#like. my guy. if i need cash bills i go to an atm.... and. i basicaly never do. im not a business owner....... i dont need 100 fives...

[istherewifiinhell]

Love the monents of small talk trying to relate i get with one boss is problems i couldnt possibly have. The new teller at your bank of 20 yrs was rude to you! My goodness.

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141 (pt. 4)

You thought it was a mistake when someone called in reserving a party of 14 for a birthday. The voice on the other line assures you it is not, and that they'll be arriving at 7pm. You inform everyone.

"Who wid want a birthday in this shithole?"

Johnny gaffaued, spraying down some dishes.

"Probably just a prank call."

Kyle replied, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting on your shoulders. But it wasn't a prank call. The first half of the party arrive and you and Gaz have to scramble to push tables together. It's overwhelming, everyone is talking all at once, demanding things left and right. Gaz swoops in to help deal with one half the table while you the other. The food comes out, leaving you to be able to sit in the back for a few minutes, talking to the guys about nothing. Walking back out, some older man was snapping his fingers at you, waving his arms as if they weren't the only fucking people in the joint.

"Steaks burnt to hell, remake it."

He slides the plate to you, making you catch it before it falls off the side of the table. You apologize profusely and send it back to the kitchen. Price raises an eyebrow,

"Looks fine to me."

He stares at the piece of charcoal on the plate.

"Fucks sake, lemme do it."

Simon grabs his shoulder and cooks another steak. You set it down infront of the old man, watching him take a bite. He throws his fork down,

"Still burnt. How hard is it to cook a fucking steak?"

You look at the plate, meats still pink in the middle. Apologize again and offer to remake it.

"No, don't bother. Jesus."

He stares daggers into you. You wring your hands nervously.

"Actually, everyone's food was shit. None of us should have to pay for this."

Your mouth goes dry. You look over your shoulder to meet eyes with Kyle at the bar. He immediately walks over.

"Everything alright?"

He puts on his nicest customer service voice and that charming smile that can melt anyone. Except this asshole apparently.

"No everything is not alright, this was the worst dining experience I've ever had! Everything came out wrong, and it all tastes like shit!"

Spit flies out from the mans mouth. Kyle stands between you and the customer, trying to diffuse the situation. And much to your horror, one by one, the table starts to leave. You try to say something but they ignore you.

"Go get Johnny."

You run back, trying to act casual in front of Simon and John while tugging Johnny by the sleeve. He looks down, concerned.

He's on the floor before you can finish telling him what happened,

"Ye'r gonnae have tae pay sir."

His tone is more firm than Gaz, arms crossed and looking down at the old man. You're almost in tears as you watch more of the table file out the door, you turn back to look at Gaz. He frowns, furious. There's a heated argument at the table, the old man is yelling now. Not at Kyle or Johnny, but the only person he wasn't afraid of; you. The commotion makes John and Simon step out. This idiot is gonna get himself killed. You can see the moment when the customer loses the fight in his eyes. Shuts right up as soon as Simon says,

"Problem?"

Like a fish out of water, all the old man does is open and close his mouth wordlessly.

"Grab the cheque."

You don't know who Simon said that to but you and Soap crash into each other turning around and walking to the POS system. Ghost gently grabs the bill from your shaky hands and shoves it into the customers chest,

"Cash only."

"I don't have cash."

"There's an ATM around the corner."

The old man nearly jumps out of his seat,

"Right. Be right back."

He rushes to the door, Kyle and John follow.

"Oh there's no need-"

"Making sure you don't get lost."

Kyle smiles, eyes dangerous. It's about five minutes when they're back, the old man placing some 20s down before complaining under his breath. Then he gets kicked out,

"I need my change!"

He looks over Johnny's shoulder, looking to you for help. You shrug, arms crossed. When the door closes you sigh, running fingers through your hair

"You alright, darling?"

Gaz asks, voice as sweet as ever, gentle hand on your face. You nod.

~

That evening was pleasant. More than that really. They pampered you, cooed and soothed you as you huffed and sniffled. Ran you a hot bath,

"Poor thing, dinnae deserve tha."

Johnny massaged shampoo into your hair.

"Won't let you stay around next time we deal with something like that again."

Kyle kneaded the tension out your shoulders. John sat you in his lap, brushing hair out of your face while saying sweet nothings. You really do enjoy milking this for all it's worth, sad eyes looking up and huffing like you didn't get over that bullshit as soon as that old man walked out the door.

"Pampered little princess, you know that?"

Simon's lips are pressed up to your neck, just under your ear. You just nod, his words rattling around your brain while you got fucked senseless. You're tired, but the boys promised to coax an orgasm out of you. From each one of them. Then another. Well, you're a trooper, so what's one more round? Showered with soft kisses and praise, a foolish smile is painted across your face in a pleasurable state of stupor; Gosh, aren't you just spoiled rotten?

**sorry if it's short! I am on holiday ( ╥ω╥ )**

[thephilosopheroffeelings]

Reichstag fire, coup attempt, friendship

My mum’s side has many soldiers in Turkish Armed Forces. I never met him as he died when my mum was 17 but my grandad was a soldier. My mum’s childhood is full of stories with them as a family moving around in the country. My uncle, my mum’s older brother, is a soldier as well. He was a soldier as he is retired now. He retired as a major general. If you are not male (as military service is mandatory for every male over 18 in Turkey) or have no idea about military ranks, you do not know how powerful position he had in the army.

My uncle, with my grandad from dad’s side, is someone I look up to while growing up: Funny, confident, clever, successful. A lanky guy who left his small hometown when he was 14 to attend Turkish Armed Forces high school. After spending 4 years at this boarding school while visiting his family only once a year, he graduated at 18. He was quite a successful student and entered university to study medicine while serving as a soldier in the army. In his last duty, he was running the biggest armed forces owned state hospital in Turkey. He was a major general and a professor surgeon at the same time. When I was living in Istanbul, whenever I got sick, he was there to help as I was living alone. He knows the struggle well.

Whenever I saw him with his uniform, it was like a magic. He had many different uniforms but the best one was his cloak. Only doctors who were also ranked soldiers in the army wore cloaks. When he was walking in corridors of the hospital, everyone around him was standing and giving him salute. He was giving salute back and very subtly and gently nodded them to sit or relax. I was following him like Hermione was following Dumbledore.

On 15th July 2016, while I was still living in Istanbul, I was out to celebrate one of my friends birthday. We went to this little ‘meyhane’ (Turkish local pubs) and ordered raki (ouzo) and some mezes and kebab. It was an usual summer night for us. After finishing the night by drinking soup (Turkish hangover cure), I was planning to go to my flat and sleep. I received a Twitter (back then it was Twitter, not X) notification: There were tanks on Bosphorus bridge. I was 26 and never heard or seen such a thing before. And then another notification, and then phone calls, WhatsApp messages. A military coup? Are you kidding me? Cannot be true after our bloodshed filled military coups in the past. We grew up listening to horrible stories about these military coups. Was this happening again?

I will never forget that night. I was tipsy and got sobered up immediately. There was no need for soup or a good sleep. We asked for bill immediately and had a plan of action: My flat was a bit far away, I needed to use public transportation or a cab. Both either stopped working or did not seem safe. Everyone was trying to get to their homes safely. We decided to go to the closest flat where we could reach by walking. And the walk started. Everyone was receiving floods of texts: Get some cash, make sure you have enough water & food at home. ATMs had crazy queues and shops were flooded with people. We divided tasks: I was responsible of buying water before shop owners closed their shops and before card machines stopped working. While all these happening, there were fighter jets flying very close to the ground. Very loud & fast.

We arrived home with whatever we were able to find. Turn the lights off as everyone; I think we all wanted the same thing: Being invisible. After hearing the first bombing, we decided to sit in the hall: There was no windows so it must have been safer. A night filled with jet & bomb sounds, phone calls, text messages & Twitter updates. We still did not want to believe that it was a coup attempt. Cannot be that, can be? It is 21st century ffs. We learned our lessons surely from the past, no? And then coup declaration was read by news presenter on national television.

We learnt that, we had to learn that due to our history, when there is a coup attempt, you have to stay inside. Rule number one. But on Twitter people started to organize each other to go outside and fight against the army (under the disguise of democracy). I could not believe what was going on. I called my dad as he had been through 1980 coup maybe he had an insight. He said very calmly: ‘This is not a coup. I do not know what that is as of now, maybe an attempt, very bad one for sure. Stay home.’ I listened to him.

My uncle was in the USA while all these happening. I texted him asking what was going on. He was this major general – if there was a coup, he must know surely, no? He said he had no idea and advised me to stay in. I was even more confused. He left his holiday in the middle of it and came back to Turkey with the first flight. The moment he entered the airport, he got arrested by the police. Passport officer arrested him attempting to coup against the current government. A man who dedicated his whole life to the service for his country was ripped off from all his titles in one day in his 60s.

He was now in the prison. My dad and my mum drove 12 hours to be with his wife and my cousins. Days were passing and we were seeing on television that generals were beaten, not given any food and everyone seemed to be – understandingly at the time – hating them. My dad went to the prison numerous times just to learn where he was based and give him his medicines and clean clothes. He was denied and he was warned that if he kept trying to help a ‘terrorist,’ he would end up in jail, too. I took some days off from work. We barely ate and spent our days in quiet: If this guy was part of this, why would he be back from his holiday? How on earth could this man be a terrorist?

They should have told us where he was based, they should have let us to bring him a lawyer, they should have given him his medicine. Nothing was done lawfully. Whenever you were trying to explain your point, you were a terrorist as well. During this time, his closest boarding school friends who retired before the coup attempt visited us every week. The solidarity they showed was on another level: Even though they were retired, they might still be ripped off their titles but they did not care. They all said the same thing: Not even a slightest chance he was part of this. What an amazing friendship.

My uncle and his family were living in a Turkish Armed Forces owned house and we got eviction note to empty the house in two days. No joke. We packed everything while crying quietly. In the meantime, we were hearing there were some major generals passing away in prison. No names announced yet. My mum was sitting in balcony and waiting for his brother while lighting one cigarette after another. After months of despair & fighting (rather weird combination), it was understood that he was not part of this coup attempt and was out of prison. He was again this lanky boy as when he was 14. When he arrived his ‘new’ home, his school friends were there with him. They chatted away, joked around & my mum & his wife cooked his favourite dishes for that evening. We did not talk about what happened to him while he was in prison. I still do not know to this date.

