#and was like 'shit the shelves are full whoops'

[victorluvsalice]

-->And, as Victor replanted his oversized crops (which I’m not actually intending to make oversized this time! Smaller ones make a bit more sense to sell in the store), Smiler scheduled a weenie roast for the next day! They hadn’t thrown a party in a while, and I figured that would be appropriate for it being summer, especially with SimCity Founding coming up. They invited their friends Heath, Aleah (the Hermit from Granite Falls), Cecilia, Nalani, and Grace, and had the whole thing start at 3 PM, as that felt like a decent start time for me for a cookout. And I just crossed my fingers and hoped that it wouldn’t be as chaotic and glitchy as some of my OTHER weenie roasts had been. . .

-->And with that, all that remained was for Victor to finish up his planting and for Smiler and Alice to have a little bonding time (including synchronized showering in the rain -- Erratic Sims *sigh*) before it was back off to the store! Smiler of course made another flower arrangement while Alice started making more cakes and pies for the bakery and Victor began doing bulk bread processing -- and then I discovered two things:

A) The new update, which added slots to the tops of a bunch of the toilets and sinks? It has a dark side, and that dark side is that Sims WILL put random shit on those slots. As seen with Victor putting his bread on top of the toilet in the bathroom stall. *facepalm* I moved it out of the bathroom with haste and quickly put -- I don’t recall what it’s called, I think it’s related to the menstrual cycle stuff in Wonderful Whims, which I don’t use, but it’s like a little spray bottle that you MIGHT find in a bathroom like this, and it took up one of the slots on top of each toilet, making them less of a good place to drop baked goods.

B) Smiler actually didn’t have that much to do, as the flower arrangement shelves were full, and there was no more room for any of the baked goods from the cupcake machine in the bakery section. Whoops. ^^; Fortunately, there was another protest going on nearby in the little square, and when Smiler batted over to say hello, who should they encounter but Jameson, the guy they met over in Henford-On-Bagley on fair day! :D Smiler promptly renewed the acquaintance, and they had a nice chat together. Them being the most social of all my Sims DOES make keeping them occupied easier. XD

-->And while THAT was going on, I decided it was about time I had Victor test out his Copypasto skills! Now, as I reported back in the Finchwick Fair update, there was no way for me to have him Copypasto any of the cans and boxes from the Simsonian Canning Factory mod (you know, like the canned peas and such). . .but he COULD Copypasto the various sauces and preserves, since those are the same as the ones you get from Cottage Living itself! And so Victor set about copying as many jars of jam and sauce as he could. . .

[abyssal-zone-stares-back]

Liber Sociorum

Lupus Somnia (Darkiplier)

Werewolf!Darkiplier x Fem!Reader

Word count - 4472

Warnings - slight Pred/prey

Please mind the warnings, and if I missed one tell me, I’m not an asshole I’m just stupid /lh

The downpour caught you at a bad time. No umbrella, no coat, not even a collar on your shirt to flip up to protect your neck. You duck into a store overhang for some shelter but it seems like someone’s against you, because the wind shifted and now the rain is attacking you from the side. 

At this rate you might as well just go in the store. You sigh and push the door open. The first thing that greets you is the smell, and the bell that rings to signal someone entering the store but mostly the smell. It’s not bad, it just, smells like an attic. Musty and old. And it looks like an attic too. At least due to the stuff inside it. The shelves reach to the ceiling, towering over you.

Everywhere you look this place is crammed to the gills. Jars full of small things, buttons, pins, shells. McDonalds toys? Boxes of junk, things people didn’t want anymore and it ended up here. Things people probably loved at one point but had to get rid of. 

Wandering deeper, you aren’t even sure if anyone else is in this maze of a place. No one said anything when the doorbell rang. Maybe you’re alone. You pick up a random magazine, TIME blares at you from the cover. Is that JFK? How old is this? You put it back on a random shelf and turn a corner. 

As you round the corner you find an open area, a guy behind a counter looks up from a magazine before looking back down, a bored expression on his face. Ok, so you aren’t alone. You pull out your phone, checking the weather. Rain for the next 20 minutes. Great. You aren’t walking in that. Well, time to waste, well, time.

You spin in a circle. Looking for something interesting. There, those shelves have books. Maybe you'll pass the time buried in one. And if not, well maybe you’ll find some ones that you can sell on Ebay. 

Actually, maybe not. Most of these books look pretty worn and used. The first one you attempt to pick up, the cover falls off in your hands. Whoops, let's just, put it back and pretend nothing happened. That one’s pages are stuck together with wax. You don’t even attempt to pick up the one that's stained a suspicious dark reddish brown on the cover. Oh, hey, that The Fellowship of the Ring book looks rather old. 

You wonder if, oh shit. As you pull it out another book comes with it, thudding to the floor. You wince and look over where the counter is. The guy doesn’t appear to see what the noise was so you’re probably in the clear. You bend down, the book had landed open, the pages to the floor. You gingerly lift it up, flipping it over to see where it opened to. 

Huh? It’s a diagram of a, demon? At least it looks like a demon. Dude with furry legs and horns. Probably a demon. You flip to the next page and are greeted with another diagram. Of a dick. Oh joy. Just what you wanted to see. It’s got a knot? At least if you can read the handwriting next to the arrow pointing to it, that's what it says it is. 

You flip to pages further in the book. Another diagram, this time of a person with wings. Well, if the last one was a demon this one’s gotta be an angel. Is the next page gonna be… yep. You flipped to the next page, another dick drawing on the pages. 

You keep flipping through the book, becoming more intrigued as you read. There's so much stuff in here. Demons, Angels, Gods? And how to summon them? Maybe it’s like a story building book, it sure seems that way. Someone probably wrote it for fun. It’s in a journal type book, you close it and look at the cover. Fake leather bound, Obligatory red string bookmark, a clasp to hold it close. 

You open to the first page, wondering if it’s signed with who wrote it. There’s no name but there is a message. 

If you use this book, Use it only once. You Can Not have more than one. (Unless explicitly stated) [But that is rare] Rip out the pages you used, keep them, burn them, do whatever you want with them. Lose the book. It will find its way to the next user. 

Use the book? What does that mean? And there’s writing next to the note. The “Unless explicitly stated”, and then under that “But that is rare” in different handwriting. What does that all mean? More than one what? More than one book? You’re so confused. You just close the book and tuck it under your arm. You’ll buy it. Why not. 

You check your phone again for the weather. It’s drizzling now. You spy an umbrella, and with that voice in your head yelling at you that it's bad luck, you open it indoors to see if it works. It does. You could probably walk home with this. Unless it gets bad again but that would be, bad luck.

You waste a bit more time as you walk up to the counter. Picking up a few more things that intrigued you. A comic book, from a stack that seemed ready to fall off the chair it was perched on. A small jar of crystals, and a couple of pins grabbed from the bowl on the check out counter. 

The guy behind the counter sighs, looks over your stuff and rattles out the price of everything. $17.35. None of it had a price tag on it. He probably just made up a price, or he’s memorized the prices for everything. 

He’s probably making it up. But you aren’t going to complain. You just pay the price and leave. You open your new umbrella, well, new to you. Stepping out into the rain you begin your walk home.

The book has been sitting on your desk for almost a week now. You haven’t touched it since you put it there. Why not try and read it more, you have some free time. You sit at your desk and grab the book. Opening it to the beginning you’re greeted with the message again. 

You ignore it and flip to the next page. Oh? A chapter list. That’s interesting. Demons, Angels, Gods, Creatures. Hm. Gods seem interesting. You flip it to a random page and the first god you see is the God of Night. Some scribbled notes alongside a picture of what he looks like.

You read about the different Gods for a while before flipping back to the chapter list. You just close your eyes and point at a random name. 

Lupus Somnia (Darkiplier) 

That’s interesting. You flip to the page. 

Lupus Somnia (Darkiplier)

Wolf of Nightmares

Wolf of nightmares, ok. You keep reading. He is one of the more powerful demons in this book. A shapeshifter. Takes on the form of a great black wolf. Well you probably could've figured that one out. I mean his name has the word wolf in it. 

Actually, does it? You use google translate to translate the latin. Wolf dreams. Ok then, well it is google translate. It can’t be completely accurate. You go back to reading.

Can create wolf extensions of himself. Shadow wolves. They look like pieces of a void, molded into shape. To summon him, you must do it on a full moon. Blah blah blah, bones? This is getting weird. You spy a scribbled note at the bottom of the page. Can be summoned with Lupus Corruptionis (Antisepticeye). 

So Darkiplier is one of the ones you can have more than one of. Whatever that means. You’re getting tired. You open your phone, squinting at the bright light. It’s 3 in the morning? What the hell happened. 

You close the book, standing up from your desk and stretching. You should go to bed. You have things to do tomorrow. Sparing one last glance at the book, humoring the random thought of wondering if summoning them would work. Shaking the silly thought from your head you finally go to bed.

The thoughts have been rotating in your head for a few days now. Like food in a microwave. Could you summon someone? The next question you have is who would you summon, but that's easily answered, Darkiplier. He intrigued you. And with some research you find the next full moon is in a few days. So you have time to prepare. 

You collect the materials. The crystals, the herbs, the bones. Thankfully it can be any type of bone so chicken should work. You set it all up, checking it against the book as you do. And just in case you set up some protection on you as well, almost smoking yourself out of your room. You may have overdone it on the smudge sticks and incense. 

You open a window to help clear it out. It’s a strong scent, you don’t wanna pass out from it. When you can breathe again you finish setting up the summoning. Lighting the candles and reading the words from the book. As you read the last word, nothing happens. 

Well, that’s probably what was going to happen no matter what. What were you expecting to happen. The candles to go out?

The candles go out… Oh shit, shit, shit. 

You’re left in the darkened room. The only light being the full moon shining through your open window. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. You’re being watched by someone. No, something. You take a shaky breath in and slowly begin to look around your room, afraid of what you'll find. 

You freeze as you finally turn to your closet. There. In the shadows, a figure. You scramble backwards slightly as they reach out for you. Your hand hits the flashlight you left next you and you fumble to turn it on and point at the figure. 

As you do the figure reveals itself to be, a coat. A coat hanging up in your closet. A breeze flits through your window and moves the coat. Making it look like it was reaching for you. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. That’s enough of that. 

You stand, turning on your light and beginning to clean up. The candles getting blown out was probably a gust of wind. And it could also be the source of your sudden chill you got, where the hair on the back of your neck stood up. 

It's been days, and you can't seem to shake the feeling of being watched. No, not just watched. This feels different. Predatory. You feel like you're being Hunted. 

No matter where you go you can’t escape it. It seems to get stronger in your house. Which should be concerning. Maybe you did summon something? No, you couldn’t have. But, just in case. You research more, trying to find out how to banish it, get it to leave you alone. 

Many trials with different plants and crystals and burning candles later you think whatever is here is here to stay. You sit on your couch, laying your head back and staring at the ceiling. You’re tired, and falling asleep like this will definitely hurt your neck when you wake up, but you’re too exhausted to currently care. You drift off easily.

You wake, your neck not hurting like you expected it to. Sitting up you realize that you're in your bed? How the hell did you get here? Sleep walked? You rub the back of your neck and look on your bedside table for your phone. 

It's not there, which means it's probably still in the living room. You debate on going to get it or just going back to sleep, it’s probably like 1 am right? Finally you decide to go get it so you can plug it in. You swing your feet off the bed and make your way down the hallway. The kitchen light is on. 

You ignore it and go to grab your phone, you’ll turn it off when you go back to bed. You check the time on your phone. Yeah, 1:16 am. You turn to the kitchen and freeze. 

There’s someone in your kitchen. There’s someone in your kitchen.

They’re tall, taller than you. They’re not facing you, so they might not know you're there. You have your phone, you can call the police. But you can’t move. Frozen in place you can only watch as they turn, seeing you. They, no, he, smiles at you. “Hello,” There’s a distortion to his voice, barely noticeable but there. 

He moves closer to you and you start to panic. Your heart is beating so loudly he must hear it. “Oh, you poor thing, so scared of me. Scared of your mate.” He reaches out and you finally move, not flinching away, no, your body betrays you and leans into his touch.

“It’s alright, this can be fixed. You’re Mine now.” And with that your brain finally shuts down from the panic and you pass out. 

You jolt up off the couch, heart hammering, gasping for breath like you’ve just run for your life. It was a dream. It was just a dream. You calm down, fumbling the power button on your phone to check the time. 1:47 am. The kitchen light is off, no sign of anyone being in your house but you.

“You’re awake” You startle at the voice, falling off the couch. Except, you don’t hit the floor. “Careful now, I don’t want you to injure yourself.” You were caught by, something. A black mass shifts under you, cushioning your fall. It lowers you to the ground and retreats, your eyes follow it to the man who controls it, the man that was in your kitchen.

He’s sitting in your arm chair, watching you. “You have some strange courting rituals Dearheart. Lots of candles and crystals and incense. Do all humans court this way?”

“Court, courting rituals? What are you talking about?” You shakily get to your feet, not taking your eyes of the man across from you. “You summoned me, after someone is summoned from the book the next few weeks are used to court them.”

“Why would, why would I court you? Wait, summoned you?” You sit down on the couch, your legs shaking too much to hold you up properly. He leans forward, tilting his head as he considers you. “Whomever summons me is my mate for life. Did you really not know that?”

“N-no, i didn’t. I didn’t think, didn’t think anyone could be summoned. I thought it was fake.” “Fake, you thought the Liber Sociorum, the book of summoning a mate, is fake?” He sighs, “No matter, I can fix this.” He stands, flicking his hand away and sending a black blur across the floor and down the hallway. As he walks closer to you, you try to sink deeper into the couch. 

He stops, and sits next to you on the couch. Oh, he's even bigger up close. His eyes are mismatched colors, one red, the other blue. The shadow from earlier is back, it's shaped like a dog, carrying the book in its mouth. Wait, not a dog, a wolf. You remember that from the book. 

He takes the book from the wolf and it dissolves into thin air. He opens the book, easily finding the page he was looking for. “Here,” He points to a place on a page, and you lean closer to read.

This book, the Liber Sociorum, is a mating book. Used to find mates for the people in these pages. If you summon someone, they will be your mate for life. If you find this book and don’t want a mate? Lose it. The next person needs it more than you. 

You take the book from him. How could you have missed this? 

“So, now do you understand? You’re mine, and I am yours.” You nod, still reading and rereading the passage. He’s been the presence you've been feeling. You feel a hand cupping your jaw, and he turns you to look at him. Slowly, giving you time to move away if you want, he leans closer. 

Pressing your lips together, he gently kisses you. You’re frozen in place, and as he pulls away from you he must see something in your expression because he smiles. “You’re gone for me, aren’t you. Almost completely mine.” Your body moves on instinct, lifting your head and bearing the column of your throat to him. Submitting. 

A rumbly growl fills the room and it takes you a second before you realize it's coming from him. His hand is tilting your head to the side more and he’s leaning into your neck. Fangs sink into the junction of your shoulder and neck, breaking skin. Venom pumps into your bloodstream, marking you as his. 

Before you know it, it's over. The wound healed and you felt no pain. He’s pulling back, licking his lips and gently running his thumb over the mark. “There we go, mine forever.” You whine and he shushes you. “Give it a moment, you’ll feel it soon.”

You open your mouth to ask, Feel what soon, but it hits you and you know. A burning feeling starts inside you. You lean forwards in your seat, trying to ignore the pain. But it only gets worse. “It’s alright, the first heat hits the hardest. Luckily starlight, I’m here to help.” 

He moves, gently picking you up in a bridal carry. You don’t know where you're going, where he's taking you. He walks across the room, going for the hallway and hopefully your room. You sneak a glance at the hallway, it ripples, the walls distorting and shifting. It makes you nauseous to look at so you just bury your face in Dark’s shirt. 

There’s a faint sound, not one you could place. A coolness washes over you, your pain dispersing. You lift your face from Dark’s chest. Where in the nine circles of hell are you? Dark chuckles. Did you say that outloud. “You aren’t in Hell little mate. I would never take you there.” 

It’s nothing, just a black void. You glance down, and regret it. There's no floor, just an endless abyss below you. You hold tighter to Dark, afraid of falling even though it's probably not possible. 

Your surroundings warp, the previous black void shaping around you into a forest. Shades of greys and blacks are the only color, besides you and Dark. You get let down, your feet sinking slightly into the peat of the ground. His hand gently caresses your cheek and you shudder as a chill runs through you. 

“I’ve delayed your heat for the time being, it will return but I want some Fun first.” 

You step back away from him, unsure of what's happening but you can’t look away. The darkness and shadows of your surroundings seem to pull towards him. Tendrils make their way across the ground, congregating at his feet. They wind their way up his body, and wrap around him. Dark starts to change, or perhaps he was changing the whole time and you just noticed. He’s taller, his teeth sharper, nails elongating into claws. 

His shirt rips and tears, falling off of him. His pants end up the same way. A snout pushes its way out of his face and your eyes meet burnished gold ones. 

If you thought Dark was big before, he’s huge now. Towering over you as a werewolf, he tilts his head watching you. “Oh, little mate, it would do you good to Run” You stumble backwards away from him and turn slightly, still keeping him in eyesight. His tail swishes behind him as he sits back on his haunches. “I’ll even give you a head start, 30, 29, 28,”

You start to run, not looking behind you as you duck and weave around the trees in the forest. “23, 22,” You can’t outrun him. Maybe you should start to look for hiding places. But where, there's nothing but trees and an occasional fallen log. You skid to a stop, fallen log. Maybe you could, “10, 9, 8” There’s no time, you have to. 

You climb over the next log you see, hiding on the opposite side of it. You dig out dirt from under it, making a small hollow that might shield you more than just laying next to the log. “4, 3, 2” You close your eyes, trying not to make a sound as Dark goes silent. 

A howl rings throughout the forest, sharply cutting through the silence. You flinch, a quiet whimper escaping you. “Oh? Now what could that have been.” Dark doesn’t speak again, and you don’t hear any footsteps getting closer. The silence is frightening. You open your eyes, he’s not next to you like you expected. “Where ever could you be?” 

That time his voice sounds like it's just meters away, on the opposite side of the log. Dark growls, but this time you don’t make a sound. The pain from earlier returns, your heat returns. You inhale sharply at a stabbing pain. The log above you is ripped away. You don’t know what happened to it, Dark probably threw it. “Found you.”

Dark grabs the front of your shirt in his teeth, lifting you off the ground and setting you on your feet. His grip was gentle, and you appreciate that. You barely keep yourself steady on your feet as the world around you ripples again. The forest you were just hunted in changing around you, being replaced with a bedroom.

You try to look around but Dark nudges you with his snout to the bed. You obey easily, he’s your mate, he can help you. Take away the pain. You clamber into the bed and immediately whine. It’s not right. Not set up correctly. You need to fix it. Pushing and pulling blankets. Rearranging pillows and taking the ones Dark offered you. A nest, a den, a place to be bred.

You place one last pillow, deeming it finished. Dark was still on the outside of the nest and you whine, wanting him to join you. He chuckles, joining you on the bed, in the nest you made. Dark moves quickly, surprising you as you get pinned below him. 

His claws make quick work of your clothes, ripping through them easily. “Mine, my mate.” You moan at his touch, arching up into him. “Yours,” His cock head notches easily at your entrance, your heat causing you to slick up for him. 

Your slick eased his way and made it effortless to slide into you. Then he freezes, just holding still. You feel the stretch, and some part of your brain registers that it should hurt without proper prepping. But it doesn’t, you’re slicked up enough from your heat that all you feel is full. 

You shift under him, trying to get Dark to move. “Please,” You whimper. The burn is starting to return and you need him to move. “Please what?” “Please Dark, move.” He chuckles darkly above you. “Who am I to deny my mate when she begs so nicely hm?”

Dark pulls your legs up, hooking them around him. He starts out slow, the drag of his cock on your walls making you squirm. Either to get more friction or to get it to stop you aren’t sure yourself. His hands move from your hips to trail slowly over your body. His tail slowly wagging behind him as he watches you.

“Please Dark, fuck.” You moan as he pulls almost all the way out. He just hums above you. “You want me to fuck you? Oh, sweet thing, why didn’t you just say so.” He thrusts back into you, shoving you slightly up the bed with the force of it.

His thrusts get faster, and you moan loudly. “Does that feel good starshine?” You nod, not trusting your voice enough to answer him properly.  “Do you want more?” This time you speak up, “M-more?” You question him and Dark just grins at you, all sharp teeth and fangs. “More it is then.” He rumbles.

His thrusts grow rougher and harder making you gasp. The drag of his cock is delicious, stretching you wide, bumping against the spot that has you keening. He hits it perfectly and you all but scream for him. He adjusts his position, getting the perfect angle to keep you making all those pretty noises for him. 

You’re more preoccupied with, other things, so it's understandable that you didn’t notice one of his hands finding its way to play with your clit until it's too late. His fingers play with the bundle of nerves, and your hips jerk. 

The combination of internal and external stimulation is enough for sparks to fly behind your eyelids. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out. A wordless plea for more. You buck up into Dark, trying to get even closer. The heat you feel is subsiding, but you need more of him. 

Part of your brain is worried that if he stops it'll come back. You need him to keep touching you, keep fucking you. He hits that spot in you just right and, combined with his hand on your clit, it sends you over the edge and you cum around him. 

Your cunt clamps down around him and he grunts. Dark keeps thrusting through your orgasm, slowing down slightly to not overstimulate you too much. He adjusts his position above you, sitting up and watching you come down from your orgasm. “Oh fuck sweet thing, where do you want it.” He growls, his thrusts starting to stutter. “In, in please.” You manage to get out.

Dark looms over you before leaning down, his teeth quickly meeting your shoulder again as he cums. Over the mark from before. Not breaking the skin this time, just holding you in place. His thrusts slow down, pumping gently as he releases inside you. A knot blooms at the base of his dick, locking him, and his cum, inside you. His teeth remove from your neck, his tongue licking at the imprints. You whine at him and a rumbling purr starts up in Darks chest. He rolls the two of you over so you’re laying on top of him. His snout nuzzles you. “Mine,” You’re quickly falling asleep, the adrenaline from being hunted and your orgasm making you tired. His warmth beneath you sends you into your slumber. You fall asleep to his purr, with his knot locked inside you.

