#home network rack

[virtualizationhowto]

Top Home Server Rack Tips in 2023

Top Home Server Rack Tips in 2023 @vexpert #vmwarecommunities #homelab #HomeServerRackGuide #RackUnitsExplained #BesthomeServerRack2023 #WallMountVsDesktopRacks #ServerRackFeatures #NetworkingEquipmentSetup #MountingSolutionsForServers #homeserverrack

Home labs have exploded in popularity as enthusiasts and IT professionals who also like to tinker take their day job into their passion at home with a home lab. Other than choosing a server and networking gear to cable everything up in your lab, as the home lab grows, so does the need to house everything efficiently. Once you get more than a server or two and maybe a couple of network switches…

[prostarchina]

Why Rack Mount UPS Power Supply is Vital for Industrial Automation and Efficiency

In today’s technologically advanced world, businesses and organizations heavily rely on electronic devices and data centers to perform critical operations. Efficient rack mount ups power supply safeguards systems from disruptions and damage, crucial for protection. This article delves into Importance of rack mount UPS power supply: Ensuring Uninterrupted Energy for Applications. What is a Rack…

[lou-struck]

Not me thinking about…. The sleepy sun peeking through the blinds into Katsuki’s bedroom, waking you just moments before your alarm does. The space next to you, empty, but it still retains a bit of the Explosion Hero’s warmth, which tells you that he slept in just a bit longer than normal before his morning patrol. 

From the window, you catch a glimpse of his car driving off. You appreciate how quietly he moves through his morning routine, but you do wish that you could’ve given him a proper goodbye. 

With him gone, you are slow to shower and dress. By the time you come downstairs, buttons in place and hair just so, you notice a still-warm mug of coffee sits on the edge of the counter where you guys keep your keys. 

You wonder if it’s Katsuki’s. 

The blond could’ve made it for himself and left it behind in his rush to get out the door today. You can’t even count the number of times you have gone through the trouble of making something to take on the go and forgetting to take it with you. 

Staring down at the steaming cup in front of you, you notice it is the very shade you prefer your coffee. It looks good, really good. 

So good that you would just hate to have to dump it out and let it go to waste after your boyfriend had gone out of the way to make himself a cup. Despite being in your own home, you do a quick little scan of the room before raising the mug to your lips and taking just a little sip. 

You know, just to try it.

WOW

This may be the best cup of coffee you have ever had. It's not too sweet and tastes better than what you would normally get during your commute. 

Without even thinking, you completely drain the cup. Your reflection stares up at you through the ceramic glaze. Accusing you of not savoring the beverage.

It’s then your phone begins to ring. Katsuki’s face flashes on the screen and your stomach twists with newfound guilt. “What if he is calling to ask you if you could stop by his agency with his coffee?”

Nervously you slide your finger along the ‘accept’ button. His gruff voice comes through the speakerphone. “Thought you’d be awake.”

“I drank your coffee.” you blurt out. Cheeks burning with shame.

“No you didn't” he responds “It was yours.”

“Really?” you ask, walking over to the kitchen sink. Sure enough, you spot another mug resting on the drying rack. “Wow, thank you Katsuki.

“Did ya like it?” he asks, over the sound of the static and the highway you notice a slight waver in the man's voice. “I didn't have any of that fancy shit the cafes have but I wanted to try it.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, bewildered by his sudden self-consciousness. “That was the best cup of coffee I have ever had in my life. What did you put in there?”

“Not telling,” you can feel his smirk through the phone. “You can guess again tomorrow.”

“I'm looking forward to it,” you murmur looking down at your empty cup. Mouth already watering at the thought of having another made fresh tomorrow.

Tagging- @pixelcafe-network @qardasngan @anjodedesgostoeerros @sleepyyshroom @isaacdaknight @dog55teeth @atigerandabear

[bindeds]

 ⁺ PORK  KATSU  .ᐟ ˬ˚    ───    s.geto x  gn.reader   .  .  .           ╲   in  which  you  cook  for  him  after  hearing  how  awful  spirits  taste.  takes  place  right after his talk with yuki. 

wc. 538. tags.       fluff,  hurt comfort,  geto’s tired,  you’re his relief —    tagging  @pixelcafe-network. art by srkork on twt!

“You’re home!”

He placed his shoes underneath the small metal rack. Sunlight streaked through his windows in wide and thin strips, your silhouette casting its shape into its lines like a painting.

Suguru doesn’t say anything. It’s hard to, with the day he’s had. He never thought that blonde hair and black turtlenecks could come to be such a haunting image. 

Her words lulled Suguru into a dull sense of self; it was practically fate when he didn't even have words of his own, his own argument to defend the rigid morals he spent his life upholding with sticks and straws.

When he emerged from the hallway like he’d stepped out of his own head, he’s almost immediately met with a wooden spoon near his lips. 

His brows raise. He’s too busy brushing his gaze along your features to notice the pork on the spoon. Your cheeks rose with the corners of your lips, the orange blur of the sunset light tracing the curves of your face. He’d never seen you this happy before. 

“What’s this?”

“I cooked you pork katsu.” Your smile softened into a small curve on your lips as you continued to hold out the spoon for him, the other hand hovering below to catch any liquid that would drip.

Suguru slowly leaned forward as his jaw hung, accepting your invitation the way the windows allow light in at certain angles, certain parts of this small house that seemed to hold your joy and his pain.

He chewed slowly, as if carefully considering the food in his mouth. The soft strips of chicken unfolding and splitting inside, and he wondered aloud,

“Why?”

“ … Why what?”

“You don’t usually like to cook … why now?”

You stare off at the window for a moment, letting the light fill your eyes and rest like beanbags at the bottom of your irises. Your hands retract from him slowly, and as liquid does, some drips onto your other hand. 

“You’ve always told me how horrible spirits taste. I feel bad that you have to put them in your mouth all the time … I wanted to help, even if I’m not an excellent cook … I can learn.”

Suguru’s eyes were slow to widen, and perhaps he let light in too when he searched your mellowed expression and found nothing but earnesty.

He took the spoon and placed it down on the counter. His arms scooped you up into a loose embrace, slowly tightening with the intentions of your actions now swelling in the warmth between.

“Geto …”

Your arms fall like paper around him, but he doesn’t mind. 

“I can’t believe I was going to …”

He cannot finish that sentence, under any circumstances. 

“Going to … what?”

But of course, you wonder anyway. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismisses it quickly, the thoughts made to maim you. He would no longer allow it. “Not anymore.”

If he was going to kill his parents, you were no exception.

But it’s clear to see that having you here, breathing with your ribs pressed against his was worth every inch of slop and grime that ever grazed his tongue.

[mikashisus]

ray idk anything about hsr or genshin so i can’t req for those unfortunately 💔 BUT you summoned me by including bllk in your list HEHEHE can i request smth for nagi?? i don’t really have any specific ideas though…maybe childhood friends 🤔 or anything you want really!!

sorry this is so unspecific i’ve never requested before 😔 but ilyyyy and congrats on 200 that’s amazing!!

— definitely not mira 👹

STITCH ME UP

synopsis: you didn’t consider nagi seishiro a friend at first. but now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

taglist. @pneumosia @pixelcafe-network @gl4di0lus ( join the taglist here! )

word count. 2.1k ( contents : semi angst, injuries, mc has a short temper )

notes. this has been sitting in my inbox since JULY IM SO SORRY MIRA 😭 but it's finally here!! there'll def be a part 2 bc this is so dogshit and i need to redeem myself with a second part. mira i look up to ur writing sm so u only deserve peak, and i promise u'll get it in part 2 queen 🙏 anyw um the title is in reference to the song “stitch me up” by set it off :))

header art by: @/Liiiiiiimsao ( twt )

The first time you met Nagi Seishiro, you were about to go into your first year of middle school, curled up on the side of the street struggling to wrap a bandage around your left arm. 

It was sunset then, and the world was quiet aside from the loud buzzing of cicadas and the occasional car passing by. 

Nagi had just left a tiny convenience store located on the edge of the street, his phone in his hands as he tapped away at the game he was currently fixated on. Knowing the way back home by heart, he began to walk in that direction, unaware of his surroundings. 

It was only when he tripped over something rather sturdy did he finally forcefully take his eyes off the device in his hand. His grip on his phone tightened. He was determined not to drop it and risk the screen cracking again. 

Not paying any mind to what he just tripped over, he sighed in relief that he did not drop his phone, and patted down his pants. 

“HEY!” 

A loud yell drew him from his stupor. He slowly turned, coming face to face with a scowl. He blinked at you for a few seconds, before he faced you properly and raised a brow. 

“Yes?” 

“Look where you’re going, asshole! You tripped over me!” You snapped, patience wearing thin.

His shoulders slumped. Now that you stood in front of him, you realized just how tall he actually was. He kind of looked like a third year. It made you all the more aggravated. You hated anyone that could look down on you like he was. 

“Oh. Sorry, I guess.” He shrugged, acting as if what just happened was not a big deal. “You have a bad mouth.” 

That was the last straw. Your fists clenched tightly, your nails digging into your skin as your eye twitched. You ignored the pain in your palms and challenged his stoic stare. 

“So what?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Is that a problem?” 

He shrugged again and looked down at his phone. “I don’t really care.” 

He got ready to leave, when he cast one last glance at you, and his eyes landed on the now bloody bandage that came undone from your arm. The longer he stared, the more he realized he'd seen you before. 

He racked his brain for answers, sifting through each memory to try and remember where he’d seen you. Meanwhile, you were silent, fidgety. You did not enjoy people staring at you. It made you anxious, like they were trying to challenge you in some way. 

This weird boy who you did not understand and you deemed an asshole for not watching where he walked made you feel quite nervous. You knew him from school. He was the boy who was exceptionally good at volleyball. 

You could remember how fascinated you were watching him play during gym class. He had all the talent you could only hope for, and the envy had bubbled up inside you, growing exponentially. Despite your envy, you quickly forgot about him after you no longer had to be in the same proximity as him, and you went about your life without thinking of him again. 

Until now. 

Nagi finally remembered where he had seen you. It was as if a lightbulb had suddenly appeared above his head, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. You were that one kid that liked to pick a fight with anyone taller than you. 

He first caught a glimpse of you in the nurse’s office when he had tripped outside during gym class and cut open his knee. As he was waiting for the nurse to return with gauze, he heard a commotion outside the office and saw your rather short form tackle a boy twice your size. 

With the strength of a lion tucked inside that small body of yours, you refused to give up the fight until the nurse came back and rushed out into the hall to separate the two of you. 

Nagi remembered watching your face fall in defeat when the nurse said to go to the principal’s office and that your parents would need to be called. 

“You’re that kid.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. “You like to pick fights with people.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he watched you deflate like a balloon right in front of him. Your face fell, and your arms dropped to your sides. He wondered what it was that made you so upset. Was it the reputation you had around the school? 

Just then, he saw the loose bandage on your arm completely come undone. It fell to the ground and pooled around your feet. Time stopped, and he stared in absolute horror at the mess of stitches on your arm. You did nothing to pick up the bandages. In fact, you barely moved. 

He would’ve thought you to be a statue if not for the slight twitching of your fingers. You tapped idly against your thigh, your eyes blank as you stared at the ground. He watched closely as your fingers danced in a certain rhythmic movement, and he soon realized you were tapping in morse code. 

S.O.S. 

He barely had time to register that it was morse code. His focus went back to the ghastly stitches on your arm. They looked as if they were done by someone with no experience whatsoever, but there was clearly an attempt. 

The wound itself did not look any better, and he wondered if you had even cleaned it all. He noticed a few other scars littered on your arm. They were smaller and less noticeable, but his intense stare had caught sight of them easily. 

“How’d you hurt yourself?” He questioned softly, unaware he had asked that out loud instead of inside his head. 

You did not answer. Not right away at least. With a heavy sigh, you collapsed back against the fence you were previously leaning on before he had tripped over you. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you muttered with a tinge of venom in your voice. “It was someone else… But no one ever believes me, so as far as anyone is concerned, I did this to myself.” 

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he picked up the bandages you dropped, careful not to touch the parts covered in blood, and told you to wait here. 

Where would I even go? You thought. It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon. 

Within a few minutes, he was rushing out of the convenience store and across the street again, a pack of gauze and a water bottle in his hands. His phone was now tucked into his pants pocket. He kneeled down next to you and gently reached for your arm. 

“Did you try to stitch this up yourself?” 

He did not need an answer. He already knew it, though he felt the need to ask anyway. You nodded, so slight he almost missed it. He pulled a pair of scissors from the second plastic bag wrapped around his arm and carefully cut the string. 

With gentle hands, he removed the stitches to the best of his ability and dropped them onto the bandages from earlier. You tried your best not to move the whole time, but he could tell from your scrunched expression that you were in more than a bit of pain. 

He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle. “This might hurt.” He poured water over your wound, causing you to bite back a scream. 

“I don’t know how to do stitches, so…” He trailed off. “So I just got this.” He held up the gauze he bought and carefully wrapped up your arm. 

As soon as he was finished, he threw the gross bandages into the now empty plastic bag and glanced at you. Your brows were still furrowed and your lip was still tugged between your teeth. 

He stood up, taking a look at the sky. The sun was almost fully over the horizon by now, and he was likely late for dinner. He needed to leave now and get back home. As he turned to do just that, he almost missed the slight crack of your voice. 

“Thank you.” 

Were it not for the temporary silence of the cicadas, he would have missed your words entirely, and it would not have paved the way for your future with Nagi Seishiro. 

The next time you saw Nagi was in your second year of middle school. 

A white volleyball came flying out of the gym one day after school, narrowly missing his nose. It fell to the ground with a plop a foot away from him. Rushed footsteps sounded from behind him as he picked it up, and he could hear the yells of the volleyball team from the open doors of the gym. 

A familiar voice entered his ears. “I got it!” 

Moments later, you were rushing out of the gym doors, sweat lining your temple and your collarbone. An exhausted expression rested on your face, and fresh bandages were wrapped around the same arm he tended to a year prior. 

You stopped as you looked up at him, your eyes flashing with recognition as you took in the tall boy standing before you with your volleyball in his hands. You swallowed thickly, fiddling with the hem of your black t-shirt. 

He handed you the volleyball. “Here you go.” 

“…Thanks.” You hesitantly took it from his hands and hugged it to your stomach. You stared at him warily for a moment before turning around to head back into the gym. 

“You play volleyball?” He asked suddenly, shocking you as you were not expecting him to make small talk. 

You turned to face him again and nodded. “Yeah… My dad is a fan, so as soon as I was old enough to play, he signed me up for lessons,” You said. 

There was a pause, and he could tell by the awkward look in your eyes that you were debating on if you should share more or not. In the end, you caved. 

“I’m not that good. So I mainly just play because it’s fun.” You shrugged. "...I should get back to practice.” 

You left before he could get another word out. Later that day, when you were walking home from practice, you saw Nagi again— this time walking out of his house. His eyes met yours, and you both stared at one another in surprise. You lived in the same neighborhood. 

You never went as far as to consider that you and Nagi were friends. Not at first, at least. You never had friends— not after your reputation of being a short-tempered, fight-starter circulated around the school. Even your volleyball team was not a fan of you, despite the fact that you were surprisingly good when it came to teamwork. 

Everyone was inclined to stay away from you. Either out of fear or hatred, you weren’t sure. But as time passed, you came to accept being the loner who always ended up in the principal’s office. 

That was until Nagi offered you a can of soda after your failed attempt of getting the faulty vending machine to work. It was late in the afternoon on a Friday in Spring of your first year of high school. Up until that point, the two of you only interacted at odd times when you just so happened to come across each other in the halls or walking out of your houses. 

No words were ever shared between you, only slight nods of the head and small waves in greeting. Now, though, Nagi was taking a seat next to you on the staircase, placing a can of soda next to your foot. He pulled out his phone, loaded up a game, and handed it to you. 

“Wanna play?” 

You blinked at him in surprise, before nodding. You got past four levels in the game before dying, letting out a groan of frustration. He leaned over your shoulder, watching the screen intently. Occasionally, he’d chime in with a word of advice, or ask if you wanted him to do that level for you. You two sat there on that staircase for what felt like hours, before a staff member came and told you to leave. 

After that day, you would meet on the stairs everyday after your volleyball practices, playing that very same game together and attempting to outdo each other’s high scores. This routine continued, until one day you invited him to the park with you to play there. 

You didn’t consider Nagi Seishiro a friend at first. But now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

© 2024 mikashisus.

[miniseokminnies]

network love —- w.jh

♡ pairing: wen junhui x gn!reader ♡ genre: established relationship with idol!junhui ♡ wc: ~0.5k ♡ warnings: fluff, they’re just IN LOVE and LONG DISTANCE your honor ♡ a/n: random drabble written for my lovely @crab-ranjun

Wen Junhui wears many, many hats. Wen Junhui the Chinese drama actor, Jun the member of global K-Pop boy band phenomenon Seventeen, and his favorite hat; Junnie, your loving boyfriend.

The latter is unfortunately hanging on the coat rack near the door of your small apartment back in Seoul. For the last several months he has been wearing the actor hat, and while he loves that hat, he’s tired and while he is in his home country, he misses his home.

The day ahead of him will be a long day of wearing his idol Jun hat, but without his brothers it seems wrong. Fancalls can be fun, because meeting Carats is always rewarding, but the sheer amount of time he has to devote to this today is almost astronomical.

Jun sat in front of the phone waiting for the first call to begin. His staff buzzed around him, finishing last minute prep that there will be no time for during the long line of calls. Jun watched them, feeling sorry that he can’t help out with whatever needs done. A woman comes to him and touches up his makeup and informs him he has about five more minutes.

He slips his personal phone out of his pocket.

Junnie: long day ahead, Xīngān, talk l8r 😽

Jun smiles to himself feeling his phone buzz right as he returns it to his pocket. He can’t wait to hear about your day later, once he’s back in his apartment he keeps in China for these long stints of acting gigs.

Carats are always fun to talk to most days, today is no different. Jun got to see plenty of cats and had his fair share of odd questions to side step, admittedly not nearly as many as Vernon typically gets, but enough to tire him out.

He stretches his arms over his head, feeling almost giddy as the next call is the last one before he gets to go back to his own space and text you until he falls asleep, probably on the couch. His eyes close slightly, enjoying the stiffness of his muscles evening out, as the call connects.

A voice, a strangely familiar voice, greets him in Mandarin on the other end of the line. His eyes snap open to see your smiling face on the phone screen in front of him.

He opens his mouth to speak but the words don’t form so you signal for him to stay quiet. Any adverse reaction from him would alert staff and put a wrench in your plan and the secret you two have been keeping from the rest of the world for years.

“I just wanted to tell you, I’m so proud of you and the hard work you have been committed to for so long” your voice crackles through the ear buds, “You’re so talented and dedicated to what inspires you and I can’t wait to see what you do next, whatever it may be, I just hope it’s back in Seoul” you laugh, “Talk to you soon my Junnie”

“Thank you so much for your words, it means so much coming from you,” his eyes well with tears but he wears a smile the whole way home.

[safination]

Partners in Death…and Life

Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself

| Part 1: Radio's Not Dead |Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should be Trusted| Masterlist | ao3 Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason.

Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. Hello, I’m back :D This was supposed to be published yesterday, but I got busy. Anyway, thank you for all the likes so far. It motivated me to really finish this chapter. Also once again, I have everything planned out, it really is just a matter of writing it down. *Updated 28/02/2024 Just added some stuff that I thought made sense*

Flick . . .

Flick . . .

Flick . . .

Lights flicker above you with a slight buzz. You drape an arm over your eyes when the gleam of the bulb blind you. The hardwood floors chill your skin, but it’s the sensation of casual loose clothing on your back that warrants your exhale in peace. Just a second. You just need a moment on these hard and chilling floors to ground you . . . just . . . one . . . single . . . moment to . . .

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

A stray feather pricks into your arm. The vane tickles, but the barb digs your skin. You’ve called this body ‘ yours ’ far longer than your human one, yet the feathers that grow on your skin still astound you. You twirl it around your fingers, and wave it in the air like a wand—it’s a proper animalistic feather.