He got his all titles back. He was invited to the army back by the government but he opted to be retired due to health reasons. He is now a retired major general. Government concluded that this coup attempt was carried out by ‘FETO (Religious Terrorist Organization).’ It should be another article’s topic as it is rather complicated issue but FETO members and the government were friends for a very long time. Hence, FETO members was holding significant positions in the army and in the government. In the end, FETO had become way too powerful and the government did not like this as their interests were contradicting each other sometimes. Funny that my atheist uncle even wrote a letter about this situation and warned his commanders. Of course he was not listened to as back then things were going okay for both sides. Classic.  

I saw poor low-ranked soldiers were beheaded by civilians on that night. They were asking for mercy saying that they were sent here and they had no idea what was going on. They had to accept and carry the orders given by their commanders. Hence I will never see these killings as part of democratic reaction to the coup. I will never forget how two people from the same country were fighting with each other and they had no clue what the fighting was for. When I asked my dad after how he was so sure it was not a coup, he said: ‘I know how powerful the army is. If they planned this as a whole army, it would not stay as an attempt. It would be a real coup. And you would not have time to buy yourself water or get cash, let alone have facility to organize a meeting through Twitter. Trust me.’ I guess we will never know. But one thing I know for sure: This coup attempt was our Reichstag fire as a country.

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 1990 I’m still laying here in bed trying to suppress my desperation to have a child. Although I’m thrilled to go see my new niece I’m just so envious. I wish there was such an ability to make my desires come and go. If I could do that I’d not want to have a child and I’d not want to be a singer.

My parents really piss me off. Who the hell are they to judge people and tell them what they should and shouldn’t do? First, they raise their kids to accept people for the way they are (kind of), then turn around with this marriage and money is the only answer if you want a kid. And this shit that if a single parent has a kid they should all be taken away. Where should all these kids be taken to? Tammy was single when she had Lisa, but they were right there behind her all the way.

And Tammy pisses me off too, saying if Andy’s involved she’ll take the kid away. Then she turns around calling him a fag, but it’s ok that I’m gay. You just can’t kidnap your sister’s kid and say to the police or whoever that you did it cuz the father’s gay and that you’re pissed cuz he won’t drive your sister to your house. So I guess for both my sanity and physical safety and in order to save the kid in the same way, I just won’t have a kid.

Later…

Yes, of course, I’m still wide awake. Today I have to go get pig food and also for Gremlin and go to Food Mart. But first I have to go to SIS, not only to withdraw money but to also bitch about my ATM card. It hasn’t been working. Every time I go to use it, it gets spit back out at me. I tried to clean it too, like I was told but that’s not working. Maybe it’s scratched up.

Another thing I want to do is get something for Brenda for her b-day which is 10/2. She’ll be 31.

Also, I want to get something for the baby, like diapers or something.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 1990 Today I went for my audition and I bombed. It figures my allergies had to act up and I also was nervous and it showed. Brenda said that although I was a little nervous, I still sang well. She also said that the guy seemed a little high.

We met at the piano player’s house (Karin) who was so nice and looked very butchy, even though she’s married with kids. Also, one other girl auditioning that I met Monday night sounded even worse with allergies, too. You could tell by her just talking, but I didn’t hear her sing. The other girl I met last Monday night didn’t show up unless she came after I left. I left first cuz I was the first one to sing. Pat seems to really, really like this girl, too. He said he’d call me in a day or two, that I have a nice voice, but I’m not stupid. They usually never call back either way and of course he’s gonna say I have a nice voice whether I sucked or was great.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1990 I had therapy today and a very odd, but interesting day last Monday. Well, Bill and I were sitting out on the back porch and he said he spoke to Arthur, his husband, who along with himself, decided I should be paid. When he was at Dunaeff, the Dunaeffs got a percentage of his pay. I don’t know how much I’m gonna get but he says he’ll figure it out and every week I’ll get a lesson and some cash. I told him any bit won’t hurt but at the moment I’ve nothing better to do and I love music. Andy felt that was great of him cuz most people would be selfish and keep all the money for themselves. He is so honest and trustworthy and it was so nice of him to take his time out (one of his students didn’t show up today anyway) to write directions for Brenda who took me to Haydenville.

Bill and I were looking in the Advocate when I saw this ad saying cabaret performers were needed along with people who could sing country music and were versatile. Over the phone, it turned out that Bill knows this guy whose name is Patrick. He’s a nice guy with a nice home, too.

Brenda took me to his house and two other girls were there, too. He showed us videotapes, publicity photos and well, there’s so much to explain so I’ll make it brief. They travel the east coast and do musicals at clubs in Northampton and sometimes cruises. He said the more abilities you’ve got, the better, such as Spanish, sign language, and the guitar. I could write forever about this, and while I’d rather be the singer with the band, this may be a good start and lots of fun. I love musicals cuz it’s so versatile with singing, acting, and dancing. I have to audition tomorrow, so again I’ll say that yes, it is a long shot if I get hired, but at least I’m trying rather than saying, fuck it, I won’t even audition.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 1990 It’s always up and down, never one or the other. It’s back and forth between feeling good and feeling like shit. Physically, I mean. I’ve been feeling pretty shitty with congestion lately in the mornings. It’s pretty fucking scary, too. I feel trapped. Yes, you know I mean the ciggies.

I saw Dr. McGovern when Brenda had to get her shot. He said that despite the way my lungs feel, I look healthier than ever. He always thought I was attractive and he is a nice guy. Maybe he feels I look better cuz I’m still 5 pounds heavier than I’ve been in ages. 5 pounds is usually no big deal but, when you’re this short it sure is. It shows.

Mom and Dad are gonna be here on 10/12 and I’ve got plenty of other things to write about, but at the moment I’m just way too tired.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 1990 What a great change for the better I’ve had since last Sunday night. I’m writing this as I wait for Martha, so I may have to stop soon when she comes down to get me. The argument me and Brenda had was basically about our differences in opinions about relationships, but now that I look back at it, it really was so stupid. I also had PMS I guess and I still haven’t had my period yet, but I feel good mentally. I think that’s cuz I feel so much better physically.

The weather has been extremely cool. Fall’s here very early so maybe that means we’ll have a rough winter. I hope it snows a lot. Anyway, I can breathe!! What a relief.

The GYN went ok, but it hurt a little bit cuz I was tense and had only slept 4 hours the previous night.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1990 I am so fucking tired it’s amazing. Me and Brenda had an argument last night, but it was my fault. I’ll write more about it later. Meanwhile, my lungs are killing me. I’m so congested that it’s scaring me to death.

I’m also a little nerved up about the fact that I’ll be visiting the good old GYN soon.

I’m downtown now. Brenda’s seeing her therapist who’s up above Johnson’s Bookstore. She has an appointment at the same time I do.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 1990 Well, I mailed my police exam application with my waiver fee. The exam’s on October 27th, but where and what time I do not know. Supposedly they’re going to mail a letter with the time and place listed. I sure hope it works out for once and I can truly say that I am really looking forward to this.

I’ve thought about this on and off and of course, I want to sing 10,000 times more, but as you can plainly see I’ve given up music. You just can’t make it without connections, money, and sex and I don’t have money or connections. Of course, sex is out of the question.

But would something like this, full of adventure and excitement, be meant to be any more than I once thought music was? What if they somehow do discriminate against me cuz I look so small and naïve, and cuz of my past? It did say on the instructions that they can dismiss you if they feel they don’t like you or that you’ll be no good. I know I’d be good at it, though, and so do other people who are gonna try to put me down and out big time, but if I get in that academy, well, they’re just not going to succeed.

Later…

Guess what! Early this morning my niece Sarah Elizabeth was born. That’s great, and I love all my nieces, but am I ever going to have one of my own? I doubt it. If I ever do, though, I’d have to abandon my whole family. That means move, get a PO box and a new phone number, etc. I don’t want to do all this till me and Brenda have been together a while and are married and we have the money to move and to start off with. She insists that with both our incomes combined we can easily survive. She’s going on disability, but she’s still gonna drive the cab. So that would be $1,040 of SS and SSI, plus her cab fares, but if I am in the academy at the time or working wherever doing whatever, then I’ll have to work around that. The reason for dumping my family is that if Mom wants to disown me, I’ll have beaten her to it. Also if they pull any shit with the state I’ll be avoiding that, so I can keep my health and also my mental sanity.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1990 Yesterday I was fairly productive and I decided to put this cab thing on hold till I know what’s going on with the police officer exam I’m gonna be taking on October 27th. Filling out the application was fairly easy and what’s neat about it is that they have a waiver form that Brenda’s getting from City Hall which I forgot yesterday for $20. That’s the application fee. I know the test is gonna be 3-4 hours long and I only hope I don’t flunk it if they ask questions pertaining to math or something like that. If they ask something I either know nothing about or never understood then I’m doomed. They never tell you what’s gonna be on the test. I hope it’s multiple choices. It said that if you know other languages or have unique skills it’ll help your eligibility. I hope that wherever they’re having the test I can get there and I hope that if I ever did get into the academy I’ll have no problem with transportation. Also, I hope they’ll accept that I’ve only driven a few times since I got my license and that they’ll be patient and work with me on that.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 1990 Yesterday morning I called Fran who called Nervous at the Bucket of Suds where he’s now working. I didn’t say anything, but I got a hell of a great tape and made some super edits from it. Now both sides are complete of the edit tape so that’s 90 minutes of great edits.

Andy and I wish to hell Tracy would call us. We know she’s still living with these two gay guys she recently moved in with. Andy, Fran and I all got calls where this dirty song was playing and we know it was Tracy who knows all 3 of us. Also, both Fran and I have unlisted numbers.

In the early afternoon hours of yesterday, I spent a little time with Brenda, and Steve took out both my air conditioners. Thank God the temperature’s dropped.

They got a guard put in their cab which Kevin leases by the week cuz he got robbed and other drivers are getting robbed left and right. Brenda drives to support her kids and leases it from Kevin. Kevin drives at night and on weekends and he wants someone to drive on weekends for him. The thought of driving is scary even though I do know how. I’ve only driven a dozen times or less since I got my license when I was 21. Brenda can only train me for two weeks, then she’s not allowed in the cab with me. What if two weeks isn’t enough? Driving on the highway scares me and what if I had to drive all the way to Hartford like she did? I don’t know the roads as well as most people either being a passenger so long as I have. However, I really do want to conquer this fear as I know I’d be extremely proud of myself if I did, and God fucking knows I need the money. It’s under the table and I’m going stir-crazy just sitting here, and my sleeping schedule is really bizarre. I want to try to kick this fear. I’d feel so proud and productive and I know the longer I sit around the harder it’ll be, but I’ll make it.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1990 Yesterday, Paula rang me at around 2pm. I was asleep but she left me a note saying to stop by cuz she wants to talk to me. I hope it’s nothing to do with money or her asking a favor of me that I really can’t or don’t want to do. Maybe she just wants to shoot the shit about life. You know, her son, her family, guys, her life. She mentioned something about moving. Or maybe she’ll come out and tell me she’s gay. Fat chance, but for some reason, I still, up to this day, wouldn’t be surprised if she is. Even Brenda suggested it. She is kind of masculine and if needed, ill-tempered, even though otherwise she’s feminine and pretty - her hair, her skin, her teeth, her eyes.