[impernaway]

20 + 22: the walking dead + silence

(also known as: shit i forgot i was doing monsterous may, whoops. time to jump back in. This one skirts around talking about plagues, zombies, thought patterns that spiral and cause distress, and briefly alludes to the dead + insects, so if those aren't for you I'd really suggest skipping this.)

----

It's quiet outside.

It's been quiet outside for days now.

He hasn't looked outside for at least a week. He can't - he can't stomach it. It'd been one thing when the news had first broken and people had started making tentative jokes, you know, the whole bit where they'd all looked at each other and started asking if their plans were up-to-date. It had started halfway across the country and the shop shelves had emptied as everybody panic bought whatever they could get their hands on. It got ugly. And then they'd listened and covered their windows and battered down the hatches as things swept closer and closer, lockdown slamming in to place across the board.

That'd been two weeks ago.

Sam doesn't spare the curtains shut over the window a glance as he slowly inches himself across the floor, taking care not to get that one squeaky floorboard. The rolling blackout's still in effect for - he guesses it's going to be another hour or so. It's fine. He's long ago eaten through anything in the fridge, which means he's just down to whatever cans he has left in the cupboards to get him through until he can stock up again. Beans. Beans. A can of tuna. More beans and a can of cream of mushroom soup.

Kidney beans for dinner it'll be, then.

He needs to send his mother a photo later to help her nerves later. Before it gets dark out and too dangerous to keep any of the lights facing outside on. It's quiet outside but that doesn't make it safe. They don't make noise out there. They're just quiet. The bit of them that knew to make noise is-

He needs to send his mother a photo so she knows he's alright. Before it gets too dark and she worries. She's still back home, safely quarantined away with Dad, they've not been so hard hit up there. He's not going to say they've not been hit, because they have, everywhere has been, but - but it's better. Not as bad.

He sets a can down on the side and stares at it. Stove. He should - he's got double glazing and that keeps noise in and smell out but part of him screams that it's going to be too loud if he takes it out. Better he stay put and wait. He can- he can manage that. He just needs to keep his thoughts going. He can wait for a bit until it's safer, boil off some water to drink to make sure it's safe, then cook the beans.

He can do that.

Back in school there was a year where they were finally allowed classroom full of ovens to learn how to cook with, and the teacher told them to bring in the ingredients for three-bean salad. It'd gotten his hackles right up at the time, and still does now. It's not - that's not a recipie. That's not teaching. Telling kids to go out and buy three cans of beans and a red onion so you can teach them to put it all in a bowl isn't a lesson. It'd been a complete nothing. So he hadn't told his parents and had shown up to class empty handed. Him and...Pretty much near everybody else in class. All it taught him was how to make a bowl of beans.

He doesn't look at the black beans, sho

Slowly, he picks up the can and presses the paper of the label up against his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. It'll smell like beans, and the nothing sort of taste of the liquid it's all been sitting in, and he's going to hate it and that's what is for dinner tonight.

Zombie movies don't talk about how shit it is to just live off a can of pre-cooked kidney beans night after night.

They don't talk about a lot of things, it turns out, and he's stuck staring at the bottom of the can as he thinks about the colour of kidney beans, the shape of them, the smell, the smell, vinegar and salt and beans and he can't stop thinking about the smell.

The walking dead are still dead, for all they move. Except these hadn't been zombies, they'd been people. Living ones. They were just people who'd gotten sick. And living bodies (stop it) (stop thinking about it) he needs to think about the food and drink he's making himself later and it's beans for dinner again and boiled water he's poured out a plastic bottle again just to be sure because he has to be sure because his sister hasn't texted anybody for a week now and she hasn't emailed them either and. And. And. and.

He presses the can against his head a little more firmly to try and ground himself in the moment with the pressure of it. He can't start spiraling. He needs to make sure he eats and gets enough to drink. He's here, and he's alive, and he's got to stay that way. If he wants to stay that way, he has to make sure he eats something.

Don't think about it.

He pushes the cream of mushroom soup so it better blocks the view of the black beans label and looks down at hte counter.

The movies made it sound like they'd always be groaning. Like you'd hear them coming. The one time he cracked a window open, all he'd been able to hear was the flies.

He'll have beans for dinner. Maybe see if there's any pasta or rice he's overlooked for tomorrow night instead. It's been two weeks, and he's just scraping the bottom of the barrel now. Not quite desperate enough for the mushroom soup, but - well. Soon enough.

The army will be clearing the road and bringing food for everybody still alive on the street soon enough.

[natashasnoodle]

Train Of Thought | Robin Buckley x Female Reader

Masterlist | R.B Masterlist

Words: 2.5k

Summary: A boring train journey gets all the more interesting when there is only one spare seat.

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

You took off at a mad sprint through the train station ignoring the pain on your heels where your shoes were rubbing. They fit you perfectly and had never pinched your feet before, but of course, they started acting up whilst you were running late. Of course. Whilst you were halfway through mumbling a string of profanities, the crackly voice of one of the station workers blared through the overhead speakers stating that your train was due to leave any second now. "Shit, shit, shit", you half-shouted as you narrowly avoided accidentally tackling a child, and then even more narrowly avoiding running her over with your suitcase.

"SORRY!", you yelled behind you, seeing the horrified mother scooping up her child. Whoops. It was 6 am though, so you couldn't find it in you to care too much.

Your heart was racing, beads of sweat were appearing on your forehead, your hair was whipping behind you with the speed you were running, and your feet fucking hurt.

The train beside you - that wasn't your train - started moving, and the chugging noise along with the whistle made you panic even more, so you somehow ran faster, weaving in and out of the people in your way. Eventually, you reached your train whilst the doors were closing.

Luckily for you, they were closing slowly, so you launched your suitcase through the doors, causing a giant bang to echo through the cabin when it hit a wall, and you jumped in after it. You got a few stares from people in the cabin who had arrived on time. Apparently, you had disturbed their peace. There wasn't any room in that cabin anyway, but with the glares that you received, there was no way that you were staying. So, you awkwardly smiled and slowly backed up until you reached the door to the next one.

You casually walked through as if you hadn't just run a marathon, and yet again, a full cabin. You sighed and walked through another two cabins that were full. At this point, you were sure that you would have to sit on the floor for fourteen hours, which sounded highly uncomfortable. The next carriage you walked into was almost full, but it was hard to determine the 'almost' part as it looked like every seat was taken. This was the last carriage and your last hope, so you stood looking like a lost puppy as you scanned the area trying your hardest to find a seat.

However, a miracle shone down on you when someone took pity on you standing in the middle of the aisle looking desperate. "Hey!", she half-shouted, and you turned around to see someone your age leaning out of her seat and waving her hand at you, "There's a spare seat in front of me, you know- if you wanna sit". Your face broke out into a grin as she bashfully smiled at you and leaned back into her seat.

Clumsily, you put your suitcase into the overhead shelving, and sat down, hugging your backpack to your chest and resting your chin on top of it. It was weirdly comforting. You looked down at your lap for a moment, before unzipping your bag and grabbing your walkman, putting in your "Hunting High And Low" album tape by a-ha. As the melody of "Take on Me" played through your earphones, you finally looked up at the girl who let you sit with her.

The first thing that you noticed were the awesome patches that littered her black jacket, and then you noticed her rings, and how she was listening to her own walkman as she looked out of the window. Her aura intrigued you, she seemed like she knew a lot, quiet but unable to shut up once you got to know her type of person. You were usually good at reading people's vibes, so you trusted your gut.

Wanting to not spend the entire journey in a weird silence of avoiding making eye contact, when "Train of Thought" began playing, you paused your tape and lightly tapped the table in front of her, which because of the earphones startled her slightly, making you grimace and apologise when she took her earphones off, and you followed suit. She shook her head with a small chuckle and said it was fine, but she had a questioning look resting on her features, wondering what the disruption was about, even though it was a welcome one. "What were you listening to?", you nodded towards her walkman.

"Oh-", she fumbled to take out the tape and placed it in front of you, smiling when your eyes lit up at the Duran Duran album "Rio". "No way!", you exclaimed and started rummaging around in your backpack, searching through your copious amount of tapes. When you found your own "Rio" tape you slid it across to her and she smiled. "What's your favourite song on there?", she sounded excited which only made you more enthusiastic, not usually being around people with remotely similar interests.

"Save a Prayer, definitely Save a Prayer, what's yours?". She pretended to look in thought by placing her hand on her chin, before blurting out "Hungry Like the Wolf".

"That is a grand choice", you paused before holding out your hand for her to shake, "I'm Y/n". She laughed and shook your hand, taking notice of how you both had black nail polish on, "Robin. Nice nails by the way", she teased as you pulled your hands away. "Ditto".

"So what were you listening to?", she continued the conversation, also not usually being surrounded by people who want to talk about her interests. The both of you didn't see an issue with generally being quite introverted, it just made it all the more special when you find someone that you naturally click with.

You pulled the tape out of your walkman and she nodded, "Good taste, good taste". You thanked her before settling into a conversation about the purpose of your trips. You were both going from Indianapolis to Atlanta, she was visiting an aunt, and you just wanted to get away and "Live a bit". Her interest was piqued by that as she had always wanted to do a similar impromptu trip, so you spent a while talking about that. You made her laugh a few times when you started saying how you weren't sure how you were going to survive on your own for a few weeks, being a suggestible person you were sure that you were going to accidentally join a cult.

So, Robin gave you her home phone number so that you can call her on the day that you are due back from your trip so that she can make sure you hadn't joined any 'clubs'. You shook your head as you let out a giggle and placed the sheet of paper with her number in it in a little pocket inside of your bag so that you wouldn't lose it.

But it did get you thinking. Not many people give out their home telephone numbers to random strangers with whom they had spent half an hour talking just to be friends. It happens, but not often. Whilst you were still mid-conversation with her about being forced to take a trip instead of being able to enjoy her summer, you were trying to figure it out. There was a high possibility that you were overthinking Robin's motives, but you had been right about her personality vibe, so maybe you were right about this.

You hoped you were right because she was a very cool person, and you hadn't felt this comfortable around anyone for a long time, even with your ex-girlfriend. As this train of thought stopped at its station, you had a lightbulb moment. You could test the water by mentioning your ex-girlfriend and hope that she didn't suddenly find you repulsive and throw you out of the window.

When the conversation naturally continued its course back to your trip, you slipped in the fact that you had wanted to do this for a while, but your ex stopped you. She didn't want to go on the trip and didn't want you going without her because she didn't want to be away from you, so you were stuck, and then she went and cheated on you and the first thing you did was use her credit card to buy your train tickets.

Robin laughed at your story, and you noticed how her lip twitched upwards slightly when you casually revealed your sexuality and placed it in your mind bank for later use. It went quiet afterwards and Robin looked deep in thought, which worried you. You started to fiddle with the hem of your shirt when the first awkward silence of the trip had overcome the pair of you. Robin truly looked to be in a world of her own, and you were sure it was because she was thinking of a way to get out of talking to you now that she knew who you liked.

"I-uh, also like girls", she mumbled whilst playing with her rings, trying not to attract the attention of other passengers. "Oh, cool, that's cool", you smiled, trying to reassure her that it was okay, and relieved that you were in the clear. Even though you had already come out to her, with her nerves she still thought that you were going to judge her for some reason. "So, when you gave me your number..?", you continued with a smirk, trying to bring her back out of her shell.

"You got me", she shook her head and started chewing on her lip anxiously. Now it was your time to look deep in thought, and Robin's turn to look like she had just seen a ghost. Sure, you liked girls, but that didn't necessarily mean that you liked her. But you did, you just had a trick up your sleeve that you wanted to play out. A proper excuse to see her again when you were both back in Indiana. Hawkins was only twenty minutes away from your town, so it was a reasonable feat.

When you started rummaging around in your backpack and placing an extortionate amount of tapes on the table in front of you. Robin's head tilted, she hadn't been this confused since she saw Steve Harrington applying for Scoops Ahoy. "Are there any of these tapes that you don't own?", you broke her out of her thoughts as you looked at her expectedly. She cleared her throat and scanned the tapes before pointing to "Brothers In Arms", by Dire Straits. "Haven't got that one".

You grinned and used your pointer and middle finger to slide it across to her, "Well you can borrow it and then I can come and collect it when we're both back home".

Robin laughed as a blush crept onto her cheeks, "Smooth", she gingerly picked up the tape and hovered over her bag's zip, "Are you sure?". This wasn't just about the tape, it was about the meaning of the action. Seeing each other again, not on public transport. "Very", you breathed out, hoping that she would accept the olive branch that you had extended, and your foot tapped with excitement when she placed it in with her own tape collection.

"Well, I'll look forward to returning it".

---

Robin smiled when you returned to the table with a basket of fries to share. With the journey being almost fourteen hours, you had both decided it would be best to have a nap. The two of you slept awkwardly on your respective seats, lying down and using your bags as pillows, so you had woken up with strained necks, and hungry bellies.

Robin felt guilty for not paying for the fries, so you had to practically shove them in front of her for her to start eating them, but once you succeeded in your task, she happily began shovelling her half of them down her throat. You bit back a laugh as you delicately bit a fry in half, and she just shrugged with her mouth full.

The food brought on more conversation, though this time it was proper conversation, not small talk to get the ball rolling. "Are you serious?", you exclaimed after Robin had finished a story, impressed with what she had been saying. "Yup, I'm a bona fide genius", she bragged.

"So you're saying that for a class project they gave you Russian statements to translate and you did it pretty much like that", you clicked your fingers to show the speed. "Yeah", her voice raised an octave slightly, but you were too busy shovelling more fries into your mouth to notice. She wasn't lying about the Russian translations, she was just misguiding you on the reason for the translations. No biggie.

"You're so cool", you absentmindedly said whilst wiping the salt on your fingers on your trouser leg, and missed the blush that appeared on her cheeks due to your eyes being elsewhere. "Thanks", she grinned and started chuckling when the conversation started again, this time about a school project that you did. It was science which you had never been overly good at, you were decent at memorising the facts for exams and pop quizzes, but when it came to lab practicals? You were useless.

She practically wheezed when you told her about how when you got acid on your hand, you mistook the clear solution on your lab desk for water but ended up pouring more acid on it instead. "I'm so dumb, I swear", you shook your head.

"Yeah, sounds like it-", Robin started then slapped her hand over her mouth, "I'm sorry, we do not know each other well enough for those kinds of jokes".

You laughed and she pursed her lips, "No, I am, it's okay to say it", you jeered and that made her feel better. She was also one of those people who used insults as a love language. Good to know. The two of you were having an amazing time but were interrupted by the conductor's voice ringing through the train saying that you were in Atlanta. You frowned slightly, and Robin spoke what you were thinking. "It's been fourteen hours already?!".

"I guess so", you sighed with disappointment and stood to get your suitcase, and handed Robin hers as well. She thanked you and the both of you walked out into the station, and out onto the busy street. It was a little awkward, as you were both going to head in different directions, and you weren't entirely sure how to say goodbye. So, you went with a safe option. The way you said hello.

You held out your hand again for her to shake and she promptly took it with a smile, "Until we meet again?", you smirked. "Until we meet again", she confirmed. You pulled your hand away and took a step back, "You got my number right?", she checked, not wanting to make a mistake. You nodded and said another goodbye and walked away.

After taking a few steps you turned around to get one last look, and laughed when you spotted Robin doing the same, so gave her a little wave as you carried on to your destination.

You couldn't wait to go home. 

[itsclydebitches]

Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first: 

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense. 

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go. 

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3 

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. 

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it. 

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit. 

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world. 

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

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

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.  

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

[unpack-my-heart]

i am no bird (no net ensnares me)

The first time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, it was a rainy Tuesday afternoon in January and he’d been drunk on a fermenting promise to himself that was becoming slippery. So slippery was this promise that at any moment he feared he’d drop it, and it would splatter on the floor, messy and irrecoverable. He was nineteen years old; old enough to know better but young enough that his hare-brained decisions could be written off as the recklessness of a youth not yet over. When he’d told the others that he was planning to leave, with the phone crackling wildly under the strain of their seven way conversation, they had all whooped loudly, cheering a victory that he hadn’t yet won.

“I knew this would be the year you’d leave, Eds! I could feel it in my dick”

Fucking gross.

After he’d chewed Richie out for being crude, faux-annoyance honeying his words, he’d remained silent for a very long time, listening to the others trip and stumble over each other, babbling about how good emancipation felt, how the air had never tasted as sweet as it had the day they’d left, the day they’d left Derry and never looked back.

He’d planned to leave, had always meant to leave, had gotten as far as idly scrolling through flight schedules late at night, the moon watching him with her soft, sceptical gaze, but something held him back. The invisible red tether that cut deep welts into his heart tightened viciously whenever the thought of leaving fluttered through his brain, butterfly smooth.  His mother tugged on the tether, and reminded Eddie that his wings had been clipped a long time ago.

When Richie left Derry, nearly two years ago, Eddie hadn’t cried. Dry-eyed, face bright and free from tear-tracks, he’d rubbed soothing circles into Richie’s back as Richie cried, great heaving sobs that dampened Eddie’s almost-scratchy jersey sweater. He’d cried on Eddie’s shoulder for eons of time that they didn’t have, until Richie’s phone began to buzz fiercely. Eddie’s eyes remained firmly, petulantly dry. They’d remained dry when Richie told him, in a voice thick with sorrow, that out of all the Losers, out of all the people he’d ever met and even the people he hadn’t, that his Eds was his favourite. Eddie’s eyes remained dry when he watched Richie shove his guitars and the half-broken metal box full of old mixtapes into his half-broken old car that wheezed almost as much as Eddie did. The car sagged under the weight of Richie’s entire life, with no room for Eddie to clamber in, to mould himself around the suitcases. Eddie’s eyes remained dry as he watched Richie drive mouse-slow out of the driveway, and they’d remained dry when Richie shouted out of the window,

“I’ll never forget you, Eds! Not ever! I’ll always remember you and those fucking shorts!”

Those shorts remained folded away in the back of his wardrobe, unworn, unloved, almost-forgotten.

Eddie didn’t leave.

The second time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he was twenty-four years old, and working full time at the pharmacy that he’d spent so many wasted hours in over the years, queueing up dutifully, waiting for the prescription to be filled, jittering from foot to foot, as if the verruca cream piled haphazardly on the shelf to his left would leap at him. He’d hop from foot to foot, wondering whether these pills would stop the bruising of his heart, or the mocking voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his own, “you’re cracked you’re damaged you’re ruined”. So many years and so many sugar pills, enough to turn his stomach and make his teeth itch.

The pharmacy was much the same as it ever was, a stagnant pool suspended in the centre of the roaring sea. Aisles of cough syrup and dandruff shampoo bracketed the counter, and Eddie spent his days drumming his fingers on the counter, each pound of each pad against the dull white surface a declaration, a plea.

“You’re never going to leave if you don’t do it now. Rip the band-aid off, Eds, and stop being such a fucking pussy!”

Richie was right in that very frustrating way that Richie was always, always, right, especially when it came to Eddie and his pathological tendency to self-sabotage himself into oblivion. Rather than cradle his life in both of his hands, a fragile little thing that needed nurturing, Eddie had instead condemned it to a solemn existence of apathy and a pretentious sort of melancholy, all the while staring at the little white pills that he’d taken for so long; the little white pills that took the pain away only until they didn’t anymore, lined up neatly in their piss-coloured plastic bottles on the shelves of the pharmacy.

He’d packed his bags with all the gusto he could manage that evening shoving t-shirts and pressed, crisp chinos into an old, dusty rucksack with wild abandon, until he stopped. He stopped, and stared at the bag, really stared at it, and dropped the sweatshirt he’d been holding to the floor. He hadn’t packed his favourite books, the movie ticket stubs he’d saved from when Richie took hilton see the new Star Wars and Eddie had complained bitterly about how ridiculous it was until he’d annoyed Richie so much that he’d been dragged forcefully from the theatre, and they’d gone for burgers instead. There was no room for his favourite shoes, the sweater with the holes in it that Bev had leant him when he was cold and then given to him because the dull purple made the green in his eyes shine brightly, a freshly cut lawn on a summer morning.

Eddie emptied the contents of the bag onto the floor, and stepped over it. Tomorrow, he assured himself, tomorrow he’d leave. Tomorrow.

Eddie didn’t leave.

The third time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he was thirty-three years old and couldn’t remember why California called his name so loudly, why its siren call echoed across the country, fingers beckoning, seducing. California, a nihilistic melting pot of overworked and underpaid wage slaves who bowed to the corporate bell and submitted themselves to the scrutinizing eye of the Silicon Valley start-ups. That’s what his mother had told him when she’d loomed over his shoulder, pin-ball eyes scanning the screen of his computer. There was nothing there for Eddie, a pharmacist with two degrees under his belt but no actual understanding of how the world worked beyond the safe confines of his small town existence. Highways, supermarkets with more than ten aisles, electric cars, save the turtles, sandals in winter and heatstroke in summer, sweat on your upper lip and tan lines on your knees. California.

His phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Is this Eds? Eds Kaspbrak?”

“Don’t call me that! Uh … Who is this?”

“It’s … Rich. Richie?”

A question, not a statement, as if the caller is asking, is that okay? Is it okay that this is Richie?

“Richie? Richie who?”

A pause that stretches like tar, sticky and black.

“Oh shit!”

Remembrance slammed into Eddie, sucker-punch strong. He remembered a tangled mop of dark brown hair, often flecked with paint. He remembered bucked teeth and freckles that skated across skin like grains of sand tossed up in wind. He remembered the lisp, and the gangly limbs that hung awkwardly, octopus limbs that were too long, too grabby, too energetic.

“Richie fucking Tozier!”

“The very same, Eds. Gotta be honest, I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t pick up, that some housewife would answer all, ‘he doesn’t live here anymore’, but … here you are.”

“Here I am.”

“Still there.”

“Still here,” Eddie confirmed, and his gut trembled with the sort of embarrassment that hung in the air low and heavy, like smoke. Like smog.

