looking at me weird, but…” Your body goes rigid. “I came back to take their orders, and one of them says I’ve got pretty hair, a-and he wants to brush it out for me? Which is j-just weird, I guess, but it made me uncomfortable, and then another one says our uniform supplier sh-should bring the skirt length up by a couple inches and everyone laughed… and another said to lower the necklines too, while they’re at it. So um… I just…” You put a hand up.

“Millie, you don’t need to say anything else. That’s fucking gross and you’re not stupid, okay?” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, before looking back up with a stern expression. “Alright, here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna handle that table. You’re getting an early break- go take a little bit to calm down, okay? I’m taking over as server for those creeps.”

Millie splutters, but you’re already taking the platter. “W-wait, no! I can do it, it’s fine!” She reaches out to take it back from you, but you shoot the poor girl a stern look.

“If anything happens, if anyone asks- throw me under the bus. You have my permission. I’m not gonna let you deal with that shit if I can help it, okay?” You say, maintaining eye-contact with the wide-eyed girl. “Tell me you understand.” She just nods, hugging herself now that her hands are free. Your face softens. “Great. Now go take that break, okay? It’s just fine.” You want to pat her shoulder, but your hands are full. She just nods, mumbles out the table number and a thank-you, then scurries away. You take a deep breath, before pushing the door open with your back, and spinning around to face the public dining area.

You don’t bother putting the customer service smile back on. You walk up to that table with the blankest, most unimpressed expression you can muster. They’re in a corner booth, three men in suits. Two seem about middle aged, one with dark hair and the other gray. The third is a younger brunette- he has his coat draped over the back of the booth. One raises a brow as you approach, but you don’t react. Wordlessly, you set the carrying platter down, before removing each appetizer. “Shrimp tartlets, bread basket, tempura, cheese platter,” you say flatly, retrieving the platter with your good hand, before saying the dreaded next lines. “The main courses will be out shortly. Is there anything else you need.” The men look at eachother, scoffing, one shaking his head and another doing a breathy sort of laugh.

“You’re not the girl we had before. What happened to her?” One of the older two asks.

Your eyes narrow, ever so slightly. “She’s busy,” busy taking some time to herself, hopefully. “-So I delivered your food. Now, is there anything else you would like to order?”

“How about a smile?” The younger one says, leaning towards you.

You’re unable to keep the sharp glare off your face. “That is not a menu item. My coworkers and I are here to serve food, and nothing else. Now, is that all?” You ask, holding the brunette’s gaze. You don’t flinch, you don’t falter, not even when you jostle your injured wrist. You can tell they feel awkward, glancing around at each other. Nobody says anything for a good few seconds, until you speak up again. “Right. We’ll have the rest right out for you soon, sirs,” before turning and swiftly retreating. Could be better, could be worse. As anxious as you were about job security, you were far more pissed with men like that. You couldn’t deny you were jittery though- your nerves wrung tight with everything that had happened thus far, and the simmering anger at the idea of anyone upsetting Millie.

You just keep going, denying the exhaustion creeping through your body. Fake smile bright, voice chipper, laughing off your injury even when it sent jolts of pain all the way up your arm. You don’t pay the few comments much mind, save for the one-armed regular who frequents the bar with his friends cracking a good-natured joke about taking better care of yourself, lest you end up matching him. You snort, letting the facade slip a bit. The smile you give him is tired, and doesn’t show any teeth- but it’s genuine. “I dunno, man… I think I could pull off the facial scars pretty well,” you quip back. You almost worry that you could cross a line with that, but your worries are quickly assuaged by drunken laughter.

Thankfully, you don’t have to serve those men again. Neither does Millie. By the time your break rolls around, another coworker greets you- the tall, scruffy line cook with patchy facial hair who’s always chewing on a toothpick, what was his name again? He usually looks like he’s bored out of his mind. He informs you that the poor kid is in the kitchens again. She’d had an emotional conversation with Thatch, but he hadn’t heard the details, so you fill him in on the creeps she’d been serving. He smirks. “Ohoh. Well, those three won’t be back now that she’s told him, I can promise you that. Thanks for covering for her, by the way.” His eyes narrow. “Hey, what happened to your arm?”

You blink, barely swallowing a yawn. “Oh, th- it’s just a sprain. Fell on the way here.”

“And the boss didn’t give you the night off? No offense, but you look trashed.”

You wince, glancing at the little mirror above the bathroom sink. You guess you do look pretty tired, your eyebags are very prominent. “He, uh. Tried too? I need the hours.”

He’s still for a second, before the bored expression morphs into a pitying look, clapping a hand on your shoulder and leaving it there. “Listen, I know how lots of places are, but the boss ain’t one to screw you out of PTO,” he drawls, toothpick waggling as he speaks. “If he offers something, he means it, alright?” He says, looking you right in the eyes.

“Oh,” you mumble rather dumbly in response. He gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“Just… try taking him up on it, the next time he offers you something, alright?” He says, retrieving his hand and sauntering off. He moves with a hunched, somewhat bow-legged stance. Right before he opens the door to the kitchens, he turns to call back to you. “If it doesn’t go well, I’ll saw my own foot off! Like in that one movie with the guys in the bathroom… aw damn, what’s it called?”

“... Saw?” you offer tentatively.

He snaps his fingers, giving you a grin. “Yeah, that’s it! I’ll saw my foot off, just like that movie Saw!”

A nervous little chortle bubbles its way out of you. “I, um, don’t want you to do that, though?”

“Well that’s good, cuz I won’t have to!” He says, flashing a grin and a peace-sign before the doors swing shut behind him.

Huh.

He’s a nice guy. You should really get his name…

You roll your shoulders back, exhaling. You’ve got the break room to yourself, for right now. You fetch your backpack, lugging it one-handed to the table. Gingerly unzipping it, you grunt as you clumsily slide the hefty nursing textbook out of your bag. You can probably manage about half an hour of cramming before you’re back out on the dining floor. The book is dropped onto the table with a loud THUNK! Before you pull up a chair and crack it open. You ought to pat yourself on the back, you think. You’re getting a lot of shit done, despite everything that has happened tonight. You squint, staring down at your book. Ugh. Your eyes are scanning over the words, but you’re not really taking anything in. Okay. Well, you’ll get up and fix yourself some tea with the little stove. Sighing, you stand back up, trudging your way over. Wow, your limbs feel heavy, huh? You need to reset your brain. Just take a second to get your bearings. The tea will help with that, you think.

You manage to set the kettle to boil with one arm, having had to awkwardly brace it against your chest to pour the water in. You pick one of the options kept in the cabinet, until finding one that seems appealing and leaving it in a pre-prepped mug. The piercing whistle of the kettle sounds, so you turn off the little stove and pour the water. There. Time to grab your beverage and get back to it. You walk back over, sit yourself back down, and look at the page. Elbows on the table, head resting on your hands. There isn’t much left to read. Just a couple chapters, maybe? You’re allowed to annotate. Highlight text, write notes and shit. God, the text really is bleeding together though… you want to pull your hair out. You take a sip of tea, instead, letting the warmth spread through your mouth. Rubbing the heels of your palms against your eyes, you sigh. You can rest your eyes for a second. You cross your arms over the open textbook, laying your head down. Only for a second. Just for a second.

This doesn’t feel right.

You huff, brows furrowing at the dryness of your mouth. Ugh. You have your tea though, you think, fingers digging into the cushions of- you stop. Cushions? Wait. You’re at the table- no, you aren’t. You aren’t sitting anymore, you’re lying down-

You shoot up, hands flying to rub your eyes fiercely- wrenching a strangled yelp out of you when the taut sting of pain returns to your injured wrist. A white shape slides off your body with the soft rustling of fabric. You blink the sleep out of your eyes- it’s quieter now. You look around- you’ve moved to the couch. You fucking fell asleep. Why didn’t anyone wake you? And did you lay yourself down? You don’t remember that. Your tea, now cold, sits on the coffee table on a branded coaster, your textbook closed next to it with a bookmark slipped between the pages. And beside them, three… generously sized to-go bags. Your body goes numb. You feel like you’re gonna throw up.

Did you… pack up more food then you’ve ever taken before and then just go pass out? You wouldn’t have, right? Your hands are trembling, it feels hard to breathe- you wouldn’t. You know that. If you did, it would definitely be over. Back to stints in retail and fast food and lord knows they don’t pay as well. If you’ve blown this, there goes any chance at saving up money. You stifle a sob, pushing the ache in your throat back down into your chest. You sniffle, furiously wiping away the tears beading up in your eyes. Why didn’t anyone wake you up? It was busy! Little hiccups crawl their way out of you, feeling so much louder in this quiet, empty room. Your good hand slaps over your mouth, trying to stifle the pathetic sounds. Come on, get your shit together. You didn’t do this. You know that you would be too afraid to. It clicks into place when your eyes fall to the white fabric puddled on the floor by your feet. A chef’s coat- one a couple sizes too big to fit any of your peers.

Your boss’s coat draped over your sleeping form, the food you never would’ve had the balls to order for yourself, his aggravatingly friendly demeanor- you feel the heat rising to your face, resting in your cheeks and the tips of your ears. The familiar burn of the twin-flames, shame and embarrassment. Thatch moved you. Picked you up and laid you onto the couch himself. Who else? Millie couldn’t, and the coat was too big to fit… the Saw Guy. You bend down, gingerly picking up the white coat. You rub the fabric between your fingers for a few seconds, staring down at the garment now bunched up in your lap. Another sniffle, another rub of the eyes- and you drape it over the back of the couch with a shaky breath.

The food smells… really good, but you can’t bring yourself to examine it properly. You sit there in silence for a long moment, staring down at your hands. You feel… far away. This is all so weird. What does your boss get out of this? Your coworkers all seem to adore him, yes, but you just…

You don’t want to get your hopes up.

The doors to the kitchen swing open, but you don’t look. You feel a bead of sweat roll down your neck, the sensation sending a shiver through you. The familiar voice of your boss calls out to you, but you say nothing. You hear his footfalls echoing through the empty room, coming to stop on the other side of the table. You can see his figure in your peripherals. “Hey,” he calls softly.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “... Why didn’t you wake me up?” You choke out.

“... I suppose I felt bad,” he confesses. His voice is soft but… almost tight. “I have some bad news.” You immediately tense, the fingers of your good hand digging into your leg. “Well hang on, it’s not like that!” He says hurriedly, already knowing what you thought. Now you look up at him, searching his weathered face. He’s got a plain black shirt on- yep, the coat’s his for sure. He rubs the back of his neck, and there’s no hint of a smile. Despite his assurances, you feel like a fist is squeezing your heart, a thick anxious weight in your throat. “Millie came to talk to me earlier. I appreciate that you helped out, of course, it’s just…” He sighs, screwing his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them again, he looks you in the eyes, and your gaze dips before you can stop yourself. “She went out onto the back patio to calm down like you said, and… someone had stolen your bike.”

It takes a moment to hit you. “Th-that old thing?” You breathe incredulously, eye twitching just barely. “Why the fuck… that old p-piece of..?” You stare at him. Is he fucking with you? But the way his mouth is pulled unevenly, brows drawn tight, the slight scrunch of his upper nose bridge… and his eyes are awfully soft.

“I’m afraid so,” he says softly. Your throat falls into your chest and your heart falls into your stomach. Of course. Of course! Is fucking everything happening today? You’re caught somewhere between the urge to laugh or burst into tears- you just lean forward with a choked wheeze, anxious hands pulling at your hair. Don’t- don’t break down in front of this man-

You already can’t afford a car or proper daycare a neighbor is watching your sister for fuck’s sake

Your good hand slides down to your mouth, roughly clamping over your lips in a desperate attempt to stifle the lurching wail of frustration you know is trapped in your chest. A strangled whine leaks past your rigid fingers anyway.

She needs winter boots a new coat too but the bike the fucking bike you can’t earn money without it everything is over

The couch cushions dip, and a warm hand rubs your upper back. You jolt. When had he moved? “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “Let me give you a ride? I already do it for Millie, when her dad… can’t.” You look up at him, peeking between your splayed fingers.

“A ride,” you repeat dryly, voice hoarse. “Don’t suppose you’ll be driving me to work, as well?”

“... If that’s what you need, I can make it work. It’s not like biking is a good idea with your wrist like that, anyway.” You’re quiet for a long moment. He does have a point, as much as you hate to admit it. You change the subject for now, gesturing to the bags on the table.

“And the, uh… pity rations?” You ask. Thatch snorts, leaning back and crossing his legs.

“Millie felt pretty horrible about the bike situation, especially after the favor you did her-”

“Wh- that’s not her fault!” You interrupt before you can stop yourself. He gives you another look you don’t like, a strange warmth with a glint you can’t place.

“No, of course not,” he says, reaching over your shoulders to pick up his coat where you’d laid it out. “But you know how she is- the poor kid was broken up about it all the same. Didn’t know how to tell you, so I said I would. She made most of that for you- Genkei invited himself to help her, when he found her still sniffling over a pot of chowder.” Ah, Genkei… you remember now. Saw-guy’s actual name.

“Oh god, kid…” you mumble to yourself, shaking your head. “She’s… gone already, then? I can’t thank her?”

Thatch nods, smiling at you softly. “I wouldn’t worry about it- you can do that next time you come in. Neither of you are leaving this job anytime soon- not by my hand, anyway.”

You look to your boss, then back at the packaged food. It all still feels too good to be true, but… what option do you have, really? Even if you did still have your bike, Thatch was completely right. Biking with a busted wrist wouldn’t work out. “I just…” you start, then pause. This… puts you in a strange spot, though. You’ll… owe him after this, won’t you? Is all this gonna be hung over your head? Genkei didn’t seem worried about anything, but… but…

“What do I need to do to convince you that you aren’t in any trouble?” Thatch asks, warmth slightly cut with exasperation. You cringe.

“I don’t… I don’t know? I just…” You struggle to find the words. “... Sorry?” You offer.You aren’t looking at him, but you can feel him staring at you.

“None of that, now,” he says, waving you off. “How’s this to start? Let me help carry your things to the car.”

Well… you can’t do it yourself, you think. “Okay,” you relent, nodding. “... Thank you.”