The night before last, me, Andy and Fran called Joe D, Nerv’s neighbor, and really got him, his niece and her fiancée going well. I made some fantastic edits out of them. So now I have side A and most of side B of a 90-minute tape filled with edits of a few strangers, me, Andy, Fran, Nervous, Tracy, Bobbie and my uncle, too.

Last night Brenda and I went to see The Exorcist 3. I never saw parts 1 and 2, but I wish I did.

Jai’s officially moved out and may God be with me and grant me yet another great neighbor as good as Nancy and Jai were and Steve and Brenda are. I hope it’s either a straight woman or a gay man. I don’t have to say why I don’t want a straight guy, but I don’t want it to be a gay woman that may, God forbid, be attractive that I can’t have or be ugly that wants me. I highly doubt either one could ever happen though cuz not too many ugly ones want me or if they do, they’re not usually a problem. Like men. Being persistent I mean. And as far as an attractive one - there are none.

[gallavictorious]

Mickey Milkovich is Dead (and also a magpie)

You ever think about Mickey as a magpie? No? Well, if you wanna, read on –

Say Mickey gets hit by a car and dies somewhere between 1x03 and 1x07 (NO DO NOT WORRY THIS IS NOT SAD AT ALL I PROMISE). Say he comes before this deity / spirit / what-have-you who declares that Mickey has been a bit not good in life and is about to be sent something unpleasant but he’s so very young and also they can see that he has the potential for goodness so he’s going to get a chance to learn to…learn to love? Care for others? Embrace his true nature? Something like that. Anyway, as a test, his soul is being put into the body of a magpie for the duration of one month and during that time he is required to take care of and protect the person who was supposed to be his one true great love, Ian Gallagher. If he gets Ian to care about him in turn, he'll go to a nice afterlife place. (Yes, this is all very Beauty and the Beast. Deal with it.)

Cue Mickey spluttering about not being fucking gay and even if he was he wouldn't go for that scrawny redhead, also newsflash spirit person, Gallagher is dating my fucking sister, and how the fuck's a magpie supposed to protect anyone anyway, why not make him a pitbull or a fucking tiger, etc, etc. The spirit person obviously doesn't pay any heed to Mickey's outraged rant and hey presto! It is a bird!

Magpie Mickey's first instinct would probably be to fly the hell away from everything, but he's just a little bit curious about why the hell that idiot spirit would claim that Ian Gallagher is supposed to be his one true love. Okay, sure, the kid is pretty cute, he guesses, Mickey's always got a thing for red hair and freckles, but he's always seem like a bit of a pushover, soft, so what gives? (Also, if the guy's into dudes, why the hell has he taken up with Mandy? Mickey's not gonna let some closeted homo hurt his sister. Yeah – that's it. He's out to protect Mandy, that's all.)

Aaand you can imagine how it goes, as Mickey starts following Ian around and keeping an eye on him to figure out what the appeal's supposed to be. He soon finds himself getting a little bit intrigued, 'cause it seems Gallagher is actually kind of funny and smart and not anywhere near as soft as Mickey first thought? Also, yep, he's very, very gay, but it seems Mandy knows all about it so maybe Mickey doesn't need to pick his eyes out over it...

One day Mickey spots Ian being followed by some local lowlife, seemingly picking Ian out as an easy mark, and when the villain moves in to put a knife to Ian's neck Mickey's immediately in his face, talons out and beak at the ready. (Why? 'Cause Mandy would be sad if something happened to her fake boyfriend, obviously. What with their mum running off and then Mickey dying, she's got enough to be sad about already.) Mickey scares the would-be robber off, but maybe he catches the knife to a wing and is a little bit hurt and Ian has to nurse his unlikely saviour back to health? Brings him home and researches how to care for a wild animal – and it's weird but the bird doesn't seem all that wild, he's skittish but kind of docile and Ian knows he's just imagining things but it's like the magpie can actually understand every word he's saying?

Mickey finds himself reacting VERY strangely to Ian holding him so gently and then telling him he's being so good, he's doing so well, just a sec and Ian will be all done.

And then... they're friends. Ian now has a bird companion that kind of of just hangs around? Fiona won't have it in the house but Ian, with Debbie's help, makes him a cozy nest outside and bribes Carl into leaving the magpie alone rather than catching it for one of his experiments and brings Mick scraps and yeah, being a magpie fucking sucks but it doesn't all suck, maybe.

Ian tells Mickey all sorts of things, things he's never tell another person. Confides in him, complains about being in Lip's shadow, talks about his dreams and ambitions. Mickey thinks he should find it annoying, the way Ian won't shut up, but to his surprise he doesn't mind? He likes listening to Ian's voice. No one's ever wanted to tell Mickey things before. No ones's ever looked at him like they're happy to see him.

Mickey starts following Ian to school and to work, and when he sees Ian with Kash he is not pleased (because it's fucking disgusting, Ian getting with that old dude, not because he's fucking jealous or anything). Maybe starts doing shit to disturb them whenever they're making out, like attacking the door or, if he makes it into the shop, picking stuff up with his beak and tossing it around, ripping into the chip bags, shitting all over the register (or all over Kash). Ian's upset, but he's not that upset. “You're a fucking asshole,” he tells Mickey that evening, once Mickey's (not at all guiltily, but maybe a little worried that Ian will be pissed) makes it back to the Gallagher back porch.

Mickey's not sure why Ian calling him an asshole in that exasperated, fond tone of voice feels so right.

When Ian worried over the family being low on cash Mickey takes to brazenly swooping down and stealing bills right out of people's hand just as they've drawn them from an ATM. (That's actually really fucking funny, and Mickey keeps doing it just for shits and giggles until animal control is alerted and he almost gets caught.)

And then one day Mickey hears an unfortunately familiar voice calling his name from a great distance, Mikhailo, because the month is up and it's time to go, Mikhailo, and no, what the hell, he doesn't want to go, fuck heaven, he wants to stay with Ian, but he is fading, fading –

BOOM! He wakes up in a hospital bed because SURPRISE he isn't dead after all, just slipped into a coma after the car accident, but now he's awake, and it was all just a dream! (Yes, you bet your sweet ass I went with that cliche. Would you rather have Mickey be truly dead? Uh-huh. Didn't think so.)

Once he gets out of the hospital and back to his normal, shitty life, Mickey – for no particular reason, fuck you very much – decides to give school another shot, so he shows up for class and during lunch break he doesn't seek out some weakass kid to steal lunch money from, but just so happens to find himself in the vincinty of one Ian Gallagher.

Gallagher is watching him warily and when Mickey asks for a cigarette – asks, rather than punching Ian in the face and taking the packet out of his pocket – he looks downright startled. But he pulls out a smoke and hands it to Mickey and then they stand there in silence and this is awkward as fuck and Mickey is cursing himself, what the hell is he doing, it was just a dream, he doesn't actually know Gallagher, so why –

He notices that Ian is turning his head this way and that, as if he's looking for something.

”You expecting someone?” Mickey asks gruffly, for something to say.

”No, it's just, there's this bird that's kinda been following me around, but I haven't seen it since last night and... ” Ian trails off, shaking his head a little sheepishly as if realizing that what he's saying sounds insane. ”Never mind.”

Mickey doesn't say anything, but as he drags the cigarette smoke down into his lungs, he can feel his heart beat just a little bit faster, with sudden hunger and hope.

”You, uh, wanna do some shooting practise together after school?” he dares. ”Know a good spot.”

And Gallagher looks startled as fuck again – confused and maybe a little bit worried, like he thinks it's some kind of trap – but after a moment, he shrugs. ”Sure.”

(Oh, and since I am extremely against any notion of eternal damnation and the like, that spirit was never some guardian of the afterlife. If you want to imagine that it wasn't all a dream, imagine that she was some mischivious South Side spirit who'd gotten a little bit fascinated by Mickey and pulled some magic to give him a glimpse of a better life and a kick up his gay ass while he was in a coma. Well done, that spirit.)

[tuffduff]

My Path to You (Slash x Reader)

Pairing: modern!Slash x younger!Reader

Words: 2,300 (OOPS)

Request: anon! : “hi there! i was hoping you could write a modern!Slash imagine where there’s a considerable age gap (whatever you’re comfortable with) and the two of them meet and fall for each other. eventually slash wants to ask the reader out on a date but is super shy and nervous but she says yes and then they go on a date and it can end however you want it to.”

A/N: MY FIRST SLASH REQUEST Y’ALL!! And I do be nervous writing it lmao. This is entirely from Slash’s POV, I’m not sure if people like that kind of thing but it’s a different way to explore writing. There’s a little coffee shop in my area that has a picture of Slash on the wall, so that was inspiration too. Hope y’all enjoy, thank you for the request! 🖤

What now? It was a question Slash asked himself nearly every day, now that he was newly single. That was a new feeling, one he wasn’t expecting now at this stage in his life; wasn’t he supposed to be married and settled and happy and all that shit by this point in his life? He brushed off the notion, after-all who gave a fuck. He wasn’t a conventional guy. Life is as it happens. But he’d be lying if he didn’t say the idea of getting back out there again intimidated him.

Slash kept to himself in his own world, for the most part. Creating, always with guitar in hand. Especially now being sober, putting himself out there wasn’t exactly appealing. He couldn’t use a dating app, he wasn’t gonna go to a bar or a club, and all of his friends were taken. Where would he possibly meet someone? Dating someone famous wasn’t really what he was looking for, he never fit in with that scene. He wasn’t opposed to dating a fan, but could he ever find someone who wanted him for him?

“Don’t worry, man.” Duff had reassured him. “If it happens, you know, it’ll happen. But not if you’re looking for it. You’ll find her when you least expect it. Just live your life.”

That was smart and Duff was usually right. So, Slash continued to focus on his craft. And he tried to change his outlook, very literally. One night, he wore a baseball cap pulled low and his hair tied back and tucked away in his jacket and hoped it was enough not to get swarmed as he headed out to an art walk in the more historical art district near downtown.

If anyone recognized him, they let him be as he walked down the cobblestone sidewalk, taking in all the creations. The more art and sculptures he admired, the more he stopped worrying about getting recognized.