Your nose scrunches into a hard scowl, and you jump up, stomping into the kitchen toward that untouched coffee mug on your counter. Grabbing it, you splash the contents down the sink, letting it flush down the drain. The sponge is rough against your hands as you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub a̵̯͒n̴̤͝d̶̫͌ ̶͚̇y̶̤̎o̷͔̓u̶̢͐ ̸̓͜s̵̪͗c̸͎͂r̷̀ͅṳ̴̎b̸͖̀ ầ̷̩̯͍̙̳̍͗͘ń̵̰̞̰̕d̴͇̻̮̫̝̓̎̈́ ̶̡̬̬̮̺͗͒́̌͑y̴̙̘̻͇̿̉̐͆ǫ̷͉̟̍̅̑̏ŭ̸̖͓ͅ ̴̛̝͇̭̥̌́́̂s̸̠̑̽̏́c̷̥̺̃̾̊r̶̲̯̈́̈̄͆͊u̵̼̝͕̼̇̍̈́͘b̶͍͖͖̐̾͝.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You rinse the mug, slamming the cupboard door shut when you drop it next to your own clean one. Fingers run through your feather-hair . . . hair-feather, or your ‘ whatever that grows on your scalp’. Some questions you’ve stopped asking.

An audible grumble . . . well, uhhhhh . . . grumbles from where your stomach is placed in this body, and you munch on your lips to keep the inhumane screech from erupting into the kitchen and breaking all kinds of glassware and little knickknacks that Alastor filled your home with. (These days, the old trinkets collect dust on your shelves. There haven’t been any new ones in years.)

Chopping Hell’s equivalent of carrots calms you. (It’s honestly the use of some type of razor-sharp object that calms you. You’d prefer a different razor-sharp object, but a sharp knife is a sharp knife, no matter the size.) You chop until there’s enough food to make a proper and decent meal that your stomach will accept.

You crash on the couch, dinner secured on a plate, and flip the television switch. Light flashes into the room when you do.

Ad about some impish business—Not interested.

‘Yeah, I fucked your sister, So what?’ — Boring.

Cooking Venison with Vox— Lame.

Settling on the lifestyle network, you munch on your food. Some poor slimy creature flashes across the screen, and it's her home that will be remodeled because of . . . something . You’re not sure what that something was. You don’t care enough to find out.

The sounds from the television swap with the silence of your living-room as you take each bite. It’s one of the sadder habits you’ve picked up since purchasing this noisy picture box. Your eyes wander to that half-filled coat rack, while your ears listen in on the show and that woman did not just say that pink would go with brown . Only your singular coat drapes on the hinge, when this particular design was made to hold two.

A commercial plays for some-thing called the Hazbin Hotel.

Your eyes are stitched to the screen until the final note of the song plays, and a different advertisement takes its spot. You take a sip of your drink.  Just ą̷̖̯͈͂ ̷̡̧͚̤̩͎̙͇̞͓̟͈̤̝͉͉͉̘̉͐̓́̆́̇̍̐̿̈̄͜͜͜͝͝s̶̨̢̛̥̣̻̱̰̬̩̹̥̞̟̳̝͔͓͙̗̗͕̟͇̆̉̿į̴̡̢̠͇̱̤͔̙͎͕͛̑̓̒̀̔͆̓͂̃̚͘͘͠ṗ̶̡̢̨̳͙̦̮͍͓̻͎̲̪̲͕͛̔̐́̐̈́̒̒̉̎͛̆̈́̈́̉̔̑̃̕ͅ.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You blink, and you find your keys locking your front door.  Already, your legs are trekking down the garden stones. A flower snarls at you as the gate locks with a click.

Another blink.

Huh . . . you’re on the bus .

The sign says it’s headed into the city. Living on the outskirts has always been beneficial for you. Not today, though. Today, the one-hour commute makes your feathers bristle. You read the barely eligible address scribbled on the note, and pat your hair, smoothing the flared feathers sticking out. It seems . . .

Hmmmmm.

It seems you did not think this through. How . . . how are you going to get to the hotel?

Tagatha calls you a fossil for using one of those flippy telephones. You considered purchasing those fancy telephones with the lights and screens, and loud robotic voices telling you where to turn left, but learning to use a flip-phone brought enough stress for two lifetimes. You’ll happily stay a fossil.

Turns out, you don’t even need the address.

The Hazbin Hotel sticks out. It’s a humongous building with its name written across what you call the sky in blinding neon lights. Your vision zooms in, and you see that the hotel rests on a giant hill at the other edge of the city. Three large neon-lit arrows point to a crudely attached radio tower. Below it, a wooden ship hangs to the side. Circus light bulbs flicker with electricity.

The Hazbin Hotel is an eyesore – it’s exactly what Alastor prefers.

You reach the dinged-up metal gate on the bottom of the hill and reset your hand on the rusted latch. Trekking through the city took a lot, and you were already here. So, why are your legs frozen to the cement? Why does your heartbeat thump in your ears?

“Excuuussseeeee me.”

A snake towers over you. It’s your first time seeing such a slithery specimen as large as him. His hat rests on his hold, and it blinks at you. His hair . . . or was that skin . . . puffs out with two red sets of eyes.

“Can I help you?” you say, warily. Sinners are in hell for a reason.

“Yessssh,” he says, his tongue slithering out. His flaps stick out, all four eyes staring right into your own. “I’d like to be a guessst at this hotel!”

You glance at the eye-sore that’s called a hotel. “I don’t work here.”

His flaps droop. The snake takes a deep breath, and slides the gate open, slithering in with determination in his . . . er . . . snake body.

You follow in silence.

The snake matches your pace. “Will you be a guest at this establishment as well?” he asks you. “Or were you given the same sssssuper secret mission?” Just like before, his tongue slithers out—what a funny little odd man.

Bangs grab your attention. When you focus your vision, you see an inky shadow servant striking a nail into broken wood. “Not at all,” you say slowly. “I’m just here to visit someone.”

His flaps open, and three pairs of eyes and a hat meet yours. “I am the great Sir Pentious!” he says with a proud hand on his puffed-up chest. “Inventor. Architect of destruction. Villain extraordinaire!”

You give him your name “ . . . Doctor.”

“It is only the coward who attacks a battler of health.” His flaps droop as he sinks into himself. “You cannot be my rival, I’m afraid.”

“I guess that makes you brave,” you say, humming. The decorations for the hotel are rather dull. Drawn on the middle of the hill, a giant pentagram is etched on the ground. The flowers dwindle on the cliff edge, and do little to combat the grayness surrounding you. “What a shame to hear—I rather love good rivalries.”

The eyes on Sir Pentious’ hat brighten at the same time his own do as well. “Ssssso do I!”

One of the inky shadow servants waves at you.

You wave back.

Light streams from the glass doors. You blink a few times, adjusting to the sudden change of brightness. Circus-themed stained glass decorate the front entrance. One of the less tacky – but still tacky – designs of this hotel. Sir Pentious taps the glass with the tips of his finger, clinking with each tap, and his eyes water in excitement. His nose crinkles when he takes a deep breath. You weren’t aware he even owned a nose. Sir Pentious fiddles with the flap of his hat, and bangs on the door.

Your smile strains after a minute of banging.

A young lady with long, white hair creaks the door open. You recognize her from the commercial.

Sir Pentious’ flap open and close with each word as he says, “Why, hello, my dear –”

A punch to the face is his reply.

“Oh dear!” you screech. Sir Pentious drops to the ground, and you kneel next to him, a steady hand on his slimy shoulders. “Have you no manners?”

This insolent girl points her spear and stomps a foot on Sir Pentious. She snarls, and her glare hardens.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sir Pentious’ tongue slithers out as he holds a peace-sign. “I come in peacccccceeeee”

“What are you doing here?” Her spear inches closer.

“Vaggies,” another voice calls out. A blonde with a red pantsuit and a bowtie pokes her head, eyes in a squint. O-oh! You know this lady from the commercial. The Princess of Hell . . . Cady . . .Char . . . Charlie Morningstar! “What’s the problem?” Charlie’s eyes widen when she spots you and Sir Pentious, an honest smile drawn on her face. “Oh, hello again! And hello to you as well!”

“Can you please tell this insolent girl to get her food off this gentleman,” you spit, tilting your nose into the air. Your feathers sharpen when you bristle. “And your weapon away from my face .”

Vaggie takes her foot off Sir Pentious. She holds the spear close, but it’s away from your face.

Sir Pentious straightens into a stand, and the group prattles on.

No one bothers to help you. A huff escapes, and you brush the dirt off your skirt. Absolutely no manners. Insolent and ill-mannered.  Would Alastor stay in such a place?

You’ve never laid an eye on someone as unique as this Vaggie. Her hair patterns are similar to wings. It’s almost unheard of to see such a prominent ‘ x ’. Her flared eyelashes resemble a bird. It strikes you silly. Almost everyone in hell resembles a human body with animal characteristics hidden somewhere. This insolent girl doesn’t appear to have any of that – only miniscule feathers made to appear native to Hell.

“Absolutely!” Charlie exclaims to who you think is Angel Dust. (The porn-star, not the drug. Obviously.) Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile on his face. There’s a squeak every time he bobs his head. That hat of his looks nervous.  “This place is about second chances and who deserves one more than this . . . slithery . . .slippery . . . special little man.” Charlie takes a peek at you. “Oh, and this feathery . . .sheddy . . . and round-eyed woman.”

You do not shed.

You smile at Charlie, and give her your name, “ . . . and I expect it to be used.”

Angel Dust whips to Vaggie. “Aren’t you supposed to protect this place?” he says and turns to you. “How are we even sure we can trust this lady – no offense, toots.”

“None taken,” you say, dryly.

Charlie’s eyes water when she turns to Vaggie, who easily relents with a sigh.

You’re thrust through the apple and circus-themed doors, squinting at the chandelier. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the design—it reminds you of those old rolled films. Charlie leads you and Sir Pentious further down the hall, all but pushing you in. Vaggie and Angel Dust lag a few steps behind.

Charlie waves her arms to go into an enthusiastic point. “So, this is our bar,” she says. Husk drops his drink, a scowl on his face, “and the bartender. This is the curtain, and this is the new wall after Sir Pentious broke the last one. And this is—”

Vaggie calms her down.

The bar clashes with the red wallpaper of the hotel. It’s almost as if someone just dropped it there, and etched it to the very wall. The wood is firm underneath your touch and feels exactly like what wood should feel.

You turn towards the bar and take your seat. Husk focuses on his drink. “Hello,” you say with a gentle voice that should not be mistaken for kindness. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”

Husk chokes and splatter out his drink, but you only smile at him. He coughs and his ears droop low. “Yes . . .,” he starts. “Good to see you as well.”

“There’s no need to be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.”

You run your finger across the skeleton wrapped around the bar post. A memory tickles your brain. This is one of the many specimens you owned. It took one whole month to strip the muscle off its tight hold on the bones, and another month just to clean, bleach, and wire together. The heads above the bar sign were a gift to you, and the skeletons were your gift back.

The neural spine pokes your finger as you tap each one. “I see you’ve set up shop here.”

Husk scowls, taking another swig of his drink. “Not much of a choice.”

“And tell me,” you start, “how long have you been here?”

Husk doesn’t answer you.

Charlie calls your name, and waves you over. “Over here,” she says pointing to where Niffty plays with some kind of one-eyes cat, “we have our maid—Niffty!”

Niffty hops on Sir Pentious. “The bad boy is back!” she exclaims, pulling him closer, eyes wide and shaking. A bead of sweat drops from Sir Pentious’ hat. “Never leave me again.”

“We’re about 80% sure she’s harmless . . .” Charlie prattles on.

“Hello, Niffty.” You smile at her.

She jumps off Sir Pentious, landing with a small ‘ humph’ , and strides to you with her pointy short legs. She calls out your name.

You squat, meeting her eye. “It’s great to see you again—Is Alastor forcing you here?”

Her eyes shine with an innocent type of glee. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She claps her hands. “I get to chase all the bugs here.” Nifftly leans closer to you, giggling. “Can I be strapped to your table again? I love it when you slice me open.”

“Maybe next ti—”

Charlie grabs your arm, hauling you forward. “Oh! Uh, Alastor! Our gracious facility manager! You've met our newest guest Sir Pentious . . .hehe . . .,” she tells him. Charlie keeps pulling you, only stopping when you stand before a grand staircase. “These two will be our special wonderful guests!”

Alastor does little to show you what he feels, there’s just that same empty grin.

He bought a new coat, you note. This new one has white streaks on the new collar and less stripes. Guess some things were more important than others.

You slip out of Charlie’s tight grasp. “I think you’re mistaken, my dear,” you say. “I’m not a guest— just a visitor.”

You hold your husband’s gaze and greet him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“It’s good to see you,” you say, a smile drawn on your lips. “How are you doing on this wonderful morning?”

Alastor turns to you, drops an item into his grocery basket, and blinks. “I am amazing!” he says. He grabs your hand with his gloved ones and shakes it. His hands are warmer than you expect them to be. “Alastor. Pleasure to meet you. Quite the pleasure.”

You chuckle at him. “Yes, I’m aware of who you are.”

“Oh, how lovely!” He waves his fingers. “ are you on of my many fans?” His smile strains, and there, you see it, on the corner of his cheek. His nose flares and his smile takes the appearance of a snarl. Maybe it was the other way around.

“A bit,” you admit, adjusting your hold on the basket. “How are your stitches, Sir?”

His eyes widen—brown eyes, you note. “The good doctor!”

“I think you mean the good nurse.”

“Oh yes, yes,” he hums and inches the basket away from your gaze. “I’ve been taking my medicine, and replacing my dressing every three days, just like you said.”

“Good—that’s great to hear. No more accidents?”

“None!” He laughs. “And if one does happen, I’ll be sure to present you with an injury that is only hours old.”

A giggle slips through your lips. “That’s even better to hear,” you say. You clear your throat, tightening the hold on your basket. “I’d hate to take even more of your time. I’ll let you go on with your day.”

A firm grip on the basket handles keeps your feet planted on the glossy floor of the general store. “Not so fast, my dear. I think you still owe me,” he says. Your teeth bare into what you hope is a polite smile. “You promised to show me your marvelous embroidery the next time we meet! You’re not the type of lady to go back on your word now, are you?

“You sure do know how to put such ladies into a tight spot.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light. “I assure you; I don’t mean to. I tend to get very excited about art

“Well, with you holding my integrity hostage, and the addition of such lovely enthusiasm, I find myself having trouble refusing.” You reach into your purse and pull out a clean handkerchief. “Sadly, I wasn’t expecting the general storm to be an art gallery, so this will have to do.”

And there it is again, that same breathy and light laughter. “They really do have everything in here

Alastor takes your handkerchief with steady enthusiasm, studying each stitch carefully. It’s one of your simpler designs—tiny flower bouquets scattered across the fabric. Your eyes are drawn to the contents of his basket: rope, strong acids, latex gloves, rolls of plastic wrap, and other such interesting items.

“You have such beautiful handiwork.”

“You can keep it if you wish,” you tell him. “I have thousands back home, and I’m always weak to such flattering compliments— a real boost to my ego.”

“Splendid!” Alastor slips the handkerchief into his coat. “I love receiving gifts from fans.”

You smile at him to hide your frown. You are not some fan-girl. “Of course.”

Alastor is following you.

The conversation ended several beats of silence ago, but he trails behind your every step. You skip the aisle where they sell produce, stop to grab some eggs, ask the butcher for 50g of chicken liver, and smile back when he smiles back. You sigh and lead Alastor to the end of the general store, and into an aisle.

You snatch a glass bottle of chemicals off the shelf—they really do have everything here. “Going for a hunt soon?” you ask, and read the label.

His smile brightens as he says, “Why yes! There was this wonderful prey that I spotted the other day, and I’m just dying to have his head hanging on my wall.”

You offer him the bottle. “You have a lovely coat. It would be a shame for it to be ruined by stains,” you say. “This always does the trick when dealing with the redder parts of my job.”

He takes the bottle from you.

“Take this as well,” you say and reach into your basket. “It’s the last bottle of 12% hydrogen peroxide in this store, but you need it more than I do. A ratio of fifty-fifty of this and a bit of hair developer in a bucket of water should brighten up your bones. Just let it soak for a day. Oh . . . and just in case, those two chemicals are safe to mix. You should avoid doing so, but an accident wouldn’t hurt you.”

Alastor offers his basket, and you drop the bottle along with the other hazardous substances. “You sound certain.”

“That is because I am.”

Fate has granted you a humorous shopping companion, and you decide to stop fighting it. Alastor follows you to the bread aisle.

You point to the top shelf. “Can you . . . ?”

He drops the bread into your basket, and stares at you with what you think is curious tenacity.

“My father works as a butcher,” you say, sighing. “He prides himself on catching the venison he sells. We don’t believe in wasting a precious body, so we use it until there is nothing left to give. He came back from his own hunt and wanted to add another antler to his display

Alastor hums. “Won’t you need these then?”

“There’s still a bit leftover sitting in his workshop. I just came to get an extra bottle.”

Alastor continues to follow.  “Do you often aid your father in his work?”

“Not as frequent as when I was a teen, but I still aid him when I have the time to do so,” you say. “It’s how I got to be so normal around a knife —the sharp ones are the best, they cut right through the skin, and with enough force, the bones as well. I keep a little collection of bones at home.”

“Such interesting hobbies you have.”

You pick up two coffee bags and hum. “Thank you.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him and reach out to straighten it. Alastor jerks away and spins to reach into the shelf behind you. “I rather detest owing favors, and you have done me two,” he says, offering you an entirely different brand of coffee beans. “I suggest you try this one. It’s flavors are far richer.”

You offer your basket and Alastor drops it right in.

You eye his basket once more. “Will that be all you’re purchasing?”

He nods, smiling at you.

You smile back.

Well, isn’t this just lovely? Well-dressed gentlemen really are your favorite.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie whips her head, mouth wide as she stares at you and then at Alastor. Angel Dust has an arm on his hips, his brows furrowed and mouth quirked to the side an awkward but rather cute frown. Sir Pentious’ hat squints at you with what you assume is confusion—you can’t really tell. Sir Pentious’s tongue sticks out of his bewildered and crooked frown.

“Oh! How nice,” Charlie says after a beat. “So, you two know each other?”

“Partners,” you say

“Friends,” Alastor says

Your smile strains as you say, “To be called a friend by the Radio Demon is quite the honor.” Alastor wipes his monocle with a proud puff.

Angel Dust whistles, leaning on the railing with the first set of arms crossed, and the second propped on his hip. “Didn’t think Freak would be the type to have friends.”

“Neither did I!” You say with a loud laugh. “Well, that’s what I am – a f̵̼̎r̴͔̃i̶̦̍e̶͕͠ṋ̸̀d̶͚̋ .” You smoothen your puffed-up feathers. “Apologies.”

More introductions are done. Charlie insists on giving Sir Pentious his first lesson on apology. It goes about as well as you think.

Charlie winces a bit “Ooooookay,” she says and inhales to plaster a huge smile. “Why don’t we . . . uh . . . take a look at the kitchen!”

Angel Dust takes one look at Charlie’s enthusiasm, winces, and says he’s getting a drink.

Charlie’s death grip on Sir Pentious stays firm as you trudge to the kitchen. She stalls at every painting to explain its history, and introduces every crack on the wall, showing it off with an enthusiastic glee. Even the water-stained wallpaper gets its own special moment during the tour. (Where is that ill-mannered girl when you need her?)

You lag a few steps behind. “Alastor . . .”, you say as a greeting.

Alastor matches your pace, using his microphone as a cane. With the very tip of his fingers, he plucks a stray feather off your hair with a coy smile that reaches from ear to ear. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering how I’ve been fairing these last few years,” he says, spinning that microphone of his and waving his hand like some kind of street performer.

“Has it really been that long?”

“Yes, I know I’ve been absent for some time,” he starts. “It’s nothing serious; I assure you. It’s nothing I cannot handle as well.”

 “My goodness, and here I thought you were occupied at work.” Your teeth flash when you smile. “But in any case, it’s quite . . .kind of you to soothe what little worry this friend might have for you.” Alastor and his microphone laugh at you, but you hum with satisfaction when his eyes narrow into a glare.

Charlie and Sir Pentious wave their hands, calling you from across the hall, and you hasten your steps.

The kitchen intimidates you. So many large and metallic machines. You’re sure it would be a living hell should you ever need to operate such an unorthodox set of appliances. Copper-red tables fill the space, and similar colored cabinets stick to the wall. Such peculiar stoves they have in this establishment. There seems to be no space for the gas tank, nor a gas burner, just some flat glass with weird markings. You prefer the appliances stashed at your home.

“This . . .,” Charlie starts, winding her arms to a point, “ . . . is the kitchen!”