It turns out that when Thatch said “Let me help carry your things” he’d actually intended on carrying all of it. He had your backpack and two of the take-out bags looped around his arm, while you were left with the smallest of the three. He whistles a tune while you follow him out to the darkened staff parking area- street and building lights casting strips of ruddy yellow-orange over the lot. You trail behind him, watching as he goes from a silhouette, to being outlined in amber light, to a silhouette again- staring at his bobbing pompadour as he leads you to an old, brown ford bronco with tan paneling. You blink. The paint is chipped and worn away in places- this is an old beater car. Nice when it was in its prime, likely still efficient. You’d expected something fancier from some sort of… well, you weren’t sure if celebrity is the right term, but he was a big deal in culinary circles and he came from a rich family.

He leads you to the passenger side door. With one hand, he fishes his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the vehicle and opening the door with a smile. You blink, taken aback for a moment before you thank him, sliding in and placing the one bag you were allowed to carry at your feet. Leave it to him to make being down a limb look so effortless. You exhale, trying to relax against the cracked leather seat, cradling your wrist in your lap when Thatch slides into the driver’s seat. He turns the key, then turns to you. “How’s it feel?”

You glance at him, half his face shadowed, then back to the bandaging on your wrist. “It’s… fine when I don’t move it,” you admit. That was mostly true. You suppose there was a dull ache but you were good at tuning that out. “I’ve got painkillers back home, that should help a little…” you muse, earning a hum in response.

He starts the car, asks your address, and the two of you are off. It’s mostly quiet, just the hum of the engine and the passing streetlights. What are you going to do about the bike? You don’t have work for two days, but you can’t get a new bike in that time. You glance at your boss through the corner of your eye. You… really don’t want to rely on him for this. Calling your boss for a ride to work feels wrong. Maybe you should’ve asked Saw g- er, Genkei… no, you barely know that guy, either. Ugh.

“Uh… thanks again,” you force out, when the two of you are stopped at a red light. “Grub’s gonna be really happy about the food…”

“Grub?” He asks, and you can imagine the quirked brow even if you can’t currently see it.

“Yeah, my baby sister.”

“Ah, right,” he says, looking to you then back up at the light. “Guess I never heard you mention her name.”

“You haven’t..?” You mumble to yourself. “Well, it’s… not her legal name. I called her that once to tease her, but it completely backfired and now she refuses to go by anything else,” you explain, feeling a smile start to pull at the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles softly. The stoplight switches. “She sounds like a funny kid,” he says, accelerating forward.

“She really is.”

“You take care of her on your own, then? No parents?” There’s a sharp jolt in your chest.

“... No parents,” you confirm after a long moment. The tightness in your voice is clear. You’re worried he’ll press you for more- you can feel him look at you again.

“... I see,” is all he says, voice quiet and sympathetic. You’re grateful for it. He drives in silence for a little while, making a turn. “Got lotsa siblings myself,” he muses after a while. “All of us adopted.”

You blink, glancing back over at him- but his eyes are focused ahead again. “Oh. That’s…” you aren’t sure what to say. “I-I’m sorry,” you settle on.

He huffs good naturedly. “Nah, don’t be. Oyaji’s great. I wouldn’t have things any other way.” Another pause, another strange pitying glance. “I’m sorry. This sort of thing… none of this is easy to do on your own.” You blink- finding yourself fighting back sudden tears. His voice was so much softer when he said that, so… earnest.

Why did it hurt? Why did it feel so good to hear, at the same time? He hasn’t said anything revolutionary. Of course it was fucking hard. Is it because he’s your boss, that the acknowledgement hits you so sharply? The novelty of it all that knocks you off-kilter?

You focus on swallowing that lump in your throat again. “Thanks,” you force the word out, unsure if you actually mean it.

Thatch regarded you with pity. You were far from the first employee who’d had it rough when he took them under his wing- hell, Genkei got the job a week after surviving an overdose. The ambulance ride alone put the poor bastard in debt, not to mention the actual treatment. Not that he disclosed that, but he had looked like hell during his interview and it wasn’t difficult to find out when one of your brothers has connections in every local hospital. No, Thatch was no stranger to what others would call charity cases (Though he preferred to regard them as “investments”). But matters of family never failed to tug on the Chef’s heartstrings.

He didn’t know exactly what your story was, beyond the poverty and custody over your sister. You tried to keep to yourself, bottling everything up until it was impossible to keep it in. But he could infer some things- your parents were probably either dead, or… unfit to care for children. Not unlike Millie’s parents, in his opinion- if Thatch’s father could somehow balance the amount of kids he had, Millie’s had absolutely no excuse for blatantly favoring her brothers.

… Could be worse, though… at least she had a proper roof over her head, but the apartment lot he had just pulled into left quite a bit to be desired. This complex was notorious- barely maintained structures, leased to those unlucky enough to be without alternatives. He can see you curling in on yourself the closer he gets, staring down at your fidgeting hands.

Poor thing.

Though your reservations weren’t without merit, and he had found your earlier outburst endearing- like a sad, wet puppy snapping at him before recoiling shamefully, he wished you were more receptive to being cared for. This was a step in the right direction, he supposed, as he pulled into a parking spot in front of building eight. Your apartment was on the second floor, so he’d be lucky enough to assist you in bringing your things inside as well. Even if you were embarrassed, he needed to know what type of situation he was dealing with.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say softly, hugging yourself.

“Well, of course. Wouldn’t do to strand you at my restaurant, now would it?” He keeps his voice soft for you. He unbuckles, opening the door, and you look back up at him in confusion.

“Wait, what are you-?”

He stops, turning to face you and raising a brow. “I’m helping you carry everything up, of course.”

He softens at the look you give him next, eyes widened and head shaking. “N-no, that’s okay, sir! You can just drop me off, you d-don’t need to-”

He tuts in disapproval, a little pearl of guilt welling up when you flinch. He knows you’re afraid of letting him see the conditions of this place, of the judgment you were no doubt used to receiving. But he wanted to see- it made helping easier. “I wouldn’t have let you carry your things to the car, so I’m definitely not letting you do it up a flight of stairs. That textbook of yours is awfully heavy, you know.”

You sputter as he exits the vehicle, and by the time you're done fumbling with your seatbelt, he’s already opening the door for you again. You breath shakily, looking up at him all flustered. “You don’t h-have to…” you try to insist, but he just chuckles, shaking his head.

“I want to,” he asserts, giving you a warm smile. You look like you’re going to say something else, but decide against it, closing your mouth and looking down with a huff. You timidly shuffle out of the car with your one bag. That one has mostly appetizers and desserts, so it’s the lightest. He closes the car door behind you, going to fetch the other bags. Your backpack, the other generously packed bags- one with Millie’s clam chowder, a seafood gumbo, and a hearty chili, while the other had two steaks with a portion of roasted vegetables and potatoes. He also portioned some of that roast he’d seen you eyeing- cut up so it could fit in the container easier, of course. He didn’t pack much seafood outside of the soup- he knew it wouldn’t keep or reheat as well.

He follows you, this time- glancing over your shoulder at him, your sweet face contorted in anxiousness. He idly whistles as he goes, slowing his pace so as not to overtake you. You’re fumbling with your own keys, standing in front of apartment number 404- when the door swings open, and a blurry form shoots forward to throw her arms around your legs. You stumble, instinctively reaching to pat her head with your injured hand- wincing empathetically when you inevitably jolt. The kid looks up with a big, gap-toothed smile, sparkling eyes peeking out from behind her bangs. “MISS HOWELL! EARWIG IS FINALLY HOME!” she shouts, earning an exasperated groan from you.

“Earwig babies are called nymphs, kiddo.” You correct teasingly. “At least pick a bug that actually has grubs, huh?” She pouts, sticking her tongue out and blowing a raspberry at you, before finally noticing Thatch. He smiles, giving the little girl a small wave. The sleeves of her sweater are a couple inches too short- the same as her pants, with mismatched patches sewn over both knees.

“Hey, who are you?” She asks, unwrapping her arms from around you and pointing at him- or rather, up at his hair. “You look like bread.” She states plainly.

“G-grub!” you exclaim, voice rising with your nerves, but Thatch busts up laughing before you can really admonish her- a hearty jovial sound. Children are children, it would take far more than that to upset him. His own family had said much worse.

“My name’s Thatch, kiddo,” he says, crouching down and extending his free hand to her. She narrows her eyes, glaring at his hand for a moment, and then his face. “You must be Grub, yes?” She nods, reaching out to shake his hand. She grips as hard as her little hands can, yanking up and down with a fervor that has him laughing again.

As she does so, an elderly woman appears in the doorway as well- dressed in loose, flowing clothes with her graying hair tied up in a bun. “Thank you for looking after Grub, miss Howell,” you speak softly- a tired, but genuine smile on your face. It’s a sweet look on you, he notes, before turning his attention back to the glaring child. She’s let go of his hand now, opting to cross her arms and attempt a staring contest.

“Oh hush,” chides the old woman. “You know I adore that girl, really- oh dear, what happened to your arm?” She asks, reaching out towards your bandaged wrist before clearly thinking better of it. At these words, Grub’s little brows furrow and she spins around, Thatch all but forgotten.

“What?! Something happened?!” She exclaims, before she sees your wrist and gasps. “Something DID happen!”

“I-it was an accident! N-not a big deal! That’s why Thatch is here- he h-helped me get home!” You sputter, gesturing to where he stands behind Grub.

“Oh, he did, hmm?” This Miss Howell turns to face him, hazy eyes regarding him with warmth. “Well, it’s much appreciated,” she says, shuffling forward to pat him on the arm, smiling widely when he gives her a nod before moving past him. “But this old woman is up past her bedtime, so I’ll be taking my leave.”

“What! But you’re OLD!” Grub cries, earning a panicked look from you. “You don’t NEED a bedtime!”

The woman laughs, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “I just don’t have the energy that I used to, little one. Appreciate it while you have it, hmm?” Reaching the door just across from yours- 405- she glances over her shoulder and winks. “You lot know where to find me, should you need anything,” she says with a grin, earning an adorable giggle from Grub who waves energetically despite the lack of distance.

“G’night, miss Howell! See you tomorrow for tea and cocoa!” She calls, grinning brightly. As soon as the door closes, it’s like a switch flips and she’s right back to side-eyeing Thatch. You chuckle nervously.

“Sweetie, th-this is my boss at The Galley. He drove me home, and packed us some extra food to bring home. Isn’t that nice?” You prompt through grit teeth, shoulders tensed. Please, he wasn’t so pathetic as to punish you over a little kid running her mouth. That’s what they do, after all!

She glances to you, then back up at Thatch with a suspicious look. “... He’s the food guy? The good food guy?”

“Um, yeah, pretty much!” You confirm, going to rub the back of your neck but wincing at the contact. “So, say thank you, and help bring the bags in, okay?”

Oh no you don’t. Thatch would be seeing your apartment, he would not be loitering at the door with nothing but a glimpse. “Oh, I wouldn’t trouble the little lady with that,” he deflects warmly. “Let me carry the backpack at least- I won’t have you do it and it’s too big for her. Easier to just make one trip, yes?”

You sputter a little bit, brows creased in worry, but as he suspects you don’t want to make a scene out of this. He’s not unsympathetic- your nerves do twist something inside him. But he can’t help you without pushing you out of your comfort zone. “O-okay,” you nod, relenting with a shaky sigh. Grub watches the exchange with a harsh stare. He would… need to find some way to assuage the kid’s fears.

“So what even happened?” The kid asks, throwing an accusatory glance back at Thatch as he follows the two of you inside. But before either he or you can explain, you stop in your tracks. Thatch, who is so tall he had to duck to get through the doorway, can see over your head at the… organized mess that overtakes the living room.

“Grub… what is all this..?” There’s a small tv across from a threadbare couch, behind which sits a table with four mismatched chairs, as if they’d all been picked out separately. Probably for free on some street corner, he thought. There’s one wall-mounted shelf above the tv, but other than that the only wall decorations are Grub’s artwork- unless you count the plain gray curtains. But none of that is what had caught your attention. Between the couch and the tv, various cardboard packages have been stood upright, organized in neat rows. A little to the left, beneath a cracked windowsill, the same has been done with several old cans. As he walks further, following you to set things down on your table, he sees a similar cluster of jars creeping out from underneath that, too. Some old newspaper has at least been laid underneath each collection.

Grub crosses her little arms. “Boxtown, Cantown and Jartown. Miss Howell helped me make ‘em. But don’t change the subject!” The kid says. You raise both now-free hands in a placating gesture, but roll your eyes. He snorts, setting each to-go bag down at the table, before shucking the thin but sturdy plastic down to pool around the packages inside. He sets your backpack down on a chair, and busies himself with setting out the options while listening to the two of you.

“Okay, okay,” you huff. “Biked through a puddle that hid a nasty pothole. Completely wiped out,” you confess. Ah, so that was it? You were deliberately vague with him. “... Then, uh… the bike got stolen. So even if my wrist wasn’t messed up, I couldn’t have gotten home.” Ah, now you’ll admit it, he thinks, inviting himself into the kitchen to fetch silverware and dishes. And snoop, of course. You shoot him a worried glance when he moves across the cheap linoleum flooring, but it quickly settles into acceptance when he opens up a cupboard.

“The bike? Really? That thing was old and ugly, though,” Grub blurts, earning a snort in response. Thatch smiles to himself, glancing your way, but it falls slightly once he properly takes in the contents. Three ceramic plates, three glass bowls, and a number of pilfered paper and plastic dishes- both from his restaurant, and others you’d no doubt worked at. Not that he was upset with you- it was just yet another thing that hammered home how tough you had it.

“Yeah, that’s basically what I said too,” you say, voice heavy with exasperation. “Anyway. What’s with all this?” You ask, and he looks up even though he knows what you’ll be gesturing to. “Boxtown is looking kinda sad,” you tease, and you’re right- the cardboard is a bit more scuffed than anything else, with wrinkles and torn edges abound. Not shocking- it was the least durable of the three options. Thatch passively takes note of the brands on the cluttered containers within view- generic or knock-off brands, several of those bright, eye-catching clearance stickers.

“Um, they’re having a fine- a fininal- a f-” Grub struggles for a moment. “The economy is really bad there,” she eventually settles on as he fetches a bowl and a plate for each of you. As much as he’d like to sit down and share a meal, he wants as much of this going to your mouths as possible, rather than his own. He has no need for any of it.