He was admiring two pieces of wood burned art, a set featuring an artistic interpretation of a woman’s silhouette body.

“These are really sweet.” Slash complimented the artist, who gave a gracious nod.

“Thanks, man. Those pieces have had a lot of eyes on them tonight, thankfully.”

“How much for ‘em?” Slash asked.

“$65 each.” The artist replied, almost sounding sheepish. “...Maybe that’s why they haven’t sold yet.”

“I bet they took a lot of time.” Slash assured him. He pulled out his wallet, fishing out two hundred-dollar bills. “Don’t let people make you second-guess your work.” He passed him the bills, to which the man’s eyes widened.

“Uh, I’m-I’m not sure if I have the enough change.” He said, hastily digging through his small stack of cash from prior purchases.

“It’s cool.” Slash said, smiling and extending his hand. “Thanks again, man.” They shook hands before Slash picked up the two pieces of wood, already trying to picture the perfect spot in his house.

“Okay, I’m back! I’ve got it!” Slash heard someone breathlessly calling behind him. It was a younger woman clasping a wad of cash in her hands as she ran up to the man Slash had just left. “Dipped into my savings but...”

The wood carver gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, they just sold.” Slash watched literal heartbreak wash over her eyes before they flickered right over to him. The dismay in her gaze, the way her shoulders slumped and deflated nearly made his own heart break.

“Oh...damn.” She muttered, tucking the cash back in her pocket. “I really liked them. Oh well. Thanks, anyways.” She said politely. She sent one last glance towards the pieces of art in his arms before she turned on her heel and walked away, head down.

“Hey!” Suddenly, Slash found himself hurrying after her. She stopped in her tracks and turned, her eyes now displaying curiosity.

Uh, what now? He asked himself in his head once he found himself face to face. Up close, she was even more striking, he realized. Beautiful, he’d never seen a face like hers. So expressive, so vivid, so alive with emotions. Her hair framed her face perfectly, her clothes complimented her body well and seemed to be a representation of the woman she was. And he liked everything about what he could see.

“Uh,” he chuckled nervously, looking down. “I, uh, I overheard you had your eye on these.” He said, raising the pieces of art.

“Yeah. I come here to this event every month. I’ve seen those two every time and I’ve been trying to save up. This month I would’ve had enough, but bills—you know.” She rolled her eyes and sighed a little. “Anyway, I saw them tonight and I just couldn’t bear to wait another month or risk them finally being sold, so I ran back to the ATM down the street and pulled out of my savings, not that I really had a lot in there to begin with...” she paused as though she had said too much, shaking her head, flustered. “Sorry. Uh, but I mean, I’m happy for you. Just, take care of them for me.” She chuckled, but her eyes were still stuck on the art.

“I’ll do a trade with you.” Slash proposed. His nerves were playing tricks on him, making him more outgoing than he normally was and then wanting to take it back as soon as he spoke.

“Um, what kinda trade?” She asked curiously. Her nose scrunched a little as she frowned in confusion and he smiled. She was precious. Slash found himself wondering every little detail about her, about the path she had walked in her life so far, and how somehow theirs had crossed.

“I’ll let you have these if you’ll get coffee with me.” Coffee dates, that’s what people did nowadays, right? She blinked a few times at his words and had him wondering.

“That doesn’t seem fair; you paid for those. I’ll pay you for them.”

“No, no. I really don’t need the money.” Slash replied, laughing a little. “How about you keep one and I keep one?”

“...Why?”

“I can tell you really like them.” He said. She bit her lip as she seemed to consider his offer, hesitating.

“And why coffee?”

“I think you’re the prettiest art I’ve seen all afternoon.” Again, her face expressed vivid emotion that most people tried to hide. He watched her lips form a laugh and appreciated the sound.

“I don’t even know your name.” She laughed. He panicked a little in his head. Guess he wasn’t gonna get everything right; it had been a while.

“I guess you can call me Saul.”

“You guess?”

“My friends call me something else.” He mused. A part of him was curious to know if she knew him; lots of people recognized him, not that he was conceited or kept track. Was she a fan? Did she hate his kind of music? Surely, she’d heard of Guns N’ Roses. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” Slash smiled; it was like finding the right spot on a puzzle. It fit perfectly and helped him see even more of the picture. “Y/N, I can tell you really like them. I wouldn’t feel right keeping both; I just stumbled upon them.”

“All the more reason you keep them. They spoke to you, like they spoke to me.” There it was. Her voice, her words, it sent a slight wave through his stomach. That warm, fluttery feeling. He extended out one of the pieces to her insistently.

“All the more reason you keep one too.” She smiled as she took the wood carving.

“Thank you so much.”

“So, would you maybe wanna...?” Again, a part of him panicked. “You don’t have to, you know. You can take your half and be on your way if you’re not interested.”

“No, I’d love to! There’s this little local coffee shop I go to all the time—they display local artists’ work and have live musicians Friday nights and stuff. Do you want my number?”

“Uh, yeah. That’d be cool.” He fumbled with his phone, surprised he had gotten so far. That evening he went home with more than just a piece of artwork and a new perspective. He dialed Duff immediately.

“Hello?”

“I’ve got a date, but I need help.” Duff laughed.

“Are you on that date right now?”

“What? No.”

“Oh okay—it sounded urgent.”

“Well, I’m still freaking out a little.”

“Why?”

“She’s a little younger. But she’s so fucking beautiful, dude. She’s just, I don’t know that much about her, but I want to, you know? From just what little I could see.” Slash sighed a little before he walked Duff through the whole story.

“Did she not recognize you?”

“I don’t think so. But I was wearing a hat and glasses and my hair was tied up.”

“It’s gonna be fine, man. Don’t forget who you are, and that’s one badass talented motherfucker. But also, if nothing else, you can take something from this experience and just gain a new perspective. See the world from someone’s eyes. Don’t overthink any of it. If you guys click, you click.”

Slash realized Duff was right. That’s why he appreciated art. Music, especially. There was so much to be said in something someone created, a story they were trying to tell. Listening was something he did best.

He met Y/N at the local coffee shop, not far from where they had first met. The large pot holders outside were adorned with colored mosaic and he stopped to admire them for a moment.

“Hi, Saul.” He turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Y/N was walking up, a bright smile on her face. It was as if his memory were confirmed; yes, she was as beautiful as he remembered the first time.

“Hey, Y/N. This place looks neat.”

“Wait ‘til you try the cold brew. Do you like that?”

“I like those things you get at Starbucks, the caramel things, you know?”

“Caramel macchiatos?” Y/N asked with a laugh. “They have something like that. I’ll order it for you.”

“Okay.” He agreed instantly, smiling at her. “I trust you.” He paid again even though she argued, remembering what she had told him about bills. As they sat down together with their drinks, they broke into what he supposed was small talk, however, it didn’t feel like it. In the meanwhile, Slash couldn’t help but notice the pictures adorning the exposed brick wall behind them. A framed photo of ABBA, The Rolling Stones, Aretha Franklin…and, one of himself, on stage. He laughed a little.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asked as she sipped her drink. He smirked a little, deciding maybe he should come clean.

“I was just looking at the pictures on the wall,” he replied nonchalantly. “Out of all of these people, who do you think is the coolest?”

Y/N turned in her chair, her eyes passing over the pictures.

“The Rolling Stones are cool...Slash is pretty awesome. Probably one of those two.” He smiled when she turned back around. “What?”

“You think I’m pretty awesome?” He asked as he pulled his shades down. Y/N’s eyes widened and she clasped her hand over her mouth.

“I—you! Are you—” he laughed. “So that’s what your friends call you! Oh my god. I didn’t recognize you with your hair pulled back and the glasses are different, and I didn’t know you had the scruff nowadays—it looks good.” She stopped. “I listen to you all the time, this is so...strange.”

“Is it bad?” Slash asked.

“No!” She laughed again. “But...me?” Slash shrugged, smiling as he nudged her shoe with the tip of his converse.

“You seemed pretty chill.”

“Thanks. Most of the time I’m not.” She grinned.

“Neither am I.” She didn’t try to argue or continue to fawn. She didn’t stare at him like he was a Martian. There was reverence in her eyes, surprise, but more so, curiosity.

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno. It’s kinda like, social media. People only put a small portion of themselves out there, what they want people to see usually. But when everybody knows who you are, they still only know one part of you. And they think they know everything. But here I am...getting a divorce. I’m a dad. I’m just trying to figure shit out like everyone else. Experience life.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He laid all of it out on the table, after-all, he couldn’t hide any of those facts if he were looking for an honest partner.

“When it comes down to it, that’s what matters, right?” She mused with him. “Experiences. Not getting it right. Who decides what’s right anyways? I’d rather say I really lived.” It was those words that really stuck with him. It had him thinking, it had him yearning, it had him daydreaming.

It had him asking to see her again.

Slash called Duff before he even made it home.

“Hey, man, how’d it go? How’d she take it when you told her?”

“Good, she really is just the most chill chick ever. She knew who I was, she just didn’t recognize me. But she’s so cool, she’s got all these thoughts, all these opinions that really get me thinking, you know? I can’t wait to pick up my guitar, man, like, I’m that inspired right now.” Duff laughed.

“So, are you gonna see her again?”

“Yeah. That’s the other thing.” Slash paused. “I invited her over for dinner next week.”

“Oh. Right on; good for you, man!”

“But I don’t know how to cook.” Duff was silent for a moment before he laughed.

“Okay...well. I can help.”

[itsclydebitches]

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

Alright, folks. Some notes first: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I? I was not.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

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

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

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

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

***

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

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

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

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

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

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

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

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

***

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

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

***

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

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

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

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

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

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

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

***

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

5 stars do recommend.

***

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

***

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

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

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

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

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

***

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

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

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

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

***

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

***

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

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

***

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

[rpsocsandcanonohmy]

A Fighting Chance

Note: This is part of an ongoing story that can be read on AO3 here. Reading previous installments is reccomended for context purposes but is not required. Posted here for Whumptober 2021 @whumptober-archive

Day 6: Bruises

-------- The next day, Lori was tasked with helping Abilene around the house. Despite the size of the house and how many people trekked through it on any given day, very little of the work centered around cleaning. No, today, Lori was going to be testing her patience with cooking and food prep.

Lori knew how to cook. In theory. She knew how to use an oven (electric, gas, and the occasional wood-burner). She knew how to heat up something in a pan or a pot. She could even make a few things from scratch, assuming she had the ingredients handy, mostly eggs and pasta.

Food prepping for a ranch was a much different story.

There was no experimenting to see if the temperature dial was accurate. There was no obsessively checking the clock in lieu of a timer. There was no double-checking the instructions written on the box. 

