#i have to show paperclip

[arundolyn]

just rewatched the first saw for the first time in like over 5 years. having the time of my fucking LIFE

[hazel-janes-books-galore]

1976 edition of The Shaggy D.A. by Vic Crume. 

[paperclipfanatic]

Dude I was playing a DR roleplay game for funsies and it got so confusing someone legit went "This ain't Danganronpa, it's Dingus Pompa"

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

Today I am thinking about weaving.

I can knit and crochet, but those crafts didn't exist in Roman times. Any historically accurate Roman cloth must be woven. So when a little potholder loom jumped into my shopping basket for 50 cents, it felt like a sign I should learn.

One potholder that was 50% yarn and 50% weird gaps later, I looked up a tutorial, and realized why the damn thing was 50 cents. I needed a better, more adaptable loom. And, because I am a cheapskate and slightly loony, I decided to make one instead of buying it.

So, how does this thing work?

First, you string the warp threads up and down, around the pegs. Here, I made a zigzag shape. Then, you use a needle or shuttle to weave more yarn over and under the warp, horizontally, back and forth. This produces woven fabric.

Some looms weave from the top, some from the bottom. This Greek urn shows two weavers working from the top. The left weaver uses a rod to compact the woven fabric upward, keeping it even and sturdy. The right weaver is passing an oval-shaped shuttle through the warp threads to form another row.

Most Roman looms would have looked like this, with the finished cloth at the top. Unlike my looms, these are warp-weighted. That means you keep the warp yarns taut by hanging weights at the bottom, rather than through a bottom row of pegs.

Warp-weighted looms also have a big advantage over my little potholder loom: you can easily create multiple sheds.

A "shed" is a temporary gap between lifted strands and non-lifted strands. Instead of having to go over and under each strand individually, you raise the entire shed, then pull the shuttle or needle straight through. This saves lots of time! Then, to weave the next row, you close the shed, lift up a different set of threads to create a new shed, and send the shuttle/needle through the other direction.

On a warp-weighted loom, the sheds are opened by loops called heddles (H), which are attached to a heddle rod (G). When the rod is down, shed (1) is open (middle diagram). When you pull the rod up, shed (1) closes and shed (2) opens instead (right diagram). Most warp-weighted looms also have a pair of forks you can rest the heddle rod on, to free your hands.

Here, there are three heddle rods and sets of forks, the heddles are white, and the warp thread is red. This gives you four different sheds, and the potential to weave very complex patterns indeed. Not bad for a device invented over 6500 years ago!

I liked the multiple heddle-rod design so much, I tried incorporating it into my DIY loom, too. I've tested both yarn and paperclips as heddles:

I actually got both sheds and heddle-rods working, too. Which is pretty cool for a lap loom - every other lap loom I found only has one shed, so you have to go over-under the individual threads on alternate rows.* More time-consuming. However, the sheds here are narrow, and I'll need a smaller and smoother shuttle to pass through them smoothly. This wouldn't be an issue on a warp-weighted loom, where the warp hangs freely downward, and can move more flexibly with the heddles.

Anyway. I may get a "real" loom at some point, but I wanted to build one first, and I think it gave me more appreciation for just how resourceful ancient weavers were. They created technology, clothing, and artwork out of very basic materials, and civilization depended on these skills.

Now, I need to go finish the...whatever the hell it will be. Big thanks to Wikipedia and to the lovely Youtubers who make this craft easier to learn. I think it'll be a lot of fun.

(*Edit - found out a rotating heddle bar can make two sheds on a lap loom! Exciting!!)

[pollyperks]

so luz went from the girl at school failing her classes with no friends, completely misunderstood by her teachers, other kids, her mom even, to the girl with friends for life (and an awesome girlfriend) who has half the people on the boiling isles show up for her quinceañera because turns out she's a hero and she's found the place she belongs and is understood and completely loved for who she is

willow went from miserable, bullied girl who didn't believe she could do anything right and tried to make herself so small to a natural team leader and complete girlboss (with a cute boyfriend) who just...oozes confidence in everything that she is, there is no way you can look at her and believe people once dared to call her half-a-witch and if anyone did now she could take them to the cleaners except she couldn't care less and the rest of the hexsquad would do it for her anyway

gus went from the kid who didn't think he could do anything right to a confident teacher who gets to show students his passion for the human realm (and he can pop in and out all the time which is the dream!) and being a prodigy is really a gift now, not something that sets him apart and makes him a target but instead an awesome teacher who can empathize with students having a hard time and is just plain cool on top of all that as he teaches them not to eat paperclips

amity went from one dimensional mean girl actually desperately trying to earn her parents' approval to wild, adventure seeking author who made up for who she was, cut ties with her emotionally abusive mother and terrible friends, has a close relationship with her dad now plus the best friends ever (byeeee boscha), and also has an awesome girlfriend as she travels all over the isles doing exactly what she wants with no one controlling her

and wow okay hunter went from the golden guard who obeyed belos' every order out of the insane desire to be needed and special without realizing if he messed up belos was literally growing his replacement because he was always just a copy of someone belos both hated but couldn't let go of haha that's dark to being just hunter who has guardians he doesn't have to flinch away from and tons of friends and he gets to carve palismen just how he wanted and his girlfriend could definitely bench press him and he'll always remember the first friend who ever found him (chose him!!) and saved his life in so many ways THE HEXSQUAD IS SO GOOD I JUST!!!!!!!

[theendorisit]

apropos of nothing, I made Tape-E

Who is Tape-E?

During one of the TMA livestreams (trying to remember which one), a fan question was asked ‘Is there a mascot (for the Archives or the show itself not sure)?’ One of the team suggested ‘Tape-y?’, to which everyone else responded with ‘Oh no!!’. So I thought, oh yes! So yeah, this is your fault 😘

What is Tape-E?

As Mr Bonzo is a parody of Mr Blobby, Tape-E is a parody of Clippy (these last two names rhyme).

Who is Clippy?

Clippy was a microsoft office assistant, introduced in 1997. He was a little virtual paperclip (officially called Clippit, but that name never caught on) who sat on the bottom right corner of the page, and was programmed to give advice in popup speech bubbles when certain actions were taken. For example, if you wrote out an address and ‘Dear’, Clippy would say ‘Looks like you’re writing a letter. Would you like help?’. The name Tape-E in the livestream seemed to be referring to Clippy, as there are many similarities in the behaviour of Clippy, and the actual tapes/ tape recorders in-universe:

always on by default

appears at inconvenient times

provides help you do not want

hated by (mostly) everyone

watching you with cold dead eyes

enjoyed by nostalgia and retro seekers

Why make Tape-E?

As I am of the same generation as some of the RQ peeps, I unironically loved Clippy and Mr Blobby as a child, and it gives me great joy to imagine, in the TMP universe, Sam getting a little pop up: ‘Looks like you’re trying to code a case file! Would you like some help with that?’ In our world this would be impossible - Windows NT (as the official name) was dropped in 1996, one year before Clippy was born, BUT there is voice recording on TMP’s ancient computers, so it’s not totally impossible! 😅😁

What are cassette tapes?

Just a little recap for those who didn’t grow up with tapes: Cassette Tapes contain information embedded in magnetic tape, wrapped around one spool and attached to a second spool. When played, the spools are turned by the machine and the magnetic tape is wound onto the other spool, the information read out through speakers as the magnetic tape moves through sensors. As the magnetic tape can contain different information depending on the direction of tape movement, you can flip the cassette tape over in the machine, and play the tape again, hearing another load of information. This concept is never utilised in the show, but it does mean that cassette tapes have A-sides, and B-sides (as Vinyl records do). Here, of course, this stands for Archivist-side, and Brutalpipemurder-side. On occasion, the magnetic tapes would become damaged, or bent, and could be pushed out of the cassette, causing a horrible noise, and terror to small children who were only trying to listen to their Just William tapes. When this happened, a pencil (or in my case, my little finger) could be jammed into the spiky spool ‘teeth’, to rewind the magnetic tape back into the cassette. Maybe that’s why the eyes are red? 🩸 I am very glad that the TMA tapes are magic, and record endlessly, never need flipping, and never get chewed up by the hungry machine.

Why is the name Tape-E?

Canon answer: the name stands for Tape-Eyes. Possibly Tape-Entity? Undecided.

Actual answer: Tape-y, Tapey and Tapie spellings look weird to me. I think Tape-E looks best.

Why a tape and not a tape recorder?

if you can crochet a tape recorder, you’re a genius and I love you.

What gender is Tape-E?

I might refer to Tape-E as male sometimes because that’s how people often referred to Clippy. But Tape-E is whatever gender Tape-E feels like being.

Why now?

Why not? also now is a good time because TMP episode 15 is an excellent episode

*What’s going to happen to Tape-E?*

I’m going to gift it to Jonny sometime, if we get more cons or book signings. It’s his fault this exists after all. Plus you can write whatever you like in the speech bubbles! Hopefully I can give it calmly? But maybe Tape-E will be yeeted in his general direction in a fit of ADHD-fuelled social anxiety. Only time will tell.

Tape-E is a pattern and design created entirely by myself. The inspiration and world building from whence it came, is entirely the genius of @jonnywaistcoat Jonny Sims, Rusty Quill @rqbossman and The Magnus Archives, which is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under a creative commons attribution, non-commercial share alike 4.0 international license.

Clippy was invented by Microsoft and Kevan Atteberry, who now illustrates children’s books.

Mr Blobby is an adorable abomination, created from a fevered mind.

[aiiviiloo]

A Bandaid of Love

summary: theseus always shows up to y/n when he gets a cut, since she always has a bandaid. some say he's there for help but others know that it's not just because of that. word count: 2k warnings: mostly fluff and pining for each other, reader is kinda oblivious to the flirting, i imagine theseus to be like a flirty person when he really likes someone masterlist

"hey, y/n?"

"a bandaid? again? what did you do this tim-" y/n looked up from her parchment and got eye contact with the famous newt scamander

"oh! newt! sorry i thought it was theseus." she chuckled and watched how newt sat down in front of her.

newt slammed his head onto her desk and groaned, his fluffy hair laying down onto the table gently.

"what's wrong?" y/n asked the poor boy in front of her while leaning back in her cushioned seat.

"i have that meeting about my permit and i'm nervous. it hasn't gone well in a while." newt explained, looking up from his demise.

y/n only patted his shoulder, smiling empathetically while continuing on her work on her parchment.

"if you think more openly, it will go much better, i think. you just have to... listen maybe to what they want to say?" she tried to comfort newt who only looked at her with a sigh.

"theseus already said that, that i should be less me."

y/n smiled for herself and a door opened into her office, theseus scamander walking inside with his finger slightly in his mouth.

"sorry for interrupting, darling, but i cut myself again." theseus began, not noticing newt by the desk.

y/n didn't say anything and slid her drawer open, pulling out one of her pink bandaids and handing it to theseus who smiled at her softly at the sight of the baby pink bandaid.

"thank you." theseus thanked her and plastered it onto his bleeding finger while looking to the side, now noticing his brother.

"oh, hello, brother." he greeted newt with a smile, newt only exchanging a small smile to his older brother before leaning his chin on his hand, staring at y/n who continued on her work.

theseus patted newt on the shoulder and left the office with a smile on his face.

"you know, he's been getting cuts a lot lately." y/n spoke outloud, not really thinking about what she was actually saying and newt rolled his eyes.

"can't you see it?" newt said to y/n who put down her quill, eyebrows furrowed while she looked at newt who had an "are you fr?" expression.

newt only shook his head while standing up, leaving y/n confused while trying to continue her work.

what did newt mean by that?

another two hours went by with no disruptions and y/n finished her work, now reading a book about dangerous charms for smart wizards 101.

it was quiet, too quiet for y/n to even be able to focus on the book she was reading.

all of her thoughts were on the thing newt had said to her.

what did he mean by how she couldn't see it? see what? theseus only needed bandaids because he got hurt so much, what's special about that?

a knock on the door was heard and y/n called out for the person to step in and in stepped theseus with a small smile on his face.

"hi, theseus!" y/n greeted the man, sliding her bookmark between the pages before closing the book, putting her attention to theseus who leaned against the desk while watching her movements.

"need another bandaid?" she joked and theseus chuckled and shook his head, fiddling with a paperclip on the desk.

"no, just wanted to see what my favourite auror was doing." he said, his smile brightening as they start to converse, about anything really.

y/n looked at the clock and saw that her shift was over, lifting her feet off of her desk, making theseus stand straight.

"going somewhere tonight?" he asked, y/n shaking her head with a smile.