“I’m in California,” Richie says eventually, “got a sweet little place on the oceanfront, if you ever … y’know …”

Oh. There it is. The static that had been buzzing around Eddie’s brain when he thought of California, the angry bees that stung him for not remembering finally subdued, finally dropped down dead, because Richie was on the other end of the phone, still lisping, voice a little deeper, a little hoarser, a few too many cigarettes and not enough sleep, perhaps, but he was there, and Eddie had remembered.

“Ocean front, you say?”

The most reckless thing Eddie had done before this was leave the house during a torrential rainstorm with only a showerproof coat, knowing full well that the long fingers of Flu would be tapping at his arms in the morning. Now, here he was, sitting in a tacky sea-food restaurant, pushing prawns around on his plate, with someone he hasn’t seen for over a decade, and he’s drunk. Not too drunk, he can still see without his vision blurring, can still count all of the wrinkles that texture the canvas of Richie’s face, and the freckles. He’s not too drunk to wonder whether these are new freckles, or whether these are the same freckles that he used to stare at when they were lying in the quarry, shirts off and chests to the sky, sunning themselves like heat-starved lizards.

Nevertheless, here he is, Richie Tozier, stuffing paella into his face with one hand and waving wildly in the air with the other as he talks through bites of rice.

“Do you remember when you got kicked out of band?”

Richie groans, wounded.

“Don’t fucking remind me, I was scrubbing the deck for weeks after that old trout rang my mother. Real pissed she was, insisted that trombones are certainly not supposed to be used for such nefarious activities. I still think she shoulda’ been more adventurous”

“I’ll never forget the look on her face, Rich, she was so ready to beat the absolute living shit out of you!” Eddie brayed, stray pieces of pasta escaping his mouth as he spoke, disgusting, but in the dim light of the restaurant, Eddie didn’t care.

The wind whipped at Eddie’s face when they staggered out of the restaurant three hours and ninety dollars later, and Richie grabbed at Edide’s chin roughly.

“You never left, did you?”

“You know I fuckin’ didn’t”

“I shouldn’t have left without you, I never should have left you there.”

Eddie pushed at Richie, gentle enough not to hurt but with enough force that Richie staggered backwards. “It wouldn’t have made a difference. I’ve grown roots, Rich. I’m … I’m stuck there, like one of those plants that hibernates over winter but blooms in summer. I would have dragged you down with me.”

Richie readjusted his grip on Eddie’s chin, and tipped Eddie’s head up. Their eyes met.

“I nearly kissed you when I left, you know.” Richie said. “I really nearly did, got this close, but you looked so …”

“So what?”

“Fine. You looked fine. You didn’t even cry.”

Eddie blinked. “I cried every day for a month after you left. Then every other day for at least six after that. I cried so much my mother sent me to the fucking doctor because she thought I had hysteria.”

Richie barked out a laugh, a sad wet noise that sounded more like a sob. “I left you.”

Eddie pushed his face up, out of Richie’s grip, and pushed his lips against Richie’s trembling ones. The kiss is small, timid and Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulder and clung, limpet-like.

It doesn’t last. Richie’s crying too much.

The next day, Eddie leaves.

The fourth time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he leaves, and never looks back.

(this has been sat in my drafts since early March.)

[kirnet]

Of Course

Dorotea x Adam. 2k words

Dorotea was nothing if not honest.

She was almost famed for it around Wayhaven. If you wanted a second opinion or you wanted a dispute settled, you went to Detective Langford. Sure, you might not like the answer, but you could be assured it was the right one.

As much as she hated to admit it, she had a reputation to upkeep. She had been dancing around the truth for too long. She had to be honest with herself.

She had hit a wall. This damn investigation was going nowhere.

Dorotea leaned back in her armchair and rubbed her eyes, sending a few books piled precariously around her tumbling to the floor. The library was overflowing with stacks of tomes that she had ripped from the shelves in a desperate attempt to find any lead after her failed hours in the lab. To Dorotea’s frustration, there was hardly any evidence to work off of, just some contaminated blood samples and vague eyewitness accounts. It was making her pull her hair out, though she supposed she should be thankful that she hadn’t been kidnapped yet. 

“Tea? What happened to my study?”

Nate’s kind face appeared from behind one of the stacks, somehow still angelic despite his grimace. Slowly, he began to maneuver around the piles, quickly throwing his hands up to steady one when he knocked it with his hip. “I see we’re… redecorating.”

Dorotea sprang from her chair, knocking a few more books over. With a wince, she dropped to the floor and started gathering them up. “Shit. I’m sorry, Nate. The sample was coming up empty so I thought I’d find something here.” Nate was beside her, pressing into her shoulder as he fumbled with the remaining books. She leaned into his broad frame for a second before heaving herself off of the ground. “Don’t worry. I’ll clean this up.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t find anything in here either,” Nate mumbled as he unloaded the books on an empty shelf. “You tore this place up.”

“If you let me digitize the library we won’t have to tear it up.” Dorotea nudged him with her elbow. “Technology can be a good thing, old man.” He grumbled something she didn’t catch before going back for another stack. “I said I got this, Nate. It’s my mess.”

“Tea, no offense, you look like you need a break.” To emphasize his point, he lightly pushed her shoulder and quickly grabbed her arm when she started to fall over. “You’ve spent all day working on this. The least I can do is help clean up.” Mustering up her most menacing glare, Dorotea slowly bent down and picked up another book. Nate just smiled and took it from her hands. “Humans need sleep. I don’t.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Dorotea relented after a few seconds more of unsuccessful glaring. “Just a quick break, then I’ll help you finish up.” She gave Nate a quick hug before grabbing her keys and phone off the table. “And we are not done talking about digitizing.”

Nate lightly pushed her again, a smile on both of their faces. “Go. Rest.”

Now that Nate had mentioned it, she did feel burned out. Trying to brute force through the day certainly wasn’t helping the pressure building behind her eyes. She needed to clear her head.

Twirling her keys, Dorotea made for the front door to the Warehouse. A midnight drive with Dolly Parton blasting at a supersonic volume sounded like just the thing she needed. 

“Leaving already, Detective?” 

She turned to see Adam leaning against the doorframe and lightly massaging his hands. He wiped the barely noticeable sheen of sweat off his forehead, his usual tee shirt straining around his thick arms. “I thought you were doing research.”

“Yeah, I hit a wall. Gonna go for a drive.” She looked him up and down. “Training?”

“Just finished. You’re going to go off by yourself when we have an unknown threat in the area?”

“Of course. What, are you new?” She chuckled at his sour reaction. “Want to tag along?”

With a dramatic sigh, Adam pushed himself off of the doorframe. “I suppose I have to, if you keep insisting on running headfirst into danger.”

Dorotea scoffed. “How many times do I have to tell y’all that I can handle myself.” She pursed her lips. “Though I suppose getting attacked again would speed up the investigation.”

“I was referring to that thing you call a vehicle. I am well aware of your personal capabilities.”

They exchanged a quick look as Adam easily fell into step beside her before settling into silence for the rest of the walk. A wave of pleasantly night cool air hit Dorotea as Adam opened the door for her. 

“I can’t believe you still drive this thing,” Adam stated with disgust as Dorotea unlocked the hatchback’s door. “It’s a safety risk.”

“You offering to give me a raise?” Dorotea deadpanned as she slid into the driver’s seat. “‘Cause that’s the only way I can afford to stop driving this ‘thing.’” She drew out the last word, poking an accusatory finger into Adam’s toned chest. “I take damn good care of her, thank you very much.” 

“I’ll be sure to remember that when ‘she’ breaks down on this-” He was silenced by a swat to the arm. 

“Oh, hush. You’re more than welcome to stay behind if you’re gonna complain so much.”

Adam buckled his seatbelt with a huff. 

“Good,” Dorotea said through her grin. “And we’re listening to Dolly. Nonnegotiable.”

The summer night sky was delightfully clear as Dorotea maneuvered the hatchback through the winding forest roads. The drive had mostly been spent in comfortable quiet, with Dorotea happily humming along to the country music and focusing on the road, and Adam pointedly looking at anything else that wasn’t her. Though he was having some difficulty, as the pitch black night that swallowed up the world around them wasn’t nearly as interesting to look at. 

He shook his head at the thought. “You haven’t actually told me where we’re going,” he said, sparing a glance at Dorotea.

“That’s because it was gonna be a surprise,” she chuckled, not taking her eyes off of the road. “But if you’re so worried: it’s an abandoned coal mine deep in the woods. Spent a lot of time exploring there in high school.” 

Adam blinked. “A coal mine?” 

Dorotea raised her hand before he could continue. “I know it doesn’t exactly cater to your expensive tastes, Adam, but it’s a nice spot. Great for stargazing, too.”

Adam fully turned to her at this. “Stargazing? Are you serious?”

“What?” Dorotea snorted. “It’s the one day of the summer that isn’t hot and sweaty as balls. I intend on taking full advantage of it.” Adam raised his eyebrow at the imagery that tactful statement conjured, but kept his mouth shut and turned back to watch the road. “Stop scowling. We’re almost there.”

Soon enough, they were turning off the main road and heading down a sigogglin dirt path, the passengers bouncing uncomfortably as the car lurched on every bump and wayward branch. A few minutes later, the tree branches stopped scraping against the roof as the path opened up into a large clearing. Dorotea parked and left the headlights on. “The pit’s over yonder.” She gestured vaguely to the side as she pulled herself out of the car. “There’s an underground entrance to the west, too, but we’re gonna stay right here.” She made her way to the back of the car, cursing when the trunk wouldn’t open.

“Ah! There we go,” she exclaimed after a swift kick popped the trunk open. She ignored Adam’s horrified look and pushed a bundle into his arms. “It’s a blanket. Go lay it down somewhere nice.” He rolled his eyes but followed the order without complaint, spreading the blanket down on a grassy part of the clearing as Dorotea turned off the headlights. 

“Would ya look at that.” Dorotea let out an appreciative whistle as she turned her head up to the sky, the entire tapestry of stars bright and visible against the darkness. “Isn’t it grand?” 

Adam could barely whisper a reply as he lost himself in the magnificent sight. How long had it been since he had looked up at the sky like this? How long had it been since he had simply allowed himself to appreciate something?

Someone?

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “It is.”

“Huh? Sorry, could you keep talking? I can’t see shit.”

“Of course,” Adam chuckled. “Over here, Detective.”

Slowly, with Adams' help, Dorotea made her way over to the blanket. Adam reached out and pulled her the last couple of steps until they were standing toe-to-toe, his hand wrapped loosely around her arm. He tried his best to ignore the flutter in Dorotea’s heartbeat.

“Uh, thank you, Adam,” she coughed as he pulled his hand away. She plopped herself down on the ground and lay back, stretching out languorously. When Adam didn’t follow suit, she pulled on his pant leg. “Hurry up, now. We don’t have all night.”

“I was under the impression that we did,” Adam grunted as he lay down beside her. “I didn’t know this was an urgent stargazing mission.”

Dorotea barked out a laugh. “Well, it is now. I promised Nate I’d help him clean up the study.” She winced. “Though I probably should have remembered that before driving all the way out here. Whoops.”

“I’m sure you’ll be forgiven,” Adam laughed quietly. “Though I wouldn’t make it a habit.”

The soft laughter faded away, leaving only the cacophony of the cicadas and the rustling of the trees in the breeze. Dorotea shifted closer to Adam’s warmth before pointing up at the sky. “That’s Ursa Major. Ursa Minor. Polaris. That one’s Cassiopeia. I think.”

“What about that one?” Adam whispered.

Dorotea squinted. “I can’t see what you’re pointing at. We don’t all have vampire eyes, you know.” 

Her breath hitched as a strong, calloused hand closed around her own. Gently, Adam lifted both their hands up to the sky and aligned them with a bright star. “Here. That one.”

“That-” her mind hiccupped as Adam squeezed her hand. “That’s Saturn. And that-” she moved their hands over slightly and extended her pointer finger. Adam did the same, resting his flush against hers so that they both pointed together. “That should be Jupiter.”

“What else?”

“Well, there’s Sirius. I’m pretty sure that’s Sagittarius.” She traced the outline with their fingers. “I think it’s supposed to be a centaur.”

“I believe that you’re correct.” His voice was husky.

Dorotea swallowed thickly and pointed again. “That’s the moon. Obvious, but important.” The cool air did nothing to calm the burn in her cheeks. “I’m running out of things to impress you with.”

She turned her head towards Adam to share in the joke and almost jumped out of her skin when she felt his breath fan her lips. She could practically feel his eyes on her as she leaned forward a little, their noses just touching.

“Adam?”

“Yes, Tea?” She barely heard him. He started stroking her hand with his thumb.

“Could I kis-”

A flash of light cut her off as she startled. Adam immediately released her hand and stood up. Dorotea’s phone continued to vibrate next to her on the blanket. “You have got to be fucking kidding- Hello?” she barked, not bothering to look at the caller I.D.

“Dorotea?” Rebecca’s crisp voice came through the phone. “Nate just made a breakthrough. Where are you?”

“Oh, hi Rebecca.” Dorotea sighed and rubbed her eyes. “He did? That’s great. We went out for a drive but we’ll come right back.”

“We? Is Adam with you?” As if on cue, Adam tapped Dorotea’s shoulder and offered his hand, gently pulling her off the ground when she took it. She patted him on the back as a quick “thanks” before answering.

“Yeah, he is. We’ll be back in thirty.” She hung up before her mother could respond. Turning her phone flashlight on, she watched Adam finish folding up the blanket. “Did you catch all that?”

“Of course,” was his simple answer as he walked towards the car, leaving her standing by herself. With a groan, she stole one last look at the sky. Restful break, her ass.

“Coming, Detective?”

She pulled her keys out of her pocket and half-jogged to catch up to him. “Of course. As always.”

[theskyeandsea]

When You Get What You Want... || Cutler & Skylar

Timing: Late January 19th,  shortly after this chatzy

Location: Clarke’s Convenience Store

Tagging: @clarkesconvenience & @theskyeandsea

Description: Skylar’s rampage around town continues; Cutler offers a helping hand.

Warnings: Drug use, addiction, body horror, memory loss, medical blood

Disoriented and covered in flour and blood, Skylar stumbled down the road away from the shop, a giddy smile still on her face as her feet began to skip across the pavement. She bounded down the road before turning abruptly, eyes caught by the displays in the window. Staggering forward, she pressed her fingers against the glass and the same sticking sensation filled her. The atoms and molecules and all the tiny parts of what made her a person shifted until she was crashing into the center of the convenience store. With a dazed grin on her face, Skylar began to push displays over. Blood trickled down the side of her face from her ear, a clean jagged section of her earlobe ripped free and stuck in the glass of the convenience store. She barely noticed as the liquid splattered across the clean floors while she shoved at the shelves. Cutler had been mentally preparing himself for a break-in since he had come home. It was bound to happen eventually, as it had for his parents several times over the course of his childhood. When it did, he would handle it the same way his parents had: with calm, slow movements and total compliance. 

It didn’t go that way. 

For one thing, he had expected it to happen while the shop was open and the money would still be in the register. Instead, the crashing sound of displays being toppled downstairs had awoken him in the early hours of the morning. The cool and collected man of his practiced break-in fantasies was quickly replaced with a groggy version of himself in a wrinkled t-shirt and boxers, squinting in the dim light. 

Slowly, he took in the scene before him in pieces. Spidery crimson tracks spilling down pale skin and dripping onto waxed tile, collapsed shelving units spilling all manner of dried goods onto the floor, and a familiar, crazed look behind wide, dark pupils. He had dealt with this many times in the ER. Well, maybe not this, exactly, but he knew intoxication when he saw it. His hand hovered over the light switch to his right and he called out before clicking the buzzing fluorescents on above them, “You need some help.” A statement, not a question; carried with the arrogant weight of medical school behind it. “I can patch that up for you.” 

Stepping on bags of spices, Skylar took particular joy in watching as the dried herbs crumbled under her shoes. She ran her hand along the shelves, knocking more and more of the goods onto the ground, blood dripping across the crinkly bags. And then, she realized she wasn’t alone. Someone had entered from the back of the shop. Skylar spun around to look at him, tilting her head at him quizzically. “Help? I don’t need help, I have all the help I need.” She said with a giddy smile on her face, her teeth bright and gleaming in the lowlight. “Don’t want patches, nope, I don’t need another patchwork skin, nuh uh.” She said to herself, rubbing the sores on her arms as she spoke. She could feel something leaking from the raw abscesses that dotted her legs, but the pain was like a distant memory, far far away from her right now.

Bright white light washed over the store, revealing the full extent of the damage. Product littered the floor under the shifting soles of his unsteady guest. Cutler dropped his hand from the light switch and walked forward, sidestepping the lentil spillage by his feet. “Uh huh.” The wheels in his mind ground against each other, desperately trying to wake up in time to process the finer details of the situation that wouldn’t come together. Sharpened teeth inside a lazy grin and his front door still locked and unbroken; pieces of a puzzle that refused to click. “Can I take a look?” The wounds on her body were various levels of depth and severity, ranging from dark and old to bright and fresh. The whip-sharp crack of a brown paper bag crinkling under his foot caused him to freeze in place. He stared, cautious and gentle, afraid she would startle like a wild animal. His hand extended slowly, pale pink underside raised to her in timid surrender. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You know it makes it worse when you scratch them.” His voice continued in a muted string of comforting sound, filling the space between them. “Nothing intensive. Just get something on that ear, stop the bleeding. Do a once over for breaks and fractures, maybe disinfect those sores. If it’s food you want, I can get you some of that, too.” 

Skylar watched as the man continued to walk towards her, slow, so slow. She didn’t want to slow down, she didn’t want to pause to stop and think and let all the thoughts she’d left behind catch back up to her. She just wanted to ride this wild, cresting high as far as it would take her and this man? No, no, no, he seemed like he’d put a stop to it. When he asked to look at her, Skylar squinted at him. “Why?” She asked. He took another step and then froze for some reason that she wasn’t quite sure of. There was a muffled sound, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Running her finger tips around her ears, Skylar remembered why. “Oh, that makes sense.” She said, tapping the place where her hearing aids normally rested. Focusing back on the man, she laughed. “You can’t hurt me, even if you wanted to. Even if I wanted you to,” Skylar paused, staring down at the blood that covered her. Looking up at him abruptly, she asked, “Do you think I need help?” Cutler watched her fingers lower from her ears, slick with blood. There was no alarm in her face as they came away, only a laugh that felt discordant and wrong. Even if I wanted you to. When her eyes met his, he felt his heart clatter against his ribcage with deafening irregularity. Something distinctly inhuman looked back at him. Or maybe it was the lack of something. “I do.” He replied, hoping his honesty would cut through the frenetic, animalistic energy to the person behind it. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Accepting help.” 

Another step toward her. She was almost within his reach now. He blinked slowly, a prayer running across the back of his eyelids: Please don’t fight me. “At the very least, let me get some gauze on that. You’re bleeding all over my floor.” His hand reached up and touched his own ear instinctively, brushing against his full intact earlobe. He ran his tongue across the flat backs of his own teeth, feeling the square edges. Hers were definitely unnatural. Modified, maybe. “I haven’t even asked your name. How rude of me.” A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, echoing the grin he might have worn in lighter circumstances. “I’m Cutler. And you are?” 

He thought she needed help. But so had everyone else and that wasn’t what she’d wanted. Erin and Morgan and Leah and even Shiloh and Rio. They all said they wanted to help, but how could she know that? Skylar mulled over his words, tapping her fingers against her chin, ignoring the way the pads of her fingers stuck to her skin. All of them knew her, they all knew her and they knew what she was and who she was and even if they didn’t know why she was-- Skylar didn’t know why she was even though she could remember every pretty little pill she’d swallowed-- they knew what she should be. And this man didn’t. So maybe that made his help real. “Okay.” She said blithely, not realizing how much tension hung between the two of them. “Oh, but there is. Because people will help you and help you and help you and then one day, they leave. Because they’re too tired of putting up with all your shit and think it’s better to quit while they’re ahead.” She said earnestly. 

At the mention of his floors, Skylar glanced down to the mess of crushed herbs and ruined inventory that were spattered with a thick trail of blood. “Oh. Whoops. I have a lot,” She said with a nod, before gesturing around at the mess. “Of blood. Lots of blood. This is… probably okay.” She said with a shrug. Squinting at him, Skylar repeated his name. “Cut-ler.” She let out a slight giggle, wondering where her knife had gone. Cutler. She could make that literal. “I’m Skylar.” She said, before looking expectantly at him. “So, are you going to help me not bleed all over your floors?”

Cutler listened intently. Someone had hurt this girl, and he didn't intend to be the next in the long line of grievances she had suffered. "If people desert you, that's their shame. Not yours." The contempt in his voice bled through and he swallowed it back down into his stomach. "I'm not going anywhere."

He followed her gaze down to the floor, and back up to her nonchalant shrug. "That's me. You ever go by Sky? I've gone by Cut to my friends." His mouth moved on it's own, giving his mind a chance to catch up with the unreality of the situation. 

"It is a lot of blood, huh. Whooole lotta blood. Still limited supply, though." A deep sigh shot downward as his hands drifted to the resting spot on his hips where his apron drawstrings usually hung. He focused his gaze back on Skylar, unwilling to think about the cleanup he was going to have to do later. Alone, of course. No insurance company is gonna cover an illegal surgery. "Let's get something on that. I've got supplies back here. Gauze and tape and uh, all sorts of stuff. You need a hand?" 

Shrugging, Skylar’s mind wandered to all the people she’d loved, who’d left this place, who’d left her behind because they had to go. Nic and Winston and Remmy, they’d left. They hadn’t abandoned her, not the way Ricky and her parents had, but they’d left this town and they’d left her too. “Sometimes people leave and that’s just what happens. And then you’re left trying to figure out who you were without them.” Skylar said with a nod. 

“S-K-Y-E, yup. Just friends, though.” She said as she followed behind him, her footprints leaving thick smears against the linoleum flooring of the shop. At his question, she shook her head vigorously. “I don’t want a hand, nope, nope. Got two right here, don’t need more.” She said. “One of my friends kept losing their hands, but now they’re gone.” Skylar said, mostly to herself. “Gone, gone, gone.”