Nope. Abby’s kitchen was run with fresh ingredients that were either being prepped for a later meal or being used in a current one. Abby had (semi-correctly) assumed Lori didn’t have much experience with cooking like this and just put her in charge of cutting vegetables or stirring sauces. Technically she was also a Taste Tester but that seemed more like an honorary title than a useful role.

She was chopping some apples under Abby’s not-so-subtle watch when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” she said, leaving Lori to her chopping. A few moments later, she heard giggling and the sound of loud footsteps coming near the kitchn. “Oh, Cordi’ll be so happy to see you! It’s been ages… Oh, Lori! Hoyt, this is Lori. She’s one of Stella’s friends from school; her dad’s out of town so she’s staying with us for a while.”

Lori smiled softly and waved. “Hi….”

“Howdy.”

Abby snorted and gently pet Lori’s back. “I’m gonna go check on Bonham and Liam. Will you two be alright alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

She turned back to her chopping. Hoyt came around the counter and grabbed a few pears to chop with her.

“So,” he started. “What happened?”

“Pardon?”

Hoyt chuckled. “You’re at home for the day on a school day, you’re working in the kitchen instead of being sick in bed, and I noticed that bandage. Something happened.”

Well. That was her caught. Lori shrugged, clearing away some apple chunks to make room for the next one. “I got into a fight. Some girl was being a bitch to Stella and August so I broke her nose.” There was no point in lying; it’d probably just come out later anyway.

“I can respect that,” Hoyt said. “Sounds like the kind of stuff I used to get into back in those days.”

Lori nodded, focusing on her chopping.

“You’re a good friend. Stella’s lucky she found you.”

She liked the way he said that, like she wasn’t some lucky charity case that got picked up out of pity. That didn’t make it any (potentially) less true, but still. Lori wondered if he had his own experience in a situation like that.

-----------

Lunch was miraculously uneventful. Hoyt didn't even ask her about why Liam was being careful around her, course he was likely too busy telling wild stories about whatever mess he’d gotten involved in while he was away. She was just glad not to be the topic of conversation at a meal for once.

She felt her phone vibrating in her pocket while she was putting away the last of the dishes. Checking to make sure no one was paying attention to her, Lori ducked into the next room and pulled out her phone. The text was from an unknown number, but she knew who it was. Only one person would text her out of the blue like this without an introduction.

[Text from: Unknown]: Hey boo. You still in Austin? There’s a tourney starting next week and I’d love to put your name in the ring. Withdrew your entry fee from my bank account today xo

[Text to: Unknown]: Hey. Yeah, I am. I’m not sure if I can compete though; I’m under a little surveillance atm

[Text from: Unknown]: When has that ever stopped you before lol xo

[Text to: Unknown]: It’s different

[Text from: Unknown]: Come onnnnnnn

[Text from: Unknown]: It’s a massive payout. Big city, big names, big tournament. It’s all monsters right now though. They’ll flip if they get a hunter in. Massive bucks sweetie 

[Text to: Unknown]: There’s always a massive payout

[Text from: Unknown]: Not like this. We’re talking almost 5 digits if you make it to the top

Okay, that was impressive. It would definitely come in handy when she met up with Dad again. They would definitely need the cash even if she didn’t have to pay bail this time.

[Text to: Unknown]: You know me so well

[Text from: Unknown]: Is that a yes?

[Text to: Unknown]: Duh

[Text to: Unknown]: Just get me the time and place

[Text from: Unknown]: I knew I could count on you xo

[Text from: Unknown]: I’ll get you the deets. Meet me in the locker room and we’ll discuss my cut

She wanted to respond but the number was blocked. Of course it was. That was how he operated. She’d never get used to that. He’d get her the address later, probably through email, and they’d just go from there. Like they always did.

All Lori had to do now was figure out how to sneak out….

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

One day, Lori was going to suggest the Walkers invest in a security system that wasn’t accessible through a smart device. She’d have to figure out how to bring that up without mentioning she’d been able to bypass the alarms on Cordell’s phone with relative ease first though.

Regardless, she was out and headed for her destination. Why are these things always held in the most out of the way place possible? she thought as she entered the abandoned warehouse. She worked her way through the crowd, holding her duffle bag with her gear close to her chest, and headed for the locker room area. Once she was there, she got dressed and checked her first aid supply while she waited

“I was afraid you might back out,” came the all too familiar voice.

“Like I’d ever squelch on a deal with you,” Lori replied with a grin. She turned around and there he was, standing uncomfortably close as usual. “How’s the crowd looking?”

Darian grinned. “Very good turnout. I worked the room a bit, lot of people looking forward to seeing you in the cage. And, get this, they put you against a Were for your first fight!”

Of course they did. Hunter v. Monster fights drew a crowd as it was. Pitting a Hunter against their Thing? Pure gold. “Do you know anything about them?”

He shrugged. “Just that he’s a small thing with a big temper. It’s not his first rodeo but he’s not as well known as you. A lot of people are betting on you to win.”

“I take it you tossed your hat into that ring too?”

Darian smirked. “Always. Don’t worry, you’ll get your cut of that once you get to the top.”

Classic Darian, working all the possible angles. He was a smart guy, for a shapeshifter. She was about to respond when the fighting bell rang and her name was called over the loudspeakers.

“Showtime, babygirl. Make me proud!” Darian waved her off as she headed for the arena.

Lori took a deep breath and her mind cleared as she entered the cage. The crowd roared and she let it all wash over her. The sounds, the lights, the smells, everything. This was it. In here, she wasn’t a pitiable soul taken in by a friend. She wasn’t a reminder of her mother. She wasn’t a forgotten soul in the wasteland of The System. Here, she was Lori fucking Graves, one of the best fighters in the ring and the youngest hunter in the system. She was a badass, an icon, the love-to-hate-em fave. And she owned it.

The bell rang and the fight was on. Werewolves were tricky because of their claws and teeth, especially when she didn’t have a weapon of her own. But she’d been in worse situations before. A swift kick to the nuts took him to his knees and gave her the chance to land a few solid punches to his face before he got back up. A part of her couldn’t wait to see the bruises later. The larger part of her was regretting she couldn't run away faster when he lifted her above his head and threw her at the chain-link wall. That was going to smart later. But she could handle it.

Punch, kick, jab, punch, dodge, swerve, punchkickjabdodgepunchkickswerve and on it and on it went. Once she got into a rhythm, she could work off muscle memory and fall into a state of near zen. This is why she loved the fights. This is why she’d never walk away. This is why the payout was always worth it. This is why working around the bruises and scrapes would always be worth it, no matter who she was with.

It felt glorious. 

Her opponent was tiring out and she took advantage of that to elbow him in the face and knock him to the ground with a kick to the shin. She pinned him down and spit in his face while the ref counted her. 

She won.

She was bloody and bruising and she was definitely sleeping in tomorrow. 

But she won.

“Excellent work, darling.” Darian smiled proudly and gently clapped her on the shoulder as she stepped out the ring. “Payout for tonight is $915. Well, minus my cut, of course….” He handed Lori the cash and she stuffed it in her bag.

“Thanks. When’s the next one?”

“They’re gonna finish out the first round over the next couple days. I’ll text you the morning of so you have time to figure out your excuses.”

Lori shouldered her duffle bag and made her way to the back exit. “Alright. I’ll see you then.” 

It was a long walk back home, but the bills she counted later were more than worth it. She just had to figure out how she was going to hide the evidence from the rest of the house…..

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Maltese Falcon Job

leverage 2.15

Hardison (checking phone): Guys, they are ripping through Nate and Tara's cover stories. All their financials are blown. So look, until I know what they know, no credit cards, no debit cards, no ATMs, nothing that can be traced back to us. OK? Cash in hand only.

- - - - -

Nevins (on phone): No, not a safe house. Interpol wants Culpepper someplace off our system. We're taking him to the Governor Hotel.

Nate: OK, that's it. That's where we're gonna hole up.

Tara: The Governor Hotel?

Nate: Yeah.

Tara: The hotel crawling with FBI?

Eliot: FBI and Interpol.

Nate: Yeah, you know, it's the one place in Boston they won't be lookin' for us. Come on, we just gotta get there first

smart

- - - - -

Tara: Oh, thank God! I just stepped out to get the paper and then my door closed behind me and I tried to find a house phone, but you guys don't have those anymore. (drops towel) Oops.

Man: Uh...

(Eliot and Parker look down the hall, then at each other, then down the hall)

parker, g i r l, close your mouth

they were both slightly Into It™ and you can’t change my mind

- - - - -

Hardison: In-room checkout. (sits down on bed with keyboard) OK, look, this means that I have access to the hotel's billing computers. It's a big ol' backdoor in every hotel room in America. (hacks system) As of right now, we've been here for a week, and our reservations are good for another week, courtesy of this man's platinum card, Mr. Ogden Shields, who has spent a lot of time in the adult section of pay-per-view. I mean, did he even leave the room?

Parker: In-de-panties Day?

~ a few moments later ~

(Parker takes keyboard from Hardison’s hands)

Eliot: All right, I'm gonna go get some keys made. I'm goin' to the gym. Make sure I can charge stuff on the room.

Hardison: I gotcha.

(women moaning on TV)

Parker: Wow, she really wants that car clean.

Hardison: That’s-that's enough of that

parker is baby and hardison wants to protect her from that nastiness

- - - - -

Nate: Why do we care about him?

Hardison: 'Cause he's big on the surplus weapons market.

Eliot: (laughs) That's just a polite way of saying arms dealer.

Tara: His specialty's buying cheap guns from Third World countries and reselling 'em.

- - - - -

Nate: Don't worry about Sterling.

Eliot: Did you just say, "Don't worry about Sterling?"

Nate: Yeah, don't worry about Sterling. What you don't think I can beat Sterling?

Eliot: I think in the last six months, Nate, I've heard you talk about beating the Triads, beating the Russians. All right? Maggie's boyfriend. Huh? How'd that work out? We all said that meet was a bad idea, right? But you got a taste for taking down this Mayor and you can't resist.

Nate: You wanna walk away? Walk away.

Eliot: I'm not walkin' away. It's not my job. My job is to get your back. And, Nate, I'm gonna do it. All the way down. But I need you to do your job.

Nate: And what's that?

Parker: Be Nathan Ford. Be the person we came back for

PARKER BABY she showed emotion I’m so proud of her

- - - - -

(Eliot holds up the piece of paper taken from Bonanno’s house that reads ‘Maltese Falcon’)

Eliot: That's still bugging me, man.

we love to see eliot confiding/leveling with hardison

- - - - -

Parker: Ooh! But, uh, I have mini-bar.

her in the maid outfit with the french accent

+ HER WINK IM GAY

- - - - -

Nate: You help Tara and Parker. I'm gonna stall Sterling.