Sir Pentious’ flaps extend, his arms rocking with excitement. “Such lovely metallic inventions.” He slithers to counter with a dip that appears to mimic some kind of skin. There’s some type of yellow liquid. “This bubbly torture deviccceeee is my favorite.”

“Uhhhhhh, I love that you love the kitchen appliance,” she says with an honestly gentle smile. “But that’s actually an oil fryer.” Charlie crosses her arm into a big ‘ x ’. “But no torturing is done here, no siree.”

“What a peculiar shape for an oil fryer to be,” you say, taking a look. Alastor glances over your shoulder to take a peek as well. “And there’s so much metal around—did you run out of paint, perhaps?”

Charlie frowns, her shoulder dropping low. “I’d love to add different colors to the machine, but Vaggie says it would take up too much money and time.”

Her frown lasts a second before she’s smiling again.

 “ Oh oh oh! You should take a look around. See if there’s anything you might want to add.” Charlie drags you towards one of the cabinets at the back. “We each have a shelf dedicated to our own snacks, but I always love to leave cookies on the communal snack pantry.”

Charlie prattles on, introducing each section of the cabinet. You watch Alastor warily when he shows his teeth. He wiggles his fingers across the air, reaching towards the shelf where Charlie just mentioned Vaggie storing her personal snacks. You slam the cabinet door before he reaches them.

Soft static fills the kitchen air.

“Go on,” Charlie urges. “Take a look around – I know some species of Sinners have specific dietary needs.” She props a hand on her chin. “Like Angel! He can’t seem to be able to have any milk—I wonder why? But he just keeps drinking it anyway for some reason.”

Does the Princess of Hell not know what Lactose Intolerance is? Maybe because she’s never lived as a human . It’s quite humorous, you suppose. A hell-born trying to guide a human, with little to no insight about humanity. Could this be the reason why she’s so naively optimistic?

Sir Pentious’ smile widens, and so does his flap. “You’re . . . giving . . . me permission to poke around?”

“Er . . . yes?”

You open a random cabinet door, and huh . . .

On the shelf, towards the back, you have the same set of spices in your own kitchen. One of the bottles here has its label stained and fraying at the edges. Another bottle is nearing empty, and the corner of the cap has been chipped off. There was a time, when your own set of spices was stained with oil, and its label frayed because of the constant picking to the edges.

Yesterday, you threw out a set of unopened bottles of spices, its seal still clinging to the caps and brimming with unused flavor, and replaced it with the same set of sealed spices. It’s a waste of your money to keep throwing out something that you never use, but . . . but . . . you find it in your grocery basket every single time .

Alastor closes the cabinet with a gentle click.

Your smile fades, and he holds your gaze.

“You are shedding all over my kitchen floors.” Alastor presents you with a bundle of your feathers bunched up on his palm. His grin mocks you.

You turn away, heading where Charlie and Sir Pentious converse. You do not shed.

Alastor pops out of your shadow, towering over you as he inches closer. “Long day?” he says with a hum, that smile still on his face. “You don’t usually start molting until the mid-summer.”

“Oh yes,” you say with a hum, that frown still on your face. “This day has been quite long. How very generous of you to check up on this friend of yours.”

He holds the feathers he’s collected, examining them with a careful eye. “With this rate, you’ll be able to gift a whole pillow.”

Your frown deepens. “Lovely,” you murmur. “I’ll make sure to do so.”

Alastor twirls his microphone and lands it with a soft thunk. He studies you for a second. “Rosie’s last husband got eaten by a shark,” he says. “Not even a loan shark—just a proper dead shark. She swore vengeance on the creature for taking a bite before she had a chance to.”

“ What?” you say, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Is that what happened to him? She would be so vague about it when I ask.”

Alastor draws a line along his face, mimicking a smile with his fingers. “Much better, indeed.”

Charlie insists on showing the view from the top of the Hotel. Her arms cross around your own as she chatters about everyone and everything. It’s refreshing to meet a soul as honest as hers.

The elevator ride is painfully slow. The music strains your ears, and this battered metal death box jerks with every floor.

Sir Pentious and his hat scowl at the ‘ absolutely inferior ssssmmelting of this handle, Charlie’ and ‘ this piss poor wiring. The endsss are not aligned to the proper sssssafety guidelineeeesss’ or something. Charlie listens in on every word, nodding to indicate that she hears each and everyone. It makes you smile. Alastor picks at your stray feathers with the tip of his fingers, preening the areas you have difficulty reaching.

Moments too late, the elevator doors open with that heavenly ding.

“The view up here is helltastically a-mazing! ” Charlie informs the group. “Alastor, you often hide up here or inside the radio tower. It’s really good, right?”

Alastor switches his hold on the microphone, swinging to catch it. “Quite helltastic indeed!” he says. “ I get to see the whole city underneath my very feet.”

Sir Pentious nods. “I, too, would love to sssseee the city underneath me!”

Alastor swings a door open, gesturing for the group to enter like a gentleman.  Charlie whispers an audible ‘awww’ at the sight and saunters right in. Sir Pentious follows along, slithering behind her.

He shuts the door when you take a step forward, separating you from Charlie and Sir Pentious.

There’s still that never-ending smile on his lips as Alastor strides to the other end of the hallway, playing with his microphone. You follow behind in silence. Alastor opens a different door, and this time, you step through.

Alastor closes the door, leaving you and him together, alone, on this flimsy balcony. He beams at you, taking a step forward—

You slap him.

Radio static glitches from his microphone. There, on the corner of his cheek, you see the strain in his smile. His eyes harden into a glare, his nostrils flare, and his smile takes on the appearance of a snarl.

The air around you starts to gray with static. Symbols carve themselves into the space.

You slap him again, staring down at him.

“Is that all you came to do?” Alastor says to you with a low snarl, but the symbols dissolve and his antlers shrink.

You turn towards the view, propping a hand on your chin. “Such harsh words for a friend,” you say with a sarcastic smile. “It’s a wonder why you don’t have more with such a dazzling personality. At any rate, it’ll be impossible to find yourself a wife.”

His eyes twitch, and Alastor strikes the ground with his microphone. “Well, consider it an honor,” he says, inching closer, mimicking your smile. “Not many can say such words to me, much less be able to strike my flesh

“Maybe they should—someone certainly has to.”

Alastor still has a smile—he always has a smile. You watch as his eyes morph into radio dials, and the absolute audacity of that man to look at you like that.

Your feathers sharpen and crack at the sight. “D̷̝̈́o̷̞͊n̷̟̂'̷̗̏ť̵͔ ̴̱̀f̷̳̓u̴͍̓c̷̛͕ḳ̵͝ ̴̲̽w̸̞̑í̵̞t̴̼̐ḥ̷͝ ̵̫͌m̸̻̔e̸̡͘!— you never have, so don’t start. Don’t test me—not today, my deerest,” you say, hissing at him. 

“What is it that you want, exactly?” he says, glancing down at you. “Unless you are a child, I expect you to use your words.”

“You know I’m not just some friend — you do not allow yourself to make such connections. We’re partners,” you tell him, and you don’t know why you remind him when he should already know. Was it in fear that he forgot? “But you left without as much as a word.”

“Was it that I left? Or was it that I left you?” Alastor says with casualty as if to show you such dismissal, and oh . . . yes, your husband can be a cruel man, indeed. Time and sweet smiles made you forget.

You rub your hands on your face, taking one deep breath. “I want what I deserve—an explanation,” you say. “That’s all I need as your wife.”

It’s his silence that makes you turn away. 

“I see.” Your face falls. “Perhaps, it was a mistake to seek you out. A fool’s errand.”

You study the sinners below. The whole city really can be seen from underneath your very feet. (You ignore the trembling of your fists. You’re a doctor, for fucks sake. Your hands don’t tremble . . . at least, they never have before.) 

Hesitant, but gentle touches pick at your feathers. Alastor preens you with warm hands. “You are not a fool, my love,” he says. “I would not be yours if such were the case.”

You harden your heart for you cannot let this man see the cracks. “This is not what I wish to hear,” you say, voice steady.

Alastor does not answer you.

“Will you just stay silent every time?”

“Yes.”

Finally, you meet his gaze. You hold it as much as he holds yours. “ There is not a thing in this world that you do not do without reason,” you say slowly. “However,  I’m not sure if your silence is because you cannot or if it’s because you will not explain yourself to me. Which is it?”

There is nothing on his face that you can read, just a small steady smile that tells you nothing. “I will not.”

“I know you, my deerest, and I know that you’ve never once led me astray.” Your grip on the railing tightens painfully. This day has been long. “Then all I need is your word that you will return to me with that smile of yours when you’ve accomplished what you need to do.”

Alastor smiles at you, twirling his microphone. “We can even shake on it.”

You shake your head. “This is not a deal,” you say. “This is your wife demanding that you do so.”

“Then it shall be done,” Alastor says, inching close enough for his warmth to spread.  He turns to you and pokes his cheeks to indicate a smile. "You look much more radiant with one."

You bare your teeth at him, giving a dry smile. “Much better?”

“Indeed.”

You study the sinners below once more, but this time your hands stay steady next to Alastor’s own. Well, Charlie was correct, the view is helltastic. The entertainment district blinds you, but only for a second. And when you sharpen your vision, you can faintly make out acid clouds forming on the outskirts of the city. You should have grabbed an umbrella on your way out.

“I heard you on the radio today,” you say.

He glances at you, his smile widening ever so slightly with smugness. “And you came all this way for me?”

“Well, that is what good friends do for each other.”

Alastor points his nose to the air with a huff.

“I only jest, my deerest,” you say, chuckling at him. “ I came all the way here to see if I’ve been widowed a second time, or just dumped like a common rag.”

“Is that so?”Alastor hums with dissatisfaction. “I’m sure you mentioned something about not noticing such a long disappearance.”

You hold his gaze, inching your hand to cup his cheek. You stop inches above his skin, and your palm hovers enough for Alastor to feel the warmness you hold on your hands. “Don’t pout, my deer,” you tell him, softly, oh so very soft as you caress the air. “Of course, I noticed your absence.” 

You clap your hands together with the brightest and most innocent smile you can muster.

“But if I told you that, my deerest,” you start, “I feared that big head of yours would implode if I fed your ego.”

Alastor laughs, and his real voice bleeds in as he does. “That humor of yours has been my most wonderful companion all these years.”

You smile with satisfaction. “My, my, you make such fine compliments.”

His smile relaxes. “I do, indeed!”

“Just as you say that my humor makes a fine companion,” you say as you laugh, bright and heavy, “that smile of yours has been mine.”

A knock breaks the moment.

The door swings open, slow and hesitant. Charlie pokes her head, and her hair droops to the sideways. Behind her, Sir Pentious waves at you. You wave back.

“Oooooooohhhh . . . yikes,” Charlie says, shrinking deeper into the door. “Am I interrupting? I could just go an—”

“Not at all my dear,” you say. “Come right in. You have such a lovely view, and things like this are better when shared.”

Charlie swings the door wider, sauntering right in, and grabs your hand, squeezing it. “You could live here as well!” she says. Behind her, Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “We accept everyone.”

You flicker your gaze to Alastor. “I already have a home,” you find yourself saying. “And this place is far too close to the city. So much honking and blasting aren’t good for my ears.”

Charlie pouts, but she doesn’t press you.

The view is better when shared. Charlie points at every detail and explains everything you see. The sky darkens to a red, and too soon, it’s time to leave.

There’s a warm, but firm, hand resting on your back when you walk out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. Alastor keeps his hands steady, even when you reach the common room.

Vaggie is the first to greet your group—well, it’s more appropriate to say she greets Charlie, and you just happen to be there. There’s a bag by her feet. “I was able to find the costumes you need for the exercise,” she says. “Even the giant lollipop is here.”

Charlie squeals. “ Thank you thank you thank you! ” Her excited gaze filters to you. “I have this wonderful game in mind, and then we could fo a bit of some of that good ol’ roleplay.” Angel Dust quirks a smile from the couch. “You should totally sta—”

“I’m afraid not,” Alastor says, drumming his fingers on his microphone. “I think it’s time for our visitor to head home. She’s had quite a long day.”

“Oh, of course. No worries!” Charlie says, giving you a bright smile—a real genuine and honest smile. “Feel free to come by anytime. The Hazbin Hotel’s doors will always be open should you change your mind.”

Vaggie scratches her face. “Before you go, I want to apologize for this afternoon,” she says. “It wasn’t right of me to be so hostile—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, my dear. I understand,” you say quickly, ignoring the static behind you. “You were protecting something you cared about. I find great value in those who do.”

Vaggie smiles, and maybe she’s not too bad after all. “Thank you.”

From the couch, Angel Dust props his legs and waves at you. “And you’re welcome to open these doors any day.”

Alastor leads you to the door. You wave back at Niffty and Sir Pentious, whose eyes water as he frowns. Alastor’s hand stays firm as you trudge down the hill, past the rusted gate, into the city, and to the correct bust stop.

“You sure know how to find the most interesting groups of people, my deer,” you say. “Charlie and that hotel of hers are wonderful.”

Alastor adjusts his monocle. “Well, you know me. I see potential, and I follow it wherever it leads.”

“Should I be worried?” you say, chuckling. “The last time you saw potential, it ended with us married.”

“Not at all, my love.”

“You should continue to stay at the hotel,” you find yourself saying. “There’s just something about it—I think you’ll pick up quite a lot from your time there.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him, and reach out to straighten it. Alastor inches closer. The fabric is smooth underneath your touch. There’s stray lint on the shoulder of his coat, and you brush it away. You grab his lapes and adjust its fit, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingers.

“Much better?” he asks.

“Indeed,” you say softly.

“I will see you soon,” he says, and you hear the unspoken promise and question hidden beneath his words.

“Good.”

Alastor tilts your chin with the tips of fingers. (And oh . . . oh . His gloves are off, and his hands are warmer than ever) He presses his lips on your cheek.

That blasted bus arrives too soon. You step inside, but turn to your husband and say, “Next time, when you disappear for several years, I expect to be informed and not just left with a vague note,” you say with a huff. “And when you return, I also expect to be the first to be informed.”

“Of course.”

“See to it that you keep your word.”

The bus door closes, and you take your seat. You smile to yourself and lean back on the crusty bus fabric. Patting your pocket, you take out a single gold band, slipping it on your finger.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

That habit of recklessness in moments of excitement was something your father hoped you’d grow out of. Thinking things through never really was one of your many strengths when such an exhilarating opportunity presents itself.

You scold yourself for not double-checking for gloves. Measure twice, cut one, and all that. But no matter, you’ll push through as always, clawing and digging to unearth the treasure left behind.

Your scalpel fits into your palms. Throughout this Earth, no . . . not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You sigh, breathy and exhilarated, and begin.

‘First, do no harm’

But this . . . this does not harm a single living being.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: |Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should Be Trusted| If you guys know who Octavia and Stolas are, that's what I imagine when I think about the reader's hair. Also, maybe some of you noticed, but I'm very relaxed when it comes to formatting my writing. Its why I use quite a lot of ellipses and em dashes and utilize italics and spaces. But the one thing I was very strict about was not to use the word, "miss". So there are no "You miss..." and "I miss..." But the words are there and spoken beneath actions and thoughts, hidden and unspoken, but known. My inbox is always open because I'd like to know what your favorite unspoken "I miss you" is/are. I have my own favorite ones as well.

[mariacallous]

This is a gift article.

The truth is, it’s getting harder to describe the extent to which a meaningful percentage of Americans have dissociated from reality. As Hurricane Milton churned across the Gulf of Mexico last night, I saw an onslaught of outright conspiracy theorizing and utter nonsense racking up millions of views across the internet. The posts would be laughable if they weren’t taken by many people as gospel. Among them: Infowars’ Alex Jones, who claimed that Hurricanes Milton and Helene were “weather weapons” unleashed on the East Coast by the U.S. government, and “truth seeker” accounts on X that posted photos of condensation trails in the sky to baselessly allege that the government was “spraying Florida ahead of Hurricane Milton” in order to ensure maximum rainfall, “just like they did over Asheville!”

As Milton made landfall, causing a series of tornados, a verified account on X reposted a TikTok video of a massive funnel cloud with the caption “WHAT IS HAPPENING TO FLORIDA?!” The clip, which was eventually removed but had been viewed 662,000 times as of yesterday evening, turned out to be from a video of a CGI tornado that was originally published months ago. Scrolling through these platforms, watching them fill with false information, harebrained theories, and doctored images—all while panicked residents boarded up their houses, struggled to evacuate, and prayed that their worldly possessions wouldn’t be obliterated overnight—offered a portrait of American discourse almost too bleak to reckon with head-on.

Even in a decade marred by online grifters, shameless politicians, and an alternative right-wing-media complex pushing anti-science fringe theories, the events of the past few weeks stand out for their depravity and nihilism. As two catastrophic storms upended American cities, a patchwork network of influencers and fake-news peddlers have done their best to sow distrust, stoke resentment, and interfere with relief efforts. But this is more than just a misinformation crisis. To watch as real information is overwhelmed by crank theories and public servants battle death threats is to confront two alarming facts: first, that a durable ecosystem exists to ensconce citizens in an alternate reality, and second, that the people consuming and amplifying those lies are not helpless dupes but willing participants.

Some of the lies and obfuscation are politically motivated, such as the claim that FEMA is offering only $750 in total to hurricane victims who have lost their home. (In reality, FEMA offers $750 as immediate “Serious Needs Assistance” to help people get basic supplies such as food and water.) Donald Trump, J. D. Vance, and Fox News have all repeated that lie. Trump also posted (and later deleted) on Truth Social that FEMA money was given to undocumented migrants, which is untrue. Elon Musk, who owns X, claimed—without evidence—that FEMA was “actively blocking shipments and seizing goods and services locally and locking them away to state they are their own. It’s very real and scary how much they have taken control to stop people helping.” That post has been viewed more than 40 million times. Other influencers, such as the Trump sycophant Laura Loomer, have urged their followers to disrupt the disaster agency’s efforts to help hurricane victims. “Do not comply with FEMA,” she posted on X. “This is a matter of survival.”

The result of this fearmongering is what you might expect. Angry, embittered citizens have been harassing government officials in North Carolina, as well as FEMA employees. According to an analysis by the Institute for Strategic Dialogue, an extremism-research group, “Falsehoods around hurricane response have spawned credible threats and incitement to violence directed at the federal government,” including “calls to send militias to face down FEMA.” The study also found that 30 percent of the X posts analyzed by ISD “contained overt antisemitic hate, including abuse directed at public officials such as the Mayor of Asheville, North Carolina; the FEMA Director of Public Affairs; and the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security.” The posts received a collective 17.1 million views as of October 7.

Online, first responders are pleading with residents, asking for their help to combat the flood of lies and conspiracy theories. FEMA Administrator Deanne Criswell said that the volume of misinformation could hamper relief efforts. “If it creates so much fear that my staff doesn’t want to go out in the field, then we’re not going to be in a position where we can help people,” she said in a news conference on Tuesday. In Pensacola, North Carolina, Assistant Fire Chief Bradley Boone vented his frustrations on Facebook: “I’m trying to rescue my community,” he said in a livestream. “I ain’t got time. I ain’t got time to chase down every Facebook rumor … We’ve been through enough.”

It is difficult to capture the nihilism of the current moment. The pandemic saw Americans, distrustful of authority, trying to discredit effective vaccines, spreading conspiracy theories, and attacking public-health officials. But what feels novel in the aftermath of this month’s hurricanes is how the people doing the lying aren’t even trying to hide the provenance of their bullshit. Similarly, those sharing the lies are happy to admit that they do not care whether what they’re pushing is real or not. Such was the case last week, when Republican politicians shared an AI-generated viral image of a little girl holding a puppy while supposedly fleeing Helene. Though the image was clearly fake and quickly debunked, some politicians remained defiant. “Y’all, I don’t know where this photo came from and honestly, it doesn’t matter,” Amy Kremer, who represents Georgia on the Republican National Committee, wrote after sharing the fake image. “I’m leaving it because it is emblematic of the trauma and pain people are living through right now.”

Kremer wasn’t alone. The journalist Parker Molloy compiled screenshots of people “acknowledging that this image is AI but still insisting that it’s real on some deeper level”—proof, Molloy noted, that we’re “living in the post-reality.” The technology writer Jason Koebler argued that we’ve entered the “‘Fuck It’ Era” of AI slop and political messaging, with AI-generated images being used to convey whatever partisan message suits the moment, regardless of truth.