You huff with a shake of your head, and he notes that you don’t give him another frightened face when he returns to the kitchen for silverware. “Okay, fair enough,” you say, before crouching down to examine the jars lined up under the table. He opens a drawer, noting the way it sticks as it slides out. The silverware is just as limited, three or four of everything supplemented with plastic utensils and paper-sleeved chopsticks. “What’s going on here, though, Grub?” You call out. “This jar still has tomato sauce left in it!”

“That’s Jartown’s famous murder house! Tourists love it!” She calls jubilantly as Thatch approaches the table once more, bounding over with a big grin. The split second her eyes meet Thatch’s again, she forces the cool, stern glare back onto her little face. He laughs softly, setting out the utensils. This isn’t gonna push him away, the kid is absolutely adorable. It warms his heart to see her so suspicious on your behalf. He’d pinch her cheeks, if he thought he could get away with it.

You stand up from where you were squatting, stretching your back. Your shirt rides up, exposing a strip of your stomach, and it’s harder than he’d like to admit to not look directly. Settling with a deep breath, you fix your sister with a sly smile. “Jartown’s famous murder house should’ve been condemned ages ago, kiddo,” you tease. “Clean it up or we’re gonna get ants again.”

The kid groans, slouching exaggeratedly and lurching forward with her arms dangling limply. “Fiiiiiiiiiiine, but only because the ants suck,” she grumbles, dropping to her knees to fetch the offending container, and scurrying past him once she’s got it.

“Well, look on the bright side,” Thatch finally speaks up again. “There’s plenty of food waiting for you when you get back, hmm? Some might think it’s a bit late to eat, but I say there’s no such thing. Want me to tell you your options, or leave it as a surprise?” The returning Grub actually stops, seeming to think on it- examining all the opaque white containers while her fingers idly fumble with the pilling on her sweater. You’ve turned your attention to her as well, no doubt waiting for her to choose.

“I think…” She pauses for a moment, holding her chin between her thumb and pointer finger. “I… I want a surprise. I wanna find out when I see it.”

“Your house, your rules, kiddo!” He exclaims, and she speeds toward the table, clambering on top of a wobbly chair. She looks at her options. One bag with three tall, plastic containers of soup, one with three sizable white boxes stacked on top of each other, and the final bag with several small boxes containing appetizers. She leans forward, palms firmly planted against the table, before picking the top box from the second bag. Ah- the roast that had you so enamored. Not a bad choice, if he thought so himself. Her little hands struggle with the cardboard clasp for a moment, before finally maneuvering the flimsy hook out of place. The box pops open- the scent of a well-marinated cut flooding the air.

Grub’s eyes go wide as saucers behind the curtain of her bangs. She looks at the tender slices of meat, and then up at Thatch in dumbfounded silence- the previous glares and exaggerated disdain completely absent. Now she looks at him like he’s just given her the cornucopia. His heart clenches at the sight. It hadn’t even taken a day to win the poor kid over, huh?

Then a mischievous little grin curls across her face, and she points up at his hair again. “Do we get that, too?”

“GRUB!” You shout, but he’s already cracking up. The rascal is a delight, and so are you.

#one piece x reader #thatch #op #yandere one piece #thatch x reader #reader insert #yandere thatch #though it's kinda light here #WHEEE FINALLY DONE!!!#fanfiction

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aloysiavirgata · 1 year ago

Note

What do you think Scully and Mulder would disagree on as parents? A prompt, if you will.

Scully wanted schedules. Meal plans. Calendars. She wanted piano lessons on Thursdays, swim lessons on Mondays, and labeled bins for the Legos and Thomas train cars. She wanted whole grains and bento boxes and clothes from Boden and Hanna Andersson and Tea Collection. Vacations in the Galapagos and the Grand Canyon. She wanted - in her most secret heart - for him to be the star of the soccer or lacrosse teams. Or both.

Mulder wanted the gauche consumerism of Disney World every spring. He wanted drippy ice cream cones and a perpetually muddy dog and troops of sticky neighbor children marauding through the back door so he could say JESUS CHRIST WILLIAM I’M NOT PAYING TO AIR CONDITION THE WHOLE STREET. He imagined burnt pig-anus hot dogs over a campfire, a floor strewn with action figures, snow angels, Chef Boyardee. No chess coach, no deportment classes, those new-fangled sneakers that lit up. He imagined Welch’s grape juice stains on the couch.

***

Scully, luscious and fully fleshed again, with William suckling at her blue-veined breast. Scully like a Renaissance Madonna reimagined by Margaret Atwood.

“My mother sold her wedding dress to pay for Charlie’s football gear,” she says, touching William’s rose petal cheek. “My father made pretty good money for the Navy and all, but four kids so close together…we ate a lot of spaghetti. Lots of hand me downs. Missy shoplifted makeup a whole lot, if my mother ever knew…”

“Malnutrition why you’re so short?” he asks, because he knows she wasn’t actually malnourished.

She scowls. “It was never dirty, my mother would have died first. But just…you know. Heaps of rain boots at the door and school books on the table and hair ribbons and pencil stubs and recorder sheet music and half a cream-cheese-and-jelly sandwich withering on a plate because Bill and Missy were pinching each other…”

Scully trails off, switches the baby to her other breast. Remembers dinners of store-brand fish sticks and creamed corn because one of them had an unexpected pricey field trip.

William gurgles, clutches a fistful of his mother’s silky hair. Blows a raspberry beneath her Delft pottery gaze.

Mulder kisses William’s warm, fragrant head.

Mulder remembers his father, pleasantly loquacious on bourbon, teaching him about shoulder lines and top-stitching at 8. His mother and Samantha in matching ruffled Gunne Saxe dresses, the starched disapproval of the maid when he tracked footprints over the fresh vacuum lines in the carpet.

Chicken a la King, wedge salad, Steak Diane, swigs of his mother’s sidecar…

William hiccups, dribbling milk down his fat cheek. He begins to hiccup more, which makes him laugh at first, and which then makes him cry.

“It was just always loud and chaotic,” Scully says, propping the baby against her shoulder. “Someone was always hurt or in trouble or pulling hair or getting their hair pulled…it was impossible to think or relax. College was such a gift.” She remembers a study- fort she built in the San Diego coat closet.

William belches, then cheerfully vomits down her cleavage.

Scully groans.

Mulder mops her up with tender precision, watches William try to stuff his dinner-roll fist into his mouth.

“It’s been silent at my house for twenty-eight years,” Mulder says.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #my fic #prompt #william #family #inbox

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lively-potter · 1 year ago

Text

— nepenthe ; jjk

@lively-potter

— synopsis ;

in which solaris celeste vesper, a sad girl with an unfortunate upbringing meets a man far older than her and, within his presence, her sorrow fades into nothingness.

Also in which jeon jungkook finds the sun he so desperately needed in his life.

— genre ; age gap, they both fall but he falls harder in the beginning, angst, fluff, guaranteed HEA, CEO jungkook, mafia/gang vibes ( kinda/sorta )

— disclaimer ;

2024 © @LivelyPotter

You may not reproduce,

distribute/and or adapt

any part of this work

without my permission

I only own my original characters and the plot.

— warnings ;

violence, blood / gore, descriptive abuse, mature language, mature themes, fluff, angst, age gap. the MFC has been sheltered her entire life — and due to that, keep in mind she will have a slight childlike innocence. She cries a lot in the beginning ( and if you went though all the shit she did, you would too, as I won’t hear any complaints )

— playlist ;

— greedy ; tate mcrae

— yes or no ; jungkook

— closer to you ; jungkook

— somebody ; jungkook

— hate you ; jungkook

— lost ; BTS

— my time ; jungkook

— serendipity ; jimin

— stigma ; taehyung

— MAMA ; j-hope

— please don't change ; jungkook

— fever ; enhyphen

— spring day ; BTS

— love me again ; v

— mmmh ; kai

— after like ; Ive

— blood sweat & tears ; BTS

— lilac ; iu

— extra info ;

started ; January 19th, 2023

posted ; January 21st, 2023 ( on Wattpad )

completed ;

edited / revised ;

— extra info for those not familiar with the academy series by c.l. stone ;

I know I'm gaining more readers, those who aren't familiar with the academy, so I'll do a short explanation of what you'll be seeing from the academy!

In short, the academy series is a reverse harem/polyamory series set in Charleston, South Carolina.

( so you'll be seeing multiple men date the same women in this book, so don't be shocked lmfaoo ) most of this won’t happen until we are well into the story — but I’d hate to confuse all of you! I’d like every single one of you to enjoy and understand the story completely!

The academy ( that MFC won't be much involved or at all ) is basically a top secret organization that specializes in helping men, women, and children who are in an abusive relationship or homes and help them get out of that — most join the academy to help others in the same situations.

There are teams that work together and are basically a family in all but blood; and "family is a choice".

The men in teams are referred to as "dogs" and the female team members are referred to as "birds".

'Ghosts', whether birds or dogs, are children without much history to their names. They are priceless to the Academy.

The Academy's system works on a series of favor and financial debt. Everyone in the Academy starts out with financial debt. It's the value of the education an Academy student requires to become the best at what he does. If it was a private investigation training class or an eight-week boot camp, or you were starving and needed groceries to get through a human biology class, the Academy took care of it. Your debt can't just be paid off directly, it requires completing various Academy missions. Whatever it is, there is a price tag.

Favors though are the real core of the Academy. Favors are anything that doesn't have a price - usually family problems within the Academy that other members can't handle alone. New members owe ten favors immediately, with the maximum owed being thirty. The value of a task in favors varies depending on the task.

All Academy trials are comprised of the same parties: the whole team, plus five randomly selected members from other teams, presided over by a manager who has collected all the data. There is no age minimum for the randomly selected members, the only requirement is that they had to be past initiation and a full member of the Academy. The ultimate goal at a trial is to keep the family together as much as possible.

Each team has two leads. The first is the main contact for the Academy, they track the jobs the members go on, and let them know what jobs are available. The second is the family lead, who keeps track of all the team members, and makes sure that everything runs smoothly for them - ensuring they have food, bills are paid on time, and everyone that needs a job has one.

Most of this information is from the academy wiki site ( 'cause it's fuckin' complicated to explain it all )

but I want you all to be able to understand it enough to enjoy the story without being confused!

Most of the time, I'll explain through River and my other characters.

I hope this makes sense!

River won't be very involved in the academy, but there will be mentions and most of River's story revolves around, not only Jungkook and Moon, but River's brothers, friends, and family!

Please let me know if there is anything that you'll misunderstand and I'll explain to the best of my ability!

✨ HAPPY READING ✨

— find me on Wattpad at @/LivelyPotter! The first two chapters of Nepenthe are already out!

Also, do any of you mind giving me some pointers on how to post more aesthetic chapters or a master list on here?? I’m so lost and new to this app! 😂😂😭

#jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook #jjk #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x original character #bts jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook fluff #soft girl #pinkcore #jeon jungguk

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 2 years ago

Note

this might be weird to ask on a writing blog but do you have any manga recs?

yeah i got some recs! i'm gonna assume you mean less talked about titles rather than more well-known but quickfire popular recs i have are: chainsaw man, fullmetal alchemist, jjba, fruits basket, jjk and hell's paradise. but onto my other recs:

seinen

children of the sea**: a troubled teen named ruka embarks on the summer adventure of a lifetime after meeting two boys raised by dugongs at her dad's aquarium in the middle of a mysterious event taking place in the ocean.

the summer hikaru died: it's been months since yoshiki's childhood friend and secret crush, hikaru, went missing in the mountains for a week. hikaru's the same as usual, with his jokes and silly rambles and yet, yoshiki can't shake the feeling that whoever came back from that mountain, it wasn't hikaru. much to his horror, it wasn't. but rather than face reality and grief, yoshiki decides to play along with "hikaru's" act (body horror)

dorohedoro**: in a world where there are humans and magic users, humans have it rough being virtually treated as second class citizens. day after day, year after year, magic users come to the human realm to experiment on them with their magic. and after having his head turn into a caiman, kaiman, wants to get it back in blood and have his true form restored (body horror)

witch hat atelier*: in a world full of magic and witches, it's always been normal human girl coco's dream to be one. but after accidentally discovering a truth of this world and her mom getting caught up in the spell, coco becomes an apprentice of witch qifrey. (it was recently announced there's an anime in the works!)

skip & loafer**: desiring to become a government official to revitalize her hometown in the japanese countryside, iwakura mitsumi's first step to accomplish this goal is by going to a uni prep high school in tokyo. she's got a foolproof 10-step plan to boot! but of course, life hardly ever goes as plan, not even for a prodigy (mc's aunt has great trans rep)

jousei

sign of affection*: as someone deaf all her life, yuki has dealt with discrimination in both small and broad strokes. nor has she ever experienced romance. this all changes when she meets backpacker itsumi, a guy who goes to the same uni. just as he opens her world, she opens his

debu to love to ayamachi to***: after waking up in a hospital with no memories to her name, plus sized yumeko is told she is there after surviving a suicide attempt. the thing is, yumeko isn't sure why when she's just so beautiful! with a strong desire to live life to the fullest, yumeko decides to do everything the past her was to afraid to do. all the while it is revealed that her suicide attempt was more of an attempted murder... but who could have wanted to kill her?

my love story with yamada-kun at lv999**: nothing is worse than getting cheated on especially after akane invested a lot of time and energy into her shitty ex's gaming hobbies. but through gaming, not only does akane find herself healing, she managed to get herself a pretty cool boyfriend too

NANA**: 2 women, 2 different lives, 1 name shared. komatsu nana is quick to fall in love and after a series of less-than-lucky relationships, she finally has someone she thinks is the one. abandoned by her mother and her ex leaving her band, osaki nana hasn't had the easiest life. but on the same night, on the same train, these two women meet and their lives become deeply intertwined

shoujo

a condition called love*: when it comes to romance, hotaru's never experienced it besides stories of her friends relationships. but she soon finds herself about to experience the whirlwind of a lifetime when hananoi, the most popular boy in school, asks her to be his girlfriend

a bouquet for an ugly girl***: as her class' resident big girl, hana isn't expecting a blossoming spring in her high school career. and she's okay with that. she has everything she needsー otome games and gardening. but after her class' pretty boy catches her in the midst of changing the class flowers, their lives become a bit more intertwined

uruwashi no yoi no tsuki: yoi is quite popular at her school because of her neat short hair, beautiful face and overall princely appearance. in fact, it's gotten her dubbed 'prince' many times. but when the other prince of the school finally meets her, cupid's arrow quickly knocks him on his ass

shounen

frieren**: a manga that picks up after the journey has ended. the demon king has been defeated and the heroes have saved the day after 10 years of traveling together. 10 years? that's not even a 10th of elf mage frieren's life. but as her companions begin dying one by one of old age, she finds herself desiring to learn more about humans and the short yet impactful lives they still manage to have

dungeon meshi*: when a dungeon raid goes terribly wrong and laios' sister gets swallowed by a dragon, those that remain in his party decide to get it back in blood by saving laios' sister before she gets digested. in the mean time, there's nothing wrong with gordon ramsay-ing miscellaneous ingredients found in the dungeon along the way, right?