"probably just continue working on my book, maybe eat a good dinner, nothing too exciting." she answered while pulling her arms through the coat with a simple movement.

theseus saw this as an open door for him. time to actually get her on a date with him so that he could express his longing feelings for the girl in front of him.

they went to hogwarts together, the same house too and year. hufflepuff is a comfort for the both of them and the memories they have together are memorable for sure.

but it started for theseus in year three. y/n had just changed her hair and something with it just pulled theseus closer to her.

every lesson he sneaked glances at her, watching her write on her parchment, her small focused face while working on a potion while he accidentally dropped in too much gillyweed into his own cauldron.

a small explosion was beneath theseus and a cloud of ash exploded into his face, his hair sticking up by the sudden force of air.

the classroom began giggling while the professor walked up to him with a sigh, shaking his head while helping him clean up his desk by the flick of his wand.

a small chuckle was heard and theseus looked up from his failed potion, making eye contact with y/n who was hiding her chuckle behind her hand.

theseus felt a grin on his lips while his professor told him to just sit down and wait until the rest of the class finished, walking away to continue help other students.

theseus sat down in his stool, his head down and looking into his lap with a smile because even if he ruined his potion, he got a reaction from the girl of his dreams.

it was in the sixth year he finally got to be close to her. the yule ball.

they went together as friends. just friends.

but theseus loved every second of the night, his hands on her waist as they danced to the jazz from the live orchestra who were playing about some witch with bad teeth or something, theseus didn't care.

his eyes were on y/n's while they danced, her smile making the room brighter than it was before. it was a scene, for sure.

the night had continued until the head master had told everyone that it was now over, y/n and theseus walking out from the hall with massive grins on their faces.

"that was fun" y/n had mentioned while they walked up to their common room, theseus muttering the password to the fat lady who was woken up by the studenst returning.

"never knew you could dance like that, theseus." she continued with a snicker, theseus only rolling his eyes while smiling.

"you're just jealous, n/n." he had answered, now noticing how y/n's head was leaning against his shoulder.

y/n chuckled quietly as they stood in front of the two staircases that divided them for the night.

she turned to theseus, standing up onto her toes to leave a short kiss on his cheek before bidding him goodnight and leaving to go to bed.

theseus stood still with a small smile as he put his hand where y/n had kissed him. it was magical.

one of his friends wentby him with a laugh, punching him lightly in the shoulder as an encouragment as they walked up to their own dorm.

theseus slept well that night, a grin on his face.

but now they were older, adults in work.

"hey, n/n?" he asked y/n who was grabbing her bag. she looked up and nodded.

"since you're not doing anything special tonight how about we go eat dinner together? we can go to jessie's, we haven't been there in a long time." theseus suggested to y/n who felt a small smile creep onto her face.

"are you asking me onto a date, theseus scamander?" she asked with a smirk on her face as she walked closer to him, making his heart beat faster.

"maybe, is that wrong to do, darling?" theseus smugly said, looking down at the woman in front of him with a smirk.

"not at all."

theseus handed his elbow out with a chuckle, y/n only grinning and curtsying dramatically before taking his elbow, walking with him out from her office and out from the ministry, their bodies close as they walked around in london.

the pair arrived at jessie's, the calm jazzy mood inside comforting them both as they got sat down at a table, facing each other.

"i recognise this song." y/n said while opening the menu in front of her.

it was one of the songs that had been at the yule ball that night, it was one of y/n's favourites.

"it brings you back, doesn't it?" theseus asked while reading the menu, his eyes flicking up toward y/n who nodded.

"remember that clevens guy who vomitted all over professor burke?" y/n chuckled as she remembered the scene of the poor kid vomiting over the professor who wasn't entirely happy with him.

theseus chuckled with her before a waiter came and asked for their orders.

soon enough the waiter came back with the food and the pair began eating, keeping a small chatter between them.

the night softly came to a close and the pair walked out from the restaurant, theseus stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

they walked on the streets, not ready to end the night between them.

while they walked, some shouting was heard and a group of men where walkign towards the pair on the streets.

theseus felt a signal through his spine and hurriedly slid his arm around y/n's waist, looking down at his feet as they walked past the men.

one of the men stared at y/n with an ugly grin, his teeth crooked in his mouth as he wiped his lips like a hungry dog, it was quite disgusting, y/n thought.

theseus hand held y/n's waist tightly, almost scared that one of the men would snatch her away and as they became alone again on the street, he didn't let go.

"theseus, you're pinching me a little." y/n giggled and looked up at theseus who's eyes darted down and he realised what he was doing and loosened his grip.

"sorry, didn't mean to." he muttered, looking back at the men who were walking into an alley.

"my flat is just right there, if you want to you can stay over the night at mine's?" y/n suggested, trying to hint that she would like him to stay as she played a little with her heel against the concrete.

theseus looked down with a grin, his eyebrows lifted in slight surprise.

"sure, darling, i'm guessing you need someone to warm your bed for you?" he joked, following with y/n to her flat.

right as they walked inside, an old woman's voice was hear.

"is that you y/n?" she called out.

y/n put a hand over theseus' mouth and sighed.

"yes, ms. burrow."

"is it just you?"

"always, ms. burrow."

theseus tilted his head like a confused puppy but y/n ignored him and walked up the stairs with theseus behind her.

she opened the door to her flat and walked inside but theseus stood there kinda nervously, not really knowing if he should be there or not.

"should i really or-?" his whisper got interrupted by y/n pulling in him by the tie into the flat while theseus closed the door with his foot.

"so excited of being with me, huh?" he smirked, looking down at y/n who rolled her eyes and pulled her low heels off of her feet, waddling into her room.

theseus pulled his coat and shoes off, following after her and getting greeted by y/n sitting on her bed criss-cross, fiddling with her watch.

"are the walls thin here?" theseus asked, standing in front of y/n and her bed while y/n shook her head.

"good." he muttered and crashed his lips onto hers, y/n's hands letting her watch go and putting her hands behind her, steadying herself into the kiss.

theseus slowly crawled over her, his body between her legs as they began making out.

theseus' hand played with y/n's stockings and slid up under her skirt, his fingers softly teasing the cotton underwear, a moan escaping y/n.

"oh let me hear you, let ms. burrow hear you, my darling." theseus muttered into y/n's ear and his hand continued beneath the cotton.

masterlist

[elizais]

hi! can you do a little something like if dazai and reader knew each other in the PM and stay together and go to the agency? not like a fic thing more like a short little thing of all of the ada together! if not don't worry x

of course!! i love requests 🩷🩷

"remember this one?"

osamu dazai x fem!reader established relationship, reader was in PM with dazai, fluff warnings: ??

everyone knew of you and dazai both being from the port mafia, it was rarely brought up anymore. the agency enjoyed having a big group hang out every few weeks at someone's place, nothing over the top but it usually ended up in a couple of arguments over a board game. (monopoly ended up being banned for a year after kunikida and dazai got into a screaming match at yosano's place.)

and tonight, it was yours and osamu's turn to host. at some point during the work day, ranpo suggested unsolved cases online. nothing serious, just thefts. and that was the plan!

everyone was turning up in casual clothes, kunikida being the first to arrive. osamu greeting him at the door of a home he had certainly not expected to belong to dazai. how you two were together was also a mystery to the man. how you could put up with him? nobody knew.

when kunikida was admiring the interior, osamu read his mind and answered his unspoken question with, "when you are an executive in the mafia you get good savings, kunikida-kun!" he smiled.

"where is y/n?" kunikida asked dazai as he was getting kunikida a drink. "she's gone to grab ranpo, and to approve of whatever cases he wanted to solve. to make sure he doesn't get too out of hand for a relaxed evening."

kunikida and dazai simply watched tv as they waited for everyone else, dazai trying to gossip but kunikida shutting him down immediately. you and the others all walked in with a box in hand with the cases. the only person who couldn't make it being fukuzawa as he was meeting with a friend.

"osamu? can you get everyone drinks please?" you asked as he and kunikida walked towards you and your group. "of course, bella!" he smiled before asking everyone what they wanted and grabbing the snacks.

everyone made themselves at home as you and atsushi chose a case, a comfortable silence between the two of you as you flicked through the large thefts that were forgotten about years ago. "how is this one, y/n?" atsushi spoke as he shown you some papers conjoined with a paperclip. the summary being two unknown teens stealing miscellaneous objects from an office. roughly amounting to $2000 in damages.

not looking over it too thoroughly, "looks good!" you spoke as everyone else filtered into the living space.

although ranpo was the one who suggested it, he knew it would be you and him gossiping whilst everyone else racked their brains over why they would have done it. and that was just what had happened!

everyone else was trying to figure out who and why as it just seemed weird to steal stationary and other random items!

you and ranpo were sat on one of the couches talking as everyone else was sat in a circle on the floor in front of you with paperwork being passed around.

"so.. did you hear about-" ranpo begun, trying to gossip about the cafe's workers drama before getting cut off by osamu tapping you on the knee from where he sat on the floor with the others cross legged.

" 'donna! remember this??" he shown you the photo caught on cctv that was incredibly blurry whilst giggling. squinting, you took the piece of paper before letting out an "ohh! yeah, of course i do!" quiet enough so only osamu and ranpo would hear.

the photo showing an approximately 15 year old boy dressed in a suit with bandages over his eye, black dress pants with a white shirt and a black tie. next to him, a young girl close in age who was smiling and wearing a long black coat too big for her and also formally dressed, carrying a bunch of staplers.

ranpo didn't tell the rest of the group and neither did you two, laughing quietly as they got incredibly frustrated with how it seemed that the thieves done it just to confuse people (which is exactly why you both done it).

would you ever tell people that you both done these thefts as teens whenever you were bored? maybe. but tonight while everyone was stumped? not a chance.

a/n! the poll for bf!chuuya has been written but is in my drafts for tomorrow for those who voted for him. i will do more polls in the future but school has started again and homework/sports are heavy rn !!

reblogs are appreciated and covered in glitter

[the-littlest-lily]

30 Days of G/t Self Care

I'm not fully sure where this idea came from, but here we go! I do enjoy a fun little daily challenge, and like most things my mind went to “but how can I make it G/t?” And here we are! Just in time for the new year, a 30 day self care challenge but… sizey. I wanted to make an actual calendar thing, just in time for the new year (though it can be started at any time, it's not specific to January). Check the days off, spread them out over a longer time, pick out just the ones that speak to you, whatever you want to do 😊 Here's the guide to go with it.

Day 1. Set aside a few minutes to take some deep breaths and focus on the present moment. To help ground yourself, perhaps wrap yourself in a blanket and imagine you are in a large, lovingly grasping hand, or hold a small item and imagine it's a tiny friend.

Day 2. Revisit some nostalgic G/t media. What first got you into this? Let yourself reminisce and remember why you love this in the first place.

Day 3. Make G/t art. It can be anything! Drawing, writing, crochet, pottery, you name it. No need to hold yourself to a certain standard or show anyone else, just take some time to be creative. Even if you don't deem yourself an artist, give it a shot and see if you enjoy it!

Day 4. Relax with a word search puzzle. I made a G/t themed one for you right here!

Day 5. Try out this journal prompt. If you could be tiny/big at will, what types of things would you do to relax? How might you extrapolate from this and apply it to your real life?

Day 6. Stretch your body today. What imaginary setting could you give yourself to make it G/t? Are you surrounded by gigantic furniture in your mind’s eye? Perhaps the yoga video on your phone helps you pretend you have a tiny instructor?

Day 7. Listen to some G/t music. This could be anything, from sizey music videos to songs with sizey lyrics to the Arietty soundtrack.

Day 8. Practice gratitude by listing out all the little things you're thankful for. (See what I did there?) Add some big things to the list for good measure.

Day 9. Practice stepping out of your comfort zone a little bit by talking about G/t, out loud if you’re able. Whether it's discussing with a friend (you brave soul), recording yourself on your phone (you can immediately delete it), or just mumbling to yourself in the shower. Maybe you’ll realize you want to make a G/t podcast and we all win!

Day 10. Here's a little creative prompt. Arrange everyday items to make a G/t scene (use toys, miniatures, or even fashion a tiny person out of paperclips or paper). Take a picture, share it if you like!

Day 11. Create a cozier space today to enjoy your G/t content. Grab some blankets, make yourself a snack or some tea, light some candles, whatever sounds nice to you. Sometimes it's making a mundane moment special!

Day 12. Make yourself something healthy to eat. While you prepare it, imagine how different the task might be to carry out if you were very big or very small. Maybe even have some fun making your snack in miniature too.

Day 13. Try out some affirmations today and see if you can make them both sizey and relevant to your life. Ideas of mantras could be “I am allowed to take up space,” “I choose to appreciate the little things today,” “I will achieve great things through small steps.”

Day 14. Go out into nature for some fresh air. Lean in close and pay attention to the small details, perhaps imagining a shrunken version of yourself or a small friend exploring.

Day 15. Challenge yourself to learn a new skill today to bring your Gt ideas to life. Maybe it's learning how to code, or making your own VR avatar, or learning a new art tool or technique. It's finally time to watch that tutorial you've been saving! 