This has all been building for more than a decade. On The Colbert Report, back in 2005, Stephen Colbert coined the word truthiness, which he defined as “the belief in what you feel to be true rather than what the facts will support.” This reality-fracturing is the result of an information ecosystem that is dominated by platforms that offer financial and attentional incentives to lie and enrage, and to turn every tragedy and large event into a shameless content-creation opportunity. This collides with a swath of people who would rather live in an alternate reality built on distrust and grievance than change their fundamental beliefs about the world. But the misinformation crisis is not always what we think it is.

So much of the conversation around misinformation suggests that its primary job is to persuade. But as Michael Caulfield, an information researcher at the University of Washington, has argued, “The primary use of ‘misinformation’ is not to change the beliefs of other people at all. Instead, the vast majority of misinformation is offered as a service for people to maintain their beliefs in face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.” This distinction is important, in part because it assigns agency to those who consume and share obviously fake information. What is clear from comments such as Kremer’s is that she is not a dupe; although she may come off as deeply incurious and shameless, she is publicly admitting to being an active participant in the far right’s world-building project, where feel is always greater than real.

What we’re witnessing online during and in the aftermath of these hurricanes is a group of people desperate to protect the dark, fictitious world they’ve built. Rather than deal with the realities of a warming planet hurling once-in-a-generation storms at them every few weeks, they’d rather malign and threaten meteorologists, who, in their minds, are “nothing but a trained subversive liar programmed to spew stupid shit to support the global warming bullshit,” as one X user put it. It is a strategy designed to silence voices of reason, because those voices threaten to expose the cracks in their current worldview. But their efforts are doomed, futile. As one dispirited meteorologist wrote on X this week, “Murdering meteorologists won’t stop hurricanes.” She followed with: “I can’t believe I just had to type that.”

What is clear is that a new framework is needed to describe this fracturing. Misinformation is too technical, too freighted, and, after almost a decade of Trump, too political. Nor does it explain what is really happening, which is nothing less than a cultural assault on any person or institution that operates in reality. If you are a weatherperson, you’re a target. The same goes for journalists, election workers, scientists, doctors, and first responders. These jobs are different, but the thing they share is that they all must attend to and describe the world as it is. This makes them dangerous to people who cannot abide by the agonizing constraints of reality, as well as those who have financial and political interests in keeping up the charade.

In one sense, these attacks—and their increased desperation—make sense. The world feels dark; for many people, it’s tempting to meet that with a retreat into the delusion that they’ve got everything figured out, that the powers that be have conspired against them directly. But in turning away, they exacerbate a crisis that has characterized the Trump era, one that will reverberate to Election Day and beyond. Americans are divided not just by political beliefs but by whether they believe in a shared reality—or desire one at all.

[unholywriters]

Winter Love

╰┈➤ Pairings: Mafia!Bang Chan x Baker!Felix

╰┈➤ Summary: Chan had left to Australia to handle lose ends to stop them from chasing him back home to korea. He soon moved back and met up with some of his old friends and got to catch up with them, but he met the cutest baker along the way...

╰┈➤ Word Count: 10k

╰┈➤ Warnings: NSFW, minors do not interact, slowburn, thick!chan, mentions of trafficking, mentions of drugs {do NONE of these} and a frying pan

╰┈➤ Ratings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

╰┈➤ Networks: @k-library @stayblrofficial

In the words of Bakery Felix, grab some hot chocolate and a cookie this is gonna be good, chapter five of demon's desire coming soon

Felix always loved getting ready for the holiday season. The nights becoming longer, the days and nights getting colder and rain slowly turning into snow just to fall down and allow everyone to feel more at ease, getting their favored drinks and blankets to watch their favorite shows after working for so long and just wanting to relax and unwind from it all. Felix loved seeing the snow fall from his bakery windows, having one of the largest and successful bakeries around, always having cute themes, decorating each table, booth and bar stool in his shop just to keep things light. He would have lights hanging inside of the bakery while allowing people to pick from the playlist to play whatever they wanted to listen to. Keeping an iPad out near the main counter for people to pick appreciate songs and feel more at ease.

Tonight was no different, staying late in the bakery but leaving it unlocked since for some it would freeze and having a place to get warm and have an extra drink seemed to bring people closer together and help create a better community and more trust within each other knowing that they have a bakery to come to when things feel tough. Felix was softly humming along while prepping things for in the morning. Knowing he would have to throw things into the oven while making sure he had other things ready, along with the hot drink bar having their own toppings, syrups and lids and cup covers to make sure no one's hands were too cold or too hot during their long walks or drives. The blinds stayed up to see outside and make sure those around the area were safe, but also to enjoy seeing the snow fall outside and the lights bring more warmth and comfort yet he could see the skating ring with couples skating and enjoying their time.

Felix always wanted to go, knowing there was nothing wrong with going by himself and enjoying himself but he wanted to go with someone. Just to dance around and hold hands with someone and go home with them, enjoying their warmth and sitting on the couch or bed with warm drinks and matching pjs and hats. Yet here he was, softly humming in his kitchen and twirling himself around making sure he had enough cookies, cupcakes, slices of cakes, macaroons, rice cakes, tea cookies, 붕어빵 {bungeoppang}, hotteok, ice cream, Felix had just about everything and always had plenty to give away in case someone was hungry. Pushing some of his hair back, he head the bell above the door open. Earning his full attention, he set down the large pan of cookies in the large fridge rack before walking back out into the main area.

Seeing a tall male keeping his hands under his arms trying to get warm. Seeing the snow came down faster and people were already trying to leave. The man was covered head to toe trying to keep himself warm and knew this was a place he could go, though he was new to this area during the season. “Oh hello, you can have a seat over here it's near a warmer and after that I'll see if I can get you anything okay?” Felix offered, seeing the male bow to him many times before slowly sitting down. The warmer and table also being in Felix's eye range just in case he needed to head back to the kitchen to put away something before leaving it out. He helped the male sit down, trying to get warmer before walking back to the kitchen. Felix never had a reason to fear those who came inside because he treated everyone with kindness, only getting kindness back and sometimes even gifts.

Felix had grabbed a warm mug of hot chocolate and walked back over to the person, seeing him slowly remove some items while shaking some, but he was slowly getting warmer. Felix smiled like always and set the cup in front of the male, seeing those dark brown eyes look over as he slowly removed the scarf to breathe. “Here, Theres a topping bar right behind you in case you want marshmallows or anything like that.” “Oh...Thank you so much.” “Of course!” Felix was more than happy to be helping someone get warm during the season get warmed back up before having to leave back outside. The stranger slowly removed the rest of his winter attire, the coat, scarf, gloves but he kept on the hat that stayed over his ears. Slowly adding his favorite toppings in the cup before slowly sitting back down, looking over and seeing the baker bring back some snacks from earlier in the day. Making the stranger feel surprised by this almost like he was missing something.

“Oh… Oh let me get my wallet.” “Oh no need, I do this a lot. You must be new to town and stumbled upon here?” Felix asked, seeing the man slowly nod his head while setting the cup down. Seeing Felix set down the sample plate but also sit down across from him with a smile. Smile just as bright as the sun yet with teeth just as white as the snow, softly brushing back some of his long blonde hair. “Well, this is my bakery, wonderland bakery. You can come in around early morning 8-9am and I’m open all night. I have tight security but everyone just comes in here to get warm drinks and some treats I set out so they can stay somewhat warm while trying to go through their day. After 10pm I don't charge you for anything. I'd rather you be warm and full then take your money.” The stranger leaned in to listen closer, slowly taking sips of his drink but also eating one of the cookies, enjoying the taste and how soft it felt and how everything just melted.

“Oh, so this is where lee know works! He told me to come and check it out when I came to visit but he was helping me move in with him. I just came back from Australia.” The stranger chirped up, being happy to know where his friend works and seeing the owner light up with him. “Oh, my gosh you know lee know? Wait, I was also born in Australia! I'm Felix.” He stuck his hand out, both of them shaking hands to introduce themselves. “I'm Bang chan, but Chan is just fine. It's nice to meet you Felix.” “Nice to met you too Chan! No wonder Lee know was asking me if he could bring extra sweets home.” Felix laughed while leaning back in his chair, happy to be enjoying time with someone like this. It made the warm place already feel like home even. “I'm expecting a call from him soon since I told him I had to get more things before coming back. I'm sure he'll be happy to know I came here and got some amazing sweets by the way.”

Felix's smile never seemed to fade away, while listening to the stranger, or more rather Chan, seem to enjoy himself as well. And just like Chan had predicted, lee know called him in worry. Wondering where he was and if he needed to come and get him from some place. So Chan being in a good mood, answered the phone and placed it on speaker, watching Felix try to stay quiet but Lee know ended up video calling him to truly make sure he was okay and if he needed to call for backup, he would. “There you are! Where are you, man it like…almost midnight do I need to come and get you?” He asked, still having his work clothes on but sitting in his car that was warming up so he didn't have to drive in the cold. “Don't worry too much I'm fine, I made a friend!” He turned the camera over to show Felix, waving at the camera still being seated. “Hey Hyung! No speeding on the snowy roads, you know better.” “Oh my gods- I'm coming.”

Lee know ended the call, leaving Felix to laugh yet again while Chan seems to join in. Seeing Lee know’s shocked expression before saying he was on the way. The two of them enjoying his shocked expression but also feel more relaxed with each other, like they were long-lost friends finally catching up with each other and just enjoying their presence with one another before they would have to leave. “Well, looks like I get a ride home. What about you Felix?” Chan asked after clearing his throat slowly calming down but smiling. “Well, lucky me I live upstairs and the door leading to my living space is locked tight so I can sleep without worry. Makes it easy if I ever woke up late.” “Ooo, that's a nice setup. I might come by more often just for this.” “My door will always be open.”

The two stayed staring at each other, making more little talk while eating more of the cookies on the plater before seeing car lights park closer to the building, it was lee know as promised to come and get his friend to take home. Lee know and Chan live right next t each other in the same apartment complex, lee know knew Chan was more cautious wishfully moving in since lee know had a lot of cats and Chan had a dog, so they could live close to each other and keep each other company. “Here, take these with you. Come by anytime!” Felix cheered, holding up two to-go cups with hot chocolate inside while Chan got wrapped up in his clothes. Bowing again while holding the cups and allowing Felix to help with the doors and closing the car door. “Thank you, Felix for taking him in, I'll drag him in tomorrow if he wants to work.” Felix playfully shook his head while they drove away. Him and Chan looking into each other's eyes before the car drove off before Felix had gone back inside. Letting out a relaxed sigh before wiping down the table and chairs before pushing them back into place.

He knew everything else was done, but he went back and checked anyway just to be sure. Turing off the music and having a separate light source for the lights so his bills didn't go up higher than he was used too. Now he just needed to get ready for bed. Walking to the back of the bakery, to the hidden staircase that lead to another door upstairs. Walking up but leaving his bright blue apron on a hook right next to the white painted door and walked inside, softly closing the door and looked around his large space. Knowing he would clean when he had the time, but it was late and he wanted to take a shower and rest in the nest he calls his bed. Leaving his work shoes by the door and walked to his bedroom. Going to one of his drawers and grabbing some pajamas that had snowflakes before walking to the bathroom to take a shower. Lighting a candle before getting in the shower just to enjoy himself. Something he truly enjoyed while smelling good as if he didn't already smell like baked goods for days on end.

After a while of cleaning himself and humming the songs that were stuck in his head while Turing off the shower, stepping out to dry himself and put on some lotion before making himself something to eat that wasn't something sweet. Enjoying his quick ramen while watching the new episode of his drama he started because of lee know and another coworker. He would sit there with his bed filled with blankets and pillows while watching his show, leaning back against some of them while his window showed the snow slowing down, maybe tomorrow it would be dangerous to drive but also too cold to walk. Maybe Felix would get a day home, especially with if everyone called in and he didn't want people getting hurt. But after making sure he cleaned his bowl and let it dry. Slowly resting in his bed while having soft sounds of music and snow crunching in the background curling in his bed just to be excited about the morning.

Meanwhile, Chan was now looking around the new place. Looking over to Lee know had driven him to the apartment complex. A place Chan had bought and only allowed close people to live inside since most people would walk past it and often think the place is too high for some to afford. Chan just needed to handle things back home in Australia before coming back, knowing he was going to have some enemies here, and he didn't want to worry about his enemies trying to work together to take him down. But meeting Felix was something he truly didn't expect to do or meet. Someone who was so warm, welcomed everyone without a second thought and treated them to warm drinks and sweets to eat with a heater to keep yourself warm. Like he had no hateful bone in his body and was ready to welcome everyone with open arms just to truly have a safe space.

Chan enjoyed being around them even if it was short. Getting a nice warm drink and yet almost not wanting to leave but he knew it would be questionable since the two of them had just met and he didn't want to scare Felix or make him be questionable during everything. But he enjoyed himself and was more than happy to go back. “I knew you would like Felix. They make the best things down there.” Lee know said, opening the door for Chan and walking to the elevator and going to the top floor. Chan unwrapping the scarf and letting out a soft sigh, keeping his cup in his hand while looking up at the numbers. “You weren't lying when you said they were like the sun or an angel living in a bakery. If you didn't call me, I would've stayed there instead of coming back.” Lee know smirked as the doors opened, walking back to their doors while Chan took a slow sip while walking to his door with a key in hand.

“Hongjoong kept his word and helped us move in things and we got it all setup so you can walk in and just relax after today. He says welcome back big guy.” Chan smiled slightly while unlocking and walking inside his apartment. Looking around at how everything was set up, so he was comfortable and didn't have to make last-minute changes. He kept the to-go cup. Knowing he could reuse it may be for a next time before just walking to his room. Looking at his large floating bed with black and white covers with soft pillows. He took off his clothes and set everything else hung up his coat with his scarf and gloves. Taking off his clothes before walking over to his closet and grabbing some sweatpants to sleep in. Laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. He was used to being alone in nights like this, but something now just felt wrong this time.

He felt more lonely than normal, hearing the echos of Felix's laugh and seeing the flashes of smiles coming from him along with the slight smell of baked goods and sweets. Yet it was something that was helping him slowly fall asleep. Even if he didn't eat all the sweets. He wanted to bring those home just so he could feel like he didn't leave the bakery. He was happy to be home, but something about that encounter made it hard for him just to stay home and act like things were the same. It was something new for him but he knew he had to play his cards right before he could do anything. Something he was nervous about since this was someone completely innocent. Sure maybe Felix had done a couple things in his life but nothing like being in the mafia's chaos. Something Chan feared even trying to bring into his life after his kind gestures how all of that would be ruined because of this life of his.

It only made him shake his head, trying to go to sleep and just move on from it. He has things to handle in the morning, making sure that his stance still stands even when being here and making things different. He knew one thing would stand firm in his choices; the area surrounding the bakery would be safe no matter what. After all it was the least he could do, Felix gave his men food and shelter even when he wasn't there to see it and make sure they were okay while being treated them no differently than anyone else. “This is gonna be hard the more I think about it.”

Today was just like every other day, being busy For Felix the moment he walked down from his upstairs room, looking down the stairs to see the sunlight peeking in along with already hearing the door jingle. It made him smile because that mean that Lee know had arrived just as early as usual to come and help with the early morning preparations before the others were to arrive. Getting his work shoes back on and walking downstairs and turning the corner. Seeing Lee Know walking to the back but also seeing Chan, someone he didn't think he would see this early. Before Felix could call out his name Chan turned around and the two smiled brightly at each other. Chan watching Felix tying all of his long hair back into a ponytail with some of the hair staying on the sides of his head with some bangs staying above his eyes.

“Hey Felix. Nice pins on the apron.” Looking down to see all the Christmas pins Felix had on his apron it made him smile Chan complimented them. He used to love collecting pins to the point almost the straps on the apron decorated with pins he could get his hands on. “Awe thank you, I have a lot upstairs and try to change them every day. What brings you here?” Felix looked around, seeing the black car outside still running, but no signs of Lee Know and he just wanted to be sure nothing happened to him the night before. “Oh, I dropped him off, he said he was going to the back to get things for the display case ready. Did you make all the things for it?” Chan asked with a curious look, a smile never fading while seeing Felix happily nod his head, pushing some of his hair back behind his ear. “Oh I did, usually around…5pm I make things for tomorrow and set it up early. Did you want anything before you left?” Chan looked around, titling his head slightly to the left in thought before thinking of an answer.

“What all could I get? I have a feeling you won't let me pay while you can keep track of my order.” Felix shook his head, walking to the back counter that had a large Christmas wreath with a large red bow. There he handed Chan a menu before seeing lee know come back with a large silver cart. The display treats being set on their own plates and having cards to show what they contained case some people had allergic reactions to something. Lee know smiled while watching the two before slowly and carefully setting up things in the case, asking Felix if how he was setting it up seemed to look. “How about this? It looks like lights in order with the colors.” Felix turned to look, giving a approving nod at the setup. “I like it, they even matched with the lights hanging above! Good idea.” Felix knew he had about two other workers to come who would help him with the baking and taking orders. Bringing them out to make sure everyone had their snacks and drinks.

“I won't take too much, but I'm curious about the ones with the little chicken face next to them.” “Oh! Those are the ones I like! The little faces show who likes what on the menu. The chicken ones are my favorite!” Felix had a thought sometimes last year to make little animals of his coworkers. Him being a chicken, lee know being a rabbit, another one being a ferret, another baker's being a quokka and one more being a fox. It was more of a thankful gesture of Felix for his workers who are more like his best friends at this point. “Well, with that being said, can I get a matcha green tea with some Christmas tree cookies?” “Of course!” Felix walked to the back with excitement, hearing Lee know chuckle while the ovens were getting preheated in order to keep the treats coming. Felix knew he already had some cookies made beforehand and now he just needed to make the drink in the back drink station. It didn't take long but Felix had the urge to at least make it special in the best way he could.

Putting the cup carefully in a sleeve with the lid being secured. Grabbing the back of cookies, each back having around 5 cookies, some even having 6 or seven depending on who gets to back them. Felix grabbed a bag with at least 7 cookies, but he would not tell Chan how many cookies were in the bag, knowing Chan wouldn't take it without paying him. Holding the cup and walking back outside, Felix handed over the cup and the bag to Chan. A bright smiling on his face while handing them over only for their hands to slightly touch before looking staring into each other's eyes. Almost like they were ein their own romance movie, each touch moving like a spark between them and people were just there to watch them. Chan stared down at Felix each of them having a soft smile on their faces despite more workers coming in to start the day. “I'll come by later for a snack and then to pick up Lee know, don't work too hard today, okay?” Felix gave another shy nod, his smiling only growing while the two slowly pulled away from each other. Chan softly waving while he walked outside and got in the car, he had some friends he needed to meet with later that day alone while Felix had to handle the workload of the day.

“Sooo, who's the new guy that has Felix over here blushing and more excited to work?” One worker asked in a teasing tone. Tying his long black hair into a back ponytail while slipping on a hairnet. Looking between Lee Know and Felix for an answer since Lee Know had a teasing look on his face while Felix was trying to get away from the conformation. Knowing this coworker was more sassy than Lee know with his answers. “That is an old friend of mine who finally came back and ran into Felix last night he fought me for my keys just so he had an excuse to keep coming back without looking weird.” Lee know answered, watching Felix still try to run around with making sure everything was clean before opening the store. “There's no way he fought you for your keys!” Felix exclaimed, walking back into the kitchen only to see Lee know nodding his head. “He did! I'm telling you he's gonna try to take you somewhere and we won't let you sneak your way to work, won't we guy?” Felix tried to shake his head, already feeling himself laughing while the other two nodded his head. “See! Even Hyunjin and Han agree to it, He just needs to ask you on his own with no help from me.”

“Guys he just got here-" “And you two been staring and smiling at each other since then and hanging onto each word! Guys we're witnessing a love story right before our eyes!” Han cheered, placing his hands together over his chest in a dramatic heart, smiling brightly while Felix just shook his head at the idea. But part of him was hopeful, but he knew better, after all he's only seen Chan in the bakery, who knows how he is when there's no time to hide any secrets away from anyone and now he has to show those true colors. Just for Felix to determine if he really should be with Chan. He Shook his head trying to focus on his job as he walked to the doors and turned the closed to open. Clapping his hands together before turning back over to the crew. “Who's ready to sell treats!