and if you like manhwa or would be down for some manhwa recs these are titles i don't see getting recommended enough

concubine walkthrough: a scifi & philosophical spin on the otome isekai genre that asks 'what is reality truly?', 'is your life any less real if you found out all your experiences were a simulation?' and 'what is reality to you?' where protagonist lee yona finds herself stuck in a VR edition of a game she only played once

a wicked tale of cinderella's stepmother: usually when someone wakes up in the body of a villainess, she's the same age as the protagonists. mildred, on the other hand, is stuck in the body of this story's cinderella's stepmother. with no husband and three daughters to take care of, there's only one thing she can really doー build up her daughters' sisterly bonds with one another and make sure they marry into good families (or that they can at least live lives they're happy with)

tricked into becoming the heroine's stepmother: at least mildred got the body of an important character, daisy on the other hand? she's in the body of an NPC you never even see in the story. bright side? this is a story she helped write and after meeting the presently six year old protagonist's father, she and father of the year decide to team up for the ultimate mission: making sure his daughter never meets any of the love interests

inso's law: ham dan-i is in a bit of a pickle when she wakes up and her new school uniform is completely different than the one her mom bought weeks ago. there's a drop dead gorgeous girl next door who claims to be her childhood best friend. even worse, like something straight out of a drama, there are four heavenly kings that rule her school. by the end of the day, dan-i has no other choice but to accept the fact........ her real life has somehow turned into a web novel. even worse, she's a side characterー the main character's best friend

webtoons

plum: in a world where fruit stacking is a major sport, little plum decides to be the very best like no one ever was and moves to the big city to compete in the fruit stacking games along with making some friends and rivals along the way

webtoons that are probably popular enough if they have hardcover copies at my local bookstore but i wanna talk about it anyway

cursed princess club: as the youngest princess of the pastel kingdom, gwendolyn loves her family. her protective papa, her oldest sister maria who often awakes to woodland creatures doing her hair. her older sister lorena who makes flowers bloom with her every step. and her younger brother jamie who's so pretty, he sparkles. and they adore her just as much. but things come to a very reality shattering halt when their father introduces maria, lorena and gwen to blaine, lance and frederick, the princes of the plaid kingdom and gwen overhears frederick call her ugly, something she's never heard in her entire life. somehow, gwen finds comfort in a club full of cursed princesses (and one prince) who teach her how to start loving herself again

key

*) receiving an anime adaptation

**) has an an anime series or movie

***) receiving an anime adaptation & contains a story with a plus-sized protagonist that doesn't involve weight loss

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cupidfilmed · 6 months ago

Text

INTRODUCING MY DRS ! ౨ৎ

youtuber dr ~ set in. march 2023

face claim (annie shr)

HALO LANEY FRANCIS

19 - august 26. 2003

significant other: matt sturniolo

career. youtuber/model/(future)singer & actress

born in paris. france

little overview.

likes - taylor swift. harry styles. jelly cats. lip gloss. iced coffee. my bf. mini skirts & heels. baking. my cats winston and timmy. my hometown. old music. spring. reading. vlogging. strawberry shortcake. musicals. playing piano. writing songs

dislikes - onions. getting lost. being alone. large ocean animals. large animals in general. bugs & insects. thunderstorms. crowded places. spicy food.

small town dr ~ set in. april 2023

face claim (hayley leblanc)

HALO WILLOW EMERSON

16 - august 16. 2006

significant other: matt sturniolo (we’re sensing a theme)

job. barista at local coffee shop & small influencer

born in boston. MA

little overview.

likes - reading. cats. taylor swift. one direction. kpop. ballet. stuffed animals. uggs. cheerleading. my bf. tennis. iced coffee. autumn. hoodies. walking around the town. school.

dislikes - bugs. bad grades. tea. onions. being alone. spicy foods. social situations. thunderstorms.

summer dr ~ set in april 2024

face claim (maddy taylor)

HALO RAE LACEY

17 - august 26. 2004

significant other: matt sturniolo

job. lifeguard & influencer

born in cape cod. MA

little overview.

likes - off the shoulder tops. painting. swimming. sunsets. my bf. sea shells. bracelet making. taylor swift. harry styles. yachts. maxi skirts. lakes. knitted dresses. bikinis. gold jewelry.

dislikes - thunderstorms. insects. being alone. large waves. surfing. spicy foods.

hogwarts dr ~ set in 1996

face claim (shay rudolph)

HALO ELEANOR LOVELACE

16 - august 26. 1980

significant other: matt sturniolo

house. gryffindor

born in london. england

little overview.

likes - reading. baking. my classes. snow. my bf. sweaters. low rise jeans. long train rides. walking around hogsmeade. school. casting spells. quidditch games.

dislikes - extremely crowded quidditch games. the forbidden forest. bugs. most slytherins. being alone. bad grades.

fame dr ~ set in january 2024

face claim (madison beer)

HALO EVANGELINE DIOR

23 - august 26th. 2001

significant other: none

career. actor & runway model

born in washington. DC

little overview.

likes - cheetah print. off the shoulder tops. low rise jeans. iced coffee. acting. knee high boots. digital cameras. fleetwood mac. award shows.

dislikes - traffic. obnoxious paparazzi. being alone. arguing. large animals.

singer dr ~ set in 2024

face claim (sabrina carpenter)

HALO GRACIE LOVELACE

20 - august 26th. 2003

significant other: drew starkey (?)

career. singer/songwriter

born in nashville. TN

little overview.

likes - pop music. the 50’s. taylor swift. liquid blush. pink lipgloss. blonde bangs. writing music. my bf. nail polish. yoga pants. go-go boots.

dislikes - onions. insects. roller coasters. being alone. public/crowded spaces. thunderstorms

#shifting blog #shifting community #shifting antis dni #shiftblr #my drs #intro post #introducing my drs #desired reality #shifting diary #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #cupidfilmed

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sareenthedreamer · 5 months ago

Text

Bound By Resonance

Word Count: 1652

writing, fanfic, oc, Toshinori Yagi, MHA universe. Go easy on me, first story I've written.

Chapter 1: First Meeting

She remembered the first time she spoke with Toshinori Yagi...

Sareen Takahashi had recently obtained employment at UA High School as a teacher. The pay was good and the atmosphere was exciting. Despite having a professional hero license she always preferred being on the sidelines. She wasn’t in it for glory and she specialized in rescue and recovery efforts. She had even spent some time working at HUC (The Help Us Company). It was that specialization that lead to her employment.

School had just resumed for the start of summer classes, a warm day towards the end of spring. She would spend the time familiarizing herself to the UA atmosphere.

That day she would be assisting with a training exercise of a mock disaster zone. The goal was to test the students’ ability to react under pressure… and maybe her as well. She was joined by several teachers including Cementoss, Present Mic, Midnight and Toshinori. Midnight briefly introduced her to the group before the training started.

Sareen had only recently become aware of Toshinori’s identity as All Might, along with everyone else who was watching that day when he faced All for One. There was something about Toshinori, aside from the fact he was the former #1 Pro Hero. That status didn’t really impress her, but the way he carried himself did. It was different from many other heroes she had known – sincere.

Standing atop the observation platform she anxiously fidgeted with her earring while watching the students in their simulated disaster. The grounds resembled a collapsed urban structure with debris stacked precariously. There were walls crumbling with dust in the area. They really aim for realism here, don’t they?

She sighed deeply, forcing herself to grasp the railing of the platform. “Stay alert,” Midnight told Sareen. “You should always be prepared for the unexpected, even in training.”

She nodded in response while taking another deep breath. She wasn’t just a pro hero anymore – she was an educator. A guide. Maybe this was a mistake. What if you aren’t any good at this teacher business? It was a struggle to keep her mind’s rhetoric from taking hold of her.

At that moment a deafening crack was heard echoing with an aftershock of stressed metal groaning around them. It was a frightening sound she knew all too well.

As the teachers stood on edge, Sareen laid her eyes on the area where the cracking noise came from– the base of a support column. A young boy was there attempting to remove debris to assist a “trapped civilian” by using kinetic energy through a precise punch. It was a great quirk for clearing obstacles in rescue situations but could be catastrophic if not properly controlled in tight spaces.

“Watch out!” her voice shouted urgently, able to cut through the distracting sounds around them. The boy looked at the rubble around him and finally – up. That’s when a second loud creaking noise rang out, the ceiling shifting further above the boy’s head. He froze in place. No! Don’t freeze! You won’t get out in time!

The next thirty seconds happened very quickly.

Without hesitation she sprinted towards the building, shouting, “Everyone back!” Despite her petite form she had long legs that propelled her quickly, her boots hitting the pavement. There was no time to plan for the best response.

At 15 yards away she cupped her hands around her mouth and unleashed a concentrated scream aimed at the shifting ceiling as it began to fall. The sound was one of resonate beauty and destruction, cutting through the air with clarity and precision. The intensity of it slammed into the large piece of debris with enough force to push it aside with a flight response triggered in the boy as it clattered to the ground beside him.

It worked, she breathed as relief washed over her. That was, until she heard another deep ominous groan. Her scream had reverberated throughout the room, essentially the same as what that boy did but on a much larger level. No...no...no!

In an attempt to contain the vibrations spreading throughout the structure she softened her scream, but it wasn’t enough. The base of the support column ground against the floor as it shifted. Her heart sank as the building further destabilized and rained down more debris.

“Sareen!” She jumped, startled, as Present Mic’s familiar voice boomed loudly across the facility as he ran towards her while pointing, “Direct your output there and focus it! Let me amplify it!”

It took her a moment to respond because she was hung up on how that would even work. With Present Mic now beside her, she spoke, “Can you match a mid-range frequency?”

“You got it! On your lead!”

Adjusting her stance she let out a low, steady scream. It was only a moment before Present Mic’s voice rose to her frequency. Success. They were able to counteract the shifting column and the surrounding area, holding it off long enough for Cementoss to arrive and begin reinforcing the structure. The cement he created was able to quickly reinforce it.

“That packed a punch!” Present Mic told her. “We have got to think about how those waves travel!”

The surge of adrenaline washing over Sareen began to recede as the students were ushered out. Sareen put her burning cheeks in her hands, her knees feeling week. But no one was hurt. It didn’t matter, the damage had been done and she could feel the eyes of her peers.

Rejoined by the rest of the faculty in attendance, Sareen’s stomach twisted. You caused this. You overstepped. You weren’t good enough.

Midnight placed a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine… but..,” She hesitated, swallowing hard.

“You saved them, that’s what matters in the end,” Midnight said. She wouldn’t accept any argument.

Sareen felt hollow inside, a palpable sadness fell over her. She glanced towards Toshinori, watching his blue analyze the situation under his furrowed brows. He gave her a calm single nod which caused her to mood sink further. In that moment she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t standing up to the weight of expectation. Sure, she helped protect those students, but at what cost? It all reinforced the reason why she stepped back from active hero work in the first place.

Midnight returned to the students, leaving her standing there next to Toshinori. His lean frame towered over her small petite frame, his hands in his pockets.

“Miss Takahashi? Do you have a moment to talk?” His voice was warm and gentle, but the idea that she didn’t stand up to expectations permeated her mind.

“Of course,” she replied with hesitation, her voice far quieter than she anticipated.

Toshinori gestured to the side of the field where they could speak more privately. His gaze settled on the training field where the building stood with support from Cementoss’ cement before shifting to hers.

"You did well out there," he said, breaking the silence. "Stepping in like that took guts."

She blinked at him, surprised by his words. "Well… I don’t know if I’d say that...The entire building could have came down on my action alone.”

“Rescue work is never flawless. Every choice we make carries risks. What matters is that no one was hurt, and you acted when it counted. That’s the core of being a hero,” he smiled at her warmly.

Sareen looked away from him with shame, her red hair glistened in the sunlight. She always did have a tendency to wear her emotions on her sleeve. “I feel like I made everything worse. What if Present Mic wasn’t there?”

"But he was," Toshinori interrupted gently. "That’s what teamwork is about. There is no point in dwelling on the what ifs. You will drive yourself crazy.”

She spoke calmly as she met his gaze once again, "But you were All Might. You set the standard for all of us."

Toshinori chuckled ironically. "Believe me, I made plenty of mistakes along the way. Hell, there are moments I still lose sleep over. It’s not about perfection; it’s about persistence." He paused briefly, "I see that persistence in you, Miss Takahashi. You care deeply. That’s why you feel this so much."

His words hit her like a ton of bricks but she could still hear the echo of doubt. “I keep replaying it…Is my desire, my persistence enough?”

His features softened, blue eyes shining. "It will be. You are here because you have something to offer these students and it’s something they need to see in a hero—compassion, empathy. The courage to always persist.” He gently placed a large hand on her shoulders. "Don’t let one tough moment overshadow that."

Thank you," she murmured quietly, "I’ll try to remember that."

Toshinori smiled, “You’ll do just fine. I’m here if you need someone to listen.”

She felt her resolve strengthen and for the first time since that morning her heart felt light.

"I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you,” she replied.

He nodded, quietly leaving the training grounds. Sareen watched go wondering to herself how a man that carried the world on his shoulders could be so down to Earth.

She made her way to the computer lab to work on some paperwork. An inconspicuous manila envelop with her name on it sat there. She curiously peered inside, pulling out the top paper.

It was an official looking document with the UA heading from Principal Nezu. It explained a program entitled the “UA Faculty Social Bonding Program (FSBP).” The goal was to help integrate the new hires and foster a sense of mutual respect and camaraderie among the staff by building trust and understanding through structured activities.