Cutler led the way to the back of the store, propping the EMPLOYEES ONLY door open with a coffee can of ice salt. “Alright, no hands. No problem.” Beyond the crack of the door, a grey cement room stared back at them, devoid of all the usual upholstery; no shelving, or paint, or tiling. The floor sloped ever so slightly downward, puckering at a large metal drain. Under the naked bulbs above him, he knelt to root through a box, pulling out various medical supplies and glancing over every so often to assess the damage. 

“Skylar.” He called back, tendons in his neck jumping with the strain. “What hurts? Can you tell me if anything hurts inside?” As he ambled back toward her, his gaze shifted from sympathetic to critical, mind kicking into higher gear. Silicon gloves rolled down his wrists and his hand paused inches from her lesioned arm, waiting for permission. “Is there any point in me telling you to get rest after this?” 

Skylar hadn’t been in the back rooms of many stores before, but she had a feeling that they didn’t look much like this. Staring around as he began to pull things out of a box, Skylar’s attention dropped back to the floor as she watched droplet after droplet of greyish red splash against the tile. They began to form a small trickle, flowing down, down, down the drain. At Cutler’s words, Skylar looked up and looked at him. “Nothing hurts. Nope, nope, can’t feel anything.” She said and, to prove it, she reached up with her fingers and grasped the chunk of her ear and pulled on it. Blood ran down her fingers, but she didn’t flinch because there wasn’t any pain to feel. It was all just light and bright and nothing at the same time. Holding out her arms, she shrugged. “I can rest. Sometimes I lie down in the woods for hours and hours.” She replied.

Cutler's lips parted in protest, too late to stop her from tugging on her ear. They came back together in a constricted wince. Crimson slick coated her hand and he redirected his attention from her unusual lesions to the fresh tear beside her face. "Okay. Alright. Let's clean this up." His voice was robotically measured, practiced bedside matter. Whether he was trying to steady her or himself, he wasn't entirely sure. "No pain is good. This still might sting, though. Let me know if you want me to stop."

The act of cleaning a wound is intimate by necessity. In close quarters, he could see the rise and fall of her chest below him and the heat of her skin under the sanitizing pad. He afforded her a gentle smile. It didn't say everything he wanted to say; that he too, had lain for hours in the forest while intoxicated. That he has, on more than one occasion, injured himself while drunk and mercifully felt no pain. Instead, he opted for a subtler approach. "Mhm. That sounds nice. Peaceful. Stay still for me if you can, Skylar." The skin of her neck started to become visible as he fastened a series of bandages to the area and wiped away the gore with soft, consistent movements. "Do you know what you took?"

Skylar was barely aware of the gauze pressed against her face. She could smell the sharp of the alcohol as it was used to clean her wounds, but the moment it touched her flesh, it felt like nothing at all. There was no pain, there was no pressure, there wasn’t even hot or cold. Her entire existence was just the manic thrum of excitement and giddy happiness that she had no control over. “Nope, it doesn’t hurt. You can keep doing your stuff.” She said and let Cutler wash away the blood. Sitting still was hard, but she managed it, even as her fingers felt like they wanted to sink into the nearest wall. She couldn’t do that, no, he wanted her to stay still. And he was helping her.

“Oh, it’s really nice. Really, really nice. Sometimes I’d just stay out there for days and days, because it was better than having to feel. But this, this is even better than that. Because I’m just so happy. So, so happy. I’ve never felt this happy before.” Skylar said breathily. At his question, Skylar grinned, remembering the way the pills had looked in the palm of her hand, the way the smoke had burned in her lungs, the soft burn of the Bliss as it ran through her veins. “Some pills, something in a cigarette, a mushroom or three and lots and lots of Bliss.” She said, her expression dreamy as she thought about the box of “supplies” she had stashed away back in her room. 

Cutler concentrated on not letting his concern bleed through his expressions as he listened, resisting the downturn of his mouth and darkening of his brow. His hands moved from wound to wound, adept at giving them exactly the amount of attention they needed before moving on. When he had addressed everything in his view, he extended the white bundle of gauze toward her. “If there’s anywhere else. Underneath your-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

Of course he understood that sores don’t end at the boundaries of his patient’s clothing. It was more than likely that she had significant injuries that weren’t immediately visible. But she hadn’t come to him as a client, and he wasn’t about to start peeling clothing off a vulnerable woman, even to help her. “I need to make a quick call, anyhow. Do you mind?” His thumb was already swiping through a digital rolodex of old work contacts, distant friends, and exes. “I’ll be right over here, and you can call me if you need help. How does that sound?” 

Skylar didn’t notice the way that Cutler’s expression shifted, she was more focused on the way her fingers were wrapped in gauze. Already, she could see the tips of white beginning to darken as blood soaked through the cloth. What started out as pinpricks of color blossomed into thick circles and Skylar pressed her fingers against the side of the wall, watching as the blood spread through the gauze. As he handed her another roll of gauze, Skylar looked at it blankly for a moment before realizing what he was saying. That’s right, she had the gash-- a gaping slash, a gash-- on her side. Mm, she should take care of it.

With clumsy hands, Skylar slid her hands under her shirt and pressed the pad of gauze against her bleeding side. It was hard wrapping the bandages around, but she managed it after a bit of effort. At Cutler’s words, Skylar tilted her head. “What are you doing?” She asked, standing back up, the world shifting around her as she did. Her head felt light, lighter than air, as her vision went black round the edges, but she didn’t care. Taking a step forward, Skylar shook her head. “Who are you calling?” Doctors? Hunters? People who’d poke her, prod her, hurt her, kill her? No, no, no. 

Cutler’s eyes only flicked down to his hand for a moment, enough to dial but not enough time for his impromptu patient to injure herself further. He hoped. Next to his ear, the phone rang out. Once, twice. In his periphery, Skylar wrapped the gauze around her body. She looked strangely fragile in the unshaded bulbs; white fluorescents piercing sickly pale skin to sharp bone underneath. “I’m just making a call.” His chin tilted upward, speaking away from the still-ringing cell. Before he could come up with a lie that she would accept-not that he thought he had one ready-the soft click over the phone alerted him to the presence of someone on the other end. 

He shifted away slightly, hoping the broad slopes of his shoulders would shield the storage room from the soft words he was speaking into the phone. “Hi, it’s Cut. Sorry about the hour. Yeah, yeah, long time. Listen, I need a favour. Do you still work at the Crisis Response Unit? I’ve got a young woman here who’s in distress. No cops, she just needs-” He was interrupted by scuffling behind him, turning just in time to see Skylar getting to her feet. She swayed so slowly that the room seemed to tilt with her. “Skylar-” His protest died in his throat as she lurched forward with surprising intensity, causing him to take a mirroring step backward. She was substantially smaller than him, but something in her eyes caused his heart to leap to his throat. It took another step forward for him to recognize it. Hatred. “It’s just an old friend. She might be able to help you. Better than I can.” 

As the man turned his back on her, Skylar’s ears strained to pick up his hushed tones. She couldn’t pick up specifics, but her mind was already buzzing with possibilities of who was on the other line. Her eyes flicked around wildly, looking at the strange utensils that were laid out neatly on the table he’d taken her to. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered that this was… a store. A shop in the center of town. With packets of chips and gum but also scissors and scalpels and gauze and gloves. Lips curling into a feral grimace, Skylar reached out and grabbed one of the shiny silvery tools from the table and pointed it at Cutler.

“Put down the phone.” Skylar said clearly, glaring at him while blood pounded in her ears. She could stab at him, plunge the tip of the scalpel into his chest over and over and over. She could lunge at him and bury her teeth into the soft flesh of his throat. She could rip him to pieces, she could hurt him, hurt him the way that Hunters wanted to hurt her. A trap, was this all a trap? “I don’t want your friend’s help-- I don’t, I don’t even want your help.” She sneered, tempted to rip the cotton gauze from her hands just to prove it to him. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I could. I could want to hurt you.” She said with another laugh, shaking her head. “So just, just put down the phone.”

The voice on the other end of the line began to rise into a higher register, tinny treble crackling through the rectangular mic at the bottom of the screen. “I’m completely fine. No one’s gonna hurt anyone here. Let me call you back.” Cutler spoke the words loudly and clearly, hoping the slight shaking his hand didn’t translate to his voice. Light flashed off the thin reflective blade of the scalpel. It was a tiny little thing, almost dwarfed in her white knuckle grip, but it could do serious damage. He knew that better than anyone. 

“I’m putting it down.” The phone clattered to the cement floor, sending a nervous jolt through his body. Nice, Cutler. “I don’t think-” His tongue felt heavy against his sticky-dry lips, struggling to form the words he wanted to say. “I don’t think you’re a bad person. And I don’t think you really want to hurt me. If you did, you would have done it by now, right? You’ve had plenty of chances.”

Skylar watched as the man spoke, her eyes trained on him. The lights were bright and sharp around the two of them and it made the scalpel in her fingers glimmer like quicksilver. Liquid in her fingers, she could let it flash out, once, twice, a hundred times, she thought. She could let it slither from her grasp and embed itself into the man’s body, she could watch the blood flow, so slow, down down down the drain. It would be so easy, so quick. A sliver of silver, a knife, a life. The dull thudding of the phone against the floor brought her back to her senses and Skylar nodded. “Yup, it’s down.” She said before kicking out a foot, sending the phone skittering away.

“I could, I could. Everyone could. Everyone wants to hurt people, everything’s only ever wanted to hurt me. Why shouldn’t I hurt someone else? Why shouldn’t I be just like them?” Skylar asked, though the scalpel was already lowering in her hand. She didn’t want to. She didn’t really want to do that. Her arms felt weary, heavier than they’d felt in… well, she couldn’t remember. But the weight of the sharp blade in her fingers felt as though it was dragging her to the floor, pulling her down. “I never wanted to be like this.” She said gesturing to herself with the scalpel, hands waving wildly. “I thought I was normal. I thought everyone was normal. But it’s not and I’m not and I’m just some… thing. Some kind of monster.” Skylar said before letting out a watery laugh. Swiping at her face with her free hand, Skylar wondered when she’d started crying-- why was she even crying? There was nothing to be sad about, nothing to feel. “I-- I…” She stammered, shaking her head as she backed away towards the door she’d come from. Tossing the scalpel away, she looked at the man, mind caught between the urge to charge at him and to run far, far away from him. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” She said, shaking as she turned around and ran.

Cutler watched a thousand emotions pass over Skylar’s face in an instant. One well-placed slash with the scalpel in her hand and it could be over for him. The karmic balancing of the scales; a fitting end for him, maybe. But she wasn’t going to. He could see it even before her arm started to lower. She was at breaking point, tears overflowing their hitch-breath confines and words spilling out of her, stream-of-consciousness. “I know.” He said softly. And he did. He knew that she wouldn’t let him help. That she was leaving, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. “I know.” 

For a moment, it appeared as if she had changed her mind and decided to tackle him anyway and he tensed, ready to parry or dodge whatever she threw at him, including herself. At the last second, she pivoted, running by him in close quarters. A quicker man might have blocked the door. A stronger man might have reached a hand out to stop her as she passed. Cutler was neither of these things. Instead, he just watched her go.

[let-me-write-shit]

Like We Used To: 6

A/N: And I - oop. Things are about to get heateddddd. Can you guess what’s gonna happen in the next few chapters? What do you WANT to happen?

Also, what do we think about smut? Yay or nay? Will it ruin the story or make it better? Let me know before I continue.

ENJOY!

[ONE] [TWO] [THREE] [FOUR] [FIVE] ------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER SIX

The night air was crisp and the stars had started to shine as the sun had set only an hour ago. Elizabeth managed to swipe a blanket that had been randomly draped on a chair in the eat-in kitchen on the way out, wrapping it around herself. She peered up at Harry as he led her down the lawn and towards the docks feeling surprisingly confident. After their unexpected 2 AM talk, their friendship seemed to be so effortless now. As much as Elizabeth tried to avoid it at first, their relationship seemed to have grown quickly back to what it felt like when they were teenagers. 

‘This is what it must have felt like for the others,’ Heather thought. ‘If I hadn’t built up that wall, it would have been easier for us to fall back into our old ways just like it had for the rest of our friends.’ Elizabeth felt the soft squish of the grass under her bare feet turn rough when they stepped onto the dock.

“Matt didn’t seem too keen on me tonight, did he?” Harry spoke as they both sat at the end of the dock. He crossed his legs while Elizabeth rolled up the hem of her lounge pants and dipped her toes in the water.

Elizabeth sighed, looking at Harry who was gazing out at the dark water. She slipped half of her blanket around him to share and said, “Matt’s just protective. He did warn you that he had taken your place once you left.” Harry shot her a ‘watch it’ look and she laughed, “Not that anyone could ever take your place.”

There was brief silence before Harry laughed, “We really can’t even go to the bathroom alone? What if I have to take a shit?”

Elizabeth shrugged, “I’ll plug my nose and close my eyes.”

Harry laughed and cleared his throat, “So should we reveal our big secret to each other now?”

“We’ve got time. I have to think of one first.” She said before quickly realizing what he said. She nudged his arm, “You’ve got more secrets you’ve hidden from me?”

His dimples deepened and his teeth seemed to almost glow when he smiled, “I’m a man of mystery.”

“Yeah, be careful before you mysteriously get your ass whooped,” Elizabeth quipped.

An hour seemed to fly by and so far there weren’t any fights. In fact, Elizabeth didn’t think she had laughed that much in years. They filled each other in on what’s happened since they lost touch, talked about movies they enjoyed, and shared some really embarrassing stories with each other, yet they still felt at ease. This dare wasn’t so bad after all. 

By now their buzz from the alcohol had disappeared and was replaced with hunger as Elizabeth’s stomach started to grumble. “You know what sounds so good right now? Ice cream.”

“Let’s go get some,” Harry suggested.

Elizabeth groaned, “But we can’t have any other human interaction, remember?”

“Who said anything about human interaction?” Harry grinned mischievously, “I passed a 24 hour store down the street on the way here. It has a self checkout. No human interaction necessary. All we have to do is sneak inside, grab our shoes and my car keys and slip out. No one even has to know we left.”

“I like your style, Styles,” Elizabeth smiled, standing up, “Fine. But try not to let them hear you.”

The two of them jogged up the hill towards the sliding glass door, playfully pushing and shushing each other along the way. Slowly, they slid the door open and stepped in, hearing muffled voices in the direction of the parlor. 

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Elizabeth whispered, “My shoes and purse are already by the front door. There’s a greater chance of someone catching us if we both go up to your room to get your stuff. So, if you can channel your inner ninja and sneak up to your room as quickly as you can to grab your stuff, you can meet me out front. Okay? Just don’t let anyone catch you without me or we’re screwed.”

Harry nodded, chanting, “channel my inner ninja,” a few times and they both set off, silently running past the door frame of the parlor room and towards the bottom of the stairs that met the front door. Elizabeth started pulling on her shoes and Harry whispered, “Wish me luck,” before creeping up the steps.

Elizabeth bounced on her toes and crossed her arms nervously waiting for Harry to come out. It was getting colder now and she regretted not bringing that blanket along. She half contemplated sneaking around to the back of the house to grab it before she heard the door crack open.

“Jesus, I thought you got caught!” Elizabeth breathed when Harry quietly closed the door behind him. “We are not separating again until midnight. That gave me way too much anxiety.”

“You just want me all to yourself, Lizzy. Admit it,” Harry smirked, shuffling his keys and a pile of fabric around in his arms that he had stretched out and dangled in front of Elizabeth as an offering. “Here, thought you might want this.” It was his hoodie. 

“For me? Oh, thanks!”

Elizabeth slipped it over her head, grateful for the warmth it provided and taking in the subtly spicy scent that lingered from his undoubtedly expensive cologne,  following Harry to his classic, yellow, two-seater car. He opened the door for her and smiled as she slid in. It was very clean and smelled like it had been recently detailed. 

When Harry started up the car, the engine rumbled a little louder than she had expected which made her slightly nervous, but he quickly managed to shift the gears and drive. With a flick of a knob on the dash, the car filled with the sound of Pat Benatar singing ‘Shadow of the Night’.

“No way!” Elizabeth shouted and burst into song.

Harry smiled from ear to ear as he watched his old friend dancing wildly in her seat, belting very off-key to the music and he decided to join in, continuing like that for the next three songs that played until they reached the store. There weren’t many people there, but Harry pulled his hood over his head, just in case, as they bee-lined to the ice cream.

“Let’s hope you don’t get recognized,” Elizabeth said.

“Story of my life,” Harry muttered, scanning the freezer shelves, “Why are there so many?!”

“There’s not that many,” Elizabeth laughed, grabbing a personal size jar of classic chocolate and groaned, “Hurry up, Harry! I’m hungry!”

“I take my flavor choice very seriously, thank you very much!” He stuck his tongue out at her and grabbed a small tub of Magnum white chocolate vanilla.

They grabbed a box of plastic spoons on the way to the self check-out where only one other person was finishing their transaction. Harry stole Elizabeth’s ice cream out of her hands saying, “It’s on me,” and scanned it.

“What a gentleman,” Elizabeth smiled, pulling her freezing cold hands into the sleeves of the hoodie Harry lent her and looked around the store. “Uh, Harry? You need to hurry,” she urged, tapping his back. A girl, close in age, was staring over at them. Harry had looked up after inserting his credit card into the machine to see what Elizabeth was talking about, and when he did, the girl instantly recognized him and started walking towards them.

“Harry!” Elizabeth whined under her breath, “No human interaction, remember?”

“Shit!” he muttered, pressing buttons frantically. As soon as the transaction was complete he spouted, “Run!”, grabbing the bag in one hand and her wrist in the other, leaving the receipt behind.

The girl picked up her pace, but Harry and Elizabeth managed to make it to the car and hightail it out of there before she could catch up to them. They panted, trying to catch their breath before howling in laughter from the adrenaline. 

Elizabeth looked over at Harry, capturing the details of his face. His stubble was starting to grow out which somehow made the depth of his dimples even more noticeable. His lips were wet from his tongue and she could see smile lines which were prominent at the edge of his eyes and the corners of his lips making her wonder about all the things he’s been through in the past nine years to cause them. She saw the veins in his hands that gripped the steering wheel and gear shift, and the black paint that was starting to chip on his nails. 

His laughter started to settle, but when he looked over at her with his radiant smile Elizabeth twisted in her seat, realizing that it was happening. She was starting to fall for him again.

‘It’s fine,’ she thought to herself, ‘I liked him all throughout school without anything happening. I can do that again. I’ve got more restraint now.’

It took them a little longer to get back because Harry had gotten lost and they weren’t allowed to use their phones for directions, but they eventually got back on track and pulled into the driveway. Elizabeth recommended that they quarantine themselves in his room since Kate and Lewis eavesdropped on their last conversation they had in her room. Luckily the front door was still unlocked and they darted up the two flights of stairs to his room without being seen.

Harry tossed their bag of food onto his bed and they kicked off their shoes. Elizabeth looked around the room. His duffel bag was open on a chair in the corner of the room with some shirts hanging out. The bed was clearly slept in and she noticed his rings on top of the nightstand beside his bed next to a glass of water that was half full.  

“If you’re done snooping,” Harry smirked, patting the space beside him on the bed.

Elizabeth plopped on the bed next to him and sarcastically said, “Well I’m a bit disappointed that you didn’t light some candles and cover the room in rose petals for me, but you did buy me ice cream, so I guess it’ll do for now.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry laughed, “I’ll remember that for the next time I try to seduce you.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, smirked, and took a spoonful of her ice cream, “Mr. Styles, what makes you think you’ll get a second chance to seduce me?”

Harry smiled nervously at his pants, picking at a loose thread before looking up at her and saying, “I never did tell you that you looked beautiful at the wedding yesterday.”

Elizabeth’s chest fell to her stomach and she smiled sweetly at him, “Thank you, Harry.” She almost certainly started to blush.

The two talked a little bit longer, sharing spoonfuls of each other’s ice cream, enjoying more laughs together when Harry’s face suddenly turned serious.

“Uh...Lizzy?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry, but I have to pee so bad!”

Elizabeth sighed with a slight giggle, “Oh, thank GOD! I’ve had to pee for the past hour!”

They both went into Harry’s bathroom and Elizabeth went first. Harry turned around as she pulled her pants down, noticing the pile of dirty clothes on the floor next to his shower.

“I bet this is the point where most of the people who get this dare start freaking out; because they don’t wanna have to pee around someone,” Elizabeth said, wiping and pulling her pants up.

“I don’t know,” Harry’s voice was muffled because he was facing the opposite direction, “I could listen to you pee all day.”

She flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet, kicking the back of Harry’s foot to signal that it was okay for him to turn around and playfully said, “You know, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Alright, you!” Harry warned, “turn around. If you want to see my penis you’ve gotta take me on a date first.”

Elizabeth laughed and turned around joking, “Is that not what we’re doing? My ice cream adventure wasn’t date-worthy enough for you?”

“No, I want candles and rose petals,” Harry mocked her.

“Well if that’s how you feel, just be grateful it wasn’t Daisy who was picked. She wouldn’t have even given you the chance to finish your ice cream,” Elizabeth joked. She heard him finish, flush, and start the faucet so she turned around and saw his serious expression.

“I’m glad it was you,” he said to her, lathering the soap in his hands.

Elizabeth blushed and they both walked into his room silently, taking a seat back on his bed. She could tell by his demeanor that something was bothering him.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

He hesitated, looking at the wall before turning to her, “Lizzy it’s been over 2 hours now. Are we really going to carry on pretending we didn’t just say those things down there?”

“What things?”

“....Everything!” Harry vexed, “How we both, you know, fantasized about each other. About how I told you that I liked you.”

“What about it?” Elizabeth asked, unsure of where this conversation could possibly go. What did he want? To talk out their fantasies about each other? That was nine years ago. “I don’t think much can come out of this conversation. We used to have crushes on each other at some point. Like you said, we were horny teenagers. What good does this information do now?”

“It wasn’t just at one point, Lizzy!” Harry protested, “It was throughout all of high school. Through both girlfriends I had, and all three of your boyfriends I liked you. You’re saying that we both liked each other and we could have been together that whole time? Does that not piss you off?”

Harry stared so deeply into her eyes that she was certain he could read her mind. Honestly, she had been thinking the same thing all night. And it hurt. But, again, that was in the past.