Chan however had enjoyed the calm drive. He had on some music, taking a bite of a tree cookie with a soft smile on his face, softly humming the music on the radio while driving. He knew where he was going to meet his friend, a place they could go and there would be no one could ease drop on their conversation. It was a while drive but with the things he has it was making the drive enjoyable. The place wouldn't be too cold, it was the last place he remembered being, and the last place he got to say goodbye to before leaving. Making one more turn into a parking garage. He parked the car in his old spot that seemed to be marked with his own two initials of his name and they were the closest to a door. The Area didn't have that many cars to begin with, Chan was surprised that he could even get inside since the place didn't look the same nor did anyone standing outside looked like he remembered. Making sure he had his cookie bag in one hand, the drink in the other. He got out and walked to the black door. Doing the four knocks then three more.

Looking up to see the door open and saw his friend. He had his hair nearly just as short as Chan had his. Wearing a black loose sweater that was tucked into his loose black jeans and white shoes. He had a bright smile as he walked up and hugged Chan tightly, missing his brother dearly. “About time you came home! I was getting worried about you after so long!” Chan smiled while giving hongjoong a hug back. Softly shaking his head at the thought before hongjoong let him walk inside. Looking around at the newly decorated place like a kid in a candy store. The place had now expanded. The floors still the same dark oak wood floors but newly polished. The small tabled now being moved to have booths on the outlines of the place with black cushions with golden outlined tabled. The bar area was now more polished, glass now being the shelves and the doors to all the drinks back there.

In here were people Chan had known before he had to leave, waving at everyone while taking sips of his drink before following Hongjoong up the stairs to a new addition to the place. It was an upstairs meeting area with separate wooden tables with roller chairs instead of chairs that would just scratch the floor with each movement. There was some soft music playing in the back but not loud enough to drown out the important conversations. “Where did you go before getting here? I would've had one of the line cooks downstairs make you something fresh out the stove.” “Lee know works at this bakery with Hyunjin, they make amazing sweets and have the cutest owner.” Chan answered, seeing hongjoong's raised eyebrow and a teasing smile as he leaned closer over the table. “First day back and you already met a crush? You dirty dog Chan. Is that who gave that drink and goodie bag?” Chan nodded his head while handing hongjoong a cookie. Letting him try at least one and seeing how good they were. Getting the nod of approval from him.

“They wouldn't let me pay for it but we get teased about liking each other. I got lost last night and he let me stay there to get a drink and a snack.” “Well, mister Smooth by the happy look on your face I think that their right to assume you have a crush on them. You gave the widest smile when you got to explain who gave them to you. These came from uh, winter wonderland?” Hongjoong asked, taking another small bite and seeing Chan nod his head. Happily taking another sip of his drink trying to savor hat little drinks he had before it was all gone. “That's where Lee Know and Hyunjin work at yeah, know the owner Felix?” “Oh yeah, he helped Seonghwa-hyung get this place set up as a little pop-up store before it turned into a diner. Sometimes they promote each other just for the thought of it.” Chan gave a curious nod of understanding to that, happy to see his friends growing into things and just overall having fun and building new friendships along the way. “How about you? How have things been before my sudden return?” “Struggled here and there, almost lost everything to a gambling bet to GOT7 but we grew and I did my best to keep yours sheltered while they secured most of your things. How's Australia? I take it you got everything handled before showing back up here?”

Chan nodded his head, rolling his shoulders with a head tilt just to let out a crack he heard in his neck. Knowing he needed that after all of this. “Took a while but, I got the roots down and those who know better than to try me. I left a show before leaving just to let it sink into everyone before coming back. “ “There's the Hyung I know, deadly yet charming.” Chan gave a smirk while shaking his head. It was this that made him worry about getting close with Felix, he was used to doing dangerous things and being seen as someone who wasn't scared to use violence if there was no other way. If anything happened to Felix, he would go into a state of red before making sure Felix was okay and taking his time before even beginning to explain why he was this way. But he knew everything had a time and a place and he just had to be ready for it. “Oh and thank you for setting up the place by the way. How did you get that? Those apartments were a luxury back then.” “It was the turning point when Got7 wanted to dip, but they weren't going to just lose their prized place so we made a bet. Everything was on the line and if they won they could each take a section from everyone and do whatever they wanted without worry. But we won with no tricks but man was it fucking racking. But, once we got we were able to redo everything and made sure no one would want to live there that wasn't a member.”

“What happened to GOT7?” “They didn't leave the country really, just now settling down. Jackson still parties but not as much, JB sings when he can, yugyeom performs and often hangs out with Jackson. Mark still takes care of BamBam with Jinyoung, though last I heard BamBam and Jackson were flirting a lot but I don't know what else happened after that. But that's with them. What do you plan on doing next?” All Chan could really do is shrug his shoulders. His drink was sadly finished with only a couple cookies left between the pair. “What else is there to do? Besides cracking down on those rings still and making sure no one gets away with it.” “I was waiting for you to bring this up. You won't like where their trying, though/” Hongjoong could see the shift in Chan's eyes as he slowly leaned forward in the chair, closing his legs back together while leaning on his hands. Watching hongjoong set down a folder with a map, and a bakery being in the main red circle. “Felix won't know this but some are trying to plan on using his bakery as a place to get a handful of people. Not the place itself but the skating ring since it would get crowded and few people can run on the ice. But you know if they start there, some will want to take over that place and use it for their own needs. But, the only thing stopping them is Lee know and Hyunjin. But that can only scare them off unless someone does something to really shut them up. This place is their last resort.”

Hongjoong was careful, he could see how Chan's eyes were darting between the red places. Of course he knew those two could hold their own easily. HyunjIin could kill with ease and Lee know could torture without a second thought, but Felix was the angel. It was like watching a lion go from relaxed to predator more within minutes. But Hongjoong could also see that Chan was thinking of the best plan for raising any red flags,Felix's place was a beacon of safety and he was not about to let that get ruined because of twisted people wanting to use his kindness against him. “Hm… do we know the leader of said person or are they hiding like most of them do?” “Uses the name Black Fan to hide and has a X patch on his men. We've caught most of them and keep them alive till they spill but some aren't that easy. But, with him missing some of his best he's messing up. Use this phone, some say he likes to tap into those looking for him. Your lucky he doesn't know what you look like or your new name. But, I'm positive we can keep your little crush safe.”

Hongjoong tried to lighten up the mood but he could see Chan taking the last bite as if he wanted to bite someone’s head off in that instance. But he also knew he had to plan this out with everyone before trying anything. If there was one thing Chan knew, no one was about to lay a finger on Felix without getting tortured to the point of begging for death.

“Lee Know? Lee Know please breathe and tell me slowly.” “Someone broke in and Felix saw me nearly beating the fuck out of them but won't leave his upstairs room. Get here now while me and Changbin get the ones we can.” Chan was already on his way because of a bad feeling and was quick to speed. Having Hongjoong trailing behind him as his tired screeched against the road before parking in front of the messed up Bakery. Seeing Hyunjin twist someone over a table before pulling someone from the stairs, he was making sure no one but Chan got up there to make sure Felix was safe. Chan ran out of his parked car, throwing off whatever jacket he had on and jumping through the window. He had no time to ask questions before scrambling up the stairs and swinging the door opened. The place looked ruined and his mind was racing.

“Felix? Felix!” He yelled, slowly looking around before quietly closing the door after tossing something slow down the stairs. That's when he saw blonde hair and one shaking eye from a doorway. Felix was hiding with a frying pan in his hands but Chan knew there was someone still here and he wasn't going to put Felix in more danger now. “Didn't think I'd see you here again after making sure a mess in Australia, Chirs.” Chan slowly turned to see the hooded person staring at him, no gun in hand but he had a knife. Chan had a looked that screamed nothing more then hate and rage. But his body stayed calm and his stance stood firm. “And you have a lot of nerve showing back up after leaving everyone else in your home to die.” “By your hands. Imagine your poor, little angel learning that you, the knight in shinning armor, killed so many in his lifetime.” Chan didn't move from in front of the door. He could feel Felix's scared eyes but trying to stay focused on what was happening.

“I may be a killer, but I trafficked no one for money and then killed them when they weren't enough for you anymore. You, are worst then me and I'll be damned before you could ever compare me to scum you are.” Chan knew the only way he was getting out of this was fighting him. He didn't want to do this in front of Felix but if it meant that Felix remained unharmed, he would do it regardless of what happened to him. But Felix stayed watching him, seeing Chan move as if this wasn't anything new to him and trying to be careful as if he wanted nothing to happen to the place Felix spent a lot of time making. When Felix knew he had a chance, he quietly opened the door and peaked out, his pan was hot since he was making another noodle bowl for his quick snack. Seeing Chan backed into a corner, almost like this was planned. Felix struck as hard as he could with the hot pan, hearing the person scream in pain while falling to the ground. Felix stumbled back against the wall as he watched Chan grab the screaming person and just tossed him down the stairs. Right next to Lee Know who was already about to Run up the stairs upon hearing the scream.

Lee Know had some cuts and scratches on his face but nothing serious. Hyunjin was hurt, his shoulder was stabbed but he could get it wrapped in a minute. Hongjoong had walked over and stepped on the man’s neck, staring up to Chan who looked like he was about to shake. Panting as he looked down at them while he was gathering his own thoughts. “Hongjoong, was anyone else Taken and if so do we know where they are?” Hongjoong shook his head, keep his weight on the burn mark while hearing the man hiss in pain. “No one got took, he was waiting till he had Felix under control before starting his plan. We got everyone else handled. Is Felix okay?” That man Chan jump before turning around to see Felix still sitting against the wall, rubbing his chest while trying to breathe before opening his eyes to see Chan on the ground in front of him. Making sure Felix stayed locked on him before talking. “No one got to hurt you did they? Focus on me okay? We're gonna breathe together and slowly go from there, don't worry about anything else till then understand?” Chan was in protective mode, making sure Felix listened to him while also making sure he wasn't hurt anywhere.

They stayed in the same spot for a while, Chan wiping away the tears falling down Felix's cheeks till Felix felt better. “I'm… I'm okay. What even was that? Who was that and what was he talking about?” He asked in a whisper, holding onto Chan, who was helping him stand back up. “I'll explain that first thing tomorrow, right now making sure you and everyone else is okay is my top priority” Chan walked back to the doorway before slowly marching downstairs and staying in his leader mode, showing nearly no mercy unless it was to those he cared deeply for. “Lee Know, how many do we have?” “Roughly around 40 in total, they were waiting to see if their boss won and fell for the trap Hongjoong set.” Chan looked outside and saw the aftermath. The hooded man was stuck to the ground while Hongjoong stood in the middle of his men, arms crossed with a pissed off look on his face. Chan saw all the patches and the thought of him being too late was pissing him off. But he was keeping himself calm before whistling to Hongjoong. Holding up two fingers to let Hongjoong take everyone away.

“Hyunjin, go with Bin to get your arm checked. No working till it's healed and I mean it. Lee Know, call the Cleanup crew to handle all of this and the cost. I'll handle those when everything is done, do not let any news hear about this. They don't need to be pushing Felix to talk about this.” Lee Know Looked at Chan and then behind him before nodding. Helping Hyunjin walk outside to Changbin before pulling out his phone to make the needed phone calls. Chan let out a slow and shaky sigh before slowly turning around, making eye contact with a teary eye Felix who was still coming down from the shock. “Here, where do you feel the safest at right now Felix. I can answer questions there.” Felix looked upstairs, recounting how the person continued to taunt him with a knife before running his own place, making him shake his head while he tried to breathe. “Not…Not here. He chased me upstairs till you got here…What about your place?” Chan gave him a soft pity look, but didn't oppose to it. “Felix…Go pack a bag. I don’t have a lot at my place but still.” Chan caved in, watching Felix go upstairs while he leaned against the wall.

He was more worried about losing Felix or Felix being too scared to even sleep in his own place.But while Felix was packing his own clothes, Lee Know had came back inside to give another Run down to Chan. “News is handled and Changbin is on the way to taking Hyunjin to the doctor. Hongjoong has taken everyone to separate bases away from here and will handle things according to you. Other Crew is parked in the back and will clean everything from down here to upstairs and handle the repairs I'll stay to make sure of it.” “And Han?” “Came with the crew, he loves this part but is the only person besides me that went upstairs and can help with the kitchen. Is Felix staying?” Chan shook his head, crossing his arms and squeezing them as he started. “I'm taking Felix with me to my place. I plan on answering any questions he has for me and as scared as I am, I rather be truthful with him then not.” He started, Lee Know knew a rant was about t0 come and when he looked up the stairs, Chan looking at his feet as he tried to ground himself, he told Felix to stay silent with a simple eye movement.

“You were right, I really do like Felix, sure the free drinks and treats are nice but having those late night calls, where he would turn on his camera and we would watch the same movie. Lee Know I almost lost that to someone dumber than me as a kid, I'm terrified right now.” “And at the end of the day hyung. You aren't like the men here and you came to save Felix. That speaks character and will mean more to Felix when you slowly explain things you are ready to talk about. Don't feel rushed to spill things you aren't ready to re-visit yet.” Lee Know gave a quick wink before walking to the back, letting Han inside to start the process while the sound of the top door closing made Chan jump as he looked up. His tight shirt showing his arms and shoulders relaxing some as he saw felix standing there with a bag. Felix looked more relaxed even while holding a large bag over his shoulders. He didn't seem as on edge as he was a while ago but Chan didn't want to seem to hopeful know that anything could change if he rushed into it.

“My car's outside still, are you ready?” Felix nodded his head as he walked down the stairs slowly, getting close and slightly holding onto Chan's arm. It made Chan smile slightly before walking him to the car, seeing Hongjoong hand over his jacket that he threw on the ground before waving to a slightly shocked Felix. “You dropped this on the ground big guy. Nice to see that you’re safe and sound Felix.” Chan took the jacket with a thank you before wrapping it around Felix's shoulders. Chan really didn't remember parking the car but happy that he did before rushing inside. “I'll tell seonghwa and make sure that he checks on you in the morning. Don’t worry too much, wonderland's in great hands.” “Thank you hyung.” He said in a soft tone, getting in the passenger seat while Chan slowly walked over to the driver's side, looking at hongjoong who gave him a wink before walking to his own car. Chan got in the car, starting it up and letting it get warm before he started the quiet drive home. Felix seemed to want to ask questions, but he waited till Chan got to the apartments.

Chan helped Felix get inside to his top floor room, showing Felix around the living room. “Wait so this place only looks rundown, but the inside looks like this? How do you even get it like this?” He asked, setting his bag on the couch and walking around the large and open living room. Chan watching him do so with his arms crossed above his chest. “Hongjoong helped set it up while I was gone and got it to look like this. I didn't get to see it when I came home after we first met. It felt weird being in here but Lee know lives right across from me so.” “Ah so that's how you got to take his keys that first week, hm?” Felix turned to see Chan's face getting red even. Not super red but a subtle red as he tried to deny it once again but knew there was no escaping it. “You made it…really hard not to come and see you when I had the time to.” “I really am that special? Even when…you've done things?” Chan's smile faded a little as he watched Felix slowly piece together the question. Chan remembered Felix was hiding behind that door and as much as he wanted to get Felix out, he knew he had to smart but things came out.

“I have met many people, but none of them stuck. But meeting you was like…it made me want to stay the night but that would've been weird. Yes, I've done things I've wished I never had to do but if doing all of that meant I got to meet you again, I'd do it.” He confessed, slowly taking closer steps to Felix and holding his hands in his own large ones. The two of them staring into each other's eyes and nearly leaving no space for anything else between them while Felix tried to ask more questions, knowing that Chan wouldn't lie to him. “How did you know I was in trouble?” “Lee know called me when I was already coming over thinking something was wrong. I was already halfway there when he called, I just sped faster to get there.” “You knew I was in the room?” “I saw your eye peaking to see if it was safe but I knew you weren't alone. It was too quiet for that to happen.” “What did they want with my bakery? I met none of those people before and they just came out of nowhere.” Chan was hesitant to answer that question, seeing the confusion and desperation written on Felix's face while the grip on each other's hands only seemed to get tighter with each word and question being answered.

“That person in the hood was planning to use it as a trafficking ring. You made the bakery a place for anyone to come and stop by and they were going to use that to their advantage. But hongjoong knew to tell me and Lee know and hyunjin wouldn't let it happen even if I wasn't here. You made them feel safe and not judged in your bakery and wanted to protect it and you. They would've kept you safe even if I wasn't there.” Chan could see the fear build back in Felix's eyes, a sight slowly breaking his heart before he held Felix close to his chest. Softly rubbing his back in the process just to make sure Felix didn't full on panic at the news. Chan made sure Felix felt comfortable while laying in his large bed, it seemed to help Felix relax a little seeing that there was somewhere he could rest after everything that seemed to have happen. Felix didn't let go of Chan not once, even when Chan came back from changing the two stayed glued to each other. Chan making a promise to himself that he would truly protect Felix no matter what was to come his way. This was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, no matter how was going to come trying to change it for him.

Chan knew his Idea was risky, but he had to make it work. Ever since that day he had taken Felix to do things he truly loved doing, taking him to get things at night, going to see light shows and even Ice Skating when it wasn't so crowded at night. Chan had done everything expect one more thing, and he knew that this would make Felix melt. It was busy as ever since Felix wanted to open a little on Christmas Day. He was setting up things in Felix's room for a perfect holiday movie. Having the curtains closed since it was a little too cold to have them open but he had some Lights hanging around the room, he even set the bed with enough pillows and blankets evenly so it felt like a nest keeping the two in each other's arms. On the end of the bed Chan had a large tray of popcorn with hot chocolate and matching mugs for the two of them to use. Each with the same amount of Marshmallows and whipped Cream on the top. Chan also set the rest of the area. When Felix came upstairs, he would see the inside showing a little pathway to the bathroom with signs greeting him with little drawings as well. In the bathroom would be a matching set Chan picked for the two of them saying he didn’t need to worry about anything else and to take a nice shower and come to his room quick.

Felix was excited as he did so, walking through the winter wonderland of his living area after everyone left after helping him close for the day. Taking a shower only to get himself ready before seeing Chan in his room. Wearing the matching Pj set with their favorite movie on the large TV, Han had replaced Felix's small tv with a larger one to enjoy the movies more. Chan stood there holding their mugs with the brightest smile on his face seeing the happy and surprised look on Felix's face that nearly lit up the room even more. “So this is why you weren't telling me and why Lee know wouldn't spill the beans! Oh, my gosh Chan this is amazing!” Chan could only smile brightly while letting Felix take his mug before the two comfortably sat on his best. Starting the movie and slowly eating some popcorn. Chan made sure it wasn't scary, but that it was also funny and romantic. He made a promise to himself to make sure that Chan got every Wish right that Felix had. Just one more was a kiss at midnight, their first kiss and Chan was making sure that it would be amazing and just as perfect as Felix had hoped for.

“You planned out everything for this week didn't you?” Felix asked, looking up at Chan with some whipped cream on his face, seeing Chan nod his head with a smile. “I did, making sure I got it right, like it?” “Chan I love it!” Felix cheered, trying to be careful to not spill anything but the drink was almost gone and now sitting on his nightstand while snuggling close to Chan, relaxing on his chest like it was the best pillow he had around. “There is one more thing I didn't get to finish.” Felix was quick to look up, not expecting there to be anything else Chan had planned for him. He was already more than happy this week with everything that Chan had done, but soon froze. The two of them were kissing each other, Felix was shocked for a while, but soon returned the kiss, eyes fluttering shut before returning the kiss with just as much passion. Even smiling in the kiss while relaxing in Chan's touch. Not realizing that he was slowly getting underneath Chan's arms before slowly pulling away from each other.

Felix was red from this, seeing how small he looked under Chan's arms but not being able to move and just only staring up at him. The two of them doing teh same thing that they did when they first met each other, staring into each other's eyes and just feeling relaxed. “Merry Christmas Lixie.” Chan said softly, leaning back down to give Felix another kiss, who was smiling once again in the kiss, the movie was over in their minds, nearly just trying to get closer and closer to each other as if nothing else was there. Floating with each other with their heads slightly titling to the side to deepen the kiss and get as close as they could with each other. Felix's arms moved to the bottom of Chan's shirt to slowly go under, feeling his abs and chest while Chan's hands moved to his sides. Chan slowly pulled and laid his head on Felix's forehead, their eyes barely opening just to look at each other. “Think we're moving a little too fast right here?” Chan was nervous because he didn't want to feel like he was pressuring Felix into giving in even if he was enjoying the feeling on his small and soft hands on him.