At the very bottom it named her assigned partner: Toshinori Yagi.

As Sareen’s eyes scanned the paper she found herself nervous and excited. She was looked forward to the next day….

#writing #fanfic #bnha #toshinori yagi #my hero academia #my fic writing #yagi toshinori #oc #oc fanfiction #oc writing #creative writing #drama

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sunnysaystuff · 2 months ago

Note

pandora x lyall

. yes

cw—domestic abuse + noncon elements + murder and stuff

pandora first sees lyall at the train station. he's wiry, with pale hair and a bit of a bald spot. she is fascinated.

so pandora sits down next to lyall. doesn’t make eye contact even when she feels him watch her. she breathes him in. ash and earl grey. she wonders if he tastes like smoke. he shifts in his seat, and she shifts with him.

people come and go from the train car until finally, lyall rises. pandora waits maybe ten seconds for him to leave the car. (she follows him).

the train station is dank and reeks of piss and rot. pandora steals along the walls behind lyall. she is his hungry shadow. she watches him throw open the door to his condo with a grin and a booming laugh. watches a boy maybe her age rush and wrap his skinny arms around lyall—"dad, you're home!"

something nasty curdles in her chest. a woman comes up behind lyall and drops a kiss on his cheek. pandora simmers.

the next morning she finds remus at his university. sees him laugh with his friends. pandora memorizes him. the way his nose crinkles when he is annoyed. the way his lips quirk when he has heard something especially funny. (the route he takes to get home.)

winter cracks like an egg into yolky spring, unfurling all its colors. remus hums as walks. pandora slits his throat in the alley with a smile and lets rats gnaw at his flesh when she steps over his body. the blood stains her boots so she takes them off. pandora trudges home barefoot and bleeding with someone else's wound. she gets home with blisters on her feet and an iron smell under her nails. she is still smiling.

she next sees lyall at the funeral. she comes up to him and says she's sorry for his loss. she bats her eyelashes too much and drops her pen on purpose.

he asks her if she knew remus and she says she did. pandora knew remus' eating habits, the classes he took. who his friends were. what his favorite pizza place was, his favorite book. the sounds he didn’t make when she let his life bleed away. oh, she knew him.

and lyall nods, fragile like a glass chalice and a pale woman with a tear-streaked face, who wears a pretty gold band matching his, whispers something soft and loving only for his ears.

lyall laughs. he doesn't laugh for long. hope lupin is found hanging from a noose the next day in the same dress she wore to her son's funeral. her ring finger is bare, and the police rule it a suicide.

(hope fought very hard. pandora will concede that much. unfortunately, it's very difficult to defend oneself against a baseball bat.)

so pandora knocks on lyall's door, sees his grief, and promises to swallow it whole. he is a broken chalice left shattered near his wife's grave. pandora picks up the pieces, lets the jagged edges tear her palms, and swears she'll shape him into something new.

it's strange to live someone else's life like it's yours. she wakes lyall up, dresses him in plaid and neon because she feels like it. he is mechanical in his movements when pandora tells him brush your teeth, make breakfast. she tells him go to work. lyall comes home hours later and finds pandora's clothes in his closet and her jewelery lying on his beside table. she creeps into his bed and lies next to him as he twitches and sobs.

his catatonia lasts maybe a month. then lyall storms in with two drinks too many down his throat and a pit in his stomach. he throws pandora against the wall and and closes a hand around her throat. she screams, whimpers, begs, reaches for a knife on the kitchen table and jerks it fast and hard into his thigh. lyall drops her, stumbles hard. pandora kisses him as she digs the knife in deeper. he bites her tongue and they taste metallic together. metallic and so, so good.

"pandora lupin," she muses and twists the knife, their blood dripping from her teeth. she is grotesque, and lyall pales. it is then that he notices the golden band glinting on her left hand. "it has a nice ring to it."

#sunnysays #sunny writes #lyall lupin #remus lupin #pandora lovegood #pandora rosier #sunny answers

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tedwardremus · 3 days ago

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Goodbye Kiss for Tedromeda plz - wreck us 🥲

They had to say goodbye now.

That was the agreement.

Part ways before the train ride tomorrow—because the train would be cramped and crowded, with no space for privacy, no quiet corner to make soft things easier.

So they met one last time in their usual hidden spot: a forgotten annex behind the tapestry of witches on a picnic, just off the staircase to the astronomy tower.

Ted knew the route by heart now—he could’ve walked it blindfolded. What had begun as a weekly potions study session in the library had, over the course of the year, shifted into something else entirely. By spring, they were meeting daily. Sometimes twice. And the books had long since stopped coming with them.

But it was June now.

The train left in the morning.

So this was the end.

They had agreed—whatever it was they called this, these study sessions, their meetings, the stolen hours—that it would end now that summer had come.

“Hey, Ted,” Andromeda greeted quietly as he illuminated his wand in the tiny, hidden room. Her dark eyes caught the light, and for a moment, she just looked at him. Her smile was small, a little sad.

“Dromeda,” he said, stepping closer. But he paused when she took a step back, just enough to keep the distance between them.

Without a word, she sank down along the stone wall and pulled her knees to her chest. Ted hesitated, then slid down to sit across from her, the cold stone pressing into his back.

“This year was too short,” she said after a moment.

“It had the same number of days as every other school year,” he tried to break the tension with a poor attempt at humor.

Andromeda didn’t smile. She looked down at her knees and traced a finger over a loose lace on her boot. “That’s not what I meant.”

Ted nodded. He knew exactly what she meant.

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, voice steadier than before. “I talked to Slughorn. I’m dropping N.E.W.T. Potions.”

“What?” Ted blinked. “But Potions is your favorite class. Why would you do that?”

“Not anymore,” she said quickly. “It’s awful. I can’t stand it—I can’t—” Her voice cracked, and she turned away, blinking fast.

Ted’s hands twitched at his sides. He wanted to comfort her, to reach for her, to tell her it was okay. But he had learned so much about Andromeda this year. She was proud, strong, and too fiercely composed to be met with pity.

So instead, he reached for her hands. He gently pulled her up off the cold stone floor and leaned in to press a kiss to her tear-streaked cheek.

“Thanks for being my study partner,” he said quietly. Then, before she could respond, he turned and walked away.

#harry potter fanfiction #ted tonks #andromeda tonks #tedromeda

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sbhqevents · 5 months ago

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LOOKING FOR THINGS TO DO AROUND JACKSON HOLE?

Look no further! Jackson Hole has many things to do from ice climbing to horseback riding and everything in between! Here are just a few things to do during your stay:

ICE CLIMBING

Picture yourself ascending a frozen waterfall, ice picks in hand and spiked crampon boots on feet – the ultimate winter thrill for adventure seekers, and an experience waiting to be checked off your bucket list in Wyoming. In Northern Wyoming, discover one of the largest frozen waterfalls in the lower 48, making it a premier ice climbing destination. From November through April, the South Fork Valley near Cody provides a world-class ice climbing experience, just 50 miles from Yellowstone National Park.

VISITING HOT SPRINGS

Wyoming’s hot springs promise an unforgettable adventure for travelers while offering a glimpse into the history of the lands. Many Indigenous peoples believe the hot springs in Wyoming possess healing powers. Settlers stopped at the naturally heated pools to soak their weary feet during their long journeys westward. Today’s visitors flock to soaking spots throughout the state to relax, recharge and admire the surrounding scenery. Many of these steamy natural hot springs attractions are open year-round making for especially fun dips in chilly weather, when swirling snowflakes make the warm waters even more enchanting.

TAKE A TRIP TO SOME OF WYOMING'S MOST HAUNTED PLACES

Whether you’re looking for spine-chillingly fun fall activities or are just chasing the thrill of the ghost hunt, these haunted places in Wyoming are sure to deliver. From the Old West to the 1960s, you’ll find spirits haunting historical sites, saloons, hotels and theaters throughout the state.

HORSEBACK RIDING

Setting out on horseback among the state’s millions of acres of public lands is an ideal way to feel the authentic, western spirit that lives on in Wyoming. With a variety of options for horseback riding — whether you take a guided trail ride at a traditional dude ranch, make your way through the epic landscapes of Yellowstone National Park or ride through the wildflower-filled Bighorn Mountains — you’ll discover the Cowboy State’s most breathtaking destinations. Many of Wyoming’s outfitters, guest ranches and concessioners offer a variety of horseback riding options, including one-hour, two-hour, half-day and full-day rides, as well overnight and multi-day pack trips. Whether you are a beginner or experienced rider, all guided trips are with well-mannered, trained horses and often offer lessons. In Wyoming, you’ll truly experience the wild West spirit on your next horseback riding adventure.

Other things to do include:

Shopping at local stores around Jackson Hole

Visiting the National Museum of Wildlife Art, The Brinton Museum and the Green River Valley Museum

Catch a show at the Center for the Arts, the Off Square Theatre Company, and the Ceyenne Civic Center

Tour the various distilleries such as Wyoming Whiskey and Pine Bluffs Distilling.

#sunsetevent #sunsetjacksonhole

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login360seo · 10 months ago

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Elevate your skills with the Best Spring Boot Training Classes In Chennai led by experienced professionals. These classes offer comprehensive coverage of Spring Boot, focusing on practical applications like creating RESTful APIs, implementing microservices, and ensuring security. With real-world projects and personalized mentorship, you’ll gain the confidence to tackle complex development tasks. Start your journey towards becoming a Spring Boot expert by enrolling in the Best Spring Boot Training Classes In Chennai today.

#Best Spring Boot Training Classes In Chennai #education #Best Spring Tutorial #Java Framework Courses #Spring Boot Training Classes

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blowflyfag · 1 month ago

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Pro Wrestling Illustrated: April 2024

STANLEY WESTON AWARD

STING

IN AN INDUSTRY where all time greats are just as likely to burn up–either unable to compete or dragged, kicking and screaming, into retirement–Sting is choosing to go out on his terms.

“We used to wonder … what makes these guys wanna come back, year after year, decade after decade? What more do they have to prove? And, I gotta tell ya, here I am all these years later,” said Sting on the October 18, 2023, edition of AEW Dynamite. “And I understand why they hung on! It’s the smell of the arenas/ It’s the smell of the arenas. It’s the camaraderie on the road with the guys, traveling all over the globe. It is the roar of you, the fans.”

With both longevity and grace, Sting, age 64, had not only hung on… but hung with the very best of them. Yet, as we would soon learn, “The Icon” hatched a plan to hang up the boots for good this spring–capping off a nearly 40-year run at AEW Revolution, in a building, the Greensboro Coliseum, where he challenged for the NWA World heavyweight championship in 1988.

Knowing very little about pro wrestling when he began training in the mid-1980s, the former California bodybuilder went on to become one of the sport’s biggest stars. He remained a steady presence at World Championship Wrestling throughout the 1990s, arguably the top babyface in the history of the company. Then, he ultimately joined up with TNA Wrestling, where he notoriously considered retirement many times, only to realize he still had at least another year in him.

Sting’s legacy is so impressive that WWE offered him the headlining slot in its 2016 Hall of Fame class-a distinct honor for someone who made his name outside the company. Of course, his accomplishments could hardly be denied: Between WCW and TNA, Sting has 12 recognized world title reigns to his name (along with numerous tag championships).

“Just one true icon of our industry … he’s done everything,” said The Undertaker of Sting, during an interview with Bill Apter for SportsKeeda. “You deserve everything that you have and accolades. He deserves it all.”

‘Taker isn’t kidding. From the early-1990s, with his neon facepaint and surfer vibe, to the spooky “Crow” persona, the “Joker” Sting we saw in TNA to the tag wrestler/mentor role he has taken on at AEW, the man born Steve Borden has continually refined and reinvented himself. Not content to simply play his greatest hits, Sting has astonished AEW fans with occasional high-risk maneuvers on the entrance ramp and at ringside. He has approached each stage of his wrestling career with the professional enthusiasm embodied by only elite-tier performers.

“In wrestling, very seldom are you able to write your own ending. But he’s been able to write his own ending,” said Jake Roberts in another Bill Apter interview for SportsKeeda. “Very, very fortunate that AEW was there for it, or it would’ve never happened.”

[PHOTO BY ROY LONDON]

A longtime favorite of wrestling mag enthusiasts, Stinger has also bagged a slew of PWI awards over the years. He was selected as out 1990 “Wrestler Of The Year” and “Most Popular Wrestler” on four separate occasions. In 1992, he topped the second-ever “PWI 5000” list, having ranked #5 on the inaugural edition.

Named for the founder of this publication, the Stanley Weston Award for Lifetime Achievement is Pro Wrestling Illustrated’s most prestigious honor. With Sting already a hall-of-famer through WWE, TNA Wrestling, and the Wrestling Observer Newsletter, this latest accolade signals the end of an amazing career–one documented by numerous magazine cover stories, championship reigns, and unforgettable moments.

Congrats, Stinger! May you enjoy your well-deserved retirement.

[ALL ELITE WRESTLING]

#sting #pwi #pwi 2020s #2020s #2024 #magazine scan #magazine transcript

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ricardian-werewolf · 1 year ago

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4. Don't sit under the Apple Tree (With anyone but me)

Wait this is completely off the mark but god damnnnnn @lordbettany Summary:

Nikolai and Alina share some sweetness on a cold winters morning, and make some significant discoveries about one another's pasts. Genya provides advice and assists in Nikolai helping Alina discover a key facet of herself.

Notes:

This chapter of the fic gives us a year - you'll need to have a basic knowledge of the olympics in order to catch it, but the worldbuilding should help give you some clues. Nikolai's skating routine is based on this amazing set by Illia Malinin Title taken from "Don't Sit under the Apple Tree (With anyone else but me)" By the Andrews Sisters and Glenn Miller. References to department stores of the Russian Empire forgot to include the Parade in St Petersburg and GUM department stores in Moscow.

Chapter below.

3 months later.

Alina woke one morning to the sight of snow.

Despite her assuming that it’d been spring upon her arrival, that hadn’t been the case. Now, the Great Palace was buried under several feet of snow, and classes had been canceled. While the squallers and tide-makers could keep the Little Palace in its own sort of weather pocket, messing with the forces of nature was a major faux pas .