“Yeah, I know. It sucks!” Elizabeth frowned, “but that was then. It was so long ago. Who knows what would have happened if we dated? You might not be where you are right now.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry retorted, “but maybe I still would have, and we could have been where Kate and Lewis are right now!”

“Harry!” Elizabeth chuckled, with amused , “We would not have ended up married!”

Harry looked at her, irritation glowing in his eyes. ‘This is it,’ she thought. ‘The card is doing it’s thing. Maybe it really is cursed.’

KEEP READING

[maljic]

i have been working in the grocery industry practically my entire life. for many companies, and in many many positions. i’ve seen hurricane panic buys, i have seen post hurricane apocalypses, i have closed stores, and i have opened stores. i have been to backroom recoveries, i have worked small stores and big stores. i have seen h1n1, and i have now seen covid19. and even tho this is something unprecedented, all together it’s really not. the difference here is that it’s been going on for three weeks now and there is no end in sight. the duration is what’s so new. 

so i’ve started making notes every day after i got home. just the overall experience, but also customer comments and new things being implemented. it’s a fascination change, and i wanted to write it down to maybe sometime in the future come back to this time and remember anew. 

i plan on keeping notes for the foreseeable future, to keep writing a diary of sorts, to see if this ever levels out or escalates even more, if things change drastically or not at all. and if the fucking toilet paper situation ever goes away. 

things started to change the first week of march. it was super subtle, i didn’t even notice it at first. it was just a steady increase in business. a solid 20% ahead in sales all across the board. and even tho the virus was already in the news it didn’t cotton on right from the start. or it did, maybe, but i wasn’t expecting it to escalate to such heights.

tuesday, 03.10.2020 9am - 5pm

people are making their own hand sanitizer by mixing rubbing alcohol and aloe vera. we’re out of both. lady is asking me by the sun tan section about the state of deliveries of aloe vera gel. we get to talking. i admit that i don’t understand the people’s need for hand sanitizer since the cdc and every doctor ever recommends hand washing first and foremost. Susan comes out and says, ‘well the only thing that really can safe us from all this is...” and i retort with, “washing your hands, right?” but Susan claps back with, “the lord jesus christ.” and i had to excuse myself real quick and leave her ass on the aisle, because why are you fucking here then trying to potion together your own hand sanitizer, Severus, if all you need is god? 

a grown woman that’s working at the register is. coughing. non. stop. co workers comment on it to each other and to me, and i wonder if anyone has taken her aside to explain the current state of world events to her, and maybe asking her to cover her damn mouth. we’re all gonna die.

thursday, 03.12.2020 2pm - 10pm 11pm

parking is an absolute nightmare. i’m 10 mins late cause i can’t find a spot. welcome to hell. i ask my boss what the sales were yesterday and she says we’re 40% ahead of the forecast. which is ridiculous. at this point it’s pretty much a blanket permission for over time. we do not have the capacity to continue to run at this pace. people get worn out, we’re bound to get sick, and the customers are fucking relentless. truck is big. Karen and her brother Chad look at the soap section and wanna know when we get more hand sanitizer in. 

this lady is looking at things in the cold and flu section and we get to talking about shit and she mentions something she’s read on facebook and whoops my filter went poofgone and i tell her that i hope facebook dies along with all this corona virus flu and have a good evening.

at the end of my shift after we’ve finished stocking and cleaning up, i stay longer because there’s still a fuck ton of people in the store but we only have two registers open. i check people out until 11 and then peace out. one dude dropped $650 on groceries.

friday, 03.13.2020 11am - 7pm

“where is the hand sanitizer?” Karen asks. i refrain from shouting at her to get outta my face. the store is absolutely packed. lines of lengths i haven’t ever witnessed. lines and lines of people with full bascarts of stuff. the end is nigh and we are here with a front row view of it. we have a small parking lot, and i have no idea where these people’s cars are? i didnt know we could fit that many people in the store. whats the fire marshall’s max capacity guidelines? someone should review those. meanwhile i’m trying to navigate around everybody and put things on shelves that don’t last very long.

the grocery truck arrives around 3 ish and paper products get thrown out first. usually, when the truck arrives it stays locked until the night crew shows up. we’re set up to always have a trailer at the store, so when the guy shows up he unhitches his trailer, and hitches up under another trailer which was the previous day’s grocery truck, which got emptied off groceries when the night crew stocks, and then got filled with stacks of empty pallets, paper bales, and other reusable thinks like plastic trays the meat comes in, or the eggs come in, or produce plastic trays, things like that. so now that we’re in the apocalypse of paper products, the day crew gets those pallets out on the sales floor asap. at this point we have reduced the quantities of things you’re allowed to take to 3. 3 packs of toilet paper, 3 packs of paper towels... also 3 of lysol wipes and 3 of hand sanitizers even tho we dont have any, calm down, Karen. paper products are gone within an hour. 

my company makes an absolute killing that day.

saturday, 03.14.2020 10ish to whenever. 

my boss said she was coming in (on her off day) so i said yo, mind if i sleep in a bit? i was scheduled 7am and if i don’t have to i don’t want to. she said ok. i rock up at 10:08. things stop showing up on deliveries. the diaper area is sad looking. people have started to buy us out of baby wipes. there’s a problem coming at us in about 2 months. you cant flush baby wipes but since the toilet paper situation is what it is, people will wipe their butts with wet wipes. have fun with that, dallas county utility department (or whoever messes with the water wastes). 

displays are dwindling. we are not getting product, so we are filling the shelves in the aisles with the stuff that’s on displays. it’s a bit wonky looking. there’s half an endcap with shampoo and then the rest of it is filled with hersheys. its upside down world. but we have to keep things full. with whatever. empty shelves are bad bad bad, but empty endcaps are a cardinal sin. 

people waste so much food when they’re shopping. now that the shelves are getting and staying empty, people will just put things everywhere when they decide against buying the items. bags of chips, six packs of beer, gatorade whatever. that’s not really waste. but we also see bags of salad, frozen items, meats. we are currently not in the position to walk the store every half hour and collect these things. these things are all now wasted and will get thrown out. not the chips, i’m talking about the temp controlled things. being cold to the touch is not enough. shit aint safe. 

monday, 03.16.2020 8am - 4 pm 6pm

truck is gigantic. never ever have i seen a truck that big. so everything that my boss was fantasizing about me doing gets thrown out the window when the truck hits the backdoor at 11 am. everybody who is scheduled for truck is given the option to come in early. and stay until it’s all stocked. or until you’re exhausted. i help with the pharmacy stuff because that’s the biggest part. i stay until 6pm. then i’m out. 

people would like to know where the hand sanitizer is, well, sugar, so. do. i. it’s the one item that has been out since the end of february, and people are absolutely gob smacked when you tell them it’s currently unavailable. i try to appease them with some hand soap, but, stupidly, people dont want to hear that. i’m thinking to myself that in about a week soap will also be unavailable, but to each their own. customers believe that we, the workers, know the exact day and time when lysol wipes will be stocked. but when you tell them that soap is getting scarce they look at you like you’re speaking a different language.

company wide, we are not allowed to order anything right now. which is huge. how it usually works is: our system knows at all times how many items we have in the store, as per bar code, and knows how much will fit on the shelves, how much we’re selling every day/hour, and then there’s the forecasting factor. so the system will order stuff based on sold quantities, automatically. all the time. if we need extra stuff for sales and/or displays and whatnot, we order extra. 

the computer system wouldnt know, for instance, that there was a tornado in oct that wiped out our electricity and that of most of our customers, so we changed orders to reflect that. no frozen things, lots more batteries, ice, coolers. 

a lot of things ride on added orders, which are now out

from here on in, everything is up to the system, and to the powers that be. if there’s soap in the warehouse, we will get allocated with every store in the area so that everyone gets equal amounts or close to. hoarding is, apparently, frowned upon at this level too. 

tuesday, 03.17.2020 2pm - 10pm

i have come to hate the soap aisle. used to always be my favorite. so long, soap aisle, we’ve had a good run. tonight i’m stocking the pharmacy area (cold and flu, pain meds, tummy stuff, those sort of things). truck is small. super small. i try helping customers as much as i can, but most of my end of the conversation is no, sorry, we dont have any. backstocks are dwindling. the backroom is emptying out. we rely on truck deliveries for things to do and products to be put out. “do you have any [insert product here] in the back?” is the most asked questions. “there’s nothing in the back.” is the most uttered sentence all day. 

people obviously do to not get what social distance means. every aisle is packed with shoppers. i’m wasting a lot of time trying to stay out of people’s paths, but people lingeeeerrrrr what the fuck. the mayor of dallas shut everything down to flatten the curve yet here all these fuckers are doing their god damn grocery shopping like it’s 3 months ago. get in, get stuff, get out. i try conjuring up some gas to clear the aisle, but the farts won’t come

go home, people. i wish i could.

somehow our store has become the hub in our area. we get trucks in the afternoon with produce and meat, and people from other stores around us show up in trucks and suvs to transport product between stores. i’ve seen so many people that i hadn’t seen in years because they’re coming by getting shit in the afternoon. 

we lost one of our baristas. she’s retired but works with us the maximal allotted hours per week the government allows you before they yank your money. she’s living in senior housing (cause its cheap) and they’ve completely locked down and she is unable to come to work. her boss funnels her groceries. and they face time a lot. she’s doing ok.

wednesday, 03.18.2020 10am - 6pm

parking lot semi full, too full for a wednesday. toilet paper situation is unchanged. but alas there’s no grocery truck scheduled tonight so this is not changing until tomorrow. i’m talking to three separate people desperate for some toilet roll (lol, i love how this pandemic makes me learn new terms, hi, united kingdom, i see you - toilet roll, i love it). anyways, i explain to all three the truck schedule and how to best strategize to get some butt wipes: truck is 6 days a week, wednesday being the no truck day. when the truck arrives, usually what happens is that the paper products get stocked immediately, to make room in the back room and to alleviate the situations. be in the store at around 3ish? 3:30ish, and hang out. i explain that i don’t want to encourage anybody to spend their afternoon in the store for obvi reasons, but when you gotta go you gotta go. alternately, hang out in your car, and when you see a truck pull behind the store around mid day, chances are in about 30 mins you shall have paper. people appreciate the info. 

i’m in the candy aisle trying to stock a case of twizzlers. we’re using shopping carts to stock, it’s way more flexible than lugging around huge stocking carts, especially now with the store being so crowded. this dude rocks up and asks me if i’m panic hoarding with all those boxes in my cart. he looks at me with a straight face and thinks he’s making a point. meanwhile i’m in full uniform and people around are starting to roll their eyes. i drop the box of twizzlers into my cart (its super heavy and dude is creating a scene). my box cutter comes out and i make a show of clicking the blade out while explaining to douche canoodle that i’m working here, excuse me, and cut into the tape of the box. moron. 

there’s a few people that i’ve seen every day this week. and they’re all advanced in their age. i get that the store is your second home cause you’re lonely, but right now is really not the time. go home. 

the question i hate the most is: when are you gonna get more soap in. the honest answer? no fucking clue, Karen. if i could predict the future i wouldn’t be working here. 

thursday, 03.19.2020 10am - 6pm

there was no grocery truck last night so shelves are still as empty as they were when i left last night. still, parking lot is semi full. we’ve seem to have gotten a decent produce truck, bananas everywhere. great. my boss’s plan for me is to: whatever truck is back there, and then easter. which means i walk the back room, collect anything and everything that belongs to our department, and get it on the shelves. there’s nothing back there except a chocolate delivery which arrived on the dairy truck. a huge amount, by normal standards. at least people are still enjoying some candy. 

by 3pm it’s made the rounds that one of the guys for our dept isn’t coming in: allergies. okay then. truck is not too big, i help out with that until it’s time to hit the time clock. 

times are tough, and i’m a good-natured person that can dish out jokes and emphasize with you and cumbaja we’re all in this together and all the other bullshit we’re telling ourselves to make us feel better. but when dudebro comes down the soap aisle and bemoans the state of the shelves (empty) and then goes into a rant about his two parents, immunocompromised, at home, out of soap, almost getting loud and making it seem like its my fault that we don’t have what you want, then no. i’m all out of fucks to give. meanwhile, people of the free world, have you forgotten that hand washing soap does not only come in little pump bottles that you can cutsify your sink with but also LOOK AT ALL THE BARSOAP, back in the days we used that to wash our hands. calm down and take some irish spring to your parents. 

grocery truck arrives. big time. in the good ole days of yester year we would get one trailer daily, most of the time not even full. we’ve been ramping it up to 2 most of the last two weeks. (and by we i mean we as a society, buying everything on the shelves and not being satisfied and always wanting more).  today it was three. one of which with nothing but water. the others with lots of toilet roll and paper towels. and the usual stuff of canned goods and the likes. nothing will last tho, nothing is forever. 

we have this one guy who works here who has, i believe, severe arthritis and is hygiene wise very challenged. he isn’t very mobile and does super light duty but he’s worked here a long time. i haven’t seen him in a few days. i wonder if he is just off, or if he said fuck it and stayed home. 

the grown ass woman at the register is still coughing. and not covering her mouth. asswipe. 

saturday 03.21.2020 7am - 3pm 6pm

“when do you expect more hand sanitizer in?” 

i have no idea what you’re talking about, hand sanitizer was never a thing. lemme ask you this: is it berenstein bears where you come from? 

people still want to shop brand loyal. i die inside a little bit every time someone turns their nose up at an alternative to their regular, “oh but we don’t use that brand.” dude didn’t you just say you needed vitamin c? was that a lie? here’s the damn vitamin c. it’s vitamin c, not, i don’t know, fucking coca cola. go home.

corporate finally came down and said we’re allowed to wear ppe now. like some of us haven’t since three weeks ago. i finally turned and went all ‘two by two hands of blue’ as well, and it’s really not as bothersome as i thought it would be.  

weekends are now slower than weekdays. i have no idea why that is. and i’m not really sure if these past weekends have been slow, or just normal, and the weekdays are just crazy. i have lost all points of reference. it’s still busy. but is it the same busy it’s always been on a saturday and now we just have more checkers? 

the company is desperately trying to hire more people. i don’t know if the new vigorous ad campaign is working yet? it’s a job, sure, especially in these times, but the starting pay is still barely above minimum wage so in any case people will collect unemployment which could still be more than they’d make working here i’m just saying. 

the only real perk right now is that whoever works for a grocery store has first dibs on stuff. and if you believe we don’t have a “family and friends stash” in the back of all the items that are scarce then you don’t know how the world works. a friend of mine with health problems came to shop at our store today because we do have more stuff than what i’ve been hearing is going on in surrounding areas.  and i was able to give her two cans of disinfectant wipes. another friend asked me if we had any loo roll, and they just came by my place to pick it up, cash on arrival. 

we also extend (or well, i do extend) the stash to customers who always have been courteous. and believe me, after working in one location for a few years you know exactly who’s an asshole and who isn’t. we are essential, we are important, and we’ve been known that forever. we just never got treated like that. people are thankful that we’re working, that we’re doing our best (like if we could afford to just take two weeks off to self isolate, yeah right), and it’s good to finally walk the store with your head held high, to finally feel the appreciation. we are the kings of the toilet paper and it’s fucking fantastic. 

the store manager (or the company, i’m not sure) bought lunch today for everybody. and there might be a texas rule of no gatherings of more than 10 people, but y’all should’ve seen the break room today at noon. we they feasted (i took two slices and went out back to enjoy) thanks for lunch, boss. 

we still haven’t implemented “senior hours,” and i hate that. 

hygiene challenged dude is back at work. so he just had his two days off. 

monday 03.23.2020 12pm - 9pm

people keep insisting on shopping “normally” and it’s mind boggling. if you go to the store for 5 things or 50 things, it’s fine either way. but please make a list at home and roll with it. do not linger in aisles, do not pick up 3 different items and stand there to study the, i don’t know what the fuck, ingredients? country of origin? manufacturer? i have no earthly idea why you gotta look at a bottle of suave shampoo so intently and just. stay. there. reading it like its a new product on the market. go home.

people just waste so much freakin time in the store. they run into acquaintances and have to have a conversation right there when other customers have to walk around you. please stop, please please stop that. please. get in, get your stuff, and get out. if we dont have your fave available right now come back next week, it’s bound to be back unless it’s something like hand sanitizer or over the counter meds. please. go home.

the shopping pattern has changed. there’s all the action in the mornings now. tons of people, full parking lots, all in the morning. i understand it’s because people are under the impression everything gets restocked over night. which is half true. but whatever. i mean people shop all throughout the day and it’s still busy but the bulk is in the morning.

speaking of: senior hours finally!!! i’m stoked.

i feel like i’m getting fed up with customer questions so it’s usually short retorts and no eyes contact. one guy asked me where the aloe vera is and he asked very friendly and from a few feet away and i was sort of a dick to him. i felt bad immediately and rephrased my answer. yikes.

on the upside also, my work buddy was throwing water all day long. poor guy. he said something like 9 pallets of 24 packs. at one point they were replenishing a display and people grabbed water from the display instead of the pallet, and he was like, “you guys are killing me, man, please take it from the pallet and not the display. every pack you take from the pallet is a pack less i have to move.” a couple of dudes then took over stocking duty from him and threw the rest of the pallet to fill the display. how fucking nice. good eggs all around.

backroom looks like we got a crap ton of paper products. a crap ton. something like, i’m estimating, 12 pallets. so they’ve been staggering it throughout the afternoon but also kept lots in the back for senior hours tomorrow morning. it really looks like that part is getting almost back to normal. lmao fingers crossed.

no eggs tho, today. all gone.

hot shot trucks still show up in the afternoon with produce and meat. and other stores still come by to transfer stuff to their location.

company lunch today was from torchy’s taco. i abstained cause i had just eaten at home. but gatherings of 10 or more people had been had in the break room again. no idea if it was paid for by our company or if torchy’s was just getting rid of a bulk of their perishables.

some dude threw a fit about the limits on certain items. i think his beef was with water and how he’s seen someone take more than three. calm down, asshole.

tuesday 03.24.2020 10am - 5pm 

it’s slow in the store. dallas county has a shelter in place ordinance right now and it’s just a slow and steady trickle of customers. the weather also has turned from grey and misty, to sunshine and 80ies. i hate it. i want my grey and misty back. and because it’s nice outside there’s a lot of people on walks and bike rides. there’s a trail behind the store and when i step out back i see people all the times. still keeping their social distance but people non the less.

we’ve finally got our hands on one of the people from the agency that has provided us with help. our girl is super nice and friendly and she works hard. i hope we’ll get to keep her in our department for however long theyre working with us. altogether there’s about 15-20 people in the store from the agency. they’re tasked with sacking groceries, cleaning shopping carts, cleaning shelves and helping to stock. it’s wonderful. they get paid $13, which is more than what you make starting out in the store.

it almost felt like it wasn’t a covid day. after what the covidiot in the wh said on monday, i was a bit unsure if non essentials would reopen (especially since the mayor just shut dallas down). it was weird. it seemed like customers stayed away because a) they went back to work or b) it’s too nice to grocery shop. but that’s prob only my stupid brain making things up.

there were two incidents, both of which weren’t covid related but needed security: a dude tried to walk out with two cases of beer (theft is a thing that happens in our store a lot) but somehow he had half the store chasing after him. i was outside taking my break when all the sudden this guy comes towards me with beer in each hand. where i was, there was no exit away from the store unless you wanted to jump the fence. and he sure did. launched himself and the beer over it. they chased him off (no one touched him, i wanna add, and no one would touch him too, even if we weren’t in the current time),  but got their beer back. that was an adrenaline shock i didn’t need. the second one was a lady at the pharmacy not happy with the speed of the pharmacist and she got upset that her meds weren’t ready to be picked up. she made quite a scene with cursings and such so security was called. they are doing their best at the pharmacy but just like every other department they are swamped with prescriptions.  

it was super slow and i left an hour early. went home and ate and passed out for 12 hours.

wednesday 03.25.2020 7am - 3pm

it’s probs the first time i’m on the road this early on a weekday during the self isolation period. it’s quite busy on the highway. but still no real traffic.

store is still slow but steady. i see a few customers with big bascarts and shopping lists going about their business urgent like. on the inside i was applauding their readiness and their commitment for getting it done. thank you dear customers. buy a whole cart and get the heck outta dodge. *chefs kiss*

help girl from the agency is with me today. i like her more and more. she gets it all done. baby wipes are still off and on, some days we have them, sometimes we’re out. we found 3 small cases of hand soap in the back (6 bottles each) and they are gone quickly. i’m working through shippers/displays (we’ve finally got a smattering in) but most of it goes straight to the shelves. i’m able to make some sense to one of the half shampoo/half hersheys end caps, and my eye finally stops twitching from the weirdness.

grocery truck schedule has changed and now we’re getting them also on wednesdays (for the time being). one trailer of toilet roll and paper towels, and one of canned goods and boxes and pantry stuffs. and maybe some lysol but who knows.

it’s still sunny and 80ies out, so more runners and bikers on the trail behind the store. still social distancing tho.

the news said someone from a grocery store of another chain was diagnosed. and then through the grapevine i heard that someone from our chain (not our store) also got diagnosed and is in the hospital. wash your hands. get in, get your stuff, and get out. stay safe out there.

friday 03.27.2020 9am - 5pm

there’s this lady in the store, little old lady, just wandering and shopping and whatnot for, i kid you not, 2 hours. what in the world? she’s wearing a mask, kinda like a “let me put this mask on cause i’m sanding something in the garage” you know that kind of mask. but it’s only covering her mouth? what is she doing. where is your family? do they know where you are and what you’re up to. seriously someone come get their auntie.

there’s stickers all over the floor by the registers “PLEASE WAIT HERE” reminding people to stay the heck away from each other. it’s working sometimes. people are patient.

this one lady asks me if we have this, and shows me her phone with a pic of the item like she is seriously standing 6 feet away stretching her arm as far as it’ll go. i appreciate it. she insists that the app tells her it’s in stock here. i ran out of ways to explain that the app doesnt keep up with inventory, only states that we carry it, not whether we actually have it in stock. it’s a surface disinfectant. we dont have it in stock.

rando people say their thanks that we’re working, that they appreciate it, thank you thank you. i have yet to learn how to respond to that. “youre welcome?” “oh sure!” “no problem” nothing feels right. me and my co workers all wish we could work from home, or take a few weeks off, without losing our jobs and benefits. it’s weird. how do you respond to that?