Day 16. Pull out your dream journal, or start up a new one! Maybe we’ll figure out the whole lucid dreaming thing and come close to experiencing Gt, wouldn't that be the dream~ If this doesn't resonate with you, maybe start a journal to jot down your Gt daydreams instead!

Day 17. Relax with a crossword puzzle. I made a G/t themed one for you right here!

Day 18. Try to cross a few to dos off your to do list someday. Make it more fun by adding in some joke tasks in there, like “leave out a snack for the fairies” or “prep for borrowing trip tonight” or “meet with giant friend for coffee.” Maybe even schedule some real life Gt tasks - such as “work on chapter 2 of (Gt story you're writing)” or “plan a VRC hangout”.

Day 19. It's time to dress the part! Is there any way you can dress up or accessorize yourself in a sizey way? Maybe you have an oversized hoodie, or a necklace of a tiny Eiffel tower, or an old shirt with Tinkerbell on it. Did you know you can actually buy Arietty’s giant hair clip thing? Or if this better scratches your creative itch, maybe your objective is to make tiny accessories for a toy or figurine.

Day 20. Take some time to rest. Just allow yourself to lay down in a quiet, cozy setting for at least a few minutes and have some dedicated G/t daydreaming. 

Day 21. Try out a new exercise routine and use your G/t imaginings to make it more fun. Watching a new workout video? You’re a giant visiting the gym and that's your human instructor on the screen. Spontaneous dance session in your room? You're a fairy frolicking in a field of enormous wildflowers. Going for a swim? You're actually crossing a vast ocean, or maybe a small glass of water.

Day 22. Check out a new G/t story. Not a big reader normally? Just give it a shot!

Day 23. Give yourself a pamper night, whatever that means for you - face masks, cucumber water, a warm drink, candles, the works. Pamper night (face masks and stuff)

Day 24. Make or buy something for your G/t interests (miniatures or toys, “max”iature like a giant flower pillow, fairy-themed stationary, make a giant paper mache strawberry, etc)

Day 25. Relax with a coloring page. You can use any of your favorite artist’s lineart (just make sure to get permission and/or proper attribution if you want to post it). Here's an example option from me.

Day 26. Make a list of all the things you love about G/t. It's always nice to remember the various ways this interest might benefit our lives.

Day 27. Motivate yourself to try out a new hobby by making it G/t. Take that pottery class you've been meaning to take and make a giant acorn-shaped mug. Get into cosplay so you can dress up as a borrower. Dabble with watercolors and you may end up becoming a G/t artist. Study a new language and enjoy new sizey media you couldn't understand before. Whatever speaks to you! 

Day 28. Do a favor for your future self and make a self care kit for when you're having a hard time. This could include a journal or affirmation cards, or perhaps some grounding items like fidget toys, stress balls and mints. Add a little something G/t in there too. Perhaps some kind of miniature with an interesting texture, or a fidget toy in the shape of a person, or a stuffed animal of a giant ladybug to hug. 

Day 29. An act of kindness can do wonders for our mental health. Send someone in the G/t community a kind comment today, whether it's a long-time friend, someone you just met in a Discord group, or a comment to your favorite G/t artist. 

Day 30. Reflect on all the activities you’ve tried during this self care challenge and journal about it. What have you learned about yourself? What might you incorporate more into your self care routines going forward? Pat yourself on the back for investing some time and attention into yourself - you deserve it!

[cecilysass]

The Penultimate Partner Episode: Analyzing the Second-to-Last Episodes of Seasons 3-7

So I was thinking about the show’s tendency to do an episode that is explicitly about the Partnership—about the deep abiding bonds between Mulder and Scully—right before the season finale.

This doesn’t seem to happen in season 1 and 2 (the penultimate episodes are Roland and Our Town, respectively, which don’t seem to play the same role). And something different is happening in season 8 and 9, so I don't think they fit as well.

But during the show’s peak popularity, seasons 3-7, the second-to-last episode seems to be setting up baseline emotional stakes for whatever plotline is about to hit. These episodes are giving us the state of the partnership, reminding us how devoted they are to one another. They also tend to have to do with one or both partners having a distorted perception on reality that requires the other partner's intervention in some way. I’m calling them the Penultimate Partner episodes.

So can we look at the themes of each of these Partnership episodes and see development over time? I think yes. It’s gonna be long. I rewatched them all, so buckle up.

Season 3: Wetwired - partnership as trust Season 4: Demons - partnership as loyalty Season 5: Folie a Deux - partnership as shared madness Season 6: Field Trip - partnership as touchstones Season 7: Je Souhaite - partnership as happiness

Season 3: Wetwired  (right before Talitha Cumi)

This episode, like several in the Penultimate Partner episode category, involves a X-file that distorts perception. Because Scully can’t trust her own senses due to the mind control, she also can’t trust Mulder, calling into question the key tenet of their partnership. (And by season three, they have definitely established trust as the bedrock.)

Her gradual mistrust of Mulder in this episode is tense and painful; you can see on her face how much she argues with herself about it even as her mind is tricking her. Others who fall victim to this mind control phenomenon wind up murdering their romantic partner, but in the end of the episode, when they’re discussing what happened in the hospital, they both seem pretty unsurprised that Scully’s paranoia focused on Mulder. They both know, late season three, how crucial trust is between them. They understand that it’s Scully’s worst fear that Mulder would betray her. It’s not even news to them.

What Mulder’s worst fear might be is also hinted at, although it’s unsaid. He’s furious that her life is put at risk by the mysterious informant. When Mulder believes Scully may be dead and he’s going to identify her body, his reaction is chilling. He seems to completely shut down emotionally, not even showing any reaction to the Gunmen. Tellingly, when he is offered a choice between getting answers and going to ID Scully’s body, he doesn’t hesitate—he chooses Scully. (Sometimes people claim Mulder doesn’t show this kind of commitment to her until much later, even until Home Again in season 10, so it’s interesting to see it so unequivocal here.)   

I want to say that Scully’s anxiety about trusting Mulder in this episode is foreshadowing aspects of the cancer arc in the next season, but I don’t think that’s really what’s happening. This episode seems more like an entirely season 3 cap to the Anasazi / Blessing Way / Paperclip storyline, especially the murder of Melissa. Scully’s paranoia calls back Mulder’s in Anasazi, and Scully explicitly blames Mulder for her sister’s murder when she’s drawn a gun on him. Even just the fact that we're there with Maggie, who has a picture of Melissa displayed prominently, tells me that loss is supposed to be on both partners' minds. (Actually, the interaction between Mulder, Scully and Maggie is pretty amazing in this scene; they’re an emotionally complex trio who seem to be communicating on some other level. I love how when Mulder and Maggie are talking to freaked-out Scully they almost sound strangely unreal, almost like they really are speaking falsely. It allows us to imagine the scene as it looks from Scully’s point-of-view, as a massive betrayal.)

Wetwired is, technically, a mytharc episode, as this whole mind control thing seems to tie back into X and the Syndicate. Personally I think the episode’s ending, emphasizing the mytharc-related plot and X’s involvement and whatever tf was happening there, was a little misguided. For my tastes they would have done better to play up the more personal, character-based themes a little more. But I also think this episode was the first real Penultimate Partner episode, and it was setting some patterns that were going to be expanded on.

Season 4: Demons (before Gethsemane)

From the cold open, we can already tell this is already a more personal episode than Wetwired. Mulder is the one having perception problems now; he wakes from a disturbing dream, covered in blood, muddled memory. This is also technically a mytharc episode, but much more concerned with direct impact on character than Wetwired was. 

Scully instantly rushes to Mulder’s aid—walks right into his shower, for heaven’s sake—and absolutely never wavers in loyalty to him, even when he looks real, real guilty and a "rational" person would be suspicious. She is in fierce, must-protect-Mulder mode throughout this entire episode, from the moment she shows up palpating his head with her hands to her back-off behavior with the cops to her badass cold “I know what you do” comment to Dr. Goldstein. She also helps Mulder see through his distorted perception, telling him "this is not the way to the truth" as he holds a gun on her.

In this Penultimate Partner episode, we see something more than simple trust going on, although there’s trust, too. Maybe the word is loyalty or devotion. We see Mulder coming apart and Scully completely and utterly devoted to him. It’s actually very clear foreshadowing for the following week’s episode, Gethsemane. Mulder isn’t stable, and he needs Scully to keep him from “los[ing] his course,” as she says in Demons’ end narration. Gethsemane will follow up on the Mulder losing-his-course idea, and also will explore the idea that Scully’s bottomless support of Mulder isn’t always good for her. (This idea is voiced especially by Bill.) 

There are some ways in which this episode is a neat little bookend to Wetwired. In Wetwired, Scully flees to her mother’s house, desperate and paranoid; in Demons, Mulder, similarly unhinged, seeks out his mother at her house. In Wetwired, Scully sees things that aren’t there, and in Demons, it’s definitely implied that Mulder may be seeing things in his past that weren’t actually there. In Wetwired, Scully pulls a gun on Mulder, and in Demons, Mulder pulls one on Scully. 

I adore this episode, even though it’s definitely vulnerable to the critique that Mulder acts like a self-obsessed loon and Scully a hopeless enabler lol. Especially because it comes before the Gethsemane / Redux three parter, I wish the episode would have explicitly connected his behavior to the cancer arc, as I feel like that would have made his wild choices seem more understandable. If he felt like he needed to find answers faster because he knew Scully’s time was running out and he saw it all tied together with her fate, then we would get why he was acting so rashly. It would also tie more nicely into Gethsemane, which misleads the audience into thinking Mulder has killed himself, in part, because he believes she’s been given cancer to make him believe. But again, I love this episode. Scully showing up and putting that blanket around Mulder when he’s shaking. Her hugging him at the end when he’s desolate on the floor. This shows a partnership that’s been through Paper Hearts and Memento Mori—that’s moved beyond trust alone.

Season 5: Folie a Deux (before The End)

This is another episode about perception—about one partner seeing things the other can’t. Unlike in Wetwired or Demons, however, in this episode the altered perception actually represents the real truth, something everyone else fails to understand. The episode plays around with the tropes of earlier episodes like Wetwired, at first encouraging us to think that it's a delusion that Pincus is a monster, but then convincing us, through Mulder’s eyes, that the delusion is actually reality.  

As other people have observed, this episode ends up being a nice little metaphor for the whole show: Mulder knowing what no one else does, being ostracized and considered insane, asking Scully to find evidence to corroborate him and ultimately convincing her to believe him and see what he sees. Their partnership is, quite precisely, a madness shared by two. 

It’s a monster of the week, not a mytharc, so there’s no distraction of elaborate mytharc plot, just characters and monster. And this is a Vince Gilligan operation, so our focus is definitely on character. From the first scene with Mulder and Scully, we sense that we’re going to be talking about the partnership. Skinner gives them an assignment in Chicago that Mulder doesn’t think is worth it, and he complains in a particularly self-centered way to Scully, which she observes (“You’re saying I a lot.”) The episode is going to be very explicit that while Mulder might be monster boy, they are in this unhinged partnership situation together. Another important moment comes later, when Scully is calling the perp crazy for thinking he saw a monster, and Mulder says, “Well, I saw it, too.” Scully’s careful about-face after that, her delicate avoidance of implying she thinks Mulder is actually crazy, is part of the dance they’re doing at this late season five stage of their partnership. She doesn’t quite believe him, but she doesn’t knee-jerk not believe him either. 

And the foreshadowing of what’s to come in this one, whoo boy. Most obviously, we must acknowledge that 1013 knew exactly what they were doing when Mulder tells Scully “you’re my one in five billion.” A mere seven days from now, a mysterious beautiful ex who believes his theories is going to show up to immediately cast doubt on that claim. And this episode is also toying with the question of whether Scully actually does always back Mulder up when it’s important, when she has to accept she saw something illogical. At the end, does she tell Skinner she actually saw a giant bug in Mulder’s hospital room? We don’t know, but I think it’s implied she doesn’t. That’s all presaging what will happen in The Beginning coming off of Fight the Future. It’s Scully’s little way of resisting the madness, but it also hurts Mulder and damages the partnership, which will be a problem in season six. 

Season 6: Field Trip (before Biogenesis)

Full disclosure: this is my favorite episode. So I’m going to make some big claims about it. This is the ultimate Penultimate Partner episode—the one that best knits together what it wants to say about their partnership and what it wants to establish for the finale. It's a monster-of-the-week episode (another Vince Gilligan ep, with John Shiban) but refers to the mytharc often. It’s also one of the best episodes about their partnership, period. 

This is yet another episode about distorted perception. This time, however, under the influence of a giant mushroom, both partners are unable to perceive clearly, to determine what is real and what is a lie. And when they’re confused, they critically turn to one another to help them see what the truth is.