Distantly, she could hear the faint strains of In the Mood playing on the phonograph, and wondered who it was this early in the morning. Her training with Botkin the day before, as well as the arrival of Zoya, had put Alina in quite the bind. She still limped as she walked, her wounds unhealed. Even though Genya had said that Alina was the Darkling’s favorite, Alina doubted both Genya and herself. She hummed along as she pulled a robe over her nightgown and poked her head out into her sitting room. There, sitting on the sofa, was Nikolai. He had his boot-straps in his fingers, and a scarf around his neck. Draped over the sofa beside him was his First Army greatcoat. His blonde curls were damp from an early morning shower, and his cheeks pinkish from the cold air outside.

“Morning.” Alina smiled. She’d gotten used to Genya and Nikolai using her private sitting room as a social space, as long as it was them three. Her books on Grisha theory had swallowed her desk whole, along with notes and a portable typewriter - a gift from Nikolai. The other grisha hated her for such frivolities, so Alina chose to write her notes with a fountain pen. Zoya had made herself out to be quite the ring-leader of a little gang intent on making Alina’s life a misery, and Maria had fallen easily into line. But, Nadia had resisted, declared her independence and gone to Alina’s side. Her brother Adrik had joined his sister.

“Is the Zoya crew giving you a hard time?” Nikolai asked as she took a shot of tea. His eyes were molten gold in the lowlight of the lamps, and Alina hesitated. She didn’t want to lie, so she didn’t.

“Yes.” She stepped forward. “But… I don’t think you should intervene. It’ll just make it worse.”

“Isn’t that what everyone says?” Nikolai queried as he laid his jacket over his arm. Alina nodded, and fidgeted with the sash of her robe. She had so much work to do, but the snow beckoned. She missed having so much freedom now. Even life in the First Army had been better than whatever this was.

Nikolai noted her sad expression, and lifted her chin with his fingers. “What do you say to skating? Genya’s up, and she and I got our skates already. Come along?”

Alina’s eyes brightened.

“Yes, just let me put my kefta on.”

“Oh, hold on.” Nikolai reached behind him and held out a deep blue box tied with a gold ribbon. “For you. An early nameday present.”

Alina’s brows rose, and she undid the ribbon and lifted the lid. Under a layer of pale blue tissue paper was a deep teal colored kefta, emblazoned with the familiar gold embroidery, but set differently. Instead of swirls and rays, these were more structured. Like the antlers of some creature.

Like the stag she’d been painting for weeks, from her dreams.

“W-what?” She gasped. “H-how?”

“Animals amongst Grisha are normally signs of an amplifier.” Nikolai explained, rolling up the sleeve of his cabled black sweater. Where his thin band of gold were the bones of a fox had rested, now only a jagged scar remained. He held his wrist out, letting Alina see for just a moment, then slid the sleeve back down. Unlike other Grisha, he didn’t flaunt his wounds.

“And you believe the Stag to be mine?” Alina asked.

Nikolai nodded.

Alina longed to tell him of the Apparat, his words to her in the infirmary, but she held her tongue. She’d seen Nikolai’s unease with past mentions of the Apparat in conversation, or when he’d been in the room with Nikolai and any other members of the royal family. Somehow, Alina knew the Apparat had either done something to Nikolai or someone he loved.

Only fear could spark such a response.

Smiling wanly, Alina stepped back into her room and pulled on the kefta. Buttoning it up, she grabbed her winter boots - low heeled in case of ice - and a scarf. The Kefta had a hood, lined in red fox fur like the rest of the piece, and she pulled it over her head.

“Shall we?” Nikolai offered his arm, which Alina accepted.

They were a strange height match, with her only coming up to his elbow and him towering over her. But there was a grace to it all as Nikolai steered her left, away from the ankle-breaking staircases that wound down to the main wing of the palace.

“There’s a faster way down.” Nikolai murmured, his lips close to Alina’s ear. The rush of color to her cheeks was something she attributed to the blasts of cold air in this draughty old palace. Waiting for them was a palace servant, who slid a massive tapestry aside and revealed an iron box with an odd switch on the left hand side of the wall.

“It’s safe, I promise,”

Alina cast him a doubtful glance, but stepped in anyways. Nikolai handed the servant a small bag of gold coins, and stepped into the box as well. The servant slid the metal screen and tapestry over, covering them from prying eyes.

“You might want to hold on to the railing.” He offered, and Alina did. Nikolai cranked the lever and they descended down slowly, the sound of gears buttery smooth. Very few places in Ravka had an elevator, and the fact that Nikolai had one in the Great Palace made her curious. “Who built this?”

“Me.” Nikolai grinned as he knotted his scarf. “Despite what everyone wants to say about me not being able to have an education, I do… actually. Masters in Civil Engineering from the University of Ketterdam.”

“A masters?” Alina squeaked, amazed and somewhat shocked. “What was your undergraduate in?”

“History with minors in Law and Shu.”

“Why not become a lawyer? Or a historian?”

“Seeing what’s happened to Ravka in the here and now made me want to do something tangible.” Nikolai stopped the lever and effortlessly slid the screen and door aside. They emerged in the servants’s quarters below the palace, and with a few swift footsteps and several turns, emerged outside.

What they stepped into was the Queen’s rose garden, now blanketed in several feet of powdery white snow. Over their heads, clouds created a stormy covering and blocked out the sun. Alina was glad for it, because she was beginning to reach a point where even seeing the sun reminded her of her own inability.

“Did you ever..” She blurted out.

“Hmm?” Nikolai paused, and noting Alina’s hat was crooked, adjusted it.

“Struggle with summoning? Everyone else I’ve talked to said it was hard in the beginning but then Baghra did something and then they could summon. She’s threatened to do things to me, and yet, it does nothing.”

“My summoning came easily, because I’ve always been a boy in the shadows.” Nikolai replied softly. “Besides…”

He fell silent and squeezed her hand.

“Nevermind.” He turned his head up to the snow falling down from the heavens and smiled boyishly at her. Alina’s own grin could rival the sun, and he hoped that more than anything, she’d found a friend in Genya and him.

“Ah, Genya’s here!” Nikolai waved his gloved hand excitedly at the massive lake separating the Great and Little Palace from one another. Along the glassy surface, Genya glided on a pair of fabrikated skates, effortlessly moving across the lake in a lazy series of figure eights. Her face was bundled up in a deep red wool scarf and her green eyes glimmered in the low light.

By the bench - swept clean of snow - rested two pairs of skates, a tea service in a wicker basket, and bundles of furs. Strangely enough, a gramophone sat atop the bundles of furs.

“Ah, Genya spoils me.” Nikolai helped Alina sit and knelt before her. He effortlessly unlaced her boots and slipped them off, then paused.

”Have you ever skated before?”

Alina shook her head. She couldn’t tell if it was the cold, but her cheeks felt strangely warm with Nikolai’s hands gently holding her little feet. “Most skates couldn’t work with my tiny feet.” She murmured.

”Thankfully, Grisha on the whole, don’t have that problem.” Nikolai murmured. He carefully laced up her skates, and then did the same to his own pair.

“If I fall, don’t you dare laugh.” Alina grumbled.

”Oh I’ll be right along with you.” Nikolai smirked, and stood effortlessly. He gently clasped Alina’s mittened hands in his own, and walked her onto the lake’s surface.

“And, step-“ Nikolai pulled Alina onto the ice, and she yelped as her balance went under her.

“Ah!”

Before she could land with a sickening thud , Nikolai caught her, and Alina’s blush only deepened. He held her like that, his hand on the small of her back, for a good long minute. Upon realising his misstep thanks to Genya’s loud cough, Nikolai straightened and helped Alina stand properly.

“Apologies.” He blushed and righted them both. Alina laughed, the sound like church bells. Nikolai paused, his eyes widening ever so slightly at the softness of such a sound. He and she were used to the horrors of war, the nightmares. He had a doubt that such sounds existed in this cruel world.

“So.” Nikolai asked as he helped Alina learn the proper foot placement to skate along the glassy surface. “What’s been holding you back in your summoning? I know Baghra’s been grumbling. We have tea once a week.” He gave a crooked grin.

Alina gave him a dark look. “I don’t know. She says I’m not trying, and with the Darkling planning to get the stag’s antlers for me…” She trailed off. “I just…” She thumped her fist against her thigh and bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

“A mental block, perhaps? Something holding you down or back?” He hedged, twirling her. “I know you could summon it when you first got here… but it’s faded.”

“My work with Botkin and Baghra just… it’s not going well. Food doesn’t even taste right anymore.”

“Doesn’t taste right?” Nikolai lifted her chin with his mittened fingers, glancing into her eyes. He noted the dark circles under her eyes, the limpness of her dark hair. Her sallow skin, yellowed with the beginning signs of jaundice frightened him. She wasn’t getting enough nutrition, and the sickly pallor on her face signalled beginnings of illnesses too severe for even a healer.

“Is there anyone that you’re pining for?”

“Mal.” The name came easily to her lips, and Alina sniffled. “I’ve sent him letter after letter and yet… no response. He’s healthy and yet… no note.” Pain shone in her eyes. The pain of betrayal, of hatred. Nikolai’s breath hitched. Baghra had suspected that Alina was holding herself back to protect Mal, to protect the girl she’d been. He leaned forward, wanting to see what goading would do. But carefully. One wrong step and she’d never trust him again.

“No note?” He hummed, blinking at her. “That sounds most unlike him. How does it make you feel?”

“Angry. Mostly. Or prone to long periods of grief and loneliness. I have you and Genya, but…”

“It’s not him.” Nikolai chewed his lower lip. “You always did everything together, didn’t you?”

We did. Alina thought hopelessly. And now I’m here and I can’t even summon and it all is just so, so wrong!

The rage of weeks, no months bubbled up in her, something inside her snapping. The door hiding her powers, that rusty old thing, broke under the pressure. Her eyes widened, and her breath hitched. Nikolai’s face broke into a smile.

“There she is.” He cupped her face in his mittened hands. “Genya, go get Baghra!”

Genya, who’d already slipped off her skates, turned and bolted through the heavy snow to Baghra’s cottage on the eastern edge of the lake-path. Within minutes, she’d returned with the old woman leaning heavily on her arm, looking seemingly younger by the second. Alina’s eyes widened again as she realized that too, Baghra repressed her powers. The powers within her were straining at their bonds, and with a jolt, Alina realized Nikolai was hardening those bonds.

“Why?!” She cried suddenly.

“For your own protection. Now…” Lifting his hands, Nikolai skated back a few feet, and called over his shoulder: “Genya, wind that bloody gramophone and let's see the Sun Summoner at her best!”

The bonds snapped , and light, holy and heavenly poured out of Alina’s hands in one long, spontaneous blast. No heat, thankfully, or the ice under her feet would be boiling water. The light arced skywards, exploding out in a shockwave that rivaled the auroras of Fjerda. She couldn’t control, couldn’t rein it in, but it came to her lovingly . Like she’d been starved of such hunger from birth, it filled her.

Opening her eyes, she saw Nikolai looking at her in awe. Not with fear or hunger, but love. At his side, Genya had fallen to her knees on the ice and gripped Nikolai’s hand. Her other hand was splayed over her chest in prayer.

Sankta Alina .

Alina raised her gaze to rest on Baghra, and gave the old woman a smile. She may have been hard, but she looked proud now. For all of her prodding and cajoling, Nikolai had been the one to pull Alina’s powers from deep within her. Looking up to her own creation, Alina fisted her fingers and the light dimmed. The rush of such an explosion made her legs wobble as she pressed her hands to her knees and bent over at the waist. Her hair had thickened and darkened, while her flesh had become a babe’s pink. No more circles adorned her eyes, and the only signs of her past illnesses were the smallpox scars along her chest. But those were hidden. The scar on her hand, too, remained. She looked up at the gathered group, and finally noted the tune the gramophone rang out with.

Summer by Vivaldi. A tune of hope, of new light.

“Well done, girl. It seems you were correct, Milaya. ” Baghra nodded her head to Nikolai, who beamed at her. “Now, make sure she sees me as soon as this blasted snow-storm abates.”

“Of course, Baba.” Nikolai inclined his head. Alina stiffened in shock. A shake of the head from Genya silenced her wagging tongue, and Alina turned back to Nikolai as he skated towards her.

“I knew you could do it!” He said excitedly, pulling her into a waltz. Alina, who’d never waltzed in her life, blinked and let out a cry of alarm.

“Oh come on!” He groaned comically. “Don’t all living saints get waltzes from handsome princes when performing miracles?”

“No! And I’ve never waltzed before!”

“You haven’t?! Not even in First Army?” Nikolai clicked his tongue and adjusted her hands so that one was at his waist and the other clasped tight in his mittened one. He did much the same with his own, and fell once more into step.

“Tell me how you learned to skate.” Alina prodded as she too began to waltz. While not anywhere as good as Nikolai, it wasn’t too hard. She was just glad they couldn’t crash into anyone.

“Oh, in secret. Baba, Baghra .” He corrected himself. “Was more of a mother to me than my own. She… gets me. My eccentristies. She used to hide me for days in the Little Palace so I could watch Grisha at work. She was the one who figured out I was a Durast and trained me in secret. In a way, she’s my mother. My grandparents died before I was born and I never met my mother’s parents. Not highly approachable.” He spun her again and they swept another turn around the lake’s surface-edge.

“She’s so…”

“Callous?” Nikolai laughed. “It’s an act. She’s had a hard life. Her son…” Looking across the lake to the Little Palace, Alina saw Nikolai’s eyes harden. “Made mistakes.”

“I didn’t know she had a son.”

“She does. He’s somewhere else. I’ve never asked. She’s rather cagey.” He rubbed her arms suddenly. “You’re shivering, sunshine.”

“Oh.” Alina blushed. “It’s nothing really.” She didn’t know why he was being so… protective suddenly. Had he seen something? Shaking her head internally, Alina let herself be swept back to the bench and bundled up in furs. Genya came over from where she was examining a hole in the ice she’d been making with David’s awl and undid the scarf over her head.

“The lake squid’s frozen. I’ll get a tidemaker to unfreeze it.” She spoke to Nikolai while he poured them both tea from a thermos and passed around little mincemeat pies. “Hunting food. Picked it up on my travels. The hamper too.” Alina examined the writing on the side, not understanding the letters. They weren’t Cyrillic, so a western european language for certain.

“Fortnum and Masons.” Nikolai translated, scraping a bit of meat from his lip. “They make hampers. And expensive groceries. Like Muir & Mirrielees Co. in Moscow.”