Hardison: How?

Nate: I'm thinking.

(Sterling gets into an elevator. Nate heads up the stairs, stopping at every floor to push the elevator button. Sterling begins to get irritated when the elevator stops at every floor but never sees Nate, who gets progressively more tired as they go upward)

[Hallway]

(Sterling gets off on the 14th floor. Behind him, Eliot pushes his cart into the elevator. Sterling glances at him but the door closes before he can get a good look. Sterling approaches the door the FBI agents are guarding)

petty and fucking ICONIC I wouldn’t have the stamina for that but neither would nate tbh and honestly he was probably running on pure spite to make that happen and I respect him for that

- - - - -

Parker: Housekeeping!

(she goes inside, pulling her cart in behind her. Once in the room, she finds Tara and Hardison in the window. Hardison is tangled in his line, and Tara is trying to help him)

Hardison: Ow. That's... Stop. Hey, I got this. Stop. I don't need help.

Tara: Clearly you do.

Hardison: I got this. I got this. Go.

LMFAO E V E R Y TIME

we love to see the running bit of hardison utterly FAILING at anything rappelling related

- - - - -

Culpepper: Where are the agents? Where are the agents? There should be two FBI agents standing at the door.

(Eliot walks in with Parker thrown over his shoulder)

Nate: Did you have to?

Eliot: She saw our faces.

Nate: OK. Yeah, put her in the tub with the others.

(Eliot takes her into the bathroom)

- - - - -

eliot can always knock a bitch out with one (1) punch

- - - - -

Sterling: So, I'm gonna make you a deal. You find Kadjic, tie him to the guns, I'll give you a free pass. Just this once, you get to walk away with your record wiped clean.

Nate: My team?

Sterling: They go down. Every last one of 'em. They deserve to go down. They're criminals, Nate. Thieves. So that's the deal. You bring me Kadjic and the guns, and I cut you and you alone loose. Because at the end of the day you're always right. You're not a thief. This is your second chance.

(Sterling picks up the flask and walks away)

this was actually really interesting to see. sterling leveled with nate. he knows nate, knows how he works, thinks he knows who nate really is on the inside. they have a Past™

- - - - -

Nate: Yeah. No. I... I, uh... Listen, I need you to come back. Um... I need you. Uh, I need you.

[Interior Helicopter]

Sophie: No, no, no. Speak up. I'm traveling and...

[Leverage Headquarters]

Nate: Not the team. Me. For me. Not for a con. I just... Listen, I... I don't know who I am anymore, Sophie. And, ah... When, when I was chasing you and everything and we were doing cons, I knew who I was, but not anymore. As crazy as this sounds, I need you to tell me, tell me when I'm goin' too far. I mean, it just... It gets out of control and I just don't know who I am and, and you've always been... .y compass. And, you know, I care about you more than yo-you'll ever know, because I lo... I lo...

lmfao when the signal is lost? tragic

- - - - -

eliot is wearing a flannel in the final scenes

- - - - -

the obama portrait very visible in the background of the government building? we love to see it

- - - - -

eliot DING DONG WE’RE HOME spencer owns my whole (whole) heart

- - - - -

Nate: What are you doing?

Eliot: Countin' all the guys with guns.

Nate: How many?

Eliot: A lot

smart and TOTALLY an eliot thing to do

- - - - -

Parker: Don't worry. No one's ever died going in through an air duct.

Tara: Oh, this is comforting.

Parker: I mean, worst case, you slip and fall. Break your legs. Lay there for days, scratching on the metal. It's like a long, metal coffin with wind. (excited) Let's go!

(Parker runs across the roof)

she’s baby and I love her. never, ever change parker

- - - - -

Computer: Match identified.

Hardison (bending over keyboard): Damn, you finally found something, half-pint?

HE CALLS HIS COMPUTER HALF PINT ??? ICONIC

- - - - -

Hardison: Parker, where are you?

Parker: Sorry, had a buzz from the alarm system, I couldn't hear a... thing. What?

(Parker’s face hardens and she heads for Tara, who is putting the rappelling gear back in the oxygen tank)

Tara: Parker, what's wrong?