Coming off of season six, the partnership is rocky. Mulder is frustrated that after so many theories of his have borne out, he still can’t get the benefit of the doubt from Scully, something he explicitly says in the dialogue here. Scully has felt like she’s not been trusted or heard, like Mulder has turned to others (Diana Fowley, for example) rather than his partner.

This is an episode about how they absolutely need one another to be able to make sense of the world—that individually each of their points-of-view are not enough. In Mulder’s hallucination, Scully accepts his claims about alien life forms too completely, not applying enough skepticism, not pushing back against him. In Scully’s hallucination, a world without Mulder, everyone is unacceptably unquestioning of the status quo, refusing to dig deeper, lacking Mulder’s critical acumen and drive. Neither partner likes the feeling of being unopposed, and it makes both of them suspicious about the hallucination’s reality. They may think they want their own view to prevail, but they need one another to be a whole person.

The theme of what’s real and what’s not – and needing one another to discern the truth–is exactly what is picked up and developed further in the Biogenesis-Sixth Extinction-Amor Fati arc that follows this. Scully’s skepticism has to stretch to incorporate more of Mulder’s worldview to make sense of what she sees in the Ivory Coast, and of course, Mulder calls on Scully’s worldview to see through his misleading dream world in Amor Fati. In fact, you could argue Field Trip is really about the idea that Mulder and Scully are one another’s touchstones—the people they need to know what’s right and real. 

Incidentally, this episode also plays around with some of season 6’s other subtextual throughlines: Mulder and Scully’s anxieties about possibly entering a non-platonic relationship, their unease about what a normal, domestic life might even be for them. For the entire episode they’re directly compared and juxtaposed with the Schiffs, a young married couple who died on Brown Mountain. The Schiffs are a tall man and a redheaded woman. They even die hallucinating lying together on a hotel bed after she asked him to “hold her” (although I do seriously doubt 1013 was intentionally foreshadowing a full year ahead). The last shot is of Mulder reaching out to take Scully’s hand across the ambulance, suggesting a kind of partnership beyond just, you know, partnership. Which takes us to the next season.  

Season 7: Je Souhaite (before Requiem)

Truthfully, I don’t think this episode fits quite as well in the Penultimate Partner category. It doesn’t share some of the same traits as these other episodes—it’s not quite as notably about perception, for instance—and it’s not fundamentally about the partnership in the same way. But it does end up commenting on their partnership (even their relationship, really) as part of its theme, so I think we can include it—especially because its position right before Requiem ends up being important. 

Je Souhaite (btw, written and directed by Vince Gilligan) has a bit of an unsettled feeling to it because it was kind of treading water, waiting to see what happened with DD and the series. Nothing too monumental could happen with the partnership or the plot because it wasn’t clear to anyone what would happen next with the show: whether it would end or continue, whether DD would be involved or not.

So we have a story about Mulder and Scully making peace with not having a significant impact on the world—e.g. not bringing about world peace, not introducing invisible bodies to science. Instead, they are content to delightfully share a beer and comment that they have made one another “pretty happy” (as Scully says about Mulder). Through the jinni character, they seem to take the lesson that they can enjoy being with one another, accept the simple happiness that their relationship brings them. Rather than wish for success that comes too easily, they take joy in the little things with one another.

Comparing this episode to the Penultimate Partner episodes that come before, we can really see how Mulder and Scully’s dynamic has evolved by season seven. We have a Scully who is much more open to supernatural phenomena, for example, and whose skepticism seems more like a reflex or a defense mechanism now. Scully’s move towards belief is partially reflected in the plot of the episode: the X-file here really isn’t even science fiction. It is just straight up fantasy or magical realism. Aside from Scully's brief mention of a disease to explain what happened to the mouthless man in the cold open, no plausible scientific explanation for the jinni's long life or wishes is really even floated.

Scully is delighted by the discovery of the invisible body, and Mulder is visibly delighted by her delight. He’s also frustrated by her retreat into doubt when the body disappears, of course. But even the reversal into her old skepticism is half-hearted, as she soon after she's engaging in discussion with Mulder about what his final wish was. This is consistent with the overall blurring of the old hardline believer-skeptic dynamic we see in season 7. It’s also peeking ahead to Scully’s coming role as resident basement believer in season 8. 

The last scene, with the beers and Caddyshack, is meant to be a callback to djinni Jenn’s comment that she wishes she could “live my life moment by moment... enjoying it for what it is instead of... instead of worrying about what it isn't.” Mulder, we see, is taking a cue from her. (And good for him, as we almost never see these characters do this. Except on rare baseball-related occasions.)

However, this episode’s position right before Requiem—and right before the events of season 8—ends up giving this scene a real bittersweet bite. We know, after Requiem, that they were probably a romantic couple at this time. We know, after Requiem, that this time is going to be their last happy time together for a long while. Later in season 8, we learn that one lingering wish of Scully’s in season 7 is that she wanted to conceive a child with Mulder. And of course we know, after Requiem, that she gets her wish—but with a vicious catch, with a terrible side effect, much like what happens with the jinni’s wishes. 

So that’s my academic thesis on that. I know others have pointed out the existence of this type of episode before. What did I miss? Do you think I am wrong to leave out seasons 1, 2, 8, and 9? Why do we think these episodes focus so much on distorted perception? Interested to hear others’ thoughts (if they make it through this lol).

[ursuburbanmother]

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Five

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: Omg… I survived finals and all those unit exams. So here is chapter five after a long wait lol. It’s also a longish chapter because you guys are nice and deserve it.

Word Count: ~6.2k

Find: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Enjoy!

Day Eight - Christmas Day, 1970

Angus had retreated to the auditorium once again. He supposed he did so because it reminded him of simpler times. Like when he was nine and his biggest worry was if he would mess up on the sonata he was playing in front of his piano teacher. All because he could feel you in the other room, waiting for him to be done.

He was playing aimlessly and with no particular tune in mind. He just let his fingers glide wherever he felt like. It felt different to be there during the daylight, almost illegal. When he heard the creak of the auditorium doors, he had thought he had been caught. But it was just you, carrying that lavender plant you seemed to be so fond of. You held your potted plant close to your chest and walked up to the stage. He stopped playing to watch you and smiled a little at the sight.

“I kept my promise,” you show off the plant you had improvised decorations with. Little ribbons used for your hair are used as tinsel. There are small pieces of balled up color paper with a paperclip through them that work as ornaments. He could tell you tried not to be overzealous, trying to keep the plant from collapsing from the weight. You place the lavender on the piano and take a seat next to him.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he says back.

You sigh, “Weird party.”

“Yeah. Very weird.”

“I hope Marys alright.”

“Me too,” he sniffs.

He sees you pause to fix your hair. It sits unruly on you, and he can tell you just rolled out of bed. You still look beautiful.

“Um. You never answered my question. Last night…”

He stiffens, “Oh well. You didn’t either.”

You pressed your lips together, “So did you?”

“Did I what?”

You roll your eyes, “Did you feel, I don't know… Did you care? About Joseph?”

Now it's his turn to roll his eyes, “I don’t care about Joseph.”

“Okay. Fine. Then did you care about seeing me with him.”

Angus swallows thickly. He tries to find that sudden rush he felt during the party. The rush that had him so close to just reaching out to hold your cheeks in his hands and collide your lips into his.

He finds the rush in the way you squeeze his hand, encouraging him to continue.

“Yeah, I was jealous,” he prays you won't rip your hand away from his. “Because I care about everything you do.”

You smile and almost look pleased. “I was… a bit too,” you admit, avoiding the word and tugging at the sleeves of your sweater.

Because you think of me that way too, because you think of me that way too, Angus chants in his head like a mantra.

“Because we’re friends?” You cross your arms and hug yourself tightly, gazing up at him through your lashes.

He thinks now that the rush must have been beaten into silence because his mouth stays close, unable to argue back.

“Yeah. ‘Cause we’re friends,” he nods affirmatively, although he has to pinch the side of his thigh to stop himself from crying. He drowns out the ache in his chest and turns into a physical manifestation. There are glass marbles running wild in his head, and they crash against it like a steel floor. They shatter into little bits and prick his mind, berating him for being so stupid, for falling into Elises false optimism, and believing for a second that anything he ever felt would be reciprocated.

A small sigh slips past your lips and Angus suspects it must have been out of relief. He pinches himself harder.

“It all felt like deja vu don’t you think?”

“Hmm?” An odd sound emerges from his throat.

“You and me, begging one another to not be replaced. We’re still the same as when we were fourteen.”

Still the same as we were. The words echoed around, bouncing off the walls of Barton. He can settle with being friends for the rest of his life, as long as it meant he kept having you. If he had to watch you be with someone else, he would suck it up. Like sinking his teeth into a slice of lime without wincing.

He would be fine with you treating him like a wildflower in your garden. He would come around each year, and grow over your tulips, competing for your attention. Practically shouting at you to deal with him. He could wither but come back year-round when you needed him the most. You could harvest him, prune him, press his petals against pages.

The point is you would need him as much as he needs you. …

Paul Huham woke up sick, but not in the way he had expected. He had expected a grinding headache and incredible vertigo. And after five glasses of Jim Beams, he also expected to slip on the ice of the sidewalk as he led Mary to the Nova last night. But he supposed that by now he must have built some sort of tolerance towards it.

Instead, this morning he felt void. He was completely depleted and unable to take his mind off what Miss Crane had said to him at the Christmas party. Mary’s words had definitely brought him back to earth. And although the night had ended… oddly, he still realized that what the two women had said was right.

Angus and Y/n were just kids. Nearly adults in terms of age sure, but still immature and sharing the behavior of one, nonetheless. Miss L/n undoubtedly seemed to deserve a proper celebration. It would be as a thank you of sorts for her ability to rein Mr. Tully in. And Angus Tully needed a moment of distraction from the treacheries of the holiday season. Paul could certainly relate to that.

So, with a groan, he got out of bed. He walked quickly to the bathroom to get his feet off the cold floor and get changed. Afterwards, he went to check in on them in their room.

He saw Y/n buried underneath two blankets. He could barely see her face and it was almost like she was entangled in her own cocoon. Angus however, laid crookedly and clutching a pillow close to his chest, his blanket discarded to the side. There were open drawers, littered pieces of trash on the floor and clothes on the ground. He really ought to remind you both to clean your room.

But confirming you two were asleep, Paul was able to begin the laborious process of getting the ice off his windshield. He then drives into town with the stereo off. He had heard enough Christmas music yesterday and didn’t feel like having jingle-bells grilled into his ear. He slows down as he nears the tree farm. It is empty compared to how it had been mid-November. Vividly he had remembered seeing the town families gathering around and choosing their tree. Kids roamed around as parents debated which trunk smelled the freshest. With the same level of enthusiasm those mothers and fathers had, we trudged up to the nearest worker.

“Merry Christmas,” he smiles awkwardly.

“Merry Christmas. What can I do for you, chief?”

“I’m looking for a tree.”

“Well, you came to the right place. Big fire sale on all remaining inventory.”

Paul hums and tries to find the least scrawny looking pine tree in the lot. He ends up purchasing

one that isn’t nearly as grand as the one Barton had in the dining hall. He then straps it to the top of his car's roof and drives back to the school.

“Mr. Tully, Ms. L/n,” he greets slightly energized by the morning air. He stops abruptly at the sight of the empty beds. There is still a visible dent from where the two had slept. Puzzled, he whirls around the room like they may appear out of thin air. He checks the other vacant rooms shouting out their names.

He stumbles his way into the kitchen where Mary is still in her pajamas, a piece of toast in one hand and a spatula in the other.

“Good morning.”

“Merry Christmas,” she corrects.

“Yeah. Merry Christmas, of course,” he lowers his voice, “How are you?”

“Well, I've got a case of the cocktail flu.”

“Uh, have you seen the kids?” he says with a bit of worry.

“Mm-mm,” she shakes her head and returns her attention to grilling the bacon.

Paul drops his head, “Goddammit, where the hell can they be?”

Hunham takes the search outside, yelling out to the campus quad that has been covered in white. He trudges to the school's theater wing, where he scampers up the stairs.

“Mr. Tully? Ms. L/n?” he pants as he reaches another floor level. He stops momentarily to listen to the music coming from the auditorium and follows the sounds. He had no idea they could do that.

He makes his presence known by slamming the door behind him shut. The piano stops and you both whirl around.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” the two say in unison.

“Where the hell have you two been?”

“I don’t know. Just here,” Angus says.

“Come on. I have something to show you both.” …

You hold Angus' hand as you make your way back to the dining hall. His hands feel clammy. A little shaky too. Although yours weren’t any different. You felt like a ghost floating outside your own body.

When you had asked him the question, you had huddled into yourself. It was the closest thing to holding a shield over your heart. In your head you had thought that if you could just reach out and place your hand against his chest, then you wouldn’t have to ask anything at all. You would just be able to tell by the rhythm of his own thumping heart. You had prayed that he would argue against you. That he would say, ‘No. Not just because we’re friends.” But he hadn’t and now you know never to trust the words of a random man at a party.