we’ve managed to stay in stock on toilet tissue all day long. one brand, one size, mind you. but! all day long! yes, toilet paper, on aisle 18!!!!

sales have leveled. business is returning to normal.

saturday 03.28.2020 7am - 3 pm

some lady lost her cool today and in her frustration she dead ass kicked over a display of gum. lmao, yikes.

every morning we have a little meeting in the store for all the department heads, or if they’re off, for whoever plays department head for that day. on saturdays that’s me. we call them huddles, although now we can’t call them that anymore because huddle doesn’t really scream social distancing. so now they’ll call it morning communication.

while walking the store today i found, get this, a bottle of purell. it was hidden behind other product. i immediately checked my surroundings (no one there) and then went and hid it in the back room. my immuno challenged friend had asked me for some for a while.

really nothing else going on. it was quiet in the morning and then a storm blew through, and then it was just gorgeous out. so the store got busier and busier. our truck was scheduled to be quite big, but it was late and i wasn’t gonna just hang around until who knows when.

monday 03.30.2020 2pm - 10pm

the break room is completely empty of chairs and tables. that’s new. just last week everyone crowded in, employees and management alike, whenever there was free lunch. and even tho one tells them, or points out that, hey, this is a bit more than technically should be in a closed space like this? all one gets back is, oh hahaha, yeah you’re probably right, but nothing changed. so now the break room is empty. only, i dont know, everyone here works on their feet, either standing (poor checkers) or standing and walking. for up to eight hours. there’s gonna be some people who will just have to sit down for 30 mins during their breaks. this was a company wide, or district wide decision, this wasn’t something our management came up with. and here’s the thing. admittedly, some higher ups in our company are seriously not the sharpest tacks in the box. and i’m not saying that you have to have a degree to make certain decisions, but it helps if you have some sort of,  i don’t know, compassion, deductive reasoning, two brain cells to rub together. i, personally, will hardly be found in the break room, i don’t use it. but it’s absolutely clear to me that taking away the opportunity to let people rest is a recipe for disaster.

tuesday, 03.31.2020 2pm - 10pm

so, the owner of the dallas mavericks (basket ball) donated hand sanitizers to our company, for use of company employees. which, thanks, Mark, that was super sweet of you. no really. IF I SEE ONE CO WORKER USE THIS INSTEAD OF WASHING THEIR HANDS I WILL NOT BE MADE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS. wash your god damned hands people. hand sanitizer will never be able to do what soap and water can do. why is that such a big problem to understand.

the break room has a couple of chairs and tables in it now, and a sign on the door that reads “6 people limit, 6 feet apart.” yikes.

its the end of the month and people got paid so the store is getting busier. tomorrow is the first and i’m sure we’ll be packed. please take the following to heart: SHOP ALONE. don’t bring your wifey or hubby or roommate or kids. ok bring your kids if you have no one to watch them. do not use the grocery store as your family outing cause its the only spot you think youre allowed to go. it’s not. youre allowed to go for walks, in front of your house, in your neighborhood, heck, walk a circle around the store if you want, but don’t bring everybody into the store. social distancing is easier achieved if there’s less people to stay away from. be smart, think ahead. and if you think that shopping with two people makes it go faster? it’s not. cause you’re gonna argue over the choices made, you’re gonna veto your shopping buddies choice of beans and your gonna walk every aisle twice instead of once. and there will be more people touching more things and i could really do with less of that.

wednesday 04.01.2020 11am - 7pm

there’s a distillery in kansas who has converted their production to make hand sanitizer (or sanitizer in general) and we have received a shipment of, i think, two pallets. the fun part? they are the size and shape of vodka bottles.

they’re selling for $8 and we put a limit of 1 per family. they look super neat. it’s a plastic bottle, too. i don’t use hand sanitizer and i dont need it and there are people who need these i guess but i want one so badly. just as a, you know, reminder, a token, of these crazy times. i’m not gonna get one (but i kinda want one).

they have finally installed screens at the registers. and new rules came down from corporate: social distancing is the highest priority, hygiene is the highest priority. we are only going to operate 3 (out of 6) registers so that we can ensure that there’s enough space for everyone to feel safe. i have also spent 2 hours today thinning out displays that are cluttering up the sales floor so that we can encourage everyone to keep apart.

starting tomorrow, every employee will get their temp taken when they arrive to work. if the temp is too high you will be sent home (but paid for that day) and only be let back in to work if your temp stays normal for 72 hours without the help of meds.

pay has been increased by $2/h.

friday 04.03.2020 9am - 5pm

face masks everywhere.

like 80% of everybody started donning masks, scarves and homemade things to cover their lower face. face masks are a stark reminder that everyone should keep apart. it’s like an extra “hey, remember how we’re all potentially sick with something deadly? stay away.” i appreciate the effect it has.

there are about 5 different announcements over the PA, one about washing your hands and sneezing/coughing into your elbows, one about senior hours (which have changed now to tue, thu and sat morning), one about social distancing (about the length of two shopping carts!), one about “we’re all in this together” and one about us employees and how we’re doing so much more than our job right now.

ive stopped greeting customers. i smile maybe, since it’s something so ingrained into our brain, but i won’t speak unnecessarily.

the store is absolutely packed. the suggestion of staying away until the 3rd or the 4th that ive seen all over the internets seems to have cottoned on and now we’re slammed. with only 3 registers open now (to keep room between registers) the lines are down the aisles. one of the guys on the registers told me he loved it. it’s waaay less crowding around the registers, safer for the workers).

we have two entrances (the main one and a smaller one) and they closed the smaller one because it’s very tight there and doesn’t really work with trying to stay away from each other. it’s not locked, it’s just closed. no idea about the fire marshall code, but i have worked in bigger stores with only one main entrance so maybe it’s not part of any code.

i saw a woman with a vegas golden knights shirt and i miss hockey.

saturday 04.04.2020 7am - 5:30pm

my first day during senior hours, and admittedly we’ve only recently changed that but there are tons of people in the store and not a lot of seniors. but what do i know they all could be immunocompromised.

in our morning huddle communications meeting the store manager is spitting out a lot of numbers and percentiles and such, basically sales are still through the roof, even with the slower week we’ve had. it’s funny how there’s really no reference point anymore. forecasts and budgets have all been altered due to the situation but even those are still behind. the agency people aren’t with us anymore (since sunday) and i can see maybe 2 new people - but i’m not a reliable source for that because i don’t inter-mingle with other departments that much so i dont even know the regulars so i have no clue who is new. but we’re still running on basically the same people we’ve always had with this increased business.

aceotone is the new toilet paper. cant find it on the shelves, the warehouse is out and people are constantly asking for it. this one guy had me in stitches. he was shopping for the fam and had a list from his wife and you know, acetone, cuticle cream all the stuff you need to take care of your nails after you rip off the fake ones. i used to get my nails done so i gave him advice as best i could  and pointed to some products, but no acetone. about five minutes later she finds me on the same aisle again and shows me a can of paint stripper with the word acetone in huge letters on it. i died. i told him that if his wife used that they are about to have a whole other set of problems. we both laughed. he had a great sense of humor. now go home, dude.

the side door that was closed on friday is open again. not surprised.

we are getting absolutely slammed with business. it’s a mad house. you can always tell when people start to park their cars on the fire lanes around the store. there’s just no more parking.

i do see a lot of single shoppers tho, which is so great. and then you got the families just sticking out like sore thumbs. and young college kids usually shop in threes or fours. but everybody is still taking way too much time. there was an article i read on local grocers and how some already reduced the people inside the stores and how every business is going to follow suit so we will see.

we ran out of eggs. and biscuits.  and no significant numbers of paper products all week.

monday 04.06.2020 2pm - 10pm

fuck these customers, man

wednesday 04.08.2020 7am - 3pm

my company will not limit the customer count in the store. at least not in this state. when the whole thing started there was an email about store hours and they listed basically every division of our company and their changed hours - except, you guessed it, ours. i have a feeling they are going off of what other companies are doing around here, so unless theyre limiting people, we won’t. that’s my opinion. after work i realized i forgot butter and swung by a store (from a different company) close to home and they havent limited entrance either. they did have markings on the floor to encourage one way traffic down aisles, and i guess we’re gonna do that too. but nothing else. i did see smaller chains have started to limit people but not companies we’re competing with. so much for that. i guess first we need to have a few positive cases in order for them to change anything. the dollar speaks volumes, eh?

i saw this article a few days ago and i keep thinking about it. it basically sums up everything that’s going through all our minds every day. (i have no idea who this website is, i saw it and i read it and it spoke to me so dont come at me if it’s something weird - i just wanted to provide a source)

I manage a grocery store.

Here’s some things everyone should know

1. I don’t have toilet paper 2. I don’t have sanitizer 3. I run out of milk, eggs and meat daily 4. I promise if it’s out on the shelf … it’s not in a hidden corner of our backroom.

Those are the predictable ones, now for the real stuff

5. I have been doing this for 25 years I did not forget how to order product. 6. I did not cause the warehouse to be out of product/ 7. I schedule as much help as I have, including many workers working TONS of overtime to help YOU. 8. I am sorry there are lines at the check out lanes.

Now for the really important stuff:

9. My team puts themselves in harm’s way every day so you can buy groceries. 10. My team works tirelessly to get product on the floor for you to buy. 11. My team is exhausted. 12. My team is scared of getting sick. 13. My team is human and does not possess an antivirus… they are in just as much danger as you are. (Arguably more) but they show up to work every day just so you can buy groceries 14. My team is tired. 15. My team is very under-appreciated. 16. My team is exposed to more people who are potentially infected in one hour than most of you will in a week (medical community excluded, thank you for all that you do!). 17. My team is abused all day by customers who have no idea how ignorant they are. 18. My team disinfects every surface possible, everyday, just so you can come in grab a wipe from the dispenser, wipe the handle and throw the used wipe in the cart or on the ground and leave it there… so my team can throw it in the trash for you later. 19. My team wonders if you wash your re-usable bags, that you force us to touch, that are clearly dirty and have more germs on them than our shopping carts do. 20. My team more than earns their breaks, lunches and days off. And if that means you wait longer I am sorry.

The last thing I will say is this:

The next time you are in a grocery store, please pause and think about what you are saying and how you are treating the people you encounter. They are the reason you are able to buy toilet paper, sanitizer, milk, eggs, and meat.

If the store you go to is out of an item.. maybe find the neighbor or friend that bought enough for a year … there are hundreds of them… and ask them to spare 1 or 2. They caused the problem to begin with…

And lastly, please THANK the people who helped you. They don’t have to come to work!

[anonfanfic]

Coffee shop Clexa AU where Clarke and Alexa both stay after close to count inventory and get audit ready until one of them (you choose!) starts to get a little naughty with a can of whipped cream 👀

Clarke turned off their open sign at the front of the store and spun the lock on the door. She turned and leaned against the glass with a loud sigh.

“Why did today feel like an eternity?”

Lexa threw the towel she had been drying dishes with on the counter and smiled at her girlfriend.

“Because you know we have to stay here an extra two hours to do inventory check?”

Clarke pointed a finger at Lexa and smiled. “That’s it.” She walked over and picked up the clipboard she had set near the register.

“I’ll start in the back and meet you out here when I’m done.” Lexa walked over and kissed Clarke on the temple, picking up the second clipboard laying on the counter.

“Remind me why I thought owning a coffee house was a good idea.” Clarke called after Lexa as she walked to the backroom to begin her count.

Lexa laughed and disappeared behind the black cloth that seperated the front from the back room.

Clarke looked down at her clipboard and sighed once again as she saw the long list of items staring back at her.

She started her count, trying her best to not think about being home in their apartment a few blocks down the road. Lexa curled up next to her as they half paid attention to the show on the television. Clarke’s hand would move slowly up Lexa’s leg and it wouldn’t be long before neither girl was paying attention to whatever show they had put on.

Clarke shook her head to try and pull herself from her daydream. She was staring at a cupboard full of sugar substitute and had no idea where she had left the count. 

“Shit,” She muttered under her breath, refocusing and starting her count again. She was only halfway done with the front of the store and it had been nearly an hour.

Clarke reached up and once again started to count the containers. She was almost done with the cabinet when she heard Lexa call her from the back.

“Just a sec, babe!” Clarke called, pointing at the last couple of boxes. “103...104...105....106.” Clarke looked down and wrote the number on her clipboard. “What’s up?” Clarke stood up and nearly dropped her clipboard when she locked eyes with Lexa.

Lexa was covered in whipped cream. It was on her face, clothes, and Clarke could only imagine what the back looked like.

“What happened?” Clarke walked over, trying hard not to laugh at Lexa’s appearance.

“Let’s just say we are going to be about five cans of whipped cream short in inventory. I didn’t even see the box fall until it was too late.” Lexa smiled and wiped a glob of white cream from her shirt and flicked it onto Clarke’s face.

Clarke tried to dodge the attack, but she wasn’t quick enough and felt the sticky mess land all over her face.

“Lexa!” Clarke exclaimed, trying to wipe away as much of the whipped cream as she could from her eyes.

“Whoops.” Lexa’s smile was devilish. She lifted a finger and swiped some of the cream from Clarke’s cheek and brought it to her mouth. “Shame to let it go to waste.” Lexa lifted her eyebrows and walked back behind the curtain.

Clarke didn’t hesitate, knowing they would probably need to pull an all-nighter to finish their count she ran back and nearly tackled Lexa to the floor. Clarke looked over Lexa’s shoulder and saw where the box had fallen and exploded at least two feet in every direction.

“Careful now, Speedy,” Lexa chuckled, steadying herself on one of the shelves built into the wall. 

Clarke wasted no time unbuttoning Lexa jeans and pulling them down enough to shove her hand in.

“You started this,” Clarke grunted, adjusting her hand to slide a finger slowly inside Lexa. Clarke grinned as she watched Lexa’s eyes roll back and squeeze shut. She inserted another finger and started to move just enough to make Lexa moan deep in her chest. “I’m going to finish it.” 

Clarke curled her fingers and started to move a litter quicker, feeling her own breath catch as Lexa’s expression contorted to pure pleasure. Clarke bit her lower lip as she kept her eyes locked on Lexa, she loved watching her unravel before her. 

Clarke thumb grazed Lexa’s clit and she watched Lexa’s eyes shoot open, the normally light green turned almost black with desire. Lexa moved forward to capture Clarke’s lips in a bruising kiss. Lexa’s bit down on Clarke’s bottom lip and gave a short tug before releasing her. 

“Fuck,” Clarke breathed, leaning forward to press her lips to Lexa’s neck, tasting the sweet flavor of the whipped cream. 

“I’m close,” Lexa sighed, moving her body closer to get more contact. 

Clarke moved back so she could see Lexa’s face once more. Clarke sped up her movements, as much as the jeans would allow, and felt Lexa’s body tense as she reached her climax. 

Clarke pulled Lexa in for a soft kiss as her body shuttered and twitched.

“I love you,” Clarke whispered against Lexa’s lips.

“I love you,” Lexa replied breathlessly. “This is why we make everyone go home so we can do inventory.”

Both girls laughed, just holding each other for a few more quiet moments.

[drangues]

Aaahhh I’m so glad you liked my explanation!!! Explaining my perception of like, stuff that’s. Beyond? I guess, human understanding is one of my favorite things, and I really enjoyed it, so knowing you enjoyed it too makes me happy! Also I like to imagine that, technically being a God, Chuuya is one of the only ones who can,, Actually? Perceive his Full Form? And I like to think that he’d find it adorable. (Nyanon, 1/7)

Like, it’s all typical eldritch horror from the farthest ring (in tiger kitty form) but Chuuya’s IMMEDIATELY trying to give the giant fluffball chin scratches. Also also I like to imagine that Dazai’s ability works. About as well as it works on Lovecraft? So he gives his dramatic speech and turns around and expects to no sell the tiger when it hits him because Atsushi would just turn back, right? Right??? (Nyanon, 2/7)

But no, that doesn’t happen, and Dazai gets whacked with five hundred pounds of fluff. And I’d imagine that Atsushi is a Baby Abomination, so he doesn’t always have good control? Usually around the full moon, hence the ADA trying to find him. Anyways, listen, no one can say no to pictures of tiger kitten Atsushi. If they try, Fukuzawa will find them. And when he does... Well, no one knows what he does to them, but everyone ends up with a love of cats, especially ones with stripes. (Nyanon, 3/7)

Moving on, though- I’m glad you liked this AU! It’s mainly just a cute, feel good kinda thing, with some “Atsushi and Dazai pseudo-raising Kyouka together” thrown in for good measure. I could definitely imagine her making her tiny surrogate parents a tiny room to share together? Like, you know those little fairy houses, or the little books made in shelves and drawers? That kinda thing! And if there’s only one bed... Well, what’re they gonna do, yell at her for being thoughtful? (Nyanon, 4/7)

But, moving on (again) to my next, technically not new since I’ve mentioned it before, AU Concept: The Monochromatic Moonlight AU! I don’t think I’ve said much on it, but to pull off a quick summary- At the age of either eleven or twelve, Atsushi’s ability goes haywire due to the abuse he suffered from and Shibusawa’s influence. This is something that even Dazai can’t reverse, once they meet, so he’s stuck in his “monstrous” halfway form. (Nyanon, 5/7)

His sclera are yellow and his irises are violet, and his skin is paler and striped with black, like a tiger. In addition, his hands and feet resemble paws, even possessing paw pads and claws, a pair of ears has replaced his human ones, he has the tail of a tiger, and much of his body is covered in a soft layer of white and black fur. This means that he can’t even try to blend in with others without almost completely covering himself up- Or at least, he doesn’t think he can. (Nyanon, 6/7)

He thinks he looks horrifying. And with nowhere to go back to, all he can do is... Well, wander. And along the way, he picks up other people who are unwanted. I don’t have too many solid people, yet, outside of Lucy and Kyouka, but I know that everyone decides to go by animal names. Because I want them to. Sorry for rambling, by the way, this AU is. One of my favorites, whoops. (Nyanon, 7/7)

yooOOO CHUUYA SEEING THRU ATSUSHI IS SO CUTEEE UWUWUWU <333 dazai would be pissed but secretely enjoy that he cant affect tiger sushi uwuwu

kyouka would definitely make the tiny fairy house with only one bed and atsushi would feel too bad to say anything and dazai would be too much of a lil shit towards atsushi to complain or say anything smh

OWOWOWOWO I LOVE YOUR AU!!!! and him having liddol paw beans on his fingers AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA he would be so sOFT bet u dont even see his fur but then u stroke his arm or whatever and B A M ultimate softness. atsushi would try his best to cover himself up >:(( but everyone else (dazai and kyouka especially) will be like nOOOOOOOO LET US SEE YOUR CUTE ASS. the fact that he picks up other “strays” is so cute as well ugh found family will always be my weakness (maybe Q can also be one of the strays owo?? it would be a whole feat wouldnt it- nobody managed to “tame” Q except for atsushi and Q listens to nobody else EXCEPT atsushi)

AND DONT BE SORRY SMH I LOVE YOUR AU AS WELL

[queensdivas]

Hidden Blade Chapter 2

Did this all on a plane and a little bit today! Now that I’m done I plan on working on even more shit. Like my god has this winter break been busy af. But I hope you enjoy the new chapter because it was a little longer than I wanted it to be. 

Whoops. 

IF you would like to be tagged please let me know!

Next Chapter

Previous Chap

Masterlist 

Have you actually ever watched an episode of Leave it to Beaver? What even is that show? I get watching like Little House on the Prairie, M*A*S*H (God I love Mash) and even I Love Lucy. But it feels like this dude one loves his family shows. Don’t really see why but who the heck else knows in this crazy world. 

I walked into one of the trailers to see a very large English Mastiff come from around one of the shelves to start sniffing me. Slobbering all over my legs since wearing shorts instead of jeans or some sort of Eddie Bauer travel pants. 

“That’s Wally. Careful his slobber goes everywhere.” Four was flipping through a pile of passports as I looked at the wall that was covered with pictures, news articles, and maps. It kind of reminds you of that meme where the dude looks completely insane while trying to explain something. I sat down on one of the desk chairs that was empty as I noticed Leave it to Beaver was playing. 

“Did he get you hooked into it as well?” I leaned back as I noticed a large file that had Murat Alimov with a big red CIA stamp on it. Juicy! 

“So how come the people of Turgistan hasn’t revolted against the dick hole in charge?” Four asked as I opened the file to see his picture. 

“They need someone to get behind in order to start the revolution. Ya know. Someone to get behind. The French got behind Maximilien Robespierre, the people in South America had Simon Bolivar, and the list goes on and on. So without someone to properly lead them, what’s the point of starting a revolution when you don’t have someone to lead.” I began skimming through his file to see that THE STUPID AMERICANS GAVE HIM BACK TO HIS BROTHER!? Never let them do anything!!

“So how did one find you?” He asked as I closed the file then threw it on the desk. 

“Ummmm. God it was really weird and very ummm..perfect timing I should say.” Wally came over to put his head on my thighs as I began scratching the top of his head. 

“I travelled to Ahmedabad after the Assassination in South Sudan where I planned on shutting down a board of nasty men who were shipping child brides all over the world. Yet something that I have a nasty habit of is trying to put on shoes way bigger than mine!” 

8 

“ALI RUN YOUR ASS!” Screaming as I turned the corner that was leading towards the great hall of the palace. Ali came behind as guns began shooting at us from the top of the stairs. The front doors burst open as I darted to the left. 

Ali followed swiftly behind me as we slid into one of the living rooms to duck behind a couch. I released my mag to see I had eight rounds left, and we have to battle an entire palace full of guards! At Least the board is dead so that stops this nasty shit in this house!

“Ali! There’s a drop through the dining room that leads into the river!” I yelled over the gunfire as he checked his mag to count his bullets. 

“I got six! I’ll keep you covered!” He popped his head up to shoot one of them coming into the room. I popped up to shoot another guard as more came through the front door. God damn it we’re screwed! 

“You get your ass out of here now!” Ali screamed as I crawled over to where he was bunkered down and handed him the rest of my mags. 