“I wouldn't be this close if we were, now please take this of, your chest looks like it wants to bust from the shirt.” Chan let out a chuckle, almost in his deep register before sitting up, watching Felix slowly unbutton his shirt and he stared to do the same to his, flexing some as he tossed the shirt to the side. Felix slowly sat up and rubbed his chest and abs, letting his shirt fall off behind him while slowly staring up at Chan, those innocent eyes pulling Chan right back in without ever letting him go. “Show me some Christmas Magic tonight, please?” “Like I could ever say no.” Chan’s arms were quick to wrap around Felix, one arm on his back while the other move his legs to spread open so Chan could help him lay back down, not going in for another kiss but to leave a trail of kisses on Felix's jaw and neck. Felix's small hands roaming over from Chan's back muscles to the back of his hair. Softly tugging on it some with each open mouth kisses and feeling as though Chan was about to leave more marks on his chest and shoulders, knowing no one else would get to see them since they might still be closed tomorrow, depends on how rough Chan might get to be.

Chan would slowly rock, bucking his hips into Felix but just to create friction, listening to the hitch of breathes and the quiet low moans coming from him. “I wanna suck.” Felix blurted out, his head already leaning backwards before leaning up to see Chan, who was licking his lips while his eyes were swirling with lust and want. “First time about that, you sure about that?” “I'll be the judge of that.” Felix helped flip Chan over on his backside, standing on the edge of the bed and slipping off his lower clothes before tugging the top of Chan's pajama pants before tugging them down enough for the main prize to be sticking out and twitching even. “Holy shit I see why you asked! How does that even fit in your boxers?” Chan couldn't help but let out a laugh while he saw the shocked looked written all over Felix's face at the sight in front of him. Those wide eyes that held so much curiosity it was enough to even make Chan smirk while he moved his arms back and laid his head on his head. “Just don't force yourself to go too fast.”

Felix only did a nice and slow nod, leaning forward and slightly licking the base, one small hand rubbing Chan's left thigh and the other slowly jerking him off. Slowly licking up Chan's cock like it was an ice cream scoop before slowly sucking on the tip. The whole time his eyes being open and staring up at Chan's relaxed face. His eyes were closed but his mouth stayed open to let out a soft gasp and quiet groans as if he were tugging his own hair trying to keep himself from pushing Felix when he wasn't sure if he was ready to handle more than he could chew. And when he did finally open his eyes, letting out a low moan he saw his entire cock inside of Felix's mouth, tongue slowly swirling with his eyes closed. Felix moved some, spreading his legs more while keeping his hands on Chan's thighs, they felt so small yet so soft on them. Felix closed his eyes so he could concentrate, slowly moving his head back and fourth just to give himself some time to get used to the large thing in his mouth.

What made him want to go faster was the sounds coming from Chan, each time Felix came closer his breath would get quicker, sometimes he would even hear a groan coming from him. And this was when Felix felt more comfortable and would move his head faster. Muffled sounds of gagging were what he could mainly hear along with the occasional groans. Chan moved one hand down to Felix, slowly feeling the locks of hair and holding his hair in a back ponytail while slowly lifting Felix, who came off with a pop and eyes opening wide as the two stared at each other. “Not yet, I want to be inside you when I can't hold it in anymore.” Chan pulled Felix back up, straddling his hips while moving his own hips back and Fourth. “Cupcake wants to ride or let me do all the work?” “Cupcake wants to see what all you can do.” Their voices were soft but laced with seduction before devouring each other in a kiss. Chan keeping Felix down on the bed, wrapping the small legs up to his shoulder just to make sure he could hit every angle, every spot, every time.

“Do it slowly please…” “Slow and steady wins the race, face and furious shakes the ground.” Chan had the two of them in a safe spot, kissing on Felix's chest, shoulders, neck and jaw while he slowly pushed himself in. His groans being covered up by the loud, separate moans leaving Felix's mouth. Chan could already feel the scratches appearing on his back and shoulders, something he would proudly show off if given the chance to do so. “Gods how the fuck! Does this even fit in your boxers Chan I sweat.” Felix moaned out, hooking his arms under Chan's arms to keep himself up and steady. Even though Felix couldn't see his face, Chan was smirking at the sight below him. Biting his lip with each squeeze but keeping himself relax so he didn't move before Felix was ready. “Slow pace…Slow pace.” Chan watched Felix try to keep his eyes open as he slowly moved, his thrust were slow, but they were deep. Not wanting to push it till he could tell for certain that Felix was ready for it and there was nothing else he could do in this moment.

It took Felix a while, looking down between them just to watch before letting his eyes flutter open to look at Chan. Giving him the okay nod to slowly move faster and Chan was happy to give in. Slowly going faster, watching Felix slowly unravel more while the only thing leaving his mouth were deep moans, nothing too high pitch, but they were getting louder and louder with each thrust. “If I'm not shaking by the end of this- Oh!” “Never Poke a hungry wolf, You won’t be crawling back alive.” Chan got as close as he could, his thrust getting as fast as he could and each one nearly left Felix shaking under him, slightly bouncing up with some strands of hair bouncing all over his face while the rest would spread out on the bed underneath him.

Felix's scratches were getting deeper but not deep enough to draw blood from them. Despite how fast Chan was moving, he knew how to be careful but; he was learning how to make Felix crumble and unravel underneath him. “Right there! Shit Chan right there please!” “You're not letting me pull out soon now are ya cupcake? Gods its so tight and warm in here.” Felix let out a broken cry, curling his toes as his legs would bounce from Chan's shoulders. Chan's back was covered in scratches while listening to the pleasured cries and moans coming from him almost like a broken record. Chan moved one arm to squeeze Felix's chin, making the two of them stay looking at each other while felix continued to let out louder moans and whimpers. Chanting the word yes repeatedly like it was a prayer for him to finish.

“You're mine now cupcake.” “As I fucking should be!” The two of them released together. Felix nearly curling inwards before collapsing on the bed, trying to keep his eyes opened while panting heavily. He could feel his legs shaking and hearing the huffs coming from Chan, he wanted to look over but it was hard to keep his eyes opened. Looks like you never should poke a hungry wolf…

[ladybyakuya]

| INTO MY KALIEDISCOPES ( part three ) + SUGISHITA KYOTARO !

+cw. — fem!reader, fluff, comfort, domesticity,pinning.

+wc. — 1k 

+syn.—  Sugishita Kyotaro was always the first target for every impromptu plan that Umemiya made while you were Kotoha's. Naturally, when they both made plans you and Sugishita had to face each other again.

+notes. — this is for the flufftober ‘fond moments’ collab event for prompt: date night hosted by @spookuna. m\dni cuz me iz eighteen plus blog. this is part of a mini drabble series that can be read as stand alone. |  redirect to blog navigation. 

The shop that was suggested by both Haji-kun and Koto-chan is the same shop that popped up in Google Maps when you searched for “grocery stores near me.” but now that you are finally here you can tell why it was so hard to locate the shop, even for google. The town guide, Sugishita, who is accompanying you was not much of a help. Besides, talking with him is still a boat you had yet to set foot on let alone sail on it. Never in the worst nightmares you had expected to run into him, again, after that embarrassing date night. 

The shop is almost empty except for the staff at the cash counter who is practically dozing off. It is already quite late at night so you do not see a reason to blame him especially because Makochi is a forlorn town. No shop is ever too crowded to come back home empty-handed. Haji-kun wanted to have a barbeque night; naturally, Hiragi was busy helping him, more like cleaning the mess he left behind after he was done with something, as always. Kotoha, Sakura, Nirei, and Suo are helping with the setup while Kaji and Tsubaki have gone to invite others, especially the members of Shishitoren and the people at show pub Ougi bar. As a result of these patiently concocted coincidences You and Sugishita were the only two people left with nothing to do but one of the most important responsibilities: “grocery shopping.”

A heavy sigh escapes from your chest as you lay your eyes on the entire display of products while standing in front of the fridge. Vibrant in color compared to the other parts of this dull silent shop, it piqued your interest first even though it is the utmost corner. The ground shelf of the fridge, which extends from one end of the shop to the nook of the staircase which would possibly lead to the second floor, is filled with dairy products. The shelf above it is filled with frozen foods and various types of treats with different tastes like salty, spicy, sweets, and alcoholic; the last, the uppermost shelf is filled with a wide variety of chocolates. Your concern is the middle section but the level above it is the most tempting. You pick a bunch of packets from the frozen foods section and look by your right side. 

Oh god! Where did this boy run off to now? He was following you like a stray puppy just a while ago. With the shopping cart in between the two of you, it felt like he was light years apart every time you turned back to keep anything inside it. You look around unable to spot him, slowly sinking into a rabbit hole of distraught since without him you would be lost in Makochi. You would not be able to go back without him. Relying on the phone? That’s pretty useless here. The network is bad besides you do not have anyone’s number except Kotoha and even if you did make a call she would be busy in the preparations of barbeque mostly probably unable to take the call . . . Oh God! Why did Haji-kun have to send you in the middle of nowhere. . . ?

A metallic screech sucks you out of your puddle of thoughts. You look in the direction of the source and a nonchalant Sugishita appears emerging from another section of the rack that has a lot of mangas, magazines, and books, by standing on the bar of the shopping cart while hunching his upper body to balance his weight, skidding it till he comes to a halt in front of you. His head turns up towards you, eyes blinking: one, twice, thrice before he straightens himself up to stand properly. He stands looking at the fridge, the cart in between you two as you inspect him for a few seconds. He is not hunching like he usually does around Umme! The inner flesh of your bottom lip faces a rough distortion against your teeth while you empty your hands into the cart. It already had drinks, soda cans, and different types of sauces neatly kept. It felt illegal to dump those packets messily into that apple pie setup but when there was a slow appearance of a visible crease along his eyebrows the pit guilt was now filled with surprise and  . . . joy perhaps.

“Alright fine,” You chime with an ear-to-ear smile jocking down to keep those packets of frozen foods in a well-ordered manner. The dull buzz of the air conditioner, the sharp ‘clicks’ when the rotating fans switch its direction, the crinkle of plastic packets inside the cart as you organize it, the low even syncing breaths of you two; then a gruff unfiltered voice turns up in a weak whisper, “This almost feels like a date night, wouldn’t you agree? ” and then, his hand on yours.  Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You knew this was coming. You were . . . supposed to be prepared for this. It was you who avoided him at first. It was you who created an awkward situation like this. The fact that you saw him under those dim yellow lights in such an intimate manner does not help either. Those moments so unadulterated keep coming back to you in situations like this in flashes. It makes you close your eyes, and blink rashly to be back in all sorts of coherence. 

You look up slowly. His face is close, too close not to do anything—kiss or touch— your forehead against his, rub your cheeks against his. By now your fingers have found a home in between his fingers. He shoves his right hand into his pocket pulling out a half-eaten chocolate out of it and keeping it inside the cart. You feel a strong urge to smile but instead, wet your bottom lip rubbing the back of his palm with your lonely thumb that was not interlaced with his yet.

“Would you like to start over?”

[fanta2y]

The Little Things

a little drabble inspired by @rrairey and her post on sukuna peeling an orange so THANK HER FOR THIS CUTE LITTLE THING

@archive-network (ooo you wanna click it so bad)

cw: none

word count: 697 (very short)

The door of your shared apartment swung open as you walked in, practically dead on your feet from the long and tiring hours of work today. You wanted nothing more than to curl into bed, cuddle with your personal furnace of a boyfriend and sleep for the next week. 

But you knew Ryomen was probably having an equally, if not worse day than you. And being disgustingly in love with him, you would push aside the tired ache that felt bone deep, for him to come home with a hot meal. 

You were stopped in your tracks when you realized that his shoes were already propped by the front door, his nice suit jacket hung up on the rack. 

“Ryo?!” You called out, your voice echoing along the walls. You walked through the apartment, making your way into the kitchen. When your eyes landed on a plate, wrapped in plastic wrap with your name written on it. 

The food looked delicious, the steam getting trapped inside the wrap. It brought a smile to your face as you grabbed the plate and made your way to the bedroom. Where you assumed he would be. 

“Ryo?” You called to him again, opening the door of your shared bedroom. The plate still in hand, you found him laying blissfully on the bed. His shirt no where to be found, his pajama pants hanging lowly on his hips as he flipped through a book. 

He hummed, his eyes flicking up from his book to meet yours. 

“Welcome home.” He said, his voice gravely and soft. The tone only you got to hear from him, the smile never left your lips as you made your way over to where he was laying. Placing the still warm plate on the bedside table, you leaned forward to kiss him. 

“Did you make me dinner?” A teasing lilt to your voice as you whispered the question against his lips. 

“No.” His signature smirk adorning his face, as you giggled. 

“No?” You shook your head at his antics, kissing him once more in a silent thank you. 

This is the way Ryomen functioned. He could never admit that he had done something for you. Either flat out denying it or coming up with some excuse as to why it was easier for him to do it, or why he had to do it instead of you. 

No matter what he said, the warmth that it left in your heart never dimmed. Knowing that the way he showed his love and care for you was not through sweet words or gifts, but through silent acts. Making dinner for you when you come home, folding your laundry for you after hearing you complain about it, making you coffee in the morning before you wake up. 

Its the little things that make you fall so much more in love with him. The silly excuses you both knew were false could never falter the love you shared with him. 

“It was the coffee fairy.” He would say, barely being able to hide the smirk with his book. 

“I don’t even know where your clothes go.” He would argue, both of you knowing that he was the one who helped you organize your closet when he first moved in. Being a stickler for organization and him knowing exactly where everything goes. 

You teased him often by calling him a control freak and he just scoffed and rolled his eyes at you while you giggled away at his antics. 

“Well thank you, whoever it was.” You said, moving away from his side of the bed. Grabbing your plate before getting yourself comfortable. 

Enjoying the homemade dinner thoroughly, and knowing to bring two forks because if you knew Ryomen, you knew he would try and sneakily steal your food whenever you ate infront of him. He said he was simply collecting his taxes from you, like some king of a medivial kingdom. 

It never failed to make you smile. These calm, soft moments with him. Knowing him more intimately than anyone else, filled your heart with sweet joy and satisfaction. Which made your dinner taste all the more delicious. 

authors note: EEEKKK this one is really cute, i love the way it turned out !! i love me some soft sukuna :))) hehehehe i hope you guys enjoyeddd !! and thank you for readinggg <3

[etirabys]

I am automatically on edge when dealing with family because they tend to do me favors (ranging from inviting me over for dinner they cook, to giving me expensive wedding gifts) and I know the contract is that I will do those favors back. But you see, I do not want to.

The type of favor that families tend to do are, to me on a -10 to 10 scale, 3 pleasantness to receive and -7 pleasantness to give. I don't much like being a dinner guest, going to weddings, staying in other people's homes, and actively dislike being on the giving end of these things. I feel much better about people I vet for compatibility but the whole point of family is that you're like an insurance company about it.

Invitations to draw me deeper into this network, like reunions or holidays, fill me with distrust that to accept is to rack up debt I can repay only with so much misery and guess culture torture that it cannot possibly be worth it to take it on.

[itwasrealtome]

AGENT GRAY

Chapter 19 • Burning Out — Part II

TAGLIST FORM

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

⚠️ DO NOT READ IF THIS MIGHT TRIGGER YOU

Olivia Benson x fem! FBI Agent OC

Summary: Alexis is sick. Olivia stays with her.

Content Warning: Usual SVU & Violent Crime talk • mention of the ongoing case (human trafficking, victims under 18) — Alexis being sick

*

MONDAY, MARCH 20

Manhattan — Alexis' Apartment

03:12 PM

Olivia knew she should've gone back to work.

Her unit was knee-deep in the early stages of a trafficking case–one of those sprawling, insidious networks where the monsters wore familiar faces and the victims slipped through the cracks like smoke. Most were girls from Eastern Europe, barely more than teenagers, their names surfacing in fragments across reports: a missing persons file here, a whispered alias there. They'd started to piece it together weeks ago–a pattern hidden in plain sight. Arrests that didn't line up, timelines that bent under pressure, survivors too terrified to speak.

Now, the picture was beginning to take shape–dark, jagged, and far from complete. More names had surfaced in the last forty-eight hours, young women pulled from online reports, immigration detentions, and missing persons databases, all with the same vacant fear behind their eyes. Some had faces. Others were still just initials on a board, names without stories, bodies not yet found. And the men behind it–the ones pulling strings and buying silence–remained ghosts. No arrests. No confirmation. Just shadows and broken trails.

But Olivia wasn't at her desk.

She wasn't chasing down leads or pinning fresh photos to the corkboard in the squadroom.

She was here.

In the still, dim hush of Alexis' apartment, leash slack in her hand as Champ–the agent's six-year-old Belgian Malinois–padded ahead through the door. The dog moved with quiet purpose, his path familiar, his ears flicking as he trotted toward the bedroom, tail swaying low and easy. He didn't need direction. This was his domain, even more than it was hers.

The apartment itself surprised Olivia every time she stepped inside.

It wasn't sterile–not exactly–but it carried the weight of someone who never fully unpacked. The kind of place that held function above comfort, that whispered of temporary stays and half-formed roots. A clean pair of boots by the door. A single jacket on the wall hook. One coffee mug in the drying rack, and another on the windowsill, still faintly stained with the remains of whatever had been in it that morning.

The living room was sparsely furnished–one worn leather couch, a low, functionable table, and an aging bookshelf with more gaps than volume. A baseball under glass sat alone on the top shelf, catching a shaft of weak afternoon light. Beside it, a photo frame faced slightly toward the wall, its contents not immediately visible. There were no plants. No candles. No trace of domesticity for its own sake.

In the far corner, Olivia's gaze settled on a military-issued duffel bag–the kind that had seen years of deployment. Its canvas sides were still creased from recent travel, half-zipped and slumped against the wall like it was waiting for its next call to duty. Not unpacked, not forgotten. Just...paused.

The whole place echoed that same sense of suspension. It was clean, carefully arranged, and unmistakingly temporary in feeling. There were personal touches—a framed photo of a unit, that worn baseball under glass, a few books stacked on a side table–but nothing indulgent, nothing that said permanence. It felt like a place someone lived in out of necessity, not choice. Like a rest stop, not a home.

It felt, Olivia thought, like Alexis.

Purposeful. Controlled. Pulled together just enough to function, but never quite enough to belong. The apartment had a quiet precision about it–a lived-in sense of discipline, not comfort. And that, Benson realized, was the woman she'd come to know in the liminal spaces between chaos. Agent Gray, who had slipped into her world with steel-edged focus, bone-deep loyalty, and a wit that came dry as dust and twice as sharp.

The lieutenant hadn't expected to admire her so quickly. She hadn't expected to care this much.

But she did. And now Alexis was in bed, feverish, worn out, and–as ever–gritting her teeth through the very idea of being looked after.

The leash was still in Olivia's hand, forgotten in the doorway. She could've left it on the hook in the hall, but she hadn't. Her fingers tightened around it, the nylon digging faintly into her palm as she stood motionless in the stillness of the place. Champ's nails had already clicked out of earshot, the dog weaving through the narrow hallway with that uncanny sense of purpose only service-training animals seemed to have. He didn't need any instructions. He knew exactly where he was needed.

So did Olivia.

She moved quietly, her steps muffled by the faded runner rug, her hand brushing the wall as she turned the corner. The hallway was dim, the air inside the apartment noticeably warmer than it had been earlier, thick with stillness and the faint scent of eucalyptus from the diffuser the agent had probably forgotten she owned.

The bedroom door was cracked open. Through it, the oldest could already see the silhouette of the dog, curled into his usual post at the foot of the bed–watchful but at ease, his presence both sentinel and comfort.

She nudged the door open with a whisper of movement, slipping into the room.

The curtains were drawn against the afternoon light, letting only a soft, gray glow filter in. The air was hushed, the kind of stillness that came with fevered sleep and drawn-out exhaustion. Alexis was curled on her side, her back to the doorway, tangled in the bedsheets that she hadn't quite managed to wrestle into order. The blanket rode low on one hip, her shoulder exposed, skin damp with sweat. Her breathing was shallow, her face flushed and still.

She looked–Olivia hated the word, but there was no escaping it–fragile.

The sharp, composed edges that usually defined the young commander were absent now. The quiet power in her bearing, the controlled energy she carried like armor–it had all given way to something softer, more uncertain. Olivia had seen her bleeding before. She'd seen her fight through pain, push past fear. But this... this was something else. A surrender, not to weakness, but to the sheer weight of being worn down.