But if you were reduced to that status for eternity, you supposed you would be able endure it. Truth was that you felt you felt greedy in ever wishing more from him. He could have brushed you off, labeled you as a snob and never have jumped into the ice-cold pool when you were seven. Yet, he hadn’t and to that you owed him.

Because you think that if he had never spoken to you, you would have spent your entire life watching things from a distance.

When you arrived at the mess hall, Mr. Hunham asked you two to wait before bringing out an irked Mary. She took a seat nearby as Hunham presented you with the bare tree and a few wrapped gifts underneath.

“No ornaments?” Angus frowns, unimpressed.

“Ornaments would diminish the Charlie Brown-esque of it,” you say. “All we really need is one giant red sphere.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can round up some ornaments somewhere,” Mr. Hunham pipes in and picks up one of the gifts, “Uh now… this is for you two.”

He hands you and Angus a rectangular package with a neat bow tied to keep it closed. You’re too surprised to open it but do so after you see Angus shift beside you.

Underneath your fingertips you hold, what you always believed, to be the holy grail of gifts. A book!

“Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. For my money, it’s like the Bible, the Koran and the Bhagavad Gita all rolled up into one. And the best part is not one mention of God!”

“Hmm,” Mary grunts in disapproval.

“Okay. Thanks,” Angus nods.

“Thank you, Mr. Hunham. This is really, really, nice,” you rush to hug him, forgetting you’re supposed to be treating the man like a superior. He doesn’t push you away though, he awkwardly pats your back instead, his other arm hanging out weirdly.

He clears his throat, “Well… I know how much of a voracious reader you are. It’s a rarity that must be preserved.”

“Thank you. I love it,” you hold the book close. You sway a little like you would when you are holding a baby.

“And this is for you,” Hunham returns to passing out the presents.

Mary eyes him suspiciously and unwraps it with ease. It’s another copy of “Meditations.”

“So you just give this to everybody?” She chides.

“And,” Mr. Hunham holds out a bottle of whiskey, smiling.

Mary grins back, “Aw. How did you guess?”

“How indeed,” he laughs. He holds up his finger momentarily, signaling you two to wait. “Also, this came in the mail for you,” Hunham hands Angus an envelope. You watch as he sits down and opens it quickly. The green card is shiny and stuffed with cash. Inside is one of those pre-written messages concocted by marketing companies. The only sign of a personal touch is the scribbled note that reads, ‘Love, Mom and Stanley.’

“Oh, that's nice,” you shrug shyly when Angus turns to gauge your reaction.

“Mary, may I help you with breakfast?” Hunham interrupts the sulking.

She nods, “Yes. Please. Angus, Y/n, clear the table.”

“Okay,” you pick up your abandoned lavender and place it next to the much taller pine. “Look, it's us.”

You snicker quietly, pleased at your own joke. Angus continues to stare down at the table.

You sigh and approach him, “Angus. Are we okay?”

His eyes snap to yours, “Yeah. Of course. It just…”

“It's just what?”

“I-, I didn’t get you anything.”

You exhale shakily. For a second you’d thought you had screwed everything up and he was ready to ignore you and forget of your existence.

You lean over and squeeze his hand, “It's okay. Your presence is worth more than a thousand jewels.”

“Cheesy,” he snorts. The first genuine reaction you'd gotten out of him all day.

“Thank you!” You squeak and tug at a loose piece of his curls. …

It's a group effort to get dinner on the table before midnight. Angus begrudgingly agrees to help you with the vegetables while Hunham and Mary handle the more serious stuff. You are still not to be trusted with anything besides a peeler.

You're scraping the final bits off your plate as Angus wipes his mouth with his napkin.

“Thank you, Mary. That was just lovely,” Hunham gleams.

“Wow, is that an actual compliment?”

“Oh, come on,” Hunham waves off.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had a real family Christmas like this before,” Angus recalls, “Christmas dinner, I mean- family style. Out of the oven, all the trimmings. We always leached off of Y/n’s family.”

“Yeah. From Delmonico’s. Fresh from their stoves to ours,” you scoff at the memories of you tipping the delivery driver through the kitchen window so they could remain unseen by guests.

“Well, she’s got the right idea. Next year I’m ordering in from Delmonico’s,” Mary teases.

“Anyway. Thank you, Mary,” Angus says seriously.

“You’re welcome.” She winks at him and smiles.

Mr. Hunham raises his mug, encouraging you all to follow suit.

“I’d like to propose a toast. To my three unlikely companions on this snowy island. And to our absent friends and family,” the glass wavers in your hand, “And I realize that none of us are here because he wants to be, so if there’s any way that I can make the holidays a little cheerier for any of you, just say the word.”

You perk up immediately, hands slamming down on the table and almost shaking your fork off the table, “We want to go to Boston.”

“Boston. Why?” Hunham stares appalled.

Angus catches on and nods his head enthusiastically, “Why not? We want a real Christmas. We want to go ice skating. And I want to see a real Christmas tree with ornaments, not that stupid thing.”

“You said it was nice,” Mr. Hunham says, offended.

“It is nice,” Mary reassures.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. We want a real holiday,” Angus slithers his hand into yours.

“Well, we’re not going to Boston. It’s out of the question.”

“There's plenty of intellectual-like things there too! We could go to museums or visit statues. Or even go inside Paul Revere's house! Did you know they had that there?”

“Come on Paul, you just told them ‘anything.’ So, take the kids to Boston,” Mary vouches.

“Mary, we’re not allowed to leave campus or the immediate environs,” he insists.

Angus' arm flops down and the grip he had on your hand is loosened. You’re about ready to beg the history teacher to reconsider, and that you’ll stay behind and keep clean every inch of Barton as long as he agrees to take Angus. He must have noticed the flame he blew out from your metaphorical birthday candles as he drops his shoulders.

“But I suppose we could call it a field trip. A field trip would fall under the ambit of additional academic pursuits. There’s even a fund set aside for additional academic pursuits,” he mutters like it's a secret.

“I’ll go pack,” Angus rises, a grin on his lips as he sprints off to the infirmary.

You get up and move behind Mr. Hunham to hug his shoulders and then run to Mary to give her an equal tight squeeze.

She pats your arms, and says, “Alright now. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me! I mean I’ve-, I have always gotten chocolates for Christmas. Pass the age of twelve anyway. But my mom orders them from Stockholm and they’re great, they’re delicious, but even though I ask for a two-dollar book… I always get these ridiculously expensive chocolates. Yet tonight, I didn’t even have to ask-, for the book, umm, I-,” you flail your arms around, stumbling over your words.

“You didn’t have to ask us to not order the overpriced chocolates from Europe?”

“Yeah,” you tug at your earlobe. “So thank you. For not force feeding me copious amounts of sugar and cacao.”

Mr. Hunham smooths out his shirt and swiftly wipes underneath his eyes, “Well… I hear shipping costs are rather high nowadays.”

Day Nine - December 26th, 1970

The entirety of Massachusetts looks as idyllic as a postcard. The colonial houses and snow-covered lawns were so Norman Rockwell that you felt sickly sweet. You had attempted at first, to get the stubborn radio to turn on to no avail. After a while you all managed to chat amongst yourselves about local news. Not that you had any recent access to that information to be able to understand it all. Mr. Hunham had his own fun informing you all about the origins of Christmas traditions. Like how popcorn garlands could be traced down to some colonists in Virginia.

The talking had dwelled down as you reached Roxbury. You had been disappointed that Mary wouldn't be tagging along to Boston, but you knew her going to her sister’s meant more than you could understand.

“Here we are,” Mary sighs as the car stops in front of a large apartment building.

“Boy, that's an awful lot of stairs,” Mr. Hunham comments.

“And probably icey too.”

“Mhm.”

Although you understand the hints, you're not so sure Angus is. You kick his heel to break through whatever trance he is in.

“Mr. Tully?” Hunham calls.

His eyes widened, “Right… Mary, can I help with your bags?”

“Yes please.”

Angus is handed the keys to open the trunk. He gets out and collects a suitcase and a round little box and goes across the street.

“Hey, be careful with the box,” Mary orders from the open car window.

“I’ll help too!” You smile.

“No, that's okay sweetheart. Let him be gentlemanly.”

“I really just want to stretch my legs.”

“You can go,” Hunham says, “don’t wander far.”

“Thank you,” you say.

Mr. Hunham watches you jog across the street and stop at the bottom of the stairs to look up at Angus. He turns towards Mary, “You know you’re more than welcome to a room at the hotel. We’ve got the money.”

“Are you out of your mind? I need a break from you and Angus and all your damn bickering. Besides, I'm looking forward to visiting my little sister. She’s pregnant.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” He cheers and takes Mary’s hand and squeezes it. She scrunches her nose.

“Mr. Hunham. Mr. Hunham!” She pulls away and cradles her hand like it's been broken.

“Oh, I’m sorry. My hands sweat. It’s hyperhidrosis. Sorry.”

You bounce back to the car, crouching down slightly to speak to Mary, “Angus is asking how far to go.”

The two adults peer through the car windshield to spot the boy, “One more flight up!” Mary instructs.

You go back to observing him like a guard dog, one hand on your waist and the other over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear Mary get out of the Nova and wave up at her sister and who you presume to be her husband.

“Mary!”

“Hi!” she shouts back.

You pout as she approaches you, “Bye Mary.”

“Aww,” she pinches your cheek briefly. You don’t have enough time to appreciate the touch. “Don’t be so moody. I’ll see you soon. And look at the bright side. You get a hotel room all to yourself.”

“I’m going to feel all vacant in there.”

“Just do me a favor.”

“Yes?”

“Eat all the fancy snacks in the hotel mini fridge for me.”

“I’ll stuff them in my suitcase for you,” you promise.

“Thank you,” she tucks your hair back to protect it from the harsh breeze tangling it out everywhere.

Angus’s footsteps are loud as he practically skips over to you two. He loops his arm around yours and tries to drag you away, “Bye Mary!”

“Uh-uh. Where are you going?”

“I was just-,” Angus babbles.

“You’re not done yet. You have to help me up there.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” he relents, letting go of you and switching over to Mary.

You whirl around and head back to the car. You wish you could continue glancing at him, and the way the sun peeks through his hair and makes it appear browner than usual. But it's only so long until it begins to get creepy. Only so long until it is noticeable that you’re not admiring him as just a friend.

…

You settle in at the Sheraton Commander. It's a nice hotel with chandeliers in the lobby. Everyone around you looks like businessmen in a hurry or professors with a lecture to attend. Your room is right across from Mr. Hunham and Angus, and already you feel lonely at hearing their squabble across the hall.

You had kicked your suitcase underneath your bed and then went to knock at their door.

Mr. Hunham answers, “Ah, Miss L/n. Good. We were just discussing what to do for dinner.”

The door widens to allow you to enter, and you find a seat next to Angus on the end of his bed. “I thought we would go out to eat?”

“That’s exactly what I said but Mr. Hunham insists we stay in,” Angus says annoyed.

“It’s late! If we went out now, we could be met with frostbite and discomfort. We will get a proper night's rest and then enjoy the wonders of Boston.”

Angus groans beside you and you hop off the mattress. You silently ask for the room service menu which Hunham holds.

You scan through the foods, “They have some good options Angus…”

“Ugh,” Angus tugs at his hair. “Fine. What do they have?”

“You like Fettuccine Alfredo, get that.”

“Not if it doesn’t have chicken,” you know that's not true, and he’s just trying to be unnecessarily complicated. Still, you play along.

“Alright. I’ll get the chicken parmesan and give you some of it. Deal?”

“Deal,” he rolls his eyes.

“What are you getting Mr. Hunham?” You address the man.

“I don’t know,” he puts on the glasses that had been resting on his head. “I haven’t had ravioli in a while…”

“Get the ravioli. It’s courtesy of Barton afterall.”

Mr. Hunham hums, “I suppose you're right… Do either of you have an aching for anything particularly sweet after your dinner?”

You and Angus smile at each other, “I wouldn't mind some cake.”

“I wouldn't either.”

Mr. Hunham chuckles and picks up the phone on the night table. He presses some buttons and listens to dial tone before a staff member picks up.

“Hello, yes can I…”

You drown out the order as you draw open the curtains to their window.

“Holy shit. You can see Harvard from here.”

“Oh yeah. The receptionist mentioned that while you were busy admiring the Greek pillars. I think she thinks we’re on a campus trip.”

“I can only see layered brick from my window.”

“Well, that's Cambridge for you.”

You squint your eyes, “Are you really that bothered about not going out. Everything closed anyway.”

“That's what your brainwashed, rural, New England mind wants you to think. This is Boston. A city. Things here probably don’t close until three a.m”

“I doubt that.”