“You follow me alright!” Grabbing a bottle of scotch then ripping apart of the sofa for the rag. I stuffed it, shook the bottle then pulled my lighter out of my pocket. I lit it then chucked it over to the middle of the great hall. 

“GO GO GO!” I yelled as we got up from behind the couch towards the window. He smashed the glass as I stuck my head out to see the drop. Jesus Christ that’s a little too high. Fuck fuck!

I climbed up onto the window ledge as I was about to jump as Ali began climbing up but was stabbed in his back. 

“SHIT ALI!” With his last bit of energy he pushed me off the ledge.

Sitting in my apartment as I stared at the picture of Ali and I during our weekend trip to El Arish. The one time I think it;s okay to work with a partner we end up becoming best friends and he gets stabbed in the back! Don’t worry I’m not one of those people who are like “I work alone since everyone I’ve loved has died!” Usually it’s too much work to have a partner or some sort of companion when it comes to this kind of work. 

Someone lightly knocked on my door as I pulled out my dagger to slowly approach the door. Fuck fuck who knows I live here? Looking through the peephole to see some GAP looking guy standing right infront of the door. Swinging the door open as it scared him a little bit till he held up his arms towards me. 

“Relax Machete. If I wanted to hurt you I wouldn’t have knocked on your door would I?” That’s what most people thought in the seventies and look how many people died because they thought this was...as I opened the door for this stranger.  

“I promise I’m not here to hurt you or anything. May I come in?” I can handle myself I think so if he tries something I’ll kick his ass. I lowered my dagger a little bit to move out of the way for him. He came into my apartment to look around in my little hole in the wall. 

“Cozy.” I followed him on the other side of the room. 

“Good idea. Keeping a safe distance from me. Which is why I’ve been looking at your field work. What you did in South Sudan and recently in Jordan. Quite impressed that they haven’t tracked you down yet.” He stared at the large replica painting of The Virgin on the rocks. 

“Love some Da Vinci paintings.” He acts like a much calmer Deadpool, also not as sarcastic as him. 

“So. Who are you? A rich person looking for security, I’m not a hitman so I’m not going to kill someone for ya. Drink?” I made it to the liquor shelf as I grabbed the bottle of Shieldaig Speyside. 

“No thank you.” He walked away from the painting then over to my original Pierre Mignard. See when you shut down a nasty group of people, I wanted this picture of some random women. I stood away from him still as he turned around, I took a sip of the drink as I waited for him to explain himself. 

“I get the feeling you enjoy killing those who want to cause harm onto the innocent. You wanna know what I see in you? I see someone who's willing to do some crazy shit in order to save the world. I mean you just jumped out of palace after destroying a child marriage cult. What if I could give you an endless amount of resources, even more targets, and more hands?” Definitely some better resources would be nice. But there is always some sort of catch in this situation. 

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for. Someone who isn’t afraid to truly get their hands dirty to save the world.” I do enjoy saving little parts of the world. 

“Now imagine taking down even bigger ass holes of the world.” Am I finally going after all of North Korea? God I really wanna destroy that pig with all my mighty! 

“So what’s the catch exactly?”

“You’ll be dead and can’t ever see your loved ones again.” Well jokes on this dude, haven’t seen my family in years and they probably thought I was dead anyhow so this works perfectly! 

“I’m in. Don’t worry about my family because they think I’m dead anyhow.” I walked over to him to shake his hand. 

“How the fuck he found you is still bizarre. Still have no idea how he found me in the middle of a robbery.” Wally began walking away as I put my feet on the desk. Now I’m super curious how he met the rest of them now since he ended up stalking me. 

“How did he find you?”

He began telling me how the robbery he was apart of turned into a shit hole of a plan for his ex girlfriend to basically take the jewels instead of saving him. Doesn’t surprise me in the slightest because hoes be loyal. His eyes...are just so damn enticing. The way the sun brightens them reminds you the top of a forest. A very endless forest before you. That little scar next to his eye is just very nice to look at as well. Kind of weird but I enjoy it. Does he have knuckle tattoos? (For the record I am listening, it’s called multitasking.) 

“Jesus he set you in a saw trap?” He reached into the mini fridge for two bottles of water since the sun was warming up the trailer like a sauna at this point. 

“Yet here you are getting a calm welcome when I thought the guy was going to blow off my fucking face.” He slid the water across the desk as I cracked it open. Wally and his drool began sniffing the water bottle as I tried to drink it. 

“But he did save my life after the fall so that’s the only good thing that happened that day.” He chugged some of his water as I nodded in agreement. 

“Wally. Wanna get my soldiers out and have a battle.” Beaver asked Wally as The next episode of leave it to beaver began playing so I turned my focus towards the tv. 

“Nah.” Wally told Beaver. Four turned up the TV as I noticed a box of Cheez-its next to the desk. I’ve heard these things very good for most American snack food.

“Four we’ve scored!” I yelled as I began opening the box of Cheez-its. Back to the show. We watched as Wally and his friends were tackling each other with Beaver stuck underneath them all.

“Poor Beaver. Such a sweet little kid.” I stuffed a bunch of cheez-its in my mouth then passed four the box. 

“One is completely obsessed with this show, he makes all these references for it all the time. I think he’s an orphan actually, we got a little bet on it if you wanna put some money in.” Now that I think about it, I can totally see one being some sort of orphan or in the system. 

“Forty dollars.” I reached in my pocket to pull out my wallet, grabbing a couple of fives handing it to him. I know we should be working on finding his brother, or doing some sort of work but this is much more fun. 

“Wait they’re gonna charge Beaver three dollars just to join their club? I get that hanging out with little siblings can always be some sort of bother but wow what ass holes. Imagine being that cruel.” I commented as I threw a Cheez-it at Wally's friends after the tv. 

“Man. A time when your six year old son could talk to a random stranger asking on how to make money.” Four and I chuckled as Beaver came walking out of the garage with his “this space for rent sign” on him. I mean he’s trying harder than most people in this world so I have to give him credit where it’s due. 

“You two done? C’mon. Three thinks he onto something.” Five stuck her head into the trailer as Wally walked away from me as he kept to box of cheez-its with him. 

We walked into the trailer as three was listening very closely to a phone conversation as one and seven were talking to each other. I get the feeling that shit is about to go down if three finds the location of the four generals. 

“His top General knows the location of him so once they leave Turgistan for something, we go after them and figure out where the brother is.” One told seven as I began looking at the four pictures of the fuckers themselves. 

“You ever met people like them?” One asked as I kept staring at their pictures. Four handed me a box of Cheez-its. 

“I mean all monsters of humanity are usually either fat, old, or a man. Hell even all three for some massive destruction if history says anything. Or they have weird facial hair like Stalin or Hitler. Except for Elizabeth Bathory because that bitch was truly...

“Guys. Shut the fuck up.” Three barked as his face went from focused to ecstatic in a matter of seconds. 

“AH we’re going to Vegas baby!” Three laughed as he put their conversation on speaker. 

“This arms dealer will be meeting you at the speedway track around two for the deal.” God this is disgusting. Instead of trying to make our country a better place, go to Vegas to fuck some slut, spend your money, and to add on top of that get some dangerous chemicals so we can kill more people. Love it! 

“Las Vegas has more facial recognition software than any place on Earth.” One began telling two and three as I began turning down the volume of their conversations. 

“Oh I know what I’m gonna be!” Get this sinking feeling he loves dressing up. 

“Choose your disguises wisely.” Disguises? I have to dress up? If they think I’m going to wear a pencil dress, twelve inch heels, and a face full of makeup I will leave right now! 

“I’m a grown man, I can handle my shit.” 

“I don’t think that’s how the expression goes, don’t handle your shit. Flush it down the toilet like a grown-ass man. Be subtle. Blend in. Disappear. Me, two, and three are going to figure out where on earth they’re hiding his brother. Eight and four I want you two to intercept the gas, destroy it all, find the supplier and eliminate him. Sounds easy enough?” Yes. Going into Las Vegas, finding a bunch of illegal gas, destroy it, and be home by five. Definitely easy. 

“Just one question. How do you even destroy Sarin gas? Look I’m a pretty smart lady but destroying gas is something I’ve yet to achieve in my life one.” 

“Here. Study this before we leave for Vegas. Ya got 24 hours to nail it.” He slid a book across the table. 

How to Disable Sarin Gas Bombs for Dummies. 

Written by a Genius.

Handwritten and in a bright green binder. Glad to know we make handcrafted things in this squad. I opened the binder as it showed a step by step on how to disarm them. Kind of like when you’re building a lego set. Except instead of joy you get when you’re trying to build a spaceship, you end up pissing your pants because one fatal mistake and we die! 

“Love the homemade touch one. Very professional and doesn’t make me want to shit my pants in absolute fear.” I picked it up as we began dispersing.

“I’m just gonna take this with us. Rather us not die.” Telling four as I handed him the binder for him to start skimming through the binder. Gotta love the fact that my first mission with these guys is disarming a bunch of chemical bombs. Getting that sinking feeling again that they’re a bunch of chaotic people doing chaotic things. 

It’s absolutely perfect.

Taglist: 

@bonafiderocketqueen @filmslutt @imjustboredso @intoanothermind @4lendow-norris @wickedholland @takemetoneverland420​ @raylan-c​ @itsmeaudrieee​ @leah-halliwell92​

[starmakerdotcom]

a tour of fruit basket’s dorm (in minecraft) !

a while ago in a gc im in we were talking about building our company buildings and dorms in the sims (@hbh-entertainment did this !!) but the thing is , i don’t have sims . but you know what i do have ? minecraft pocket edition babey !!!! so that’s exactly what i did

first of all , before i start i just wanna day i am not the most gifted interior designer . i watched a bunch of grian videos before building this and it didn’t help so excuse how weird it’s laid out . this isn’t exactly what i imagine the dorm looking like because minecraft has limits of course , but it’s as close as we’re gonna get

— front door/entryway

there’s not much here tbh . it’s just an entryway there’s not much you can do w that . the closed door is a coat closet btw

there’s pictures that they hung up bc they didn’t want it to be too bare and the pictures r like . travel pictures n stuff

— living room

this is where they hang out the most tbh like they’re only in their rooms to sleep most of the time

they usually eat at the coffee table which is also where they do their monthly mukbang vlives . yes they do those . they like food

they have a little display cabinet with the awards they were allowed to take into their dorm and it’s like . not subtle at all

the couch under the blue painting is the one eunji and kyungwon made out on fun fact

they have a bulletin board above one of the couches and it’s full of their favourite fan letters , pictures , and notes the members write to each other

in girl talk when they were laying in the middle of the living room they just moved the table and there’s a carpet under the table i just can’t see it jsjdnd

i don’t got much to say on this it’s literally just a living room

— dining room and kitchen

honestly they never use the dining table they just use the little stools by the window thing or they eat in the living room

they’re also almost never in the kitchen unless they need something . they usually order their food they only make food on like special occasions n shit or when they have people over

they’ve only showed glimpses of the kitchen in their vlogs once or twice so basically no one knows what it actually looks like so y’all r gettin treated

it’s kinda an inside joke between blossoms at this point like what does the kitchen look like who the hell knows

— bathroom

it’s just a bathroom like . i don’t have much to say on this one

there’s a tiny ass towel closet that u can’t get in but you actually can in the actual dorm

they’ve got some nice pictures on the wall so u can admire some art while ur taking a shit

do u like my mirror banners i think they’re neat

there was a wandering trader while i was tryna take pictures and i had to stop to kill it literally how did he even get in

— room 1 : min eunji

behold . where eunji and kyungwon fucked in that one scenario

eunji’s room is the first on the right when you’re in the hallway

she doesn’t like her room being too cluttered so the decorating is very . bare to say the least

she’s got a bit of a green/white thing going on w the bedsheets and the plants tho it makes it feel fresh and calm sorta

she’s the plant mom you could only dream of being

just don’t go in her closet it’s not good

if she’s in her room she’s almost always sleeping in her bed or she’s sitting at her desk doing her makeup or writing something

it’s kinda crazy how there isn’t one stain on her sheets bc like . they’re so white . how . i could never

the stuff she hangs on her wall are usually the fan gifts that she cherishes the most like the super realistic portrait someone drew of her and gave to her at a fan meeting she literally almost cried when they gave it to her

— room 2 : lee sooyoung

there she is babey

sooyoung’s room is the first on the left

her room is a lot brighter whew

she loves collecting albums from other artists and she’s got a whole bookshelf full of them

maybe that’s her mixtape on the wall who knows . but it’s a limited edition ver so u can’t get it ✌️😌

fuck desks get a comfy armchair instead babey !! she never works in her room anyway she’ll go sit in the studio or like under a tree or some shit

she’s got a few notable pictures hanging up ! she collects pictures every time they travel somewhere cool and puts them up

she’s got a lil collage of her favourite fan letters on one wall too it’s :(( cute :((((

as u can see she’s a corner bed person and she firmly believes that corner beds r superior and honestly she ain’t wrong

her room is honestly the best in the dorm to hang out in it’s jus so chill

— room 3 : kim areum

hello ma’am

areum’s room is the second on the right

her room is never clean skgdh

she’s that friend everyone had in highschool with all the polaroids on her wall

pictures of her friends , her boyfriend , her exes that she’s still cool with (aka vernon and only vernon the rest were highschool boys probably named kyle that no one cares abt)

she only uses her desk for doing her makeup lol she only works in the studio bc it’s quieter and the atmosphere is more calm or whatever

her plants r cute but most of them r fake and the ones that aren’t r dead

she likes collecting souvenirs so she has a few shelves for stuff like that and it’s just full of knick knacks she collected from god knows where

i forgot to add the shade on top of the lamp on her bedside table lol

— room 4 : park hyunmi

whoop whoop

hyunmi’s room is the second on the left

she doesn’t have a lot of decoration going on bc she’s boring a minimalist kween

but also she just doesn’t see the point bc she’s just sleeping there and they travel a lot anyways

all her plants are fake bc she has a pollen allergy

but hey she actually used her desk to work at ! and she has a different place for her mirror bc she has a dresser that she uses

this makes no sense i’m going insane

she likes to keep family photos on her wall , she’s got a picture of her parents , her grandparents , her parents’ dog , all that good shit

and she’s got pictures of the members ofc you gotta have that

this entire thing wasn’t explained well so like if u have questions pls ask them

also i’m definitely gonna make solar’s dorms but it might be a bit similar bc their dorms r in the same building and have the same layout

also should i make the smke building ?

[unpack-my-heart]

Under the stars and missing each other for reddie...only if you want to💗

omg this is probably half a year late but here we go!!

The first time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, it was a rainy Tuesday afternoon in January and he was drunk on a fermenting promise to himself that never came true. He was nineteen years old, old enough to know better but young enough that reckless decisions could still be dismissed as the recklessness of a youth not yet over. When he’d told the others he was going to leave, the phone crackling wildly under the strain of their seven way phone call, they’d whooped loudly, cheering a victory that he hadn’t won yet.

“I knew this would be the year you left, Eds! I could feel it in my dick”

Fucking gross.

After he’d chewed Richie out for being crude, he’d remained silent for a very long time, listening to the others babble excitedly about how great emancipation felt, how the air had never tasted sweeter than the day they’d left Derry and never looked back. He’d planned to leave, he’d always meant to leave, got as far as having his bags packed on no less than four separate occasions over the last six months, but something held him back, an invisible red tether that cut deep welts into his heart, and it tightened viciously every time he so much as thought about shutting the creaky old door behind him for the last time.

His mother tugged on the tether, and reminded Eddie that his wings had been clipped a long time ago.

When Richie left Derry, nearly two years ago, Eddie hadn’t cried. Not in public, not so that Richie could see it. Richie had cried, great heaving sobs that choked his voice and dampened the soft jersey of Eddie’s favourite sweater. He’d cried on Eddie’s shoulder for a long, long time, but Eddie’s eyes remained firmly, petulantly dry. They’d remained dry when Richie had told him that, out of all the Losers, out of all the people he’d ever met and even the people he hadn’t, his Eds was his favourite. They’d remained dry when he’d watched Richie shove his guitars and the half-broken metal box full of old mixtapes into his half-broken old car that wheezed almost as much as Eddie did. They’d remained dry as he watched Richie drive mouse-slow out of the drive way, hollering out of the window, “I’ll never forget you, Eds! Not ever! I’ll always remember you and those fucking shorts!”

The shorts remained folded away in the back of his wardrobe, unworn.

Eddie didn’t leave.

The second time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he was twenty-four years old, and working full-time at the pharmacy that he’d spent so many wasted hours in over the years, queueing up dutifully, waiting for the prescription to be filled, always jittering on the spot. He’d hop from foot to foot, wondering whether these pills would stop the throbbing in his heart and the mocking voice in his head, “you’re cracked you’re damaged you’re ruined”. So many years and so many sugar pills, enough to make his stomach churn and his teeth itch. The pharmacy was much the same, aisles of dandruff shampoo and cough syrup, and he spent his days drumming his fingers on the counter, each pound of each pad against the dull white surface a declaration, a plea.

“You’re never going to leave if you don’t do it now. Rip the band-aid off, Eds, and stop being such a fucking pussy.”

Richie was right, in that very frustrating way that Richie was always, always, right, especially when it came to Eddie and his pathological tendency to self-sabotage himself into oblivion. Rather than grasp his life in both hands, a fragile little thing that needed nurturing, Eddie instead condemned it to a solemn existence of self-hatred and apathy, all the while staring at the little white sugar pills that he’d taken for so long, lined up neatly in piss-coloured plastic bottles on the shelves of the pharmacy.

He packs his bag with all the gusto he can manage that evening, shoving t-shirts and pressed chinos into an old rucksack with wild abandon, until he stops. He stops, and he stares at the bag, really stares at it, and he realises it’s wrong. He hasn’t packed his favourite books, the movie ticket stubs he’d saved from when Richie took him to see the new Star Wars and Eddie had complained bitterly about how boring it was, how stupid the entire thing was, and he’d annoyed Richie so much that Richie had dragged him out by the arm and they’d gone for burgers instead. There was no room for his favourite shoes, the sweater with the holes in it that Bev had leant him when he was cold and then given to him because the purple made the green in his eyes shine brightly, a freshly cut lawn on a summer morning.

Eddie emptied the contents of the bag onto the floor, and stepped over it. Tomorrow, he assured himself, tomorrow he’d leave. Tomorrow.

Eddie didn’t leave.

The third time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he was thirty-three years old and he couldn’t remember why California called his name so loudly, why its sirens call echoed across the country, beckoning, seducing him with its call. California, a nihilistic melting pot of overworked and underpaid wage slaves who bowed to the corporate bell and submitted themselves to the scrutinising eye of the Silicon Valley start-ups. Surely there was nothing for Eddie there, a pharmacist with two degrees under his belt but no actual understanding of how the world works beyond the safe confines of his small town existence. Highways, supermarkets with more than ten aisles, electric cars, save the turtles, sandals in winter, and heatstroke in summer, sweat on your upper lip and tan lines on your knees. California.

His phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Is this Eds? Eds Kaspbrak?”

“Don’t call me that. Who is this?”

“Uh, it’s Richie?”

A question, not a statement, as if the caller is asking, ‘is it okay that this is Richie?’

“Richie? Richie who?”

“I thought you’d say that.”

A pause that stretches like tar, sticky and black.

“Oh Shit!”

Eddie remembered. He remembered a tangled mop of dark brown hair, he remembered bucked teeth and freckles that skate across skin like sand in the wind, he remembered the lisp, and the gangly limbs that hung awkwardly, gorilla limbs that were too long, too grabby, too energetic.

“Richie fucking Tozier”

“The one and only! Gonna be honest, Eds, I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t pick up, that some housewife would answer all, ‘he doesn’t live here anymore’, but … here you are”

“Here I am.”

“Still there.”

“Still here,” Eddie confirmed, and his gut trembled with the sort of embarrassment that hangs low and heavy in the air like smoke.

“I’m in California, got a sweet little place on the oceanfront if you ever … y’know …”

Oh. There it is. The static that had been buzzing around Eddie’s brain when he thought of California, the angry bees that stung him for not remembering finally relented, finally dropped down dead, because Richie’s on the other end of the phone, still lisping, voice a little deeper and a little hoarser, but Eddie had  remembered.

“Ocean front, you say?”

The most reckless thing Eddie had done before this was leave the house during a torrential rainstorm with an only shower proof coat, knowing full well that the long fingers of Flu would be tapping at his arm in the morning. Now, here he is, sat in a tacky sea-food restaurant with someone he hasn’t seen for over a decade, and he’s drunk. Not too drunk, he can still see without his vision blurring, and he can still count all the freckles that litter Richie’s face, and he can still wonder whether these are new freckles, or whether these are the same freckles he used to stare at when they were lying in the quarry, sunning themselves like heat-starved reptiles.  

But, nevertheless, here he is, stuffing paella into his face with one hand and with the other waving wildly in the air as he talks through bites of rice.

“Do you remember when you got kicked out of band?”

Richie groans, wounded.

“Don’t fucking remind me, I was washing that fucking yellow paint out of my hair for at least three years after that.”

“I’ll never forget the look on Mike’s face, he was so ready to beat the absolute living shit out of you!” Eddie brayed, stray pieces of rice escaping his mouth as he spoke, disgusting but in the dim light of the restaurant, Eddie didn’t care.

The wind whips Eddie’s face when they stagger out of the restaurant three hours and ninety dollars later, and Richie grabs him by the chin roughly.

“You never left, did you?”

“You know I fuckin’ didn’t”

“I shouldn’t have left without you, I never should have left you there.”

Eddie pushed at Richie, gentle enough not to hurt. “It wouldn’t have made a difference, Rich. I’ve grown roots, I’m … I’m stuck there, like one of those plants that dies in the winter but is back again in summer. All I would have done is dragged you down with me.”

Richie readjusted his grip on Eddie’s chin, and tipped Eddie’s head up, so he was looking directly into Richie’s eyes.

“I nearly kissed you when I left,” Richie said, the alcohol swimming in his veins dimming his inhibitions, if only for these few snatched moments. “I really nearly did, but you looked so …”

“So what?”

“You didn’t cry.”

Eddie blinked. “I cried every day for a month after you left, Rich. I cried so much my mother sent me to the fucking doctor because she thought I had hysteria.”