“Why doesn’t Ravka have department stores?” Alina asked suddenly, highly curious about this world beyond the Fold’s expanses. As a cartographer in training, these things greatly intrigued her.

“I don’t know.” Nikolai replied, sipping his tea as he made a miniature figure-eight with his feet. Never content to remain idle. Alina settled back on the bench and tucked the furs tighter around herself. “We have a civil service, a Duma , most forms of government and legislation and yet… we’re expected to buy our clothes from hatters and peddlers' wagons? What is this?” She spread her arms and caused tea to spill on her kefta. A quick press of a napkin from Genya prevented staining. “I know, yes, travelling merchants are a common part of rural life, but this is Os Alta, and for a city…” Her cup tilted dangerously again.

“It’s tiny .” Genya finished. “I know, Alina. Caryeva isn’t anything more than a small town and the race-courses. Stables yes, but this isn’t…” She grumbled. “Consistent.”

“You two are looking at me like I’m somehow the fault of a lack of industrialization.” Nikolai pouted, repairing his chipped teacup. “Sorry, but the Fold and the Volcra have more to answer for.”

“I could open a trade route! If I can’t bring down the Fold…” Her expression soured. “I mean..”

“No, it’s a good idea.” Nikolai examined his gloves. “We need food. And industry.”

“Don’t get me started on agriculture.” Genya buried her face in her hands. “I hear enough from Dominik.”

“Where is he, anyways?” Nikolai asked. “I thought he was assigned indefienately to Os Alta.”

“Vasily.” Genya groaned. “Moved him to Chernast.”

“That-” Nikolai ground his teeth. “Ass. Saints, I wish I could bloody him.”

Alina, who would have been horrified to hear anyone speak badly of the royal family, now merely shrugged. She’d met Vasily and thought him to be a far, far inferior son to Nikolai. Besides Nikolai, none of the Lantsovs were anything other than sinful bastards who owed nothing and lauded about their dachas like all of the landed gentry. She glared at her china cup, and summoned a beam of light to heat up the brew once more.

“It’s colder out here than I expected. Shall we head in?” Genya asked as she brushed her hands off.

“You two go in. I need to try something. And leave the gramphophone.”

Genya’s eyes brightened, and she grabbed Alina’s hand. As they were heading back to the palace, the hamper’s handles in their grasp, Genya leaned closer to Alina. “Oh, just wait for what he does! He almost went to the Olympics!”

“The Olympics?” Alina blinked in confusion.

“They’re these games held every 4 years. One’s the Summer and winter games. Countries compete in a variety of sports and one country always hosts. Ice skating was held at Chamonix last year. Nikolai nearly got to go, but the Darkling forbade him.” Genya grumbled as she explained. They scurried back to Alina’s rooms and looking down on the lake, Genya waved her hand to Nikolai.

“Watch him go!” She clapped her hands together and watched as Nikolai wound the gramphophone and stepped onto the ice. From his first leap to a quadruple lutz, that piano piece playing out over the cold air, Alina was hypnotized. He seemed almost to fly across the ice, bending and breaking the rules of their world the ways others faltered. He lost himself to the music, to the simplicity of it all, leaping and landing and spinning with such beauty that Alina found herself pressed to the glass.

Nothing could tear her gaze away from those blonde curls as he wove and shifted across the ice like it was little more than liquid water. He reminded her of some sort of bird, graceful and deadly, able to kill with just a touch. Where the Darkling radiated blind obedience, Nikolai radiated charm and chivalry. All of this reminded her of a ballet, but for one man alone. Genya let out a cry of alarm as Nikolai tore off his gloves to reveal his inky black claws, and shadows tinged purple and gray spilled from him.

“Oh Saints!” She gasped.

“What?!” Alina cried.

“He’s purging himself of the curse. Of course!” Genya ran a hand through her ginger curls as those shadows dipped and echoed out across the lake. “He’s going-” But she never got to finish, for the shadows exploded out of him in an all-encompassing burst. When the darkness lifted, Nikolai stood on the ice, panting. But the darkness that had once swallowed him was lifted.

“He did it.” Genya breathed, sinking to her knees. Alina blinked, and leaned forward on the glass once more as Nikolai resumed skating like nothing had happened. She wondered that night as she went to sleep if the both of them had unleashed something within themselves. For what could two summoners do but be consumed by their respective griefs? Nikolai was a boy forever abandoned. Alina was a girl forever relying on another.

But both of them hungered for who they really were and for someone to show them the way.

End of Chapter 4.

#wyn rambles #Nikolai Lantsov #shadow and bone #alina starkov #nikolina #zoya nazyalensky #genya safin #mal oretsev #Anti darkling

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lively-potter · 1 year ago

Text

— part one

SYNOPSIS ;

─ in which river henshaw,

charleston's very own

introverted and innocent

baker by night slash daycare worker

by day, runs away from jungkook

jeon and his adorable

daughter, moon, when all jungkook

wants is to ask her out on a date.

ACTS ;

act one ; incomplete

act two ; incomplete

act three ; incomplete

WARNINGS ;

mutual pining

he falls first

body insecurities mentioned

eating disorder mentioned

social anxiety

mature themes

mature language

violence ( not directed at MFC )

slight bdsm themes ( like bondage and shit )

angst ( should I make y'all suffer more in this one?)

when it's time for the smuttttt, i'll put warnings.

EXTRA INFO ;

jeon jungkook x river aldora henshaw

brett west x blackbourne team

sang sorenson x toma team

kayli winchester x blake coaltar

atlas korba x wil winchester

started ; January 1st, 2023

plot change ; January 17th, 2023

posted ( on Wattpad ) ; January 18th, 2023 at 2:50 pm

completed ;

edited/revised ;

SMALL A/N ;

also, my characters, Atlas Korba and Brett West ( from my book, Brett ) will have appearances!

I'M FREAKIN' SHAKING IN EXCITEMENT FOR THIS!

DISCLAIMER ;

You may not reproduce,

distribute/and or adapt

any part of this work

without my permission

I only own my original characters and the plot.

PLAYLIST ;

Morally Grey ; April Jai

Fictional ; Khloe Rose

Suffer ; Sarah Jeffery

Cruel Summer ; Taylor Swift

Greedy ; Tate McRae

Haegeum ; Agust D

Like Crazy ; Jimin

Take Two ; BTS

Love me again ; V

Still with you ; Jungkook

My Time ; Jungkook

Somebody ; Jungkook

Standing Next To You ; Jungkook

She's all I wanna be ; Tate McRae

My You ; Jungkook

Butterfly ; BTS

Dimple ; BTS

3D ; Jungkook

Exes ; Tate McRae

Hurt my Feelings ; Tate McRae

Run for the Hills ; Tate McRae

Sweet but Psycho ; Ava Max

Dangerously ; Charlie Puth

Spring Day ; BTS

Bloodline ; Ariana Grande

Want that Too ; Tate McRae

Shot Glass Full of Tears ; Jungkook

Closer to you ; Jungkook

Yes or No ; Jungkook

Please don't Change ; Jungkook

NOTE ;

Hi, everyone!

I'm so excited to be able to start writing the first chapter and I hope that you look forward to it! Be sure to add this book to your reading list or reblog to know when I update!

MOST IMPORTANT NOTE ; ( to those not familiar with the academy series by C.L. Stone )

I know I'm gaining more readers, those who aren't familiar with the academy, so I'll do a short explanation of what you'll be seeing from the academy!

In short, the academy series is a reverse harem/polyamory series set in Charleston, South Carolina.

( so you'll be seeing multiple men date the same women in this book, so don't be shocked lmfaoo )

The academy ( that MFC won't be much involved in ) is basically a top secret organization that specializes in helping men, women, and children who are in an abusive relationship or homes and help them get out of that — most join the academy to help others in the same situations.

There are teams that work together and are basically a family in all but blood; and "family is a choice".

The men in teams are referred to as "dogs" and the female team members are referred to as "birds". 'Ghosts', whether birds or dogs, are children without much history to their names. They are priceless to the Academy.

Most of this information is from the academy wiki site ( 'cause it's fuckin' complicated to explain it all )

but I want you all to be able to understand it enough to enjoy the story without being confused!

Most of the time, I'll explain through River and my other characters.

I hope this makes sense!

River won't be very involved in the academy, but there will be mentions and most of River's story revolves around, not only Jungkook and Moon, but River's brothers, friends, and family!

Please let me know if there is anything that you'll misunderstand and I'll explain to the best of my ability!

- LivelyPotter

#dilf jungkook #jeon jungkook #moonstruck #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #wattpad #jungkook x oc

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afriendlywizard · 2 years ago

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My review of a warehouse I found on Earth's Moon in the video game Starfield

I work at a cidery in the PNW. We have a pretty hefty canning line that can handle what I like to call a Solid Chunk of Volumetric Output. Our fulfillment and warehouse team touches several hundred pallets a day. We handle ingredients that come in drums, plastic IBC totes, 5 gallon buckets, and raw ingredients off the back of people’s Ford Raptors. We have pipes and valves and connectors. We talk about glycol and peracetic acid a lot. We have standard 4 level pallet racks, as well as push-back pallet racking and back-load pallet racking that maintains a First In First Out order.

I manage our Quality Assurance team, which means I spend most of my team at a desk or in a lab. I have driven our forklifts and our scissor lifts. I’ve blended our ingredients into our batching tanks. I verify our sanitation practices, and I help solve problems as needed. I spend a lot of my day staring at stainless steel pipes and mumbling about dissolved oxygen to myself.

That’s all to say, I’m not an expert. I would call myself a warehouse hobbyist and enthusiast. Not out loud to anyone, but when I play a video game that has a warehouse in it, I like to spend my time looking at how the warehouse is put together.

In addition to this, a note on Forklift Certification: It’s largely made up. There are some machines that require special licenses, and OSHA has classes you can take that probably look good on a resume, but if you look at the language that OSHA uses to define who is allowed to drive a forklift it only has two requirements. “Trained operators must know how to do the job properly and do it safely as demonstrated by workplace evaluation.” It’s up to the employer how that’s interpreted. My employer had me watch a forty five minute video and then someone watched as I drove around for thirty minutes saying “oh fuck oh fuck okay okay okay don’t hit anyone.”

I took my character, Dr. FLIPJUMP DARKSWALLOW, to the moon. I brought my companion Sarah with me, she said she wouldn’t mind a detour so that we could finally live out our shared dream of owning a pair of moon boots, so down we went to explore a seemingly abandoned lunar station. It seemed to be some kind of staging facility for receiving shipments, landing dock, staff kitchen and common area, but as far as I could tell there wasn’t anywhere within a kilometer or two to send the shipments once they arrived. Typical supply chain issues, major distro hub with nothing in site to distro to. But it did have a small on-site warehouse so Sarah and I both agreed to put a pause on our moon boots dream and explore.

This is called an IBC tote. You can fill these up through a big screw-top hole on the top, super easy to use, cheap ($275 new), universal. The most common versions I’ve seen have a galvanized steel cage and a galvanized steel pallet attached to the bottom so it can be universally picked up by a forklift. They typically have a 2” drain valve with a butterfly and a camlock. This is a pretty good example of an IBC tote! You can see how the galvanized steel was welded together at each intersection, bent into place and held there. The butterfly at the bottom has a cap in place, it has a pressure valve that’s clearly labeled. This looks pretty good!

This is a pallet jack. On Earth in the present day, you roll it into the slats on a pallet, squeeze on a hand lever in the handle, and pump the handle bar up and down as it lifts. On the Moon in the future, it looks like it’s been upgraded for use in space with what I assume is probably some electric battery type of deal. Otherwise it’s very similar to a normal pallet jack! It even has the double wheels in the front, a detail I was very excited about. There doesn’t seem to be the hand lever though, or any buttons anywhere. I assume that’s because this model has a voice assistant like an Alexa in it.

It has a spring in the back as well, another neat little detail. I’d be curious to see how this works in action, there’s a decent number of mechanical parts on it for how futuristic it looks. There’s also two small… baskets, I guess? For paperwork maybe? On either end of the handle shaft. I made up the term handle shaft.

Here is what I assume is a future-forklift. And Sarah. Please ignore Sarah. I was required to take her on a mission early on, but she keeps saying things like “that’s not yours!” and “we should not break the law,” which has been definitely cramping Dr. DARKSWALLOW’s style. Anyway, this forklift is a far cry from the kinds we have in present day. Barely recognizable.

My best guess is that you stand on this platform to operate it. But there’s no buttons or levers again, no key ignition. Presumably this turns on somehow and that panel is a touchscreen, or maybe it’s another Alexa operated device. This whole thing seems pretty dangerous. There’s no roll cage. I guess maybe there’s no OSHA in the future? Or maybe this thing has a lot of safety tech built into it to protect the operator from making mistakes. Maybe it follows Asimov’s rules of robotics and can’t allow a human to come to harm, through action or inaction. But that seems like a lot of liability to pack into programming, and it seems expensive to attach a positronic brain to a forklift. I don’t know how it would anticipate other drivers doing things badly, knocking over pallets? It seems dicey.

I do like that the cabling looks like it’s painter’s taped onto the frame so it doesn’t get caught anywhere. That’s a great little detail, very much something a maintenance team might do in a pinch. A “short term hold” as they “work with supply chain details to implement a long term repair.”

I climbed up onto a pile of boxes to get this picture. It looks like they redesigned the forks in the future, kind of a high-heeled shoe thing going on at the ends there. And this forklift seems like it has reduced functionality from what forklifts here on Earth can do. Forklifts can usually do three things with the forks: lift up and down, pitch the forks back and forth, and spread the forks wider or narrower. I think this can only lift the forks up and down. There also seems to be a large orange ball on the bottom, but I don’t know what that’s used for. My best guess, given the short cylinder above it, is that the forks can control their yaw and rotate on a horizontal access? But they’re right up against the axle so I’m not sure how that would work. Maybe if you lift the forks up it’s able to rotate? But I don’t see much of an engine to ballast the center of gravity anywhere. Maybe the entire body is made with a very dense metal, it does seem to be pretty flush with the ground.

My biggest complaint is that this forklift doesn’t have any headlights or taillights. It’s important for forklifts to have a horn and bright lights to let other workers know there’s a forklift around, especially reverse lights. These might be taillights, if I’m giving some benefit here, but they’re so low to the ground I’m not sure how other drivers are going to be able to see them. But I’m not an expert in future light bulbs, maybe these work just fine.