“Want to bet?” He whispers, smirking.

“What?”

“Let’s go out tonight. After Hunham declares it lights out.”

You shake your head, “We can’t, he's been so nice to us. I mean, c’mon, he drove us here.”

“This isn’t me trying to, like, undermine or disrespect him or anything. I just want to hang out with you.”

You fold under his gaze, and look back at Mr. Hunham who is still on the phone. “I don’t know Angus…”

“We’ll sneak out for an hour tops. He’s a heavy sleeper.”

Nervously you nod like he might overhear you even though he’s pretty preoccupied on getting a glass of Jim Beam brought up with the rest of your dinner.

“I guess. But you have to use your Christmas money to buy him a book on ancient Rome or something. As a present.”

“I’ll start marking the map,” Angus picks up a discarded pamphlet provided by the hotel. You smile at his eagerness as he tries to slyly look for places to visit. Mr. Hunham hangs up the phone and sighs contently.

“Food in thirty minutes. Wash up!” …

Mr. Hunham was chewing his last ravioli, and holding onto his half-finished bottle of Jim Beam like it was precious cargo. A Farewell to Arms, had come on TV, leading his current tangent. Even though you were anxious to get your plans on track, you couldn't help the way your mouth widened in awe as you listened to his words. You had no idea why Angus claimed to be so bored in his class. Hunham was better than any history teacher you had ever had.

“Although there is no credible proof, of course, that Hemingway described his hometown as one of ‘wide lawns and narrow minds,’ it would track considering his works. Actually, were you aware that his town was once a single entity? It's called Cicero and as you know, Mr. Tully, he was a very big politician in Ancient Rome. He-,” Mr. Hunham reads the clock on the wall. It's eleven thirty-two.

“Is it that late already?”

“Yes sir,” Angus responds, slightly exhausted.

“I do apologize. Most people tend to stop me once I hit the forty second mark.”

“It was really quite interesting,” you voice, “they don’t go too in depth about the author's life in the inside sleeve of books.”

“Well, uh, I thank you. For listening.”

“No. Thank you. You saved me from buying a biography,” you quip, and he smiles at you. A warm smile.

“Y’know you two are a lot like Hemingway. Maybe you both just happen to be two very large fishes with great minds, born into an incredibly narrow, small pond.”

…

You were kicked out after assisting in the clean-up. You then went to your room and put on your pajamas, along with your shoes. Instead of opting to use your usual sneakers, you put on the black Mary Jane’s your school mandates.

You didn’t know why until you looked Angus eye to eye and said, “I think it balances the rule-breaking out. I sneak out, simultaneously obeying my school's dress code.”

Angus had snorted, before revealing his own tie under his coat, hanging loosely and undone over his neck. You laughed, closed the door behind you and fled down the hotel stairs. It was clear almost immediately your coat, scarf and hat weren’t enough to keep you warm.

“We should turn back,” you suggested desperately.

“We’ve made it down one street.”

“Yes, and I’ve seen three ‘open’ signs. You were right, the world goes on after midnight. Let's go home,” you plead.

“No,” Angus drapes his arm over your shoulder, “we have to do at least one thing. So, think, what do you want to do?”

You mull it over for a second. There was nothing you were desperately wanting to see. The places you did were locked securely by key until tomorrow morning. Boston held no particular memories for you like it did for Angus. However, your parents owned a house downtown that you had been in exactly five times, and you always did like even numbers much better.

“You remember that brownstone on Beacon Hill?”

Angus smirks and nudges you to follow him. The walk to the train is painful with the way snowflakes seem to fall and nip at your skin. The only other commuter in their train car is a lady in scrubs and a defeated salesman. There are plenty of empty seats for you and Angus to hog. Nevertheless, you stand, holding onto the pole, your hands on top of each other. You lift your pinky a couple stops later, having forgotten what limb belongs to you and which was his.

You vaguely recall the address. Really you are navigated towards it through pure instinct. Something deep in your gut telling you ‘Here is the place your father will crash to if he doesn’t want to drive home after work.’

Your quiet walk is interrupted by the whooping of who you assume to be college kids extending their Christmas festivities. They leave, stumbling out of bars and into their cars. You don’t feel inclined to question it until you see them driving towards the brownstone. Your brownstone.

You pick up your pace. You follow the loose strands of streamers and glitter that litter the street.

You stop dead in your tracks at the sight of the house. With its lights on and the windows curtains drawn wide open, just inviting anyone to look inside and envy them. Dead ivy covers its brick walls, and you think back on the gorgeous wisteria that you once saw grow one springtime.

People in decadent clothing filter in and out of the house. Some pass you by and stare you down like your presence is a major disturbance that’s worthy of calling the authorities.

You spot the unmistakable pinned up hair belonging to your mother. She is dressed in silk and pearls. She dances with your father with her eyes closed. She looks at peace. She looks happier than you have ever seen her.

“Y/n…” Angus whispers, trying to get your attention.

But something else catches it instead. The mail slot is full of letters and cards. There are some bills too but that never worried them. They waited until they were threatened to have their light shut off for them to actually pay them with a simple flick of their wallet.

You go through them frantically. You go through the November letters, reaching the early weeks of December until you find the last notice. Sent from your school to them. It looks brand new, untouched. The last fingers to hold them before you were the school administrator and a mailman.

You tear the wax seal off and read the letter.

To the family of Y/n L/n,

This is the confirmation notice that your child will be holding over at Janie Patricks School for Girls for the following next two weeks. She will be supervised under the care of our English Department Head, Ms. Patricia Orchard. Any last-minute changes or concerns must be alerted to her now. Contact information below includes…

You halt halfway through a sentence and let the paper fall onto the dirty snow on the pavement. You want to grab a rock off the sidewalk and hit their window. You want to ruin their fun and embarrass them by asking, “Why did you even bother having me?” Even though you know their answer.

“Because we were expected to.”

To them you’re the anchor tying their boat down. They’re two birds and you just happen to be their cage. You don’t pick up that pebble by your shoe, no matter how tempting. You almost trip as your vision become foggy and you march forward and past Angus. You sit at a bus bench and wish you had a big bag of bird seeds to feed pigeons. Grandparents in parks always seem so content doing that. Angus joins you shortly and uses the end of the wool scarf to wipe your unnoticed tears.

You shakily exhale and white fog floats in the air. “I thought they wanted me during the winter.”

“What?” Angus draws his brows together.

“Spring and summer I get. People want to have a good time at the L/n’s. And I’m a pest like the bugs in the grass who brings the mood down at just my buzzing. But when it’s cold out, I’m more tolerable. I don’t complain as much about the weather so I’m quieter. My lack of attendance can be brushed off easier because they can just say I’m sick.”

“No Y/n-,”

“Secretly, I hoped they just hated me enough to want me to spend holiday break at school. I didn’t actually think they forgot me. I’m their baby. People don’t forget their babies.”

“Hey,” Angus snaps, holding your face between his hands. “They’re assholes and later, when the tears have dried, I know you’ll try to fight me on it. You’ll come up with all these excuses for them, but you have to remember that not once have they ever tried justifying themselves. You can love them. They’re your parents. But likability is different. And I’m sorry because I have never liked your parents.”

“I’m such a bother Angus,” you weep, “all calendar year long.”

“No, you’re not. I want you if no one else. I love you.”

You trace the outline of his face under the street lamppost like a tourist observes a painting in a museum. You find him doing the same. Although not much has changed. You have him ingrained in your mind. You could forget about him, not think of him for fifty years but still be able to scout him out in a crowded street.

You inch closer to him, filled by the sudden urge to be as close as humanly possible to him. It’s an urge that resurfaces every once in a while. Usually you brush it off, blaming the cold or an uncomfortable situation you want to hide from. But tonight all you feel is the warmth only he can radiate and the inimitable way he makes your heart race. You remove the hand cupping your face and kiss his knuckles.

“How is it that you want me?” You shakily breath.

“I want you in the spring, summer, autumn, winter,” he leans in closer, bumping noses with you.

“Really?” you murmur, using both hands to comb through the curls.

“I want you, all the time,” He spoke into the short amount of space between you. You were practically breathing into each others' mouths, your lips on the verge of touching.

“Angus, I don't think we should do anything. It’s late and we’re tired. We need to sleep.”

“Trust me, I’m wide awake,” he chuckles.

“You’re my only friend,’’ the rational side shines through. Briefly.

“I want you more than a friend.”

“We should go slow,’’ you bargain.

“Okay,” he presses his lips quickly against you. Eagerly you accept and pull him by his hair. You try to cram in all the lost opportunities with him in seconds. You savor the way his lips feel chapped from the bitter weather against yours. He encapsulates your body, practically pressing you down on the bus bench.

“You’re gonna get us arrested,” you murmur through brief pauses when you go to gasp for air.

His mouth parts, his lips red and puffy, “Yeah. I’m sorry, I shouldn't have done that. Are you-,”

You lunge at his lips, and smile into the kiss. You think this is how the rest of your life is supposed to go. Wherever happens with college and adult life, he has to be there. Because otherwise you don’t know how you will manage to breathe properly.

Then as the party rages on behind you. It floods you. The thing you had been waiting for. The reassurance, the sign you were doing the right thing.

Woosh.

[satureja13]

Have I ever told you how much I like these crime games? Some of you might know how much I struggle to keep up with something due to my ADHD (a glorious exception are the Boys ^^') But I was able to finish this book for my games/current case! I haven't been able to craft a bigger project for a while so I'm very proud of myself lol and I thought I show you.

I can reuse this book over and over again for new cases and it's made out of stuff I already had at home: amazon packaging, printouts, envelopes, tea dyed paper, wallpaper, a belt, the lock is from an old suitcase I found, paperclips, stamps, fabric and the metal book corners are made from a tomato paste tube...

These games come with a bunch of documents and I like that I can sort them now and that I'm able to find them quickly instead of having them in a heap. It takes me a few days or even weeks (when I get distracted by someting else ^^') and with this book I can put everything quickly away and return as quick to my research again.

I also made little writing pads and a notebook. The most fun I had with the paperclips. You can make them so quickly and they are so pretty and useful (I use them as tabs and to keep the documents in place)! Just fold a strip of paper in a 'w' shape, glue the metal paperclip inside and decorate. Ready! If you are interested in doing sth like this, don't hesitate to ask, I'm happy to help and share links to to the amazing youtubers I learned from!

I came into crafting only late in my life and I have so much fun. I wish I discovered the joy of it earlier but I never thought it could be something for me. Art class in school was so discouraging and I always thought I don't have the patience/talent for it. Then I went into rehab and we crafted and I kept on crafting ever since ^^' (Maybe you remember when I posted about my tarot book I made a new cover for or my amazing tool case I posted a while ago?)

The box in the pic below is a chocolate packaging I glued some tea dyed paper on :3

I also made a little booklet:

Did you know that you can make tape out of almost everything by using doublesided tape? Here I used old book pages. The dangles are made from cardboard and napkins :3

That was a fun little project and it's also a nice gift. I printed out the AI edits from my Mount Komorebi screenshots to decorate the pages. When you look close you can see Kiyoshi and Kiri in the pic on the left.

[indigosunsetao3]

Lunch and Dinner Date

First expansion of Older CIA Alex list. MDNI | 18+

"Hey Jack," you say casually as you set your purse, keys and sunglasses in the small plastic bin to go through security. You found it funny that they bothered with this sort of thing considering more than half the people working here could probably kill you with a paperclip. Formalities you suppose.

"Hey," Jack says with a smile as he slides your items through the scanner before indicating for you to walk through the metal detectors. "Back again to see the old man?"

"Someone has to make sure he eats," you answer as you scoop up your things on the other side. You slip the strap of your purse on your arm before taking the visitor's badge and clipping it on the lapel of your dress. "See you later," you toss over your shoulder with a smile before heading to the elevators.

You had moved back home to live with your father almost six weeks ago. The man you had lived with halfway across the country had decided that he needed something more in the bedroom; two other women more to be precise. You had your suspicions for a while but to walk in on him balls deep in one woman while the other was sloppily kissing him had been a shock, to say the least.

After you recovered from the scene in your bedroom you had immediately called your father, the only person in your life who could help. He was there two days later helping you pack up your things while your fiancé had a meltdown. It had been a nightmare but thankfully your father hadn't rubbed the fact he was right in your face too many times.

When you get to your father's office you find his secretary had already left for lunch, a delicate little sign on her desk indicating she was away. That was fine with you, she was nice older lady but her ability to talk was outmatched and frankly you were talked out. The job your father secured for you, after pulling a few strings, required you to converse with people all day long.

A short knock on the door was the only indication you gave that you were there before you opened it. Your father had told you to come at this time so you weren't worried about interrupting anything. Apparently he had been wrong, or he had a surprise guest. Just as you step through the threshold you spot a man sitting across from your father's desk and you dad immediately closes his mouth as if he had been midsentence.