(Parker grabs Tara by the throat and pushes her back until she is leaning over the edge of the building)

~~~

Tara: You're really strong.

Parker: Yeah. I hang from buildings with my fingertips.

Tara: It's not what you think. I was setting up a meeting!

Parker: Actually, that was exactly what I was thinking. Bye now.

Tara: Not for myself

- - - - -

ANNIE KROY IS BACK

- - - - -

(Eliot, his hands tied, is being led to some stairs by two goons.)

Man: I'll get the hatch.

(one man moves ahead of Eliot while the other stays behind him. When Eliot doesn’t follow the first man up the stairs, the second pushes him)

Man 2: Come on.

Eliot: Thirteen.

(Eliot and the second man struggle, sending gunfire rifling across the ceiling before the second man is knocked down. The first man comes back and kicks Eliot in the face. Eliot kicks him in return)

Eliot: Come here!

(Eliot swings his hands across the first man’s face, knocking him back)

Eliot: Twelve.

(Eliot knocks the first man out)

Eliot: Eleven.

(Eliot starts up the stairs, but hears someone else coming and waits around a corner. After a brief struggle, he knocks this man out as well and breaks the zip ties on his wrist)

Eliot: Ten. (heads up the stairs

HOOOOO BOY

MARK ME DOWN AS SCARED AND HORNY

also if parker and hardison know what he was doing? they’d be marked down as the same

- - - - -

Tara: All she asked was that I report back to her every now and then. Are we sure this is the fastest way?

Parker: Yeah, look. (looking at car GPS) There's no traffic this way. So, you were spying on us.

Tara: I was not spying. I was an early warning system. Sophie just, she was worried Nate might go off the rails. So, if it ever looked like he was spinning out of control, I was supposed to call and let Sophie lay in a backup plan just in case.

Parker: Yeah. Why not us?

Tara: Because you were too likely to forgive him.

Parker: I suppose gettin’ busted by the FBI and trying to bring down arms dealers while kidnapping a mayor does qualify as out of control.

Tara: So, anyway, I used my contacts to get Sophie set up as a buyer for the guns. You know... You actually had me worried for a second that you were gonna drop me.

Parker (laughs): That is silly

- - - - -

(Hardison is carrying a large monkey wrench and smiling. He hears noises and goes to investigate, seeing Eliot starting up a ladder)

Hardison: Hey. It took you long enough.

Eliot: What?

(Eliot starts toward Hardison, but a man points a gun to his head)

Man: Freeze.

(Eliot grabs the gun and knocks the man out)

Eliot: One.

Hardison: What

hardison if he knew what eliot was doing: hot damn

- - - - -

(the team gathers together. Parker hugs Sophie)

Sophie: Ooh. Parker touching.

Parker: Kinda, yeah.

- - - - -

Eliot: There's not that many ways out of here.

Sophie: Eliot, when I arrange a rescue, I do it properly.

(a helicopter lands on the docks near the ship. The team heads down the stairs, but Nate hesitates, looking down at the blood on his hand from his side. He goes down the ladder to join the team on the lower deck)

- - - - -

Nate: I've destroyed all the evidence the FBI has on Culpepper and Kadjic. You have no photos, no tapes, you don't have anything. You don't have a case on anybody, unless you arrest me. And only me.

Sophie: Nate?

Nate: I agree to turn state's evidence. I testify to what Kadjic told me, how he put the hit on Bonanno. Hell, I'll even give you Bonanno's evidence against the gunrunning.

Eliot: Nate, I can take these guys.

Hardison: It's just ten more yards to the chopper, man.

Nate: Listen, guys. I got you into this mess. This is the only way to get you out.

eliot is still ready to fight for his family no matter what and hardison just wants them to leave because they’re SO CLOSE

- - - - -

Nate: Come here.

(the team moves closer to him)

Nate: You guys are the most honorable people I have ever met in my life. You've become my family. My only family. I won't forget that. (looks at Eliot) Now get 'em on the chopper. Please. Now!

Eliot: Let's go.

(Eliot nudges Parker and she reluctantly heads for the gangplank. Eliot touches Hardison’s arm)

Eliot: Let's go, man.

(Hardison walks away. Eliot hesitates a moment, shaking his head, then follows the others, hesitating at the top of the gangplank near Sterling)

nate trusts eliot, and only eliot, to be the one to be able to get the rest of the team out of there and into the helicopter. he knows eliot and how much he cares for his family and will do anything to make sure they’re safe, and nate is betting on that to get them out of there

eliot has to be the one to make parker and hardison move because they’ll listen to him and also there would be a good chance that they’d try to stay with Nate otherwise

+

his gentle hands leading them away have my whole (whole) heart

- - - - -

(Sophie and Eliot get on the helicopter, Eliot hesitating one last time before getting in)

this hurts eliot so much because he’s the RETRIEVAL SPECIALIST and he’s supposed to get everyone safe and never leave anyone behind I’m-

- - - - -

Agent: Who the hell is this guy?

Sterling: I don't know.

Nate: My name's Nate Ford, and I am a thief.

(more sirens are heard. Nate begins laughing as the helicopter lifts off and more police cars and agents arrive, surrounding Nate and the dock. Nate watches the helicopter fly away)

MAJOR character development for nate this season (2.01 had him refusing that he was a thief and in multiple other episodes in this season)

oh and also, y’all, just like last season, if I had to watch this go down like that with my own two eyes and have that be the end of leverage (because they close every season like it’d be the last) I would have fucking R E V O L T E D

[dansantat]

44 (The Annual Birthday Rant)

THE BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT I EVER RECEIVED FROM A STRANGER

What I’m about to tell you all happened about twelve days ago.

I was walking outside of my local grocery store when an African American man approached me. He slowly approached with a wide grin on his face and was dressed in an old brown secondhand suit that was a few sizes too big. Although his physique indicated he was maybe ten to fifteen years older than me he looked much older and worn. He had a story to tell

“Now, I’m not gonna hurt cha,” the man said.

I stood and smiled hesitantly.

“How can I help you?” I asked.

“You probably don’t remember me, but we met before… a few years back.”

I searched through my mind, but found nothing. “Oh really? Where did we meet? A book store event? A school?”

The man stopped his approach. He stood safely about ten feet away.

“We met here.”

My mind still drew a blank.

“Anyway, sir, I don’t want to take up too much of your time…. But I wanted to give you this…”

He reached into the pocket of his oversized suit and slowly pulled out a healthy wad of nicely folded cash.

And then in that instant. I remembered.

It happened two years ago in 2017. I bought groceries and was carrying the bags to my car. A homeless African American man wearing tattered clothes hobbled with a limb over in my direction. He was in rough shape. He clearly hadn’t showered in weeks and his body appeared gaunt, and malnourished.

“Hey, man, I was wonderin’ if you could spare some change?” he asked.

I placed my groceries into the trunk of my car and pulled out my wallet. I had just gone to the ATM because I was going to go out to breakfast with some friends after dropping off the groceries at home.

I pulled out a $20 and gave it to the man. His eyes popped open wide and a huge grin crossed his face. I would typically only give a few dollars in a situation like this, but today was special.

“Aw, thank you, sir, I really appreciate it! God bless!”

Just as he was about to walk away I stopped him.

“Wait,” I hollered, “Hold up.”

The man turned and looked back at me. I paused for a moment thinking about what I was about to do.

“*sigh* Today’s your lucky day.” I said

I opened my wallet and gave him all the cash that was inside.

“Here. Take it all.”

The man was flabbergasted. “Wh-….. What?”

“You look like you need it way more than I do. There’s about $400 here… Just take it.”

“Wh…wh…why are you doing this?” he stammered

I paused for a moment. Was I really doing the right thing? You hear people tell you not to give money to homeless people because they’ll just go use that money to buy drugs or alcohol, but I proceeded with my decision, “It’s my birthday today, and every year I always make it a point to do something special for someone to make their day better, and today you’re the lucky person, I guess.”

The first time I ever decided to be generous on my birthday was at a local car wash on my 35th birthday. Now, I never found much value in the machines that car washing facilities provide. Those contraptions that you would drive your car though to get washed. It was simply a series of spray hoses and soap suds being lazily dragged over your car by a set of waving rags. The real cleaning job was done from the guy after that process. The guy who would drive your car off to a dry corner of the lot and scrub off those tough stains with a spray bottle and a towel. Here in LA, they were most likely illegal immigrants earning a measly wage just enough to get by here in Los Angeles (one of the most expensive cities in the country) The man who cleaned my car that day spent a half hour wiping off the dashboard, and the tires, and even parts of the door joints you wouldn’t normally expect a car wash employee to clean. The guy was cleaning my car better than I would have ever done myself, and when I approached the car it was absolutely immaculate.

The car wash was only $19.

That day, I gave the man $40.

He was so grateful he shook my hand with a smile, and in exchange I felt amazing. I helped make his day a good one and it was an absolutely wonderful feeling.

Ever since then I try to do something kind for someone on my birthday. It’s my gift to myself.

In the years following I would give $40 tips to waitresses, $60 tips to a trio of buskers, I once bought an entire box of candy from a kid who rang my doorbell trying to save up money for camp. That was about $75.

But this was $400. What the hell was I doing?

The man waved off the money. “$400?! That’s too much,” he responded, “I can’t accept all that! A dude gets stabbed on the streets carrying that kind of cash around”

“I want you to have it, and I don’t want to sound rude, but you look like you need this money way more than I do.”

He stood hesitant. His own pride was preventing him from taking the money.

“What are you doing with that much cash on you? You a doctor or something?”

“HAHA! No, but there was a time my parents wished I was.”

The man looked at me with a hint of suspicion.

“You’re crazy. How do you know I’m not gonna go use this to go buy crack or something like that?”

“HA HA! Are you?” I laughed. The thought of the possibility of my own hard earned money being used to buy illegal drugs was somewhat humorous to me at the time.

“N- NO! NO! I won’t! I promise! But are you sure you want to give me all this? I don’t even know you.”

I hesitated, half thinking for a split second that I would perhaps reconsider and just give him an extra $20, but what would an extra $20 do for a man who needed so much more help than that? What if he had enough money to change his course in life if he really wanted to? From that perspective, $400 seemed like just a drop in the bucket. 

But maybe it was also a start?

“I’m not sure, but I know that no matter how you got into this situation, I know it’s not because you’re a bad person. You’ve probably just hit a string of bad luck.Hell, for all I know maybe you WILL blow all this money on booze and drugs, I don’t know… But what I am hoping, is that it gives you a chance to get back on your feet if you really want to…”

The man glanced back at the money.

“Take it. No strings attached. Do whatever you want with it. Buy booze or crack or whatever you want with it. I’m not gonna lecture you on how to live your life because, dude, you’re already totally down on your luck and I think that you just deserve a little kindness. You know the mistakes you’ve made and you don’t need to explain yourself to me or anyone. I just thought this money would help make things a little bit easier for you, that’s all.”

The man looked away for a moment. His lower lip trembling. Then he slowly glanced back and took the money.

“Thank you….. God Bless you, sir. I really appreciate it.”

“Take care of yourself.” I replied as he walked away.

The man walked away and never looked back.

Now here we are.

Two years later.

Standing in the same parking lot in front of the same grocery store.

My jaw drops open.

“Holy shit! I remember you! You’re that guy! LOOK AT YOU! I DON’T EVEN RECOGNIZE YOU!” I shouted.

“Now you remember me, right!? HA HA!”

This man’s voice once a whisper was now strong and deep as if his lungs consumed every molecule of oxygen around him and projected it out like water from a fire hose. He was no longer gaunt, but healthy, if not slightly overweight. His hair was clean and trimmed, but he still carried himself awkwardly with a shaky newfound confidence that now occupied a body that once resembled a dilapidated house.

“You look amazing! Where have you been!?”

“Aw man, It’s a long story-“

“I’ve got time!”

“Well-“ he hesitated

And then I paused.

“Wait. I’m- I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I just want you to know that I’m really REALLY proud of you, man. I know we don’t know each other, but dude, you’ve completely changed. I don’t even recognize you. You look amazing.”

There was an awkward pause in our conversation. We were like two friends who had just reunited after a long absence, but suddenly also realized at that moment that we were also two complete strangers who knew nothing about one other. The man took a deep breath, “I’ve been coming around to this grocery store every now and then hoping I would run into you…I’d stand out here waiting for you for a half hour or so hoping you’d come by to buy groceries… I wanted to thank you for the kindness you showed me a few years back and… and I wanted to finally pay you back.”

He grabs my hand and presses the nicely folded bills into my hand. The folds and creases tell me they’ve been sitting folded like this for quite a while.

“$400. Every cent of it.”

“Hey, you don’t need to do this. It was my pleasure. I’m glad the money helped, you can keep it.” I reply.

“Well… “ he paused, “I don’t want it. Too many painful memories from it.. That day you gave me that money I took it and I used it all to get high.”

“Oh…Shit… I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have-”

“And afterwards there were some more really rough months after that. I felt so ashamed. I hated myself and I didn’t wanna live no more so one day I couldn’t take it anymore and I went over to the Colorado Street Bridge and I was gonna climb the fence and jump off…. I was gonna kill myself and end it all… but I chickened out.”

(FYI, The Colorado Street Bridge is the bridge you see in the movie, LA LA LAND)

“Man, I was so scared, and I was crying on the ground and I was thinking about my wife leavin’ me… and how I let my son down, and now he had his own son.. you see, I’m a grandfather, and I got so messed up I couldn’t be around any of them, you know?”  

Meanwhile, my groceries were sitting in the hot car. My milk was going to go bad, but I continued to hang on to his every word.

“So shortly after that incident the cops pick me up off the side of the bridge and they take me to this local homeless shelter. I get cleaned up, I get a little something to eat, and then later on that evening they gathered us all around in the cafeteria at one point and they read us this story called, After the Fall.”

I was shocked.

“Wait... What? That’s my book.” I responded