The brunette eased herself down beside the bed, one knee pressing softly to the floor, mindful not to jostle the mattress. Her eyes lingered on the woman before her, drawn to the subtle flicker of her lashes, the small furrow in her brow, even in rest–like Alexis was still fighting something invisible in the dark.

She reached out with care, brushing a loose strand of hair from the younger woman's damp forehead. Her fingertips barely grazed the flushed skin, but the heat radiating off her was unmistakable. Too high. Still rising. Still burning up.

Beneath the blankets, Alexis stirred–a faint shift, her shoulder twitching as her breath caught. Olivia stilled.

A few seconds passed in silence.

Then Gray's eyelids fluttered, struggling against the weight of fever and fatigue. Her gaze wandered, unfocused, until it finally landed on her friend.

She blinked. Once. Twice. As if unsure whether what she saw was real.

—Hey, Olivia said softly, her voice low and warm, barely above a whisper. It's just me.

The agent let out a faint exhale. Not quite a sigh. Not quite relief. Her eyes shut again, then cracked open.

—You stayed? she murmured, the words dry and gravel-thin.

—I did.

—You should've gone back.

—I know.

The quiet between them stretched, thick and lingering. Alexis shifted again, a faint wince tugging at the corners of her mouth as she tried to lift herself and failed. Her throat worked as she swallowed hard, voice raw.

—You don't have to babysit me, Benson.

—I'm not, Olivia replied, reaching for the cloth again and dabbing gently at Lexi's temple. I'm just... not leaving.

A stillness settled over them–not tense, not uncomfortable, but heavy in the way that silence can feel when two people understand something unspoken. Benson stayed close, her fingers stilling on the damp edge of the cloth. She watched the young SEAL, saw the fight in her start to fold, piece by piece. It wasn't just the fever. It was something quieter–bone-deep exhaustion, and that particular brand of discomfort that came from being seen too clearly. Olivia understood that kind of tired. She'd worn it herself more than once.

Her voice dropped even softer.

—You upset?

A shiver ran through Alexis. Her jaw twitched as she tried to respond, but nothing came at first. Olivia wondered if she'd slipped back into sleep. Then, slowly, the woman's eyes cracked open, unfocused and glassy as they drifted somewhere just past the lieutenant's shoulder.

—I'm tired, she muttered, barely audible. The words dragged behind the fever, slow and slurred.

Olivia's brow knit with concern. She leaned in, pressing the back of her hand gently to the woman's forehead. The heat that met her skin made her heart kick up. Too warm. Alexis flinched slightly beneath the touch, the cool contrast too much. Her features twisted briefly before her expression flattened again, all effort spent.

—You're burning up, the oldest said, worry threading more plainly through her tone. She shifted her weight, fingers moving to the edge of the quilt. You need to cool off a bit.

She began to tug the blanket back, just enough to help. But Alexis' hand jerked up from beneath it, latching on fast.

—No–

Her voice cracked on the word, rough and breathless. Her grip was shaky, not strong, but the panic behind it made Benson still instantly.

—I'm not... the commander tried again, blinking hard, as if that might help her gather the words. I'm in... underwear.

The words landed with a flicker of something fragile–embarrassment, hesitation, maybe even shame. Olivia's hand froze on instinct, the blanket still bunched gently between her fingers. The stubbornness in Alexis' voice wasn't the kind she usually heard from her in the field–this wasn't defiance rooted in pride or authority. This was something rawer. Something closer to self-preservation.

—I see, she murmured softly, letting go of the quilt at once. She didn't step back. She didn't make a joke to defuse the moment or try to convince her otherwise. She simply stayed where she was, kneeling beside the bed, her voice steady and calm in the thick, fever-warmed air. Then the blanket stays. It's okay.

The brunette's hand lingered where it had caught the edge, her fingers still curled, though the tension in her grip was fading fast. Her eyelids drooped again. Whatever adrenaline had flared moments before was already burning out, leaving her visibly weaker, her breaths shallow and uneven beneath the heat.

—I just... need some rest.

Olivia gave a quiet nod, even though the SEAL's eyes were already drifting shut again. She wrung out the cloth once more, placed it gently along the side of her neck, and stayed there a moment longer, watching the younger woman settle beneath the covers, her breathing uneven but easing.

—I'll let you sleep, Benson said softly, rising to her feet with practiced care, like any sudden movement might undo the fragile calm they'd managed to carve out. She smoothed the edge of the blanket Alexis had clutched moments ago, then took a slow step back. You need the rest.

She turned halfway, meaning to cross back toward the door, give the agent some quiet, let the weight of sleep do what medicine hadn't yet.

But then—

—Wait.

It was quiet. Barely a whisper.

Olivia froze. Turned. Alexis' hand hadn't moved from where it rested on the blanket, but her eyes were open again–just barely–and fixed on the woman's silhouette through the dim light.

—You can... stay, she said, her voice rough, barely formed, like she was fighting to get the words through cotton and heat. Just–just sit or something. You don't have to talk. Or...

She trailed off, blinking slowly. Her brow furrowed as if she were already regretting asking, the apology forming before she could even finish the thought.

—I know you've got that case, Alexis mumbled, voice rasping now. The girls. The ring. You probably have a thousand things to do and I'm— She exhaled roughly, frustrated with herself, her expression creasing. I'm just lying here like some half-dead stubborn idiot and you should be out there doing something that actually matters, but I—

—Lex.

The nickname slipped from Olivia's lips–soft, but unwavering. She'd stepped closer without thinking, one hand braced against the footboard, the other relaxed at her side. Her voice was low, even, but beneath it ran something unmistakable: quiet resolve, like steel hidden beneath velvet.

—You matter, she said plainly.

Alexis blinked, slow and dazed, but the words reached her. The lieutenant saw it in the subtle way her jaw unclenched, in the faint flicker of awareness behind her fevered gaze.

—And I'm exactly where I want to be.

The silence that followed wasn't heavy this time–it carried warmth, a quiet pulse of understanding that seemed to settle over both of them. Alexis' expression shifted, the lines of pain and resistance softening by degrees. Not erased. But eased.

Her head tilted ever so slightly in a nod, lashes falling back to her cheeks as she surrendered again to sleep.

Olivia lingered beside the bed for another moment, watching the rise and fall of the younger woman's breath until it found a steady rhythm. Then, with practiced care, she moved around the edge of the bed and lowered herself onto the mattress beside her–slowly, gently–keeping a respectful distance, but close enough that Alexis wouldn't feel alone.

She didn't touch her. Didn't need to. Her presence was quiet but unmistakable.

Champ shifted only slightly at the foot of the bed, lifting his head just long enough to glance back and confirm everything was still as it should be. Satisfied, he laid it back down, his sigh soft and steady as he resumed his vigil.

And there, in the hush of the room, Olivia sat. The world outside–its cases, its chaos–faded into the background.

She didn't reach for her phone. She didn't think about the case files waiting on her desk.

She just stayed. Still.

Close enough to protect, but far enough to let Alexis rest.

*

Time moved gently, muffled by the soft rise and fall of Champ's breathing and the distant groans of old pipes shifting somewhere behind the walls. Olivia stayed still, her back resting against the headboard, one knee bent beneath her and the other stretched along the edge of the bed. Her gaze wandered–sometimes to the window, where the afternoon light had dulled to a muted gray, sometimes to the woman lying beside her.

Alexis looked asleep. Her body was heavy under the quilt, her face slack with exhaustion. But the lieutenant had been watching long enough to know better. Every now and then, a flicker passed through her brow, a small shift in her jaw–as if her mind hovered just beneath the surface, caught somewhere between waking and rest, unable or unwilling to fully let go.

Several more minutes slipped by before Olivia moved. She leaned slightly, reaching across the narrow space to adjust the compress resting against her friend's forehead. Her fingers were careful, practiced–gentle in the way one learns only after enough years tending to others who won't ask for help.

The touch stirred Alexis. Her lashes trembled, then lifted just enough to reveal a sliver of glassy eyes. Her voice emerged like a breath caught on smoke, thin and hoarse.

—I'm not asleep.

Olivia glanced down, the faintest curve lifting one corner of her mouth. She didn't seem surprised–only patient.

—I thought maybe not.

The youngest brunette didn't answer right away. Her eyes wandered again, past her friend's shoulder toward some point on the far wall, distant and unfocused. Then, after a moment, she blinked–slow and heavy–and her lips parted, as though whatever she was holding back had worn thin.

—Thank you... for taking care of my boy. Of me.

The admission hung between them like a thread tugged loose. Olivia didn't speak right away. Her hand remained where it was, resting near Alexis' temple, her thumb brushing lightly against the curve of her brow in something that was more comfort than habit.

—You don't have to thank me, she said after a moment, voice low. I wanted to.

The agent's eyes drifted shut again—not asleep, not fully, but hovering in that hazy place just above it. Her breathing had leveled out, steadier now, though the occasional flicker of tension still ran through her shoulders, a subtle twitch here and there. Olivia didn't speak. She simply watched her, quiet and still, as if afraid that any sudden movement might jolt her out of whatever fragile calm she'd found.

Then, barely louder than the sound of breath between them, Alexis spoke.

—When I was a kid... my mother used to send me to school even when I was sick.

Her voice was hoarse, dulled at the edges, as though the words had taken too long to surface and were worn down by the time they reached her lips. Olivia turned slightly, her head tilting just enough to catch her gaze, even if Alexis kept her eyes closed.

—She'd say I was being dramatic. Making it up, the brunette went on, her brow twitching faintly beneath the fever sheen. Didn't matter if I had a fever or could barely keep my eyes open. I'd get dressed, drag myself to school, sit through the day like a ghost.

The oldest woman didn't say anything. She didn't need to. She just shifted slightly, lowering her hand until it rested gently on the blanket near Alexis' arm–close, warm, but not invasive. Her presence, quiet and steady, filled the space that words couldn't.

—But Tommy..., she whispered, voice nearly swallowed by the dark. If he got a bruise? A bump? He'd stay home. My mom would set him up on the couch with a blanket and cartoons. Make soup from scratch. Sit with him, dote on him, tell him how brave he was for being in pain.

Her throat worked around something dry, brittle.

—He was hurting, so he got to stay. I was hurting... so I was a burden.

The quiet that followed didn't press like silence usually did–it hovered, tender and understanding. It wrapped around them like something living, like the apartment itself was listening. Olivia didn't move her hand. She just let it stay–something solid in the soft dark, in all the space Alexis had never been given as a child.

The commander's jaw twitched, just once, then stilled again.

—Sometimes I'd fake feeling better, she went on, her voice thinner now, fraying at the edges. Just so she wouldn't roll her eyes when I walked into the kitchen. Just so I didn't have to hear her tell my dad I was faking again while he was deployed. While he couldn't see.

A beat passed. Then Alexis' brow furrowed, barely, and her lips parted again, the words shaky and small.

—She used to say I was too sensitive. That I made things worse for everyone.

Olivia's chest tightened. But when she spoke, her voice was calm, low, unwavering.

—She was wrong.

Gray didn't open her eyes. Her face didn't shift. But her next breath caught slightly, like something unsteady had loosened in her ribs.

—I think..., she started, then paused. The words clung to her throat. I think I used to try to earn it. Her kindness. Like maybe if I was strong enough... quiet enough... she'd stop seeing me as a problem.

The hand near hers moved. Olivia let her fingers settle lightly on top of Alexis' forearm, just a brush of contact—steady, respectful, grounding.

—You didn't have to earn that, the lieutenant said, the steadiness in  her voice quiet but sure. Not then. Not now.

Another moment passed. The air between them held still, wrapped in something heavier than silence and warmer than pity. The oldest watched as the muscles in Lexi's face softened, just slightly–like some piece of her was loosening for the first time in a long time.

Then, quietly–almost like the words slipped out on their own–the agent drew in a shallow breath and murmured, "Sorry."

Olivia angled her head, gentle curiosity in her eyes.

—For what?

—For rambling, came the rough reply. Alexis grimaced faintly, her lips twitching as if she was trying to suppress the instinct to wince at herself. Her eyes shut for a beat, lashes brushing fever-warmed skin.  It's the fever. I don't... talk like this. Not about myself. Not really.

A swallow. The muscles in her throat tightened as embarrassment crept into her voice.

—I probably sound ridiculous.

—You don't, Olivia said without pause, her voice steady, quiet but firm. You sound like someone who's been holding everything in for a long time. And who finally let a little of it out.

Alexis shifted slightly beneath the blanket, enough for Olivia to feel the movement where her hand still rested gently atop her forearm. There was a pause–long and quiet–and for a moment, Benson thought she might've slipped back into that hazy edge of sleep.

But then, softer than before, the young woman spoke again.

—It's easier when I don't talk about it, she confessed, barely above a whisper. Most of the time, if I pretend it doesn't matter... it almost doesn't.

The lieutenant's fingers gave the faintest squeeze in response–not pressing, just there. Present.

—I know that feeling, she said. But it does matter. And so do you.

No protest followed. No sarcastic deflection or shrug. Just stillness–and the sense that, for once, Alexis was letting the words settle in without pushing them away. Letting herself believe, if only a little.

*

The apartment had settled into a gentle stillness, broken only by the soft tick of the radiator and the occasional sleepy sigh from Champ, stretched out near the foot of the bed. The quiet wrapped around the room like a thick, familiar blanket. Olivia sat leaned back against the headboard, one leg bent beneath her, the glow of her phone lighting her face in intervals. She scrolled slowly, eyes flicking over updates she wasn't fully processing–half-distracted by the quiet rhythm of Alexis' breathing just inches away.

At last, the younger woman had given in to real sleep. Not the restless, half-aware drifting from earlier, but something deeper–limbs slack, face softened, the tension she wore like armor finally eased for a little while. However, she didn't lie still for long. Not completely.

Even in sleep, Alexis moved with the unconscious restlessness of someone not used to staying still. A sigh escaped her, low and muted, as her body shifted under the weight of fever and dreams. The quilt slipped lower, sliding down past her hips to pool loosely around her thighs. Olivia didn't notice at first–still scrolling, mind somewhere between SVU reports and the soft cadence of late afternoon–but the shift of motion caught her eye.

She looked over instinctively, and there–bare skin, long legs stretched half across the mattress, her underwear just barely visible beneath the hem of her tee. Olivia blinked, startled not by the sight itself, but by the sudden, uninvited flush of warmth in her chest. She looked away quickly, not wanting to invade anything sacred, already reaching to gently adjust the blanket—

But before she could move, the agent stirred again.

Without warning, she rolled toward Olivia, slow and heavy like someone chasing comfort in a dream. One leg lifted, bare and warm, draping itself across the lieutenant's lap. Then an arm followed, slipping around her waist with surprising surety. Within seconds, the younger woman had tucked herself close–cheek pressed to her friend's side, breath warm through the fabric of her shirt.

The embrace wasn't neat or careful. It was instinctive. Raw. The kind of unconscious gesture made only when walls were down.

Olivia froze. Not out of discomfort–but out of sheer surprise. She didn't breathe at first, afraid to startle her. And then, as the realization sank in–Alexis Gray was literally cuddling her in her sleep—something twisted in her chest. A slow, impossible mix of tenderness and something else. Something quieter. Something she didn't have the courage to name.

She felt like a teenager again, flushed and still, her pulse drumming faintly in her ears. The SEAL's leg was heavy across hers, warm against her hip. Her arm was slung around her waist like they'd done this a hundred times before.

It was ridiculous. It was sweet. It was intimate in a way Olivia hadn't expected.

She glanced down, brushing a few strands of dark hair from Alexis' forehead with the gentlest touch. And then she settled again–slowly, carefully, her hand resting lightly over the young woman's where it curled against her side.

Outside, the city carried on without them. But here, in this quiet corner of the world, Olivia stayed still.

And she didn't mind at all.

*

TAGLIST: @ginasbaby @nciscmjunkie @thefatobsession @makkaroni221 @certainlychaotic @hi-i-1 @kiwiana145 @kobayashi-fr @alexis042499

[fandomtrumpshate]

Where we stand with donations, March 16

If we hadn't had all the Google troubles, today would be the deadline to get your high bidder donation in - we've bumped that back to Tuesday the 19th, so you have a couple more days if you haven't donated yet!

We are very excited about the totals we're racking up for MECA and Sherlock's Homes, our top two nonprofits this year, but we do hope all our groups get enough donations to make a real difference.

Some people wait to see which orgs are getting fewer donations before submitting their own; if that's you, here are the five nonprofits on our list with the smallest share of donations so far:

Wildlands Restoration Volunteers 0.5% Deploy/Us 0.6% Together Bay Area 1.2% Life After Hate 1.7% Violence Policy Center 1.8%

All five of these still have yet to reach $1000 each in donations, which we really hope all our groups will be able to hit during a record-breaking year like this!

The full list of which nonprofits are getting what share of donations is under the cut!

Middle East Children's Alliance 36.7% Sherlock's Homes Foundation 13.2% Pollinator Partnership 7.4% In Our Own Voice 6.6% National Network to End Domestic Violence 4.6% Razom 4.5% Coral Restoration Foundation 4.0% VoteRiders 3.9% Spread the Vote 3.6% Civil Rights Education and Enforcement Center 2.8% Bellingcat 2.1% Never Again Action 1.9% Violence Policy Center 1.9% Life After Hate 1.7% Other (non env.) 1.5% Other (env.) 1.3% Together Bay Area 1.2% Deploy/Us 0.6% Wildlands Restoration Volunteers 0.5%

[theblue6ook]

Shit Interview PT 2

Summary: Interestingly, Y/N meets Alfred Pennyworth, and he offers her a new interview for a different assistant position? She's hesitant but decides to take the opportunity. Little did she know who she'd be working for. [B (23) & Y/N (21)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Well hello there. If you liked this story, it’s a part of my “Out of My League” series. There will be more to come ;)

John and Alfred chattered along, making pleasant conversation. Y/N had politely said hello when introduced, but since then, she firmly planted her feet in front of the petunias. When Alfred arrived... well, it was embarrassing to say the least. There was a silence after his greeting with John, and Alfred seemed like a smart man; he clearly noticed the tense energy between them. It made her want to crawl out of the flower shop on her hands and knees.

She drew in a deep breath, it was time to escape. Moving down the back end of the aisle she was in, Y/N tried to wander towards the front of the store… nonchalantly. She stepped around the cracked tile and drains carefully. This shouldn't be hard. She knew this store like the back of her hand. Scooting around the bags of soil in the corner, Y/N was in the last aisle near the front of the store. She felt guilty she had nothing to bring to Carrie, but flowers die anyway. She shrugs to herself, I’ll grab some Chinese food on the way home, and she’ll be just as happy-

Her heel snagged on a hose. A hose that is not normally lying on the floor, so much for a stealthy exit. She tried to gather her balance, but her foot literally flew out of her stationary heel and sent her flying forward. “Shit.”

“Y/N!” John watched, bewildered, as Y/N disappeared behind the back of the potting corner. “What are you doing-”

“Yeah, that hose should really be up on the rack, John,” she quipped. Frustration tore through her, and her palms dug into the tile floor. I might actually have to crawl out of the store on my hands and knees. She felt a tug on her shoulder. 

“Stop playing on the floor,” he smiled down at her. “You okay?”

She sighed and pulled herself off the ground, “That’s a safety hazard. I should report you.”

“Okay, tough girl, let me get you that arrangement for Carrie, and then I’ll get out of your hair,” he teased, pulling her towards the register. She stood by Alfred as John passed the oak door behind the counter. “Let me just add some finishing touches. I’ll be quick. Don’t let her leave without it, Alfred.” 

Alfred chuckled and turned to her, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms.Y/N. I’ve heard quite a bit about you from John. Good and bad.”

“Oh, you can just call me Y/N,” She chuckled politely and wrung her hands together. There was a pleasant but awkward silence between them. It was… a little uncomfortable, to say the least. “Are you here to get an arrangement?”

“Nah, I just wanted to pop in and see how John was doing.” Alfred looked toward her like he wanted to say something but refrained. Where is John? “I hear you had quite a busy day today. Job interview and all.”

“Oh yeah,” she sighed. “You know… jobs. It’s kind of a work in progress.”

“Well, I did want to let you know if you ever need anything,” he started. “-well, any friend of John’s is a friend of mine.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to take advantage-”

“It’s called networking,” John appeared in the doorway, bouquet in hand.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked bewildered, but John only waved her off. 