"Sorry," you breathe out as you move to back out of the room. "Tabitha wasn't here and I assumed you were ready," you babble out as the unknown man rises from his seat looking at you. "I can wait-"

"No worries," the man says for your father as he hastily gathers up papers and locks them away in his desk. Clearly you had interrupted something secretive. "I was just on my way out actually," he smiles and you return the gesture a bit meekly as you look at up at him; even in your heels he towers over you.

He's dressed in casual clothes, jeans and simple t-shirt but the air he gives off oozes he's anything but a civilian. The way he stands shows his confidence, shoulders back and head high. You watch how his eyes survey you as if taking in every detail, sweeping from the tips of your toes and up your body before landing on your face giving you an easy smile.

His gaze is enough you feel a blush creeping up your chest and neck from embarrassment for interrupting and just the blatant scrutiny.

"Have a nice lunch," the man says simply to your father, extending his hand to shake before his gaze is back on you. "Ma'am," he tacks on as a goodbye which earns a full on flush from you. He definitely notices, the smile that plays in his lips expands to a full on smirk.

You watch him leave from the room and barely hear your father clear his throat asking if you're ready to go.

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

"I don't know a single person," you bemoan your father as you slip your mother's old diamond earrings into your ears.

"That's the point," you father answers as he comes around the corner and gives you a wide smile, his gaze clocking you wearing your late mother's jewelry. "Time for you to meet some people. I'm tired of sharing the living room with you every night. You're young, you need to be out having fun, not watching documentaries with me," he grins extending his elbow.

"All of these people are too rich for my blood. I won't have anything in common with them."

"Find a rich guy to take you home and off my hands," he jokes before helping you into the hired car. "Some of the guys will be there anyway," he tacks on. You know the guys are his personal team that he works with. Some of them your dads friends from his military days and others at the CIA that were still out working in the field. "Alex even agreed to go," he chuckles a bit as he scrolls through his phone distracted, "I was starting to think he had some secret family I didn't know about. He never joins team outings."

"Alex?"

"Keller," your dad answers as if that would be enough of an explanation. When he looks up and sees your blank expression he continues, "he was in my office that day when you barged in like you owned the place."

"Oh right," you answer feeling the blush again. You hadn't forgotten about Alex, even if you didn't know his name. His gaze had almost burned with how he watched you, x-rayed you really, with his ice blue eyes. It had been a passing meeting but it had apparently impacted you more than you realized.

Once you are at the banquet hall you head inside to find your seat. Little placards around the large linen covered tables indicate where you should sit and you find yourself with Alex on your right at a table in the very front. It doesn't look like the rest of the party have arrived yet so you decide to just sit and wait for the place to fill up before trying to mingle. Just as you're about to grab your seat to pull it out a hand clamps down on the delicate gold back and stops you.

"Allow me."

You turn expecting to see one of the staff and open your mouth to protest them having to help you into a seat. But you shut it instantly as you spot it's not the staff but Alex standing there. He's not in casual clothes this time. He's in his dress blues and you feel yourself swallowing as you take it in for a second. Everything is crisp, clean, and on point. Medals and bars adorn both sides of his chest and you even spot his special skill and marksmanship badges, more than you had ever seen on another man or woman.

"Looks like you're stuck with me all evening," he grins fingering the placard with his name. He slips into his own seat before catching the eye of a waiter to bring over drinks.

"A familiar face is always welcome," you answer, twisting your hands in your lap a bit. You rub your thumb over your left ring finger for a second, a nervous tick, before you remember there is nothing in that space anymore. "I feel like all I do is meet new people every day, bit disorienting."

"Your father has plenty of friends," Alex answers as he leans to the side a bit as the waiter takes your drink order. He's careful to listen to what you want, storing away your preferred drink in the back of his mind. "I've worked with him for a while now and even I still don't know all their names." Lie. Alex knew them all, even the secret undercovers because he didn't trust anyone and he needed to know exactly what was happening at all times.

"My new job also keeps me on my toes, literally," you smirk a bit. "I think my father forgot I much prefer to be in the background but the job he got me has me working the floor at an art gallery."

"Art?" Alex asks sounding interested as the waiter returns with a glass of red wine for both of you. "Is that your background? I know your dad said you had finished college not that long ago." He knew all the details already but it was polite to keep the conversation going to pretend he didn't.

"Ah, yeah sort of. More history with an understudy in art but finding a job in history around here is a little hard when you aren't an old white man," you laugh a bit sipping on your wine and find Alex smiling as well. It's a slightly crooked grin that gives you a glimpse of an old scar that runs down his chin to disappear into his beard.

"What sort of history are you most interested in?" Alex asks as he twists in his seat to face you better. The place is finally starting to fill up and a few people have joined your table now but Alex pays none of them any mind. His eyes are locked on you in that same intense look he gave you in your father's office those weeks ago. It doesn't feel as scrutinizing but it's certainly focused.

You explain that your favorite sub subject of history is actually studying the downfalls versus the rise of empires. What caused the collapses, how the signs had been stacking up but no one saw them before it was too late. How other empires exploited and rose from them before falling to the same fate in different ways.

Alex remains rapt in his attention on you and you find easing into a topic you knew about made it so much easier to talk. Especially when your audience was so engaged and asked the proper questions at the right time. He doesn't let a lull in the conversation happen and fills in the spaces with his own tidbits of random knowledge or ideas. He doesn't let the conversation remain on him too long either, always reverting back to you.

When the charity speeches began Alex is careful to pay attention to the stage but you see him stealing glances at you. You grin at each one, finding yourself looking at him as well. It was nice to finally have someone that you could possibly call a friend around here. You had been too shy, too self-conscious, to try and forge out new relationships just yet. Your fiancé had been sure to shatter that small bit of self esteem you had with what he did.

Toward the end of the night, laughing over your fifth or sixth glass of wine, you grip Alex's upper arm and state you have to have his number so you can send him a picture of the thing you were both chuckling about. You weren't sure how many drinks you truly had because Alex never let you hit the bottom of the glass before a waiter appeared with another. He agreed quickly and rattled off his number to you, watching you carefully type it in your phone before you send him a purple heart so he could store your number.

"How was your evening?" Your father asks a bit later in the car after Alex had walked the both of you out to the valet before walking out to his own self parked car. Your dad had been too busy schmoozing to sit down long enough to engage in conversation with you.

"Oh it was fine," you answer simply, feeling the bit of headrush as you lean back against the car seat.

"Make any friends?"

"Alex. Well I think anyway..." you say after a second. "He's was really...nice," you grin at your dad, rolling your head on the headrest to look at him a bit lazily.

You hold back the rest of your assessment of your father's employee, figuring your dad did not want to hear how Alex's breath on your ear when he leaned over to whisper something during a speech sent a shiver straight down your spine. Or that you had perhaps shifted a little closer to Alex so your bare leg was pressed up tight against his under the table and he hadn't pulled away. Or how Alex always rose from his seat to help you in and out of your own and you caught his eyes watching the lowcut line of your dress when he thought you were distracted.

"Nice," your dad says in a bit of a deadpan.

"Oh stop it, this was your idea."

"You know he's over a decade older than you right?"

"Dad...stop. He was nice," you shrug. "Didn't realize friends had an age limit."

Your father stays quiet the rest of the ride as he fiddles on his phone and that is fine with you. You dig out your own phone where Alex had responded with his own emoji a few moments before, a simple red heart in response. It's enough to make your stomach flutter for a second but you tamper that down and instead send the picture you promised you would so he could see the evidence of the story you told. It was stupid really, but you had both laughed hard enough that people had given you dirty looks.

As the car ride continues you replay the evening over and over in your mind, glancing at your phone every now and again waiting for a response. Your dad is right, he's so much older and has more life experience. Why would he be friends with you? By the time you are home you have successfully convinced yourself Alex was just being nice because of who you were; his bosses daughter. The hopeful bubble you had in your chest about making a new friend deflates.

Especially when Alex leaves your picture you sent him on read.

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

Unfortunately for Alex he had somewhere to be right after the charity gala. An assignment your father had set him on conveniently quickly. He had to ditch his things in his car and change before catching another ride in an unmarked car to take him to the airport. He couldn't have his personal phone on him to respond, but the burner he kept tucked in his go bag had all your information stored in it.

He's able to keep tabs on you, watching you post on your own social media as well as your job's over the next few days. And maybe one night when he's feeling particularly lonely he hacks your work's security system just to watch you walk around in those sky high heels and tiny little skirts. Those pretty legs occupy his waking and sleeping thoughts for many hours, especially when he watches you in the dark of his room.

Alex's feelings toward you are anything but friendly and he intends on showing you that. But he knows how to play the game. His career depends on his ability to read people and he had read you like a book. He knows you need a little soft coaxing and confidence building so pouncing on you right away like he wanted to was out of the question. Your shit of an ex fiancé had made you feel worthless, undesirable, but Alex had turned the tables back on him.

A few well placed emails and suspicious files on your ex's computer will effectively end his career when an anonymous tip comes in. Then those women he had brought into his bed over you would leave him once the money runs out and he'll be left scrambling. Maybe he'd feel an ounce of the pain you had gone through after what he had done.

Alex had tracked through all your online files. Found the emails of heartbreak you had left in your drafts and never sent, poured through the deleted photos on your computer and had seen first hand the screaming fight from the night you caught your ex on your security camera's cloud account. It had been rough to watch and for once Alex actually felt a pang of guilt for prying so far.

Killing your ex had been an option that crossed Alex's mind when he watched the video of you crying on your couch from all those weeks ago. He could do it without anyone being the wiser, but watching the guy suffer seemed the better option. Besides, thanks to this man's shitty decision you were now here, perfectly poised for Alex to swoop in and show you exactly how a man should treat you.

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

Part One | Part Two

[ddejavvu]

okay but imagine college internship!reader and her fellow intern not getting along and he tries to sabotage her and putting all of his workload on her. to get back at him she fucks his dad CEO!hotch 🥵🥵 he thinks he’s invincible bc his dad is ceo but reader shows him who’s REALLY in charge 😭😭

today is multiverse monday! send me an au you can think of :)

not doing this with jack 'cause he's the sweetest boy </33

--

Devon's scrawny hand comes into your view again, and you can't muster up anything more energetic than a sigh. The man's been shoveling paper after paper onto your desk instead of his own, and you're certain he's only getting away with it because his father's the CEO. You glance up at him, measured venom in your eyes that seeps into your voice, "Devon? What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving early." He informs you, smug grin on his face, "I’ve got a date.”

“Poor girl.”

“Shut up,” he seethes, face screwed up in fury, “I’m going to report you for unacceptable workplace behavior.”

You want to give him a piece of your mind. You want to rip him a new one, shout until the windows rattle and his eardrums burst. But you can't, not if you want to keep your internship. Instead you have the turn tail, cheeks heating in frustration as you surrender.

You pointedly avoid looking at Devon as he snickers, because you're certain you'd punch him in the teeth if you got a glimpse of his face. He leaves without another word, and you flip him the bird, under your desk so that you can't get caught. He doesn't see, but it's a good release of anger.

You spend forty grueling minutes in the office after he leaves, a/c sending your papers fluttering in its current. You've got a paperweight on them so that they don't fly away, but you remove it to pluck another one off of the stack and it blows out of your reach.

The swear that comes from your mouth is mumbled under your breath, but it's enough to cover the sound of a footstep. You don't notice the person standing in front of you until their shoe comes into view, paper drifting to the floor and onto its toe.

Your eyes widen, and when you straighten with the paper, it's your boss. You're entirely too close, almost toe-to-toe, and you stumble backwards in your heels, trying not to break your ankle.

"Sir," You stammer, "I'm- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to get in your way."

"It's alright," He nods, a frown on his face. You're not sure you've ever seen him without a frown, so you try not to take it too personally.

"Devon is...?" He raises a dark, thick eyebrow at his son's empty desk.

"Oh," Your stomach flips, awkwardness seeping into your tone, "He, um, left. Early. He had a date."

"Poor girl."

Your head snaps up to meet your boss's eyes, and by the look on his face, he wasn't expecting you to hear him. You almost laugh, but you think better of it, instead dropping your gaze to the floor so that he can't see your smirk.

"Hold on," He speaks again, and you lift your gaze, "I sent that to Devon. That's his paperwork."

You glance down at the form in your hands, lowering yourself steadily back into your chair, "Uh, well, he was leaving early for that date so..."

"So you offered to take it? Or he put it on your desk."

You struggle through an awkward silence, then, "It's alright. I didn't have anything to do tonight."

His face breaks into a grimace, and you'd hate to be Devon right about now.

"Here," He holds his hand out, "I'll take it."

"Really, it's no trouble-"

"I'll take it."

You know better than to fight back against that tone of voice. You pass the paper to him wordlessly, breath catching in your throat as he sits beside you in his son's spot.