These look like future pallets! Pallets come in different materials, with wood or plastic as the most common, but they also come in standard sizes. But these pallets look like they’re way too small for the forklift to pick up. Maybe they’re just for the pallet jack? And big note here: I really hope for the sake of the warehouse manager in this facility that OSHA doesn’t exist, because each one of those pallets standing up on its side is going to be its own fine. Overall these pallets look pretty good, if small. And this disaster of a pile seems pretty true to form with how pallets are stored, no matter how many @everyone pings on Microsoft Teams you see get sent out about stacking pallets correctly.

I suspect everyone in the warehouse crew here hates their coworkers. They have four of these pallets in a square but are stacking things randomly on top of them. None of these things are strapped down, this black cube is on a pallet that’s a different size than the pallets underneath it. Just a bizarre move. I hope everyone’s doing okay.

And then on the other side is this: … Why? Why would anyone do this? You can’t pick those rolls up, the rest will roll right off the pallet. They’re not centered on the pallet so even if you did pick it up, you couldn’t put this onto pallet racking anywhere, it’s hanging off the edge.

This is pallet racking. It seems bolted together for some reason. I haven’t seen that before on this style of racking. It seems counter-intuitive; the whole point of this type is that it’s easy to put together, it’s modular. But if you bolt it together, it’s not modular anymore. Normally you just slot the pieces in, they fall into place and don’t require additional parts. Just welded steel with drop slots.

Oof. A dead body. I’m a little surprised there aren’t more of these here. It does feel a bit dangerous.

Here’s another pallet jack, but they aren’t using it correctly. The pallet goes into the forks, why did they put a pallet on top of the forks? Ridiculous. Now they’re just lifting things for no reason. A forklift put the pallet on, now a forklift has to take the pallet off? Why use the pallet jack at all?

And lastly: a propane cage! There’s no locks on it, the maintenance team is probably screaming at everyone to make sure they Lock Out/Tag Out their equipment, but I’ll give the benefit of the doubt and sign off on it because there’s no propane tanks inside the cage so maybe the locks just aren’t necessary. Hopefully it’s just in someone’s pocket while they’re going to refill the tanks.

Overall, this is a pretty dangerous looking facility but probably usable. I’d say they ought to start working towards shoring up some safety gaps here, maybe making more intentional decisions about purchases for a while so they have the equipment they need for their process flow instead of all this equipment that requires rework and multiple touches to get anything done. But a growing business sometimes has to take what’s available! Kudos to them for getting things up and running on the moon, not an easy feat.

#starfield #forklift #hard cider #warehouse #supplychainmanagement

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sleephyuns · 2 years ago

Text

Yoo Jeongyeon was a careful woman. Or at least she considered herself as such.

One could never be too cautious when it came to living life. And especially when it came to meeting new people.

That’s why she had tried to steel her nerves these past few days, bracing against the elements life threw her way. Similarly enough, she was currently shielding off the frigid air of the night city.

The numbness associated with the temperature had settled in minutes ago, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when she was running over every possible scenario in her mind about what could soon happen. Though eventually, she did shiver, her mind no longer able to ignore the tingling in her fingers. She was about a block away from the station when she finally slipped her gloves on, matching the warmth the rest of her body felt.

Coat, hat, gloves. Everything checked out.

Repeating it over and over again in her mind like a mantra, walking past office workers, energetic college students and the like. The night was already buzzing with life, which meant the club probably would be too.

Don’t think about it yet. Don’t think about it. It was better to get situated on the train before giving it another thought. Even if it would only be two stops worth of time. Her gloved hand tightened around the strap of tote bag, her boots clunking up the steps to the platform.

She was glad she chose to wear jeans instead of a skirt, seeing as how the seat chilled her thighs slightly even through the denim. She found it just a tad comforting, though, reminding her of college days where she would stop at the swing set and wait for Nayeon and Jihyo to get out of classes on campus.

Right, Jihyo.

Jihyo and…

Sana.

Jeongyeon was so nervous at just the mere thought of her that she’d nearly forgotten what she’d come to this part of the city for anyway.

An escape, an excuse. Heaven forgive her that she lied to Jihyo about where she was going to be, then switched on the phone’s ‘do not disturb.’

Well now she was nervous yet again, trying her hardest not to lick at her lips and wear off some of the gloss. Of course she brought extra with her but it’d be a pain to apply it again.

If she was going to get this worried every time she thought about her upcoming troubles, how would she even survive? That was the biggest issue wasn’t it?

…Maybe ignoring it until she got there would be better. Yeah… that was best.

And so, Jeongyeon decided to empty her mind, the rumbling of the train lulling her mind into silence. At least until she had to get off at her stop.

Almost there, almost there, she reminded herself as early spring’s chilly night wind bit at her. She was already fifteen minutes later than she intended to be. To beat the rush and get a quiet seat in the corner where she can be ignored.

“Shit,” she cursed under her breath.

A though had crossed her mind for a flash second, to lightly jog, maybe even run. But her clumsy streak and the possibility of there being black ice after the rain earlier was certainly a combo for the worst. Better to just walk it out and let herself get there eventually.

Another ten minutes and she was there, striding up to the club she’d been to only a handful of times.

Showing her ID only took a second, and she barely registered it as she was more worried about what it would look like inside. The music was already blaring, the lights dimmed but not yet replaced with the multicolored ones that gave her a headache after a few hours (the red… she especially hated the red). But unfortunately… it was packed.

She looked over to the non-vip seats that she usually tucked herself away into the corners and sighed. Already taken up by several couples. Great, now she had no choice but to squeeze between people into a bar seat, out in the open, being hovered over by every person imaginable.

Just great.

It was her fault for going out in the first place to get hammered. This was the universe’s punishment for her lie. So she subjected herself to her fate, because what else was there to do besides go home.

She ordered herself a shot the moment she could, not bothering to enjoy herself with a cocktail. She threw it back quick before ordering another. But by then, she was starting to get a bit annoyed by her seating arrangement, hoping that throwing back more would make her less irritable.

The bartender had a lot cut out for him though, seeming to be the only one working in that moment. Another shot, that was all she needed. But it was taking forever and she was hot and sweaty with her jacket still on and no where to set it down, and now this annoying giggly couple would not stop bumping in to her, the thunderous smacks of their kissing right in her ears rivaling out the bass of the music. She turned around to give them the stare down of a life time, hoping they would just ask for their drinks and move on, but-

“…Momo? Nayeon?”

Knowing who they were now, all the anger inside of her seemed to be replaced with only slight annoyance and the subconscious response of arousal.

The two broke away from the kiss, looking over to the poor friend of theirs they’d unknowingly been making out over.

“Oh! Jeongyeon!” Nayeon gave a crooked smile, her lipstick smeared just a tad.

“Hi Jeong,” Momo laughed, brushing her messy, sweaty bangs out of her eyes.

“Sorry for the wait, here’s the vodka.”

Jeongyeon turned around, seeing the bartender leave just as fast as he came. Finally.

Nayeon and Momo each took a side of her, leaning on her shoulders and nearly making her spill her drink.

“You little devil,” the alcohol on Nayeon’s breath couldn’t be missed, “you tell us you aren’t going to be available this week and then you’re here at the hunting ground anyway.”

“Naughty, naughty,” Momo chimed in, looking and smelling more sober than her wife.

“Well, I’m not looking for anything is the thing,” she mumbled. In a swift motion, she threw back her shot, feeling the warm burn down her throat. She slid over her glass and let it clash against the other one she had downed prior. She would flag the bartender down for another in a second.

But before that, she turned back to the couple. The two of them had stopped their drunken teasing, smiles sunken off their faces just a bit. They stared at Jeongyeon, even in the semi-darkness, making her feel impossibly small.

“What?” she asked, almost too quiet over the music.

Neither said anything for a moment, just watching her intensely. Pity? Concern? The details of it were hard to describe, a bit lost in the sudden flashes of blue and purple. People crowded behind them onto the dance floor, but they remained unmoving. It was enough to make her crave a double shot on the next round.

“Hey, so,” Nayeon broke their silence, shouting over the music, “did you maybe wanna come home with u- ack!”

Jeongyeon looked down to see Momo’s elbow tucked firmly against Nayeon’s ribs. “One second Jeongyeon, we’ll be right back.”

Their ‘leaving’ was just shuffling two steps to the right and turning around, with Momo whispering directly into Nayeon’s ear. She looked as if she was getting scolded for a second, a drunken pout on her face.

It slowly morphed into something more neutral, Momo whispering something that had Nayeon nodding along in agreement. When they walked back over to Jeongyeon, Nayeon looked as though she had sobered up (not fully, but in a way).

“Ok!” Nayeon smiled, “What I- what we were going to ask is if you wanted us to take you back home when you were done here. Or now, if you want. Either is fine.”

Thinking about home made Jeongyeon uneasy still, but the alcohol made it less so.

“…Give me another half hour?” she offered up against her better judgement.

“Half hour….” Momo looked up, scratching at her chin rolling the idea around in her head for a moment, “Yeah… yeah we can definitely do that! Right Nayeon?”

Nayeon made almost the same motion, though she thought it over even quicker. “Of course we can. I mean-“

Momo nodded. “I mean yeah, that’s enough time to… party.”

“Party,” Nayeon laughed, “right we party and…”

“Yeah.”

“Yes!”

They both snapped their gazes towards Jeongyeon again.

“See you in a half hour, okay?”

Jeongyeon nodded at Nayeon, but deep down she knew there was something else that went unsaid. Up to no good, the two of them. But she’d find out later….

Later came by faster than she had hoped, though. Only 2 more shots, 10 mixes of songs with horrible transitions, and a paid tab later.

Jeongyeon’s phone buzzed, someone notifying her through the silence she’d placed on. She peered at her phone, scared of what she’d find… but it was just Nayeon. Right, she had a habit of doing that.

‘Come outside,’ the text read, ‘we’re a block over to the left’

“Time to go…,” she groaned under her breath. To go home and face the consequences of her actions. She hadn’t even checked the rest of her notifications to see if Jihyo had sent anything. She didn’t want to check, honestly. Another excuse she’d have to come up with when she got back.

Hopefully Jihyo wouldn’t notice the smell of her breath or the gait she’d get after after a few drinks. She was far from being a lightweight, in fact she probably handled her alcohol the best 2nd to Jihyo. But that was what made it harder. It took one heavyweight to know another. She’d pick up on the little tells of her girlfriend not being 100% sober.

Excuse number 3 would have to be in the works.

Thinking about what to say was a pleasant distraction from the chaos of the crowd she had to weave through. Otherwise she would’ve been thinking about how hot, sweaty and dehydrated she was, and how she should have gotten a water before leaving.

But thankfully, she was at the door before she knew it. Stepping out was a breath of fresh air. The cold was much more inviting after being packed in like a sardine for an hour. She didn’t even bother to put her hat and gloved back on. She’d be in the car soon enough.

There were some stragglers hanging outside the club, laughing and joking and playing around. That would be her on any other night she was here. She wished it could be her now.

There was a honk ahead of her, and she realized she had slowed down walking unintentionally.

A hand was waving frantically from the driver’s window of the black car up ahead. Momo’s car, of course.

As much as she wanted to keep them waiting, for her own sake, it would be rude to. Even though her body fought against it, she jogged up to the car, her puffs of breath fogging up the air.

She was about to open the door to the right side when Momo stopped her, pulling her hand back in.

“Um-,” her head popped out now, “the other side this time. She let out an awkward laugh before rolling up her window. Jeongyeon was confused, even more so because she couldn’t see past the tinted windows in the dark, but she complied anyway.

Curiosity still piqued, she opened the door not expecting the sweet floral scent, and the long pair of legs on the other side of the car.

She entered much slower then, taking in the sight of this new person bit by bit until she was fully in her seat.

So this was the result of their 30 minutes of free time.

Everyone, this new girl included, was quiet as Momo pulled off. She hadn’t even waited for Jeongyeon to buckle herself in before driving. But once she did, she took a glance at their new companion.

The girl looked nervous, but serious at the same time. Awkward, maybe. She kept fiddling with the end of her dress that clung tightly to her tanned thighs. A dress that looked like it was meant for someone shorter, but she managed to pull it off still. She was tall, that was sure. Even taller than Jeongyeon herself (who always took pride in being the tallest of their friends). But despite her height, the girl looked younger than them. Though probably not by much. Her perfume was a bit much, but it smelled expensive, the kind you’d want to use sparingly. She must money if she was using it so copiously.

“So,” Momo’s shaky voice stopped her from staring, “How’s Jihyo?”

Nayeon groaned, and Jeongyeon could practically hear the face palm in that reaction. The girl next to her knew not a thing about Jihyo, nor anything of Jeongyeon’s life, and even she chuckled, flashing a dimpled smile.

“What?” Momo’s voice got high pitched, nervous and cornered, “I was just wondering! Am I not allowed to ask?”

Jeongyeon stared out of the window of the car and tried not to sigh too loud.

“She’s fine, I… I’ll… talk to you about it tomorrow.”

“…Jeong?” She could see Momo look up at her in the rear view mirror, but she couldn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t look back.

“Listen-“

“We’re here Momo,” Nayeon piped up. She’d been resting her eyes for most of the ride, at least until now.

Jeongyeon was glad she spoke up. It got Momo’s attention off her and onto pulling over.

Better to hurry up and get out now, she thought.

“Have a good night you two, and have fun with your friend.” She tried to tease to lighten the mood, but it didn’t really work. Momo just awkwardly laughed again before unlocking the doors, and Nayeon turned around in her seat to actually look at her this time.

“Jeo-“

Her hand was already on the handle.

“Thanks guys, love you both, see you later, haveagoodnightbye!”

She didn’t want to hear any words of wisdom the two might have for her at the moment. Maybe when she was a little more sober and wasn’t a second thought to some random horny stranger one middle seat away from her.

She practically jogged over to the apartment door, scanned her keycard and didn’t bother to look back and see if they had driven off. She’d shoot them a text thanking them later.

Now… she had bigger fish to fry.

She just hoped Jihyo wouldn’t be too angry with her.

#tied together au #jeonghyo #namo #and surprise appearance 🤫

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