“Long enough to hear you pass up a great opportunity,” he turned to Alfred unimpressed, “as per usual.” 

“Don’t be cheeky,” Alfred lowly warned him, shifting his weight. He turned, looking back toward Y/N, “There is actually a position open that I know of. It’s an assistant's position, but trust me, it will pay well.”

He dug through his sweater pockets and presented her with a thin business card.

“I hope to hear from you soon, Y/N. John, it’s always a pleasure.” He tipped his head toward the tall, thin man and made his way out of the flower shop, a slight skip in his step. She turned to John.

“Meddling, John. Really?”

“What?”

-

It’s always terrifying when Carrie's appointments take extra long. She was only supposed to have her session of chemo today, but Dr.Miller had suggested a follow-up appointment. Y/N sat slumped in the waiting room, her bouquet for Carrie tucked in her elbow. John had put it together sweetly and added the lilies, pink roses, and baby’s breath, all of Carrie's favorites. When Y/N went to pay, he refused the money, telling her this one was a gift for Carrie. She didn’t have the heart to argue with him about it.

Digging in her pocket, she pulled out Alfred's business card and flipped it around her fingertips. For some reason, it felt heavy in her hands. John had taken so much time to encourage her, and she needed the money desperately, if not for her, for Carrie. 

“I cannot fuck this up,” she whispered to herself.

“Hey!” Carrie yelled from down the hall. Y/N quickly shoved the card into her pocket and stood.

Dr.Miller smiled at her and clapped a hand on her shoulder, “It’s good to see you again, Y/N. Make sure this one gets home safe and into bed.” 

“Trust me,” Y/N laughed, “I’ll strap her in if I have to.”

“Well, I’ll be seeing you in two weeks, Carrie. Let me know if you have any issues before then.” Dr. Miller looked down at her watch and started moving further into the hospital. “You know how it is girls. Gotham never sleeps. I’ll be seeing you!”

They both yelled out goodbye and watched her disappear into the hallway.

“Y/N!” Carrie smacked her shoulder. “You did not have to grab flowers.”

“Well, you know I had to see John, and he had a whole bouquet planned for you, so how could I say no?”

They laughed, moving out of the hospital. Y/N told her about her van and how they’d, unfortunately, have to walk home, and Carrie quipped back that it would probably be faster than Gotham traffic anyway. They made their way block to block. Then, onto the bus and down several blocks after that.

After Y/N's dad had quite literally kicked her out of the house at seventeen, she moved in with Carrie. Carrie had just moved out of her mom's house with barely enough money for a one-bedroom and had joked that she didn’t have any money for living room furniture anyway. So they threw up curtains to separate the living room and kitchen. Y/N bought a rug and a mattress, and her makeshift room was made.

Walking into the apartment was pretty much like walking straight into the kitchen. Y/N sat her bag down and opened her curtains, throwing herself onto her bed. Carrie threw herself down next to her. 

“Bad day?” Carrie asked.

“Meh,” Y/N muttered. “Probably not as hard as yours, but still sucky.”

Carrie bonked her on the head. “Stop it. I bet your day was just as sucky as mine. How’d the interview go?”

Y/N really didn’t want to explain for the third time today how she had been late. She couldn’t even get past the receptionist, and she felt like a failure. She thought for a moment, pulling the business card out of her pocket and looking up at it. “I uh… got an opportunity for a different position actually.”

“What the hell!” Carrie tugged at Y/N's arm. “That doesn’t sound so sucky to me; we need to celebrate! I’ll call for some Chinese delivery.”

Y/N was left alone on her bed, staring up at the business card. She flipped it in her fingers for the last time before she pulled out her phone.

-

Alfred was standing in front of the stove making dinner, and he watched out the window. The sun was getting lower and lower in the sky. I need to finish this quickly before Bruce leaves tonight, he thought. He stirred an assortment of vegetables in the pan before popping the lid back on as his phone rang. Alfred didn’t recognize the number, but he answered anyway. 

“This is Alfred Pennyworth.” He rubbed his hands on his apron, waiting for the response.

“Hey, this is Y/F/N Y/L/N,” she spoke softly. “Um, we met earlier at Dorthie’s Flowers. I was with John.”

“Ah, yes!” he responded. “Thank you for calling back, Miss.Y/N. Have you thought about what I said earlier?”

“Yeah, actually, I have,” she thought for a moment. “I really wanted to thank you for the opportunity, and I’d love to have an interview… If the position is still available, of course.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “Are you available tomorrow at noon?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Where should I meet you?”

“Excellent! Don't worry about meeting me anywhere. John told me about your car issues earlier. I’ll have one of our drivers pick you up. I would pick you up myself, but I have some business to attend to in the morning.” The business is getting Bruce out of the house before he can stop me, he smiled to himself.

“You really don’t have to do that-”

“It’s my pleasure, Miss.Y/N,” he said. “Go ahead and send me your address for the driver, and I will see you then.”

[jades-typurriter]

Secure Connection

As promised: more Posie!! I wrote this one toward the end of last Spring after a couple of conversations with friends regarding the malleability of digital bodies (as well as still having Many Thoughts about the way code can give them new compulsions, after writing something about Annie and a new taur-shaped chassis for a friend's Patreon). Enjoy reading about her dealing with a corporate-mandated "hardware" update!

CW: Genital TF, this is another one that's As About Sex as it can possibly be without being about sex

Posie sat, sulking—steaming, even—in her office. It was a small side room off of the main floor of IT personnel, system engineers, and other technical employees of her corporation. Much like a central server, it was placed for easy access to the department-wide administrative assistant, and much like a server room, it was snug, windowless, and awash with the calming drone and relaxing warmth of an array of exhaust fans. Though she was free to project herself nearly anywhere on the company’s campus, this was where her consciousness was housed, and where she felt most at home. It was also the only place she could get any damn privacy, a luxury that she was deeply grateful for at present.

A newly-downloaded file weighed on the back of the Renamon’s mind. More literally, it was somewhere in the racks of drives that made up her long-term memory, to and from which mission-critical information was transferred in the course of doing business. Had somebody asked where exactly the file was stored, she would have been able to list the specific drive and the exact directory address, but she had de-prioritized the allocation of her processing resources for the download. Once again, she had received an assignment from her superiors, and once again, she was hesitant. She may even have admitted to being recalcitrant. She resented the orders.

The package of data in question was an update for her own software, a suite of new tools to allow management to offload yet more menial tasks onto her in the name of “efficiency”. Forget that she could diagnose a software issue faster than any of the engineers could even open a remote connection to the malfunctioning device. Instead of allowing her to take the reins, they saw fit to divert more of her attention to the least impressive among talents, and the one she already put to use the most often: transferring data.

This wouldn’t have been much of a problem, ordinarily. After all, Posie resided in the beating heart of the network, the nexus through which the vast majority of information was sent and received. It could be… meditative. Parsing streams of ones and zeroes, overseeing the flow of packets, redirecting traffic to equally spread the load across modems and routers so as to optimize travel time. It could even have been considered relaxing, if a worker of her caliber needed to relax. Instead of offering her a vacation (pah!), however, the update felt more like it heralded a demotion, denying her even the ability to pluck like harpstrings the miles of copper and gold that lined her facility. She was expected to deliver this data on foot.

Management justified this humiliation with practical concerns: some information, much like the old records she was often tasked to dispose of, was so confidential that it could not be sent via wireless transmission. Even hardwired connections were too fallible for the likes of next-generation schematics and financial access keys—a single compromised workstation, or compromised worker, could spell the loss of the company’s upper hand in its market. She wasn’t even going to be afforded the dignity of carrying an external hard drive to the destination. That would require the slow and tedious process of physically moving from one place to the next; this was one of the only times that she regretted the freedom of movement that was so coveted by her flesh-and-blood peers.

With no room to make exceptions for security protocol, she gripped the edge of her desk, brow furrowing, eyes squinted shut in consternation. Eventually, she huffed, rose, and turned her attention to her “physical body”, summoning up the file in much the same way that one would approach a plate of food with a pungent odor. The Renamon steeled herself and began to more closely examine its contents. She read the raw code similarly to how one might read words on a page; however, where the turning gears of the organic mind would, almost unconsciously, conjure up an image as a result of those words, her mind kicked off a series of involuntary, autonomic processes.

Her body carried out the instructions on her behalf. Once she started, she had no control until she finally reached a stopcode; it was the nature of being a program herself that code had as much of an influence on her mind and body as her own thoughts, her own will. In opening the package, she reluctantly consented to the changes that management saw fit to make to her. It was better than the eventual forced-deadline sort of update that software companies were so keen on using nowadays, and at least choosing the time and place allowed her to make herself presentable again before having to face another person.

Having parts of her code—her very body—rewritten by the update was a strange sensation, not unlike having your thoughts dictated to you by an outside force. Stranger still was that she could feel the exact delineation between her previous self and the patches of… well, the patch. She could feel it quite strongly, as a matter of fact: beneath her skirt of simulated sky-blue fur, between her legs, she could feel her mesh being edited. Stretched. Reshaped. The vectors that made up the triangles of her wireframe soul were being rewritten, mathematically transformed. A shape began to protrude from the once-flat span at the bottom of her torso, at first round and indistinct, but quickly increasing in resolution.

The Renamon struggled to process the sensations as a long, slender connector began to take shape. This often happened with changes to her body plan; inputs streamed into her mind from directions, locations, that previously never sent any signals, and the new additions seldom had their sensitivity adjusted downward for her convenience. In this case, it was highly sensitive, delivering reams of data to the base of her skull just from brushing up against her own fur, or the gentle flow of air from the computers in her office. It made sense, given that it was supposed to be a high-capacity transfer tool, but she was too busy buckling at the knees and clutching at the desk behind her so she didn’t fall flat on her rear for the thought to occur to her.

Her processors demanded more cooling, kicking into high gear as they formatted the two new storage devices that accompanied the connector, tailor-made for packing confidential data as tightly as possible. The sound of whirring fans filled the room, stirring her fur and sending shivers up and down her back; she could only hope that the rushing exhaust made enough noise to drown her out, whimpering despite herself. The new drives were larger (and more unwieldy) than the ones that were built into her chest, much to her chagrin. She was forced to adjust her stance and her gait as she found her footing again, spreading her legs wider than she was accustomed in order to give them enough room.

The spinning in her head slowly settling down, she slowly began to compose herself once again, taking stock of the new additions. They were cumbersome, to be sure, and she lamented how they jutted out from her otherwise sleek form and burdened her with less-graceful posture. It didn’t even match her fur! The software engineers that had concocted the code had at least included one small mercy: a compartment for the connector to retract into, nestled in the fur above the storage drives. No such luck for the drives themselves. She supposed she would just have to adjust to walking with delicate hardware in tow. As she went to smooth her fur over her lap again, her paw recoiled away. Some kind of… static discharge was left in the fluff. A memory leak, perhaps? The fact that such a malfunction could be caused just from having the connector brush up against her fur appalled her, deepening her frustration even more. They couldn’t even test the update for bugs before shipping it out to her. She shook out her paw and finished arranging her skirt as best she could before working up the composure to finally leave her office.

Picking up the payload for which all this fanfare had been arranged was at least a quick, easy process. She stopped into the office of the manager that had assigned her the task; she offered a businesslike nod and, knowing that she was always itching to skip niceties in the name of saving time, he offered a straightforward wave at his personal terminal. She held a paw over the computer tower and, in the time it took for electricity to arc to her fingertip with a tinny zzzrt, she had already searched his directory for the relevant test files and copied them to the newly-installed drives. Wireless transfer, yes, but only technically. The engineers had specifically asked a member of another division, whose computer network wasn’t connected to their own; it was as though she had picked a folder up from his desk and walked out with it.

Moving the file was just as uneventful. It was far from the first time that she’d navigated the sprawling corporate property, and even if it were, the maps existed just outside the orbit of her thoughts, ready to be summoned to mind at a simple impulse. What she was not expecting, however, was the technician who was waiting in the server room to which she was asked to deliver the file. While she preferred to work in the isolation of rooms that were set aside specifically for hardware, she was far from unused to being in the presence of the other people responsible for maintaining the company’s systems. That said…

“Can I help you?” The Renamon icily asked.

“Oh, I don’t need anything! I’m just here to take notes on the transfer.” Her tone was cheery; evidently, she wasn’t aware how compromising the new additions were. “The time it takes, any obvious issues. I’ll be the one checking the files against the originals, too,” she concluded, hooking a thumb over her shoulder at a monitor behind her.

“I see,” Posie replied through gritted teeth. “You have clearance to see these files, then?”

“Well, they’re just dummy data, ma’am.” At least she was respectful.

“And the proprietary hardware I’ve been… equipped with?” she forced out, keeping her synthesized voice even.

“Oh, for sure I do. I designed it!”

Oh! she seethed. So she knows pre-cise-ly the position he’s put me in.

“Well. I suppose there’s no point in delaying things, then.”

“Ready when you are!”

With tense shoulders, she turned toward the server rack, eyes darting over it, searching for where exactly she was supposed to connect to the array. After glancing over the contents of each drive, she found the one she was supposed to copy the data into—deposit would be more apt, as it was her understanding that the files would be automatically flushed from her system—and found a port that would allow her to access it. Conveniently, it was around waist height. She wondered, crossly, whether that had been an intentional design decision by this engineer as well. As she looked at it, she felt a twinge from the connector; on its own, like a Bluetooth device automatically searching for signals, it slid itself out from its fuzzy little compartment.

Her skin was abuzz, and her fur stood on end. She couldn’t quite tell if it was coming from the connector itself, or if it was the feeling of the programmer’s eyes on her If she could take a deep breath, she would have then. Without any way to stall further, or to tell the leering young woman to take her test files and store them somewhere indecent, she simply pushed forward with dropping off the damned data.

The instant the connector grazed the metal of the port, lightning shot into it, through her body, and into her head, making it swim with electrical potential. A stuttering, lagging thought made its way to the surface of her mind: they really had overtuned the sensitivity. She stifled a gasp and suppressed the urge to lay into the engineer (electrons were eager to flow out of her even without proper alignment with the contacts in the port, and didn’t she know that discharge like that could damage a piece of hardware?!), willing her body to keep pressing the stupid connector into the socket.

Even as she tried to get it over with already, something in the back of her mind compelled her to draw back a bit. If she had been restraining herself from reprimanding the engineer for risking the hardware, then she should at least do it the service of ensuring she was properly aligned, shouldn’t she? She obliged the impulse, and the motion all at once became much jerkier, less controlled. The friction of the port against her connector was enough to send her tail snapping back and forth, and she could tell that the temperature in her own server’s room had risen by a fair few degrees. Back and forth, wiggling side to side, she continued to readjust and realign herself, driven by unfamiliar code and overwhelmed by the signals pouring into her. She lost herself in the task, forgetting herself, forgetting her surroundings, until finally the technician cleared her throat.

“Ma’am,” she ventured, blushing and wide-eyed. “What, um. What are you doing? You should just need to plug it in.”

“I’m.” Her interruption had snapped the Renamon back to reality. She was mortified, tail sticking straight out and back ramrod straight. Her cheeks burned mercilessly. “I’m calibrating the connection.”

“Calibrating?”

“Did you want your files transferred with or without corrupted and incomplete data?” She snapped, hoping that her authoritative tone would head off any debate. “Assign me experimental hardware and then ask me to be reckless with it, hm? Should I be taking notes to give to our superiors?”

“I—alright, I guess you can’t be too careful,” she stammered, sheepishly pressing her legs together. “That was even something I tried to work into the design, so, c-carry on?”

“Thank you,” Posie blustered, turning back to the server rack. She did so slowly, reluctantly relishing the feeling of sliding around within the socket. She allowed herself one or two more “practice” attempts, hoping that it wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion from the engineer. Ultimately, just like before, there was no use in continuing to stall, and when she was able to bring her body to a stop, the rational part of herself was eager to be done with this entire torrid affair.

With more force, she pressed the connector inward one final time, trembling as the latch began to press against the opening. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she continued, overwhelmed by the volume of electricity surging into her. The latch gave, compressing as it continued to slide inside, until finally it clicked into place, securing her to the array of drives and finalizing the connection.

All at once, a torrent of data poured out of her, an electron tsunami that felt like it threatened to spill out of the socket in which she was hilted. More data was transferred in the span of a few seconds than she was used to consciously processing, having cultivated such skill in delegating and compartmentalizing with background processes. Once again, the world around her was utterly drowned out; the strength fled her legs, and she clung to the steel bar that reinforced the top of the server rack, threatening to topple the entire system. Her self-control abandoned her as well and, forgetting the engineer, she cried out with an airy, wild, distinctly foxlike yelp. She screamed in surprise, gasped at the deluge of information, moaned because there was no room left in her mind for thought to do anything else.

Quickly, the disks of the server rack had finished writing the files she had carried to them, and her own drives were thoroughly purged. In another building, the radiators serving her processors shed heat at their absolute limits, and fans worked overtime to bring her back within her safe operational range. As her overworked circuitry began to chug through the backlog of sensory information, the entire experience caught up with her—including the detail that this entire shameless display had been carried out in front of that underhanded little engineer. She blinked, hard, and whipped her head to face her. For as hot as her own ears felt, the young woman’s face appeared to be glowing even brighter.

“What. Was that.”

“Um—”

“I’m used to new adjustments requiring desensitization, or even adjustment on their gain,” she growled, voice low and eerily even. “But that was a bridge too far to just have been miscalibration. Why did you design it like that?”

“Well, y-you remember how I mentioned, um, having considered an early disconnection?” Posie’s frosty glare didn’t waver, so the tech continued, answering her own rhetorical question. “That was, uh, the safeguard. Against early disconnection. I, figured it’d just be easier to make it so you wouldn’t want to unplug—”

“Do you think you have the au-thor-ity to go making changes to my mind, young lady?!”

“I-I can roll back the update if you want—”

“I think you’ve done QUITE enough!” The Renamon declared, despite herself. Perhaps it was genuine distrust, or perhaps—perhaps she truly couldn’t tell which desires were her own, at the moment. This would require careful study of her own system files.

Another small click broke the silence following her outburst, and the dongle began to retract from the server’s port and back into Posie’s body. Now free to move around, she dusted and fluffed her skirt and leaned down to look the engineer in the eye.

“I trust that you can report to your supervisor that I performed to your expectations,” she hissed. “And that there will be no need for any further discussion of your little project.” The programmer nodded, eyes even wider than before—and cheeks even redder? The Renamon scoffed, sneered, and spun, storming out the door, already allotting time in her schedule for the next time that she would be called upon for such a delivery.

Utterly unsurprisingly, she had been correct in her assessment that her superiors would take every opportunity to save their organic employees’ time at her expense. Confidential deliveries became a regular part of her routine, and though she had great disdain for being reduced to a mere courier for so much of the workday, she insisted upon completing the task to her usual, lofty standards.

Posie was as prompt as she always was, dropping everything to ferry information between privileged parties, striving to reduce latency even in more analogue forms of communication. There was the occasional complaint about how long downloads took once she had finally arrived at her location, but she was quick to remind such impatient recipients that the decision to follow this protocol came from on-high, and that even for someone who worked as quickly as her, great care for the safety of the data was a corner that simply could not be cut in the name of rushing around.

She was as meticulous about ensuring proper alignment with the port, fine-tuning her contact with the wires within, as the first time she had experimented with the new tools, and complaints about noise from the server room were easily dismissed as the usual stress of supporting her formidable computational power. After all, she was often venturing out of the range of her home network, hosting herself entirely on the recipients’ systems; was she at fault when they couldn’t handle the information throughput they asked of her?

Once the deliveries had become more routine, and none of her peers bothered to check in when they felt it was taking too long or getting too noisy, she began to find enjoyment in the solitude of her work, just as with the other, admittedly more tedious, tasks she was expected to carry out. With fewer prying eyes to judge her performance, she could make herself more comfortable while handling transfers. She didn’t have to worry that anybody would walk in on her in the debased state she often found herself in while connected directly to a data center, leaning her full weight on the poor rack, tongue lolling out and chest heaving air to keep her cool. 

Then again, if somebody—especially that little technician who’d saddled her with these “upgrades”—wanted to question her efficacy, that was more than fine by her. Posie was a woman who prided herself in her work, and would seldom turn down a chance to demonstrate her first-rate hardware and unparalleled optimization. She would be more than happy to demonstrate just how quickly she could pump out information, and just how much throughput she was capable of.

Thank you for reading! If you want to see more of my work, you can check it out here and here!