He's looking for something, shuffling papers on the desk and muttering under his breath. You catch the word 'pen', and your hand flies to the drawer by his thigh.

"Here," You murmur, "He keeps his pens in here."

You pull it open, revealing a mess of pens, paperclips, and rubber bands. Aaron sighs.

"He doesn't do his work and he's a complete mess," He says what you're thinking, and something in your chest twists evilly at the realization that Devon is on thin ice.

You get to work in silence, desperately holding back the insults you want to throw at the man's son. You yearn to tell him about the time he'd shoved you in the elevator and you'd broken a heel. You want to spill about the time he'd eaten your lunch and then filed a complaint against you for the allergic reaction it caused him. You think you'll explode if you don't tattle on him for the time he'd called you a slut for your sweater falling off of your shoulder. But you don't, you sit and you work just like you're supposed to.

You send a file to the printer, rising from your chair to retrieve it. Aaron glances at you from his seat and you stammer out, 'Printer,' though you're not sure why you're feeling guilty for doing your job. He nods, and you rush to the machine.

The chugchugchugging of the printer fills your brain and makes it so that you don't have to think too hard about the situation you're in. You're not sure how Devon got such a nasty personality, because his father seems perfectly kind, despite his hardened appearance. It happens to be a very attractive appearance too, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't affected by it.

Your paper comes shooting out of the printer, nearly hitting you in the chest. You grab it eagerly, wanting to rush back so that you're not gone for suspiciously long, but when you whirl around, you ram into a sturdy, solid force.

It's Aaron. Your eyes blink open to catch the navy blue of his tie and you try stumbling backwards, but his arm catches you around your waist. He steadies you, and your arms slam against his chest to further balance yourself.

"I- I'm so sorry," You gush, head jerking up to meet his gaze, "I didn't mean to..." Your voice cuts out, breath flickering out of your lungs as you realize how close you are to Aaron. Your nose is brushing his, and the slow exhale that caves his chest in warms your chin.

"You don't need to apologize," He murmurs, and his voice sends a shiver up your spine. You wait for him to let go, to uncurl his arm from your waist and step away, but he never does. You can't say you make much of an effort either, mesmerized as he stares at you with his dark eyes. His face isn't in a frown, per se, but he's not smiling either, just studying your face.

You're at a loss for words. You're both frozen, calculating your next move like it'll kill you if you make the wrong choice. And it might, you think, if you screw this up and don't get to kiss him.

He makes the decision for you. His arm tightens ever so slightly around your waist, pushing you forwards. His lips part to press to yours, tentative and soft. It's only when you reciprocate, when you curl your hands into the taut fabric of his dress shirt and suck lightly on his bottom lip, that he goes all in.

His hand presses flat against your back and he groans into the kiss, head craned forwards to apply more pressure. He practically devours you as you stand there, printer still chirping and chugging and whirring, but it's all background noise to your affair.

"Aaron-" You breathe between kisses, both of his hands on your hips as the paper in your own floats to the floor, "We- we shouldn't."

"Why not?" He rests his forehead against yours, lips pecking your own between phrases, "Is the boss gonna get mad at you? Are you gonna get fired?"

"That's not what I- I mean," You stammer, but something in your brain clicks. You want this. He wants this. You both want this. He's the boss. You won't get in trouble. Why not?

In that moment, lips a centimeter away from Aaron's own, you make a decision: if Devon Hotchner is going to call you a slut, then that's what you'll be. You'll fuck his dad.

[luna-rainbow]

What if S2E05

Ew. Genuinely do not recommend watching, purely from a writing point of view. It feels like I've just watched someone wanking off to themselves and walked away covered in goo.

I'm just saying 90% of the fanfics on AO3 is less stomach-churning than this crap.

Cut for language.

This episode starts off with just...the most wankerish introduction ever from The Watcher. What is this, 6th grade creative writing? His speech was basically "the bestest Mary Sue to ever Mary Sue is to Mary Sue in this upcoming Mary Sue episode! Did I tell you she's a Mary Sue?"

They really just...cut Sam out of his first and major appearance in the MCU. I mean...between Sam's glaring omission and somehow having the lead Widow antagonist (other than Melina) being a Black woman, in an episode featuring Ms Brexit...I'm not saying you should join the dots but the dots be damn there.

How come she gets to yell at Fury and Nat for hiding Steve from her but everyone is pretending that Steve would be fine with Peggy never telling him about Bucky. The math ain't mathing.

Fury tells her to sit out of the fight and Peggy whirls on him with the most possessive Karen snarl, "I'm Peggy Carter and we're talking about ~Steve Rogers~" Just. EW.

Steve literally has no personality or character beyond "UwU I just wanna be your lover~" the whole way, which. The writing was just not good enough to carry off and it just comes across like a juvenile self-insert fanfic.

OH FFS Not only is she stealing this whole Winter Soldier storyline she gotta steal NAT'S MOVES of beating up the Winter Soldier just FOR FUCK'S SAKE GET YOUR OWN PLOT WOMAN.

"Even in Russia girls grow up dreaming of being Captain Carter."

EWW WHY???

I can't believe this script got greenlit. She's the best she's flawless she's got a perfect love story and everyone wanna be her! Without showing you anything that proves that.

Pffft the shield dropping and the sob story (which Steve fanfic did they lift that monologue from because it sounds awfully familiar). At least they didn't try pulling the end of the line.

Oh and Steve saves her ass at the end of the day.

So not only is she a Mary Sue, she's a Mary Sue who still fucking needs a man to finish off her job. Like. This is the dumbest kind of story telling.

Sebastian doing an old man voice was the much needed breath of fresh air in this episode until I remember that it was probably a trial run for his Trump voice.

*Scrubs brain*

BTW Bucky clearly was not a morally corrupt character like Pierce and I guess...no shit, he wasn't the one who used Operation Paperclip to recruit Zola into the organisation, but I'm not sure the general audience would make that distinction.

[thirstytrashblogger]

Allan x Reader Meetcute Oneshot Adventure

A/N: God gave me the power to write and weed so I’m making stuff. 

Summary: A Allan Adventure redone scene so he can avoid that long-ass day. Really half of this is just the transcript from wiki but I had fun with it. 

Warnings: Mentions of quitting smoking, Smiling Friends shenanigans

___________________

Allan had stepped into the local Office Crap in search of some paper clips. He speaks to an employee with six arms who was stocking shelves to quickly ask where he could find the paper clips. 

Allan: Um, excuse me.

Armzo: [interrupting Allan] Wait, wait, wait, hold on man, I'm do- I'm in the middle of something here.

Allan walks up to Armzo while he continues to stack cans.

Allan: I just need some help.

Armzo: I'm warning you right now dude, keep screwing around and bad shit’s gonna happen, man.

Allan scowls at the rude attitude. 

Allan: You don't need to be rude.

Armzo angrily puts his cans down and walks up to Allan. Tapping his foot impatiently.

Armzo: Ok, what's up man, what do you want, huh? What’s going on, what do you need, man? Don't get nervous now, man, what? Ask your-ask your question, go ahead, what?

The two talk over each other, while the armless manager in the background notices the argument.

Allan: Look, asshole, I'm just wondering if you have any-

Armzo: Asshole?!

Allan: Yeah-

Allan and Armzo: Asshole!

Allan: You-

Armzo: Did you call me an asshole?!

Allan: Yes, I did, because you're being an asshole! Why didn't you help me?

Armzo: Bro, you’re being an asshole! I'm in the middle of something right now!

Allan: Fuck you, don't you work here? I'm just a customer!

Armzo: You walk up to me and you literally just start bugging me with stupid questio-

Allan: I'm not "bugging you", I'm just asking- you- you spider, you ass-

Armzo: What do you need?! Wha-

The manager runs over.

Manager: ARMZO! Who told you to stop stacking with your six arms? He wiggles his arm stubs.

Armzo angrily continues stacking while scowling at Allan.

Allan: Sir, do you know where I can find some paperclips?

Manager: Paperclips? No, sorry. Unfortunately, we're sold out.

Allan: Sold out?

 The manager nods.

Allan: Hmm, is there somewhere else where I can get them?

Manager: Hmm, the only place that might have them is that computer repair shop over in Crimeville.

Just then another critter appeared setting down a large box that was blocking them from view.

Y/N: W-wait, boss, what do you mean sold out? I just hauled in all these crates of paper clips.

Manager: O-oh ya did?

Y/N: Yeah for like the last 2 hours I've just been hauling these crates in. You told me to, remember?

Manager: Oh yeah. I thought that was Billy's job.

Y/N: Billy didn't show up today. Only Armzo and I did and since he has six arms and I don't he got stacking. He always gets stacking. We knew we were getting a big shipment today after that last guy bought the whole stock. Look at all these crates. That’s all metal in there. Look at how short I am. I could’ve used some help.

Manager: Uh huh. Look, y/n I really don't want to get into this right now. We have a customer.

Y/n looks to see Allan turn slightly revealing his presence. They mistook him for a load bearing pole painted red. 

Y/N: Oh, didn't see you there, man. My apologies.

Allen: Um yeah. I just needed some paper clips.

Y/N: Oh yeah yeah isle 7. Just over here. 

Manager: And Armzo, if you screw up again you're going BACK TO THE PSYCH WARD!!!!

Armzo starts quickly stacking cans in fear, the manager walks away before he turns back to a smiling Allan

Armzo: Thanks, man. Thanks for getting me in trouble, two armed piece of shit.

Allan: Sure thing. Hey goodbye spider. Goodbye. Keep stacking, keep stacking. Bye bye. Bye. Goodbye.

Armzo: [at the same time] Goodbye! Bye! Bye bye! Bye bye! Bye bye! I will, I will! Bye bye!

Armzo flips off Allan with three of his arms as he leaves to follow Y/N to the paper clip aisle. 

Armzo: Get outta here man.

One of the cans fall on Armzo's head

Armzo: WOAH-

All of the cans fall on and bury Armzo.

Y/n began leading Allen to isle 7.

Y/N: Look, man I'm real sorry about my outburst back there.

Allan: Oh, it's cool.

Y/N: Like I've just had a really rough morning but I'm trying to not project that onto people. You don't need to know about all that. Anyway, here's the paper clips.

Allan: No, I don't. Thanks for the paper clips though

Y/N: Yeah man. I can ring you up when you're ready

They turned to go to the register.

“Hey” said Allen getting y/n's attention. Now walking to the register with them, paper clips secured.

Y/N: Yeah?

Allan: (he looks to read their nametag) Y/N, you were much more helpful than that other guy with the arms. 

Y/N: Oh thanks, dude. Don't worry about Armzo, he's just been super irritable since the psych ward made him quit smoking. Called me a %$^#%$&@#&$^^$@^#^$@(!^&#%@@% yesterday so i put a dead fish in his locker. Anyway, that'll be $4.39, sir.

As Allan handed them the money their hands brushed a second longer than needed. 

Y/N: And 61 cents is your change. Would you like your receipt?

Allan: Sure.

Their hands brushed again as Allan was handed his receipt and his change. Static shocking them both.

Y/N: Have a nice day, sir.  

They waved off with a smile.

Allan: Yeah. You too. I guess I'll see you around.

Y/N: See ya around.

With that, Allen turned to leave with his paper clips. Upon closer inspection of the receipt, allen noticed y/n had written down their number.

______________________

Meanwhile in Crimeville, DJ Spit waited outside of the computer repair shop for Allen to walk out with the paper clips. After waiting a while he called up the landlord who hired him.

DJ Spit: (on the phone) Hey man, I don’t think this foo is coming, holmes. 

Landlord: WHAAAT?? But he should’ve been there by Now!!!!?

DJ Spit: Uhhh yeah man, no I don’t see him nowhere around. It’s already been like a couple hours. 

Landlord: OH Woah is me! Now who will I get who is cool enough to HANG out with me and smoke weed and fill out bellies with DIET soda and play Burnout Revenge for the PS2?!

DJ Spit: you got weed man? That’s cool I remeber playing PS2 with my primos after school. 

Landlord: Hey Dj Spit, Would you like to HANG out with me and smoke weed and fill out bellies with DIET soda and play Burnout Revenge for the PS2?!

DJ Spit: Would I still get paid, man? 

Landlord: Oh ABSOLUTELY!

DJ Spit: Oh fuck yeah man, I’ll be right over. My soundcloud about to pop the fuck off with this one. Hey ya want me to bring like beers or anything while I’m out. 

Landlord: No it’s cool. I’ve got the DIET soda. I just have to make a quick call to cancel the other stuff. I might still be able to get my DEPOSIT back. I guess what I really needed wasn’t a smiling friend but a friend who would make me smile. 

DJ Spit: Uh cool, so I’ll see you in like 15. 

Landlord: HEHEHEHe cool. See you in 15, PAL!

End