Richie barked out a laugh, a sad wet sound that sounded more like a sob, “I left you.”

Eddie pushed his face up, out of Richie’s grip, and pushed his lips against Richie’s quivering ones. The kiss is small, timid, and Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and clung.

It didn’t last long, Richie was crying too much for it to be the storybook cliché that Eddie had so desperately hoped that it would be.

The next day, Eddie left.

The fourth time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he left, and never looked back.

@tinyarmedtrex @xandertheundead @lifesucksheres20bucks @moonlightrichie @toziesque @violetreddie @eds-trashmouth @oldguybones

[cyborgsquirrel]

Sanctuary: Chapter 18

Pairing: Wolfstar

Summary: The epic tale of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, from their first meeting until their happily ever after.

Link to Prologue

Link to All Chapters

Saturday, 2nd October 1971, 1:15 pm

As September melted into October, a noticeable chill fell over the castle. If one woke before sunrise and looked out of the window, they would be treated to the sight of the green lawns coated with a silvery frost, but there was still enough warmth in the air that it disappeared with the coming of dawn.

Remus was not looking forward to the full moon in two days' time, but he was pleased he'd be spending it in the fire-warmed house in Hogsmeade, and not in the garden hole his dad had dug for him. He had been hoping to get plenty of rest over the weekend. The full moon that month fell on a Monday, their busiest day of the week, with no free periods and three magically demanding classes. It was going to be exhausting. Unfortunately, James had other ideas for their Saturday.

'It's the Quidditch try-outs. We have to go!'

'But I'm tired, James. I don't really want to do anything this weekend.'

'You don't have to do anything, just sit and watch.'

Remus found it difficult to argue with that. He couldn't explain that it wasn't just a physical tiredness but a deep spiritual one that throbbed all the way down to his soul. No one would understand if he said that the slightest sound made his ears ring and his brain buzz. They would think him a freak if he tried to explain that every scent burnt his nose and choked his breath.

Remus turned away from James so he wouldn't see the pain in his expression when he climbed off the bed. 'Alright. I'll come. Let me get my cloak.'

James cheered, and Remus cringed at the sound.

When they got down to the common room, Sirius looked surprised to see him. 'I thought you were going to have a nap?'

Remus shrugged. 'James persuaded me to come.'

Sirius frowned at James but didn't say anything further.

'Come on then. What are we waiting for?' Peter asked. He was wearing a Gryffindor hat and scarf set and had painted his face in red and gold stripes. They looked glittery.

'You know this is just the try-outs, don't you, mate? It's not a match,' Remus said.

Peter laughed. 'I know, I just really wanted to test the paints.'

They made their way out to the Quidditch pitch where the try-outs were being held, and Remus found the cool air soothing on his aching joints. He couldn't understand why the pain had started so much earlier this month. It didn't usually hurt until the day of the full moon.

When they reached their destination, they took seats in the Gryffindor area of the stands, and Remus breathed a sigh of relief that he was sitting down again. But it was to be short-lived because, when the potential team members arrived and began displaying their skills, the noise was horrendous. People cheered for their favourites and their friends; James was keeping up a running commentary next to him, and Peter was whooping every few minutes. Sirius, though, was uncharacteristically quiet. Remus was grateful for it, even if it didn't make that much difference to his overall level of suffering.

Sirius bent close to him, and Remus fought against his instinct to move away. He trusted Sirius. There was no need to behave like a frightened animal with him. 'Mate, you look like shit. Why don't you go back in? I'll deal with James. I told him not to bother you in the first place.'

'I think I will. I'll go to the library though and see if I can find out anything about the belch powder. James can't complain about me missing tryouts if I'm working on the Halloween display.'

Sirius smiled. 'Good idea, it's quiet in the library. I'll see you later.'

Remus waved goodbye, and as he walked away, he heard James ask Sirius where he was going but didn't hear the reply.

When he reached the library, he browsed the shelves until he found a book on joke-shop products, and then he found a little room with beanbags, on which he curled up to read. It wasn't long until he fell asleep.

-o-o-o-o-

Sirius sat on his bed, putting the finishing touches on his Herbology essay about the care of jewelweed seedlings. It was due first period on Monday, and he didn't want it hanging over his head all the next day when he was trying to have fun. He glanced at his watch for the fifth time in five minutes. Remus still hadn't returned from the library, and it had been eight hours since he left them in the Quidditch stands. How long did it take to do a little research? Sirius couldn't actually answer that question. He'd never done research in his life. Maybe eight hours was a reasonable amount of time. However, it was twenty minutes past curfew, and Remus had no way of getting back to Gryffindor tower without being caught.

'James, I want to go look for Remus. Can I borrow the cloak?'

James glanced up from his own work, looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows, presumably surprised by the time. 'Of course, you don't have to ask. I'd come with you, but I really need to get this homework done. I still have McGonagall's to do after this,' he said, nodding to the parchment he was working on.

'No worries, I'll be quicker alone anyway.'

'Where are you going to look?'

Sirius shrugged. 'He said he was going to the library, so I'll try there first.'

'If he's not there, try the hospital wing. He didn't look too good earlier.'

If you noticed that, why did you drag him out of bed? Sirius thought, but he kept it to himself. He didn't want to start an argument when Remus was missing.

'Good idea,' he said instead, grabbing the silvery cloak from the top of James' trunk before dashing to his own trunk and then Remus'.

'See you later.'

'Good luck,' James and Peter both said, almost in unison. Sirius grinned and waved as he left the dorm room.

Sirius made his way down the Grand Staircase to the library, hidden under the cloak. The castle looked so different at night, and he'd never been out after curfew alone before. It was a little scary. The lights were dimmer and the shadows darker. Sirius felt the sensation of eyes watching him from the gloomy recesses. But that was impossible. He was invisible, for Merlin's sake.

When he reached the door to the library, he found it was locked up for the night. Damn. What was that spell Remus used to get into Flitwick's office the weekend before? Aloe vera? No, that was a plant. Aloemore? Mora? Alohomora? Yes! That was it. He hadn't been able to do it before, but that was just a game. This was far more important. If he didn't get it right, Remus could be shut in the library all night. He could be injured. Or really sick. What if Sirius was wrong about the lycanthropy and Remus was actually sick with something else? Something less predictable. Oh Gods, what if he was in there dying? Sirius had to master this spell. He just had to.

Having worked himself up into a panicked ball of nerves, Sirius clutched his wand and pointed it at the lock. Repeating what he'd seen Remus do to his journal, he moved his wand anti-clockwise and spoke the incantation. Nothing happened.

He tried again. 'Alohomora! Alohomora! Alohomora, you fucking bastard of a lock!'

Okay, he needed to calm down. Sirius took a deep breath, focused all his willpower on his desire to get that lock open, and tried one more time. 'Alohomora,' he said, enunciating every syllable. The lock clicked open. Yes! I am brilliant! he thought, before pushing the door open and hurrying inside. Now, if I were Remus, where would I be?

Sirius jogged up and down the aisles, looking into the various nooks and crannies and checking the rooms that led off the main space. Five minutes into the search, he found him purely by chance. He had poked his head into a small room that had piles of beanbags for students to curl up on. Finding it empty, he had been about to leave and check the next room when he heard a loud snore followed by a shuffle. Sirius crossed the room in three quick strides and discovered Remus, sleeping, crammed between the wall and an enormous orange beanbag. He must have rolled off at some point. Sirius just stared at him for a minute. He looked so tiny next to the giant beanbag, curled into a ball.

Sirius was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of a hacking cough that was far too close for his liking. He pulled the cloak off, crouched down next to Remus and said as loud as he dared, 'Remus, wake up.'

Remus snorted and rolled over. Urgh, if only he could shake him.

'Seriously, Remus, you need to wake up.'

Remus' eyelids fluttered. 'Huh. Wha'? Wha's goin' on?'

'You fell asleep in the library. It's after curfew, and I think there must have been a warning ward on the door because someone's here.'

Remus sat up and blinked rapidly. 'Sirius?'

'Yes, it's me. We need to get out of here.'

A gravelly voice sounding almost gleeful came from nearby. 'I know you're in here. You'll be in so much trouble when we find you.'

'Shit. It's Filch,' Sirius said, running a hand through his hair from the stress of the situation. 'We'll be in big trouble if we're caught in here. I know you don't like to, but do you think you can cope with being under the cloak with me for a few minutes?'

Remus glanced down at his bare hands and back at Sirius. His eyes were wide and scared.

'Here,' he said, pulling two pairs of gloves from his pockets. 'I brought gloves for both of us, and I'll be really careful not to touch your face, I promise, but we really do need to hide.'

Remus hesitated and then nodded. 'Okay.'

Sirius handed one pair of gloves to Remus, and he put the other pair on. 'Thank you for trusting me. You won't regret it. Get up.'

Remus got to his feet, slipped the book he'd been reading into his bag, stepped over the beanbag to stand next to him, and let Sirius swing the cloak over their shoulders and pull the hood up to cover their heads. Just in time. A moment later, Filch appeared at the door to the reading room and they froze, not even daring to breathe.

-o-o-o-o-

Oh, Gods. Sirius smelled so good. All he wanted to do was turn his head and bury his face in his neck. That couldn't be a normal human urge. Other people didn't go around wanting to smell each other. Merlin, he was a freak. Sirius threw the cloak over their shoulders and pulled the hood up, and suddenly his scent was even more concentrated. It was overwhelming. Remus stopped breathing, and in the same moment, Filch appeared in the doorway, holding a lantern.

He didn't enter the room, thankfully. Just glanced around and moved on. Sirius let out a relieved breath next to him. Remus' lungs were screaming at him, and he gave in and sucked in a deep breath. Merlin, how could anyone smell so damned delicious. No! Not delicious. That made Sirius sound like food. He smelled… divine? Intoxicating? No, those weren't quite right either. Remus wracked his brain, entirely focused on the singular problem of finding the right word to describe the scent of Sirius.

Comforting.

Yes, that was it. Sirius smelled comforting. Like curling up in a favourite chair next to a roaring fire with a good book. Remus wanted to curl up on Sirius.

'Mate? You okay?' Sirius whispered. 'You're not freaking out are you?'

Gods, Sirius would be disgusted if he knew what he was thinking. He needed to snap out of it.

'No. I'm okay. We should go.'

'Alright. This is going to be really difficult if we're trying not to touch. Do you think you can cope with putting your arm around me like on the broom?'

Remus wasn't sure he could. It had been easier before, out in the open air and more than a week until the moon. Now, under the confines of the cloak, with Sirius' scent overwhelming him and the wolf so close to the surface, would it be too much?

He tentatively wrapped his arm around Sirius' waist. The warmth of his body bled through both layers of fabric and set his nerves tingling. His head was dangerously close to Sirius' shoulder, though. It shouldn't be an issue. His shoulder was covered by his school robes, but Remus wasn't comfortable with only one layer of fabric between their skin. He let go and moved away.

'I can't do it. It's too close,' he said, feeling his face heat with embarrassment. Gods, he made everything so difficult. Why did Sirius put up with him?

Sirius showed no signs that Remus' inability to co-operate bothered him. He just moved straight on to the next solution. 'Okay, what about if we link arms like the girls do all the time? They seem to be able to walk together like that.'

Remus nodded, and Sirius crooked his arm. He laced his arm through the gap and felt their elbows hook together. It was okay. There was plenty of distance between their exposed skin. This would work.

He glanced up and found Sirius looking down at him, awaiting his verdict. 'I'm good. This is good.'

Sirius grinned. 'Excellent. Let's go.'

They started towards the door, and the movement of air caused by their motion wafted a fresh blast of Sirius' scent into Remus' face.

He inhaled through his nose on purpose, relishing in their proximity and his ability to soak in his scent. Then he felt a wave of shame. He was behaving like an animal. Like a beast. He tried to stop, but he couldn't. The allure of it was too powerful. He wanted to drown in it.

They had reached the Grand Staircase, and Sirius guided him up the steps. Remus' head was swimming, and he tripped a couple of times, but Sirius held him upright by keeping his arm solid and unmoving.

'Almost there now, Remus.'

He felt like his whole body was on fire. Every part of him tingled with the heat from Sirius, and he was surrounded by the scent of him.

The soft thump of Sirius' heartbeat filled his ears. It was racing. Was he scared? Remus didn't want him to be scared. He whimpered.

'You okay there, mate?'

'Yes,' Remus managed to croak out. He was far from okay. Every part of him was focused entirely on Sirius. His smell, his heat, his heartbeat, the sound of his breathing in the silent hall. Merlin, was he hunting? Is that what this was? Was the wolf inside him hunting his friend? Gods, he wasn't fit to be around people. Sirius was just trying to help him, and he was taking advantage. He was despicable.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Remus tore himself away from Sirius. Turning his back on him so he wouldn't see the wolf in his eyes. He bent over with his hands on his knees and panted, taking deep, Sirius-free breaths of clean air and trying to clear the smell from his nose and his mind. Behind him, he heard Sirius give the password.

'Come on, mate. Let's get inside,' Sirius said, sounding worried.

Yes, inside. Safety. Remus' thoughts were scattered and erratic. One moment he wanted nothing more than to be close to Sirius. The next, he was recoiling from him. But he somehow managed to pull himself together enough to scramble through the portrait hole into the common room. Sirius led him to a secluded corner and got him to sit down.

'Talk to me.'

Remus stared at his hands. There was no way to explain what he was feeling, and he felt so ashamed. 'I'm okay. It was just a really long time. I'm sorry.'

'Sorry?' Sirius repeated with a snort. 'For what? Being incredibly brave and amazing?'

Remus looked up at him. 'Brave? How can you call me brave? I can't even touch someone without freaking out.'

'And yet you did,' Sirius said. 'Twice. Knowing how it would make you feel, you still did it. And one of those times was just so we could win a stupid game. If that's not bravery, I don't know what is.'

Remus felt like absolute shit. Sirius was praising him, and in reality, all he'd done was put him in grave danger. Gods, he was so selfish, risking infecting his friend with this vile disease just so he wouldn't lose them a game or get caught out of bounds after curfew. Was avoiding detention really worth destroying his friend's entire life? He couldn't ever let it happen again. Next time he would just take the detention.

'Remus?'

'Yeah, sorry. I think I just need to be alone for a bit. I'm going to go to bed.'

'Alright. I'll come up with you.'

Remus hurried up the stairs without looking at Sirius, greeted James and Peter and got straight into bed without even undressing. Despite his exhaustion from the coming moon, sleep did not come easily to him that night. And when he finally did succumb, he had horrifying dreams of Sirius tearing himself apart and erupting into a wolf, while his screams echoed in his ears. 'This is all your fault, Remus. Why did you do this to me?'

-o-o-o-o-

Sirius woke up on Monday morning well aware that there would be a full moon that night. and he intended to keep a close eye on Remus. He was almost certain he was right, but today would prove or disprove his suspicions.

Remus was difficult to wake up that morning, which probably wouldn't have seemed that odd, but he'd slept most of Sunday away and Sirius had found him asleep in the library on Saturday, although he didn't know how long he'd been sleeping for. He really shouldn't be that tired.

They got him out of bed eventually, though, and headed down to breakfast. Sirius offered to join him in the kitchen, but Remus declined, so he followed James and Peter into the Great Hall, a little annoyed that he wouldn't know if Remus actually ate anything.

'Do you think Remus is okay?' James asked. 'He looks ill.'

Sirius tried to deflect. 'He's probably just getting a cold or something.'

Thankfully, they were distracted by the morning post arriving. James received a large box, wrapped in plain brown paper.

'It's from my dad. He's sent the belch powder for Halloween. I'll open it later,' he said, tucking it into his bag quickly.

Peter was staring at the teacher's table. 'McGonagall's getting a lot of post this morning.'

Sirius turned to look. He was right. Seven different owls had deposited parcels in front of her, and she had a wide smile on her face as she spoke to Dumbledore.

'Must be her birthday or something,' he said.

After breakfast, they met back up with Remus in the Entrance Hall and headed out to the greenhouses for Herbology. After an hour spent planting lemongrass, Remus looked ready to collapse. Thankfully, Transfiguration was next, and the first half of the double period was theory, so he was able to sit down for a while. They were learning how to combine the theory of transfiguring an object's colour and material, so they could change both at the same time. Remus dozed off several times, and Sirius was forced to kick his chair to wake him up. During the second half of the lesson where they were attempting to turn a red matchstick into an orange needle, Remus didn't even try. That was strange, but stranger still, McGonagall didn't say a word to him, despite reprimanding three other students for not putting enough effort in.

The evidence was stacking up.

After lunch, they had their second Charms lesson on diffindo and were supposed to be slicing through a piece of cloth, but again Remus just sat with his head on the desk and Flitwick ignored him entirely. Sirius pretended not to notice.

The final lesson of the day was Defence, and Professor Hawthorne lectured them on the chupacabra. Remus looked up briefly with vague interest when Emhio shifted into the creature but made no notes, and Lily seemed quite concerned about him.

Sirius had used his astronomy book the night before to do the calculations and worked out that moonrise was at ten past six. So he was unsurprised when Remus announced on their way to dinner that he was going to go to the hospital wing because he felt unwell. He was leaving more than an hour before moonrise. Did that mean he had to travel a long way? Or that he'd be too out of it to travel at all if he waited much longer? Where did he go? Surely he didn't really spend the night in the hospital wing? Sirius had so many questions.

After dinner, Sirius, James and Peter went to their daily meeting with the birthday person of the day. That day was a fifth-year Hufflepuff called Chris Fletcher. He arrived at exactly six o'clock and greeted them in an upper-class accent. 'Good evening, I hope you are well.' Sirius rolled his eyes.

Then the unexpected happened. Chris was unable to open the door to the room, never mind blow out the candle.

'But it is my birthday,' he said for the tenth time.

'Well, it seems the door disagrees, perhaps you should write to your mother and find out what's going on?'

Fletcher nodded and left, and Sirius turned to James and Peter.

'What the fuck are we going to do? It's only three hours until curfew!'

'We need to find someone else with a birthday,' James said.

'How?' Sirius said. 'We can't just run around the school randomly asking people.'

'McGonagall!' Peter yelled. Sirius and James jumped.

'Where?' Sirius said, spinning around on the spot.

'No. I mean, McGonagall got all those parcels at breakfast this morning.'

'You're right!' James said. 'Do you think she'll do it?'

'Only one way to find out,' Sirius said, already running down the stairs.

They reached McGonagall's office in record time, and James knocked on the door, rather louder than was necessary. They were shocked when it was answered by Professor Dumbledore.

'Hello. You three look to be in an awful hurry.'

James was too stunned to speak, so Sirius took over. 'Sorry, sir. We were looking for Professor McGonagall.'

'Well. I assumed as much. This is her office, I believe,' he said, looking at the sign on the door as if wanting to confirm he was, in fact, in the right room.

'Albus, stop teasing the children. Come in. What can I do for you?'

Dumbledore chuckled and stood aside to allow them entrance. They walked into the office and found Professor McGonagall sitting on one of the two armchairs, a glass of pale green liquid in her hand. Another glass was on the table.

'Professor. We may need your help. But first, I have to ask, is it your birthday today?' Sirius said.

She inclined her head. 'It is.'

'Brilliant. Happy birthday.'

'Thank you. But I'm fairly certain you didn't come here just to wish me a happy birthday.'

'No. We need your help.'

'With?'

Sirius took a deep breath and launched into the explanation complete with wild hand gestures. 'Well. Three weeks ago we found a hidden door. We figured out how to open it. Well, Remus did. And inside was a birthday cake and a poem on the wall. It said if we could blow out the candle on the cake every day for twenty-eight days in a row, we would be rewarded. But it can only be blown out by someone on their birthday. We managed to find someone for every day, but the person who was supposed to do it today, well, it didn't work. We're not sure why. Maybe he was born a minute after midnight and the clock was wrong?'

'So you want me to come and blow the candle out so you don't have to start again?'

'Yes. You see if we miss a day the room will move and we'd have to find it again. We really want to know what's inside. Please, will you help.' Sirius put on his most pleading expression. James actually got down on his knees and put his hands together.

Dumbledore chuckled. 'It sounds very interesting. I've heard rumours of this birthday cake room. I'd rather like to see it for myself.'

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him. 'I will help on one condition.'

'Anything,' Sirius said, rather rashly.

'I want to be present on the twenty-eighth day in case this "reward" is dangerous.'

James jumped to his feet. 'That's no problem at all. The last day is the fifteenth, and we'll be doing it at six o'clock.'

'Well then,' Professor McGonagall said, standing up. 'Lead the way.'

They led the headmaster and their head of house through the school and up to the seventh-floor landing where Sirius opened the portrait with a dramatic, 'Congratulations.'

'How did you find out the password?' Professor Dumbledore asked with interest.

'The portrait of Silas down there told us,' Sirius said, pointing, and Dumbledore nodded.

'You have to tell the door it's your birthday and be telling the truth to open it,' James explained.

'And how did you work that out?' Professor McGonagall asked.

'Remus translated the runes.'

'Impressive,' she said. 'It is my birthday.'

The door clicked open with the usual quiet fanfare sounding from the surrounding walls. Dumbledore looked around at the noise.

'Fascinating,' he said.

They walked in, and the two professors read the poem on the wall and glanced at the glowing lights. There were sixteen of them by that

point.

'Are those lights keeping track?' Dumbledore asked. They all nodded. 'You're doing very well. Can I ask how you recruited your volunteers?'

'We made posters and hung them on the notice-boards in the common rooms,' Sirius told him.

'Indeed? Very industrious.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Shall I proceed?' Professor McGonagall asked, arching an eyebrow.

'Ah yes. Please go ahead. I'm quite anxious to see what happens.'

Professor McGonagall bent down and blew out the candle. The fanfare sounded, and a seventeenth light glowed to life on the wall above the words, Happy Birthday, Minerva McGonagall. A moment later the candle re-lit itself.

'Fascinating,' Professor Dumbledore said again, clapping his hands together. 'I do so love a mystery. Congratulations on your find, boys, and we will see you here on the fifteenth. I'm very excited to see what's through that door.' He smiled at them, and he and Professor McGonagall left.

'Minnie's great, isn't she?' Sirius said, grinning at his friends.

Chapter 19