“Yeah, I know! The book changed my life, man! Humpty Dumpty finding the courage to change his life like that? It inspired me! It made me want to change! And so I see your name on the cover and one day I went to the library with my social worker to look up more of your books and I see your picture in one of the books and I thought, HOLY SHIT! That’s the guy who gave me the $400! I recognize those eyebrows from anywhere! This is a sign from God!”

“HAHAHA!”

“So, I’m getting’ all psyched up and inspired and the social worker helped me get me a sponsor, and after a while I got myself cleaned up and started working around town. I used to be a carpenter, and I was doin’ odd jobs here and there and so now I work at a hardware store.” 

He pauses for a moment and takes another deep breath.

“You see, I got myself a work related injury years ago and I had to stop working. Then when my insurance wore out I was still in pain and I started trying to find any kind of drugs I could to help with the pain, man. It was awful. I got addicted to painkillers, over time it cost me my marriage, I lost my house, and my kid moved away and he started a family of his own…. I haven’t seen my kid in years. They all wanted to help but you can only be helped if you want to be helped, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m so sorry to hear that, man”

The man begins to cry a little

“And I knew they cared about me, but…. But I let them down, and there’s just a point when the people you love just can’t stand seeing you hurt yourself no more, and they couldn’t stand watching me tear myself apart like that, you know?”

The man’s story cuts me like a knife. I’m starting to well up with tears. We’re now two strangers crying in front of each other in the middle of a grocery store parking lot. The manager of the grocery store who I see often sees us crying outside 

“Is everything okay here guys?”

“Yeah yeah yeah, We’re good. We’re just talking,” I rapidly answer as I wipe tears from my cheek. The manager walks back inside.

“…Uh… Weird question… You know my name now, but, do you mind if I ask you your name?”

“…I’m Randall.”

“Well, I’m glad you got your life back together, Randall. I’m sorry about all that stuff that happened with your family but I think what you accomplished with getting your life back together was huge and, I mean, I don’t know you, but man, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, brother. I just wanted to see you in person so I could give you back that money… oh, and I was hoping you could sign this for me….”

Randall reaches inside his oversized brown suit and pulls out a copy of After the Fall and hands it to me with a pen.

“I’ve been carrying this around with me for a few months now hoping I’d see you. The shelter gave it to me. Would you mind signing it?” he asks.

“I’d be honored, Randall… Do you want me to make it out to you?”

“Please make it out to Randall the Third”

“Wait… your grandson?”

“I’m going out to see my son and his family next week. They live out in Arizona.”

“That’s amazing. Are you nervous?”

“I’m excited to see my grandson, but I’m terrified I could screw things up with my family again.” Randall mutters.

“Well, you made it this far. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just take it one step at a time.” I reply.

“Just like Humpty did. One step at a time.” says Randall.

I sign the book...

To Randall III, Your grandfather is a true inspiration to me.

Dan Santat

“Thank you, God bless.”

“No, Randall, thank you. This was the most amazing birthday gift I think I’ve ever received.”

“Oh, it’s your birthday today?!”

“No, it’s in twelve days. Heh… it’s when my milk expires”

“Oh shit. I should let you get going man, I’m sorry I took up all your time!”

“No, man. No! I’m so glad you did this and that we could catch up... and…. Here.”

I pull out the $400 and I hand it back to Randall.

“What are you doin?”

“I know you don’t need this, so I’m not giving you this money. Get something nice for your family, you know, a housewarming gift or something, that’s all. If you ever want to pay me back you know where to find me.”

In this parking lot.

In front of this grocery store.

“Use it to buy a huge ass teddy bear for Randall the Third. Shit get him a Playstation 4 or something I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned you worked so hard to get where you are now and you earned every cent of this. This money should be yours”  

“HA HA HA! Aw sheeeeeeit….Thank you, brother.”  

I grab Randall’s hand and I place the nicely folded wad of cash into his palm. 

“Well, I should get goin’…” Randall says.

“Yeah, me too.”

Then after a few quiet moments we exchange a hug.

“Thank you, Dan Santat…. God Bless you.” Randall whispers

“Take care” I reply

We complete our goodbyes and then head off in our own opposite directions.

I’ve received lots of amazing gifts over my 44 years, but never one as incredible as the rebirth and transformation of Randall.

Peace.

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 3: A Savior

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Ruby and Granny scramble to make rent before Mr. Gold comes calling.

Read on AO3

Ruby Lucas was going to lose her goddamn mind. 

Ever since yesterday when Mrs. Gold had stopped by the diner, Ruby and Granny had been frantically trying to gather up enough cash to make rent before Sunday evening. 

It wasn’t like this every month. Most months only had four Sundays, so Granny knew that the last Sunday of the month was rent day and she could have everything ready. They usually had a week that was dedicated just to earning rent money. But this particular October had five Sundays. So when Granny had planned out the spending for this week, she had spent that money on stupid shit like food and the electric bill. She had planned it like it was a regular week. Not the week that rent was due. 

The worst part for Ruby was that they had the money! Friday had been a great day for business! Granny had deposited the cash at Storybrooke Savings and Loan on Saturday morning! When they checked the account balance at the ATM, there was more than enough to cover the rent!

But Mr. Gold would only take cash.

And the bank wouldn’t open again until Monday at nine.

And Granny could only take out $300 out of the ATM in a 24-hour period. 

So the diner and the bed and breakfast had to net a four-figure profit--in cash--in less than one day in order for them to make rent. Mrs. Gold had made it clear that there was only one alternative if they didn’t have it all when Mr. Gold came for it at 8:15 PM. 

And Ruby was damned if she would let that happen. 

So it was time to get to work. 

Normally, Saturday nights were her one guaranteed night off. Depending on how wild things got on Saturday night, she might need to take Sunday morning off too. But on that night, Ruby pulled a double and hustled like she had never hustled before. 

The first thing she did was scrawl OUT OF ORDER on the back of some receipt paper and tape it over the card swiper. The machine was working fine, but it could take up to three business days for the company to deposit the funds from card purchases into their bank account. Ruby didn’t have three business days. 

“What do you mean by this?” Albert Spencer said when he came up to the counter to pay for his meal of liver and onions and decaf black coffee. He held up his platinum credit card  like it was the world’s tiniest battle axe. “Why can’t I use my card?”

“Sorry!” Ruby lied in her cheerful customer service voice. “We’ve got the guy coming in to fix it on Monday. Right now it’s cash only, but there’s an ATM right across the street.”

“I’m not going across the street!” The old man was so angry it was like she had told him the card machine was at the bottom of a full dumpster. “How dare you not accept my card? I’ve got a fifty thousand dollar limit!”

“But you don’t have ten bucks to pay for dinner?” The words were out of Ruby’s mouth before she could stop them. She was too busy thinking of all the problems in her life that would be solved with just five thousand dollars. Or even five hundred.

Mr. Spencer’s face went purple. “Who is your manager?” he shouted. “I demand to speak to someone with power!”

Then talk to Mr. Gold, Ruby wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, she told Mr. Spencer that the manager and owner of Granny’s Diner was, in fact, Granny, and that she would go get her now. 

Granny had been in the kitchen. She was relieving stress by yelling at Tony, and the wait staff, and the food itself when no other target was available. When Ruby told her what was happening out front, she squared her shoulders and marched out for battle.

“What kind of slop house do you think you’re running?” Mr. Spencer spat when she came out front. “Why won’t you accept my credit card? Don’t you want my business?”

“Of course we want your business,” Granny lied. She didn’t shout at Mr. Spencer. But she kept her arms crossed over her chest and stared straight at him. Ruby had seen that look in her eyes every time she had ever been in trouble growing up. “But the machine is broken. I’ve already called the repair man. He can’t come in until Monday. So for the time being, we can only accept cash.”

“This is ridiculous! Whatever happened to ‘the customer is always right’?”

Granny leaned forward and gave Mr. Spencer a tight smile. If he was steel, she was stone. She wasn’t going to budge.

“Right now we’re living by another motto. ‘Cash is king.’” 

Mr. Spencer looked like he wanted to order them beheaded and then burn down the diner as a lesson to anyone else who dared question the authority of him or his platinum credit card. But instead, he just pulled out his wallet, counted out ten one-dollar bills, and dropped them on the counter.

“See if I ever come back to this shithole,” he said very loudly as he left.

“See if you’re ever welcome back,” Granny muttered. She looked around the diner. “Anyone else take offense to our technical difficulties?”

No one else did.

****

That was the night that Ruby perfected the art of up-selling. Sure, you could have a cup of coffee, but wouldn’t a latte just hit the spot? We’ve got pumpkin spice, for a limited time! And avocado! Just a dollar extra! Are you guys celebrating? You should get dessert! No, get separate desserts! None of this “one sundae, two spoons,” nonsense! Live a little!  

And it worked. By the end of the night on Saturday, they had almost half of what they needed to pay the rent. It was a record profit for the day before rent day. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

It was less than half of enough.

So Sunday morning, Ruby dragged herself out of bed to keep the hot streak going. She hissed advice to the other waitresses, and threats to the ones who were slacking. She led by example and smiled, smiled, smiled. 

The rush started as soon as the churches let out. The same rich people who had been there for dinner on Saturday night swung by in the afternoon for brunch--except for Albert Spencer. You would think that spending an hour in the presence of God would sweeten people’s attitudes, but no. If anything, they were more demanding and sour on Sunday afternoons. Maybe worship had made them uncomfortably aware of their hypocrisy. Or maybe they just hated squeezing into fancy clothes every week.

According to rumor, Mr. Gold always started his rounds at the Sisters of St. Meissa Convent. Every month, wealthy parishioners came into the diner chatting about how he approached the Mother Superior just as mass was letting out. Mrs. Gold always stayed behind in the Cadillac. Ruby could imagine Mr. Gold in his black suits, parting the seas of the brightly-dressed faithful. His presence would be a reminder to people of what was coming to them, the reckoning that would come due that very day. 

Walking up to a church, Mr. Gold probably looked like the devil. 

That was why it was only the rich people who came out for brunch on the fourth Sunday of the month. Rich old people got the same cheap meals they always ordered no matter what Ruby suggested. And they tipped badly no matter how much Ruby smiled and laughed at their stupid jokes. 

Even worse than the rich old people were the rich young people. Technically, Sean Herman and Hunter Duke and their friends were all the same age as Ruby. She had vivid memories of them all going to Storybrooke High together. But in terms of experience, those kids had stayed in preschool their whole lives. Without asking, the group pushed two tables together and stayed for two hours. They ordered nothing but nachos and sodas and they didn’t tip anything.   

Plus, when the housekeeping maid Ashley Boyd saw that Sean was in the diner with another girl, she started crying so hard that Ruby thought she was going to go into labor. It had taken fifteen minutes to calm her down. Fifteen minutes where Ruby had to let another waitress take her tables and her tips. 

Somehow, she got through the day. The diner closed at seven and Granny went back to count the register. Ruby stayed out front with the door locked and half the lights off. She told everyone to go home and used her nervous energy to do all the cleaning up herself.  

Would they have enough? Was this going to work? Or had Ruby just pushed herself to the limit for no reason? If they didn’t have enough, was there any way that Mr. Gold would work with them? Would he let them have one day to take cash out of the bank? Could he possibly be persuaded to take a check? Or her car?

But as Ruby sprayed glass cleaner on the bakery display case, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Mrs. Gold had made it very clear what her husband wanted Ruby to offer--something red and sweet.

Herself.

Or at least her body.

“Fuck!” Ruby muttered as she scrubbed at her reflection with a paper towel. The cleaner fumes made her eyes sting and water. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

The dining room was as clean as it was going to get, and Tony had already taken care of the kitchen. It was seven-thirty on Sunday night, and Mr. Gold always came by at eight-fifteen sharp. 

Ruby wheeled her bucket of dirty mop water to the utility closet and drained it out. That was all life really was in this stupid town, wasn’t it? Life just made people dirtier and grosser until they weren’t useful anymore and then they went down the drain.

Fuck.

When she got to Granny’s office, piles of cash were lined up on the desk in neat rows. Granny was bent over them, counting out loud. 

“Five, ten, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen--”

That was bad. If Granny was counting out fives and ones, they were scraping the bottom of the barrel. When she got to twenty, the counting stopped. Granny straightened up in her chair and let out a long sigh.

“Do we still have quarters?” Ruby asked, trying to be hopeful.

Granny didn’t turn to face her. “I’ve counted it three times,” her voice was as wrung out as a dirty mop. “And every time it comes out the same.”

“We’re millionaires!”

It was a stupid joke, but she was so desperate for them to have the money. She would do anything to put off the inevitable. For just a few more seconds, she wanted to live in a world where she didn’t have to prostitute herself out to her landlord and his wife. 

“You worked hard today,” Granny said. “Harder than I’ve ever seen from you. We had to come up with a lot of money in not much time. You--you did good, Ruby. I’m proud of you.”

Granny was not normally one to offer praise. For as long as she could remember, Ruby had never made her proud. If she was saying something nice now, it was only because something very bad was coming. 

“But…?” Ruby whispered.

“But,” Granny agreed. “We’re still short. By a hundred and eighty bucks.”

Ruby’s stomach cramped, like she had been punched. She was so stupid. She should have never gotten her hopes up. She had known this was coming. But the hurt still knocked the wind out of her.

“A hundred and eighty dollars?” Ruby repeated weakly. “Is that all?”

Granny spun around in her office chair to glare at her. “Is that all? Do you have that much squirreled away somewhere? Because I sure as hell don’t!”

“No.” She shook her head, crossed her arms over her chest. “No, I don’t have anything.”

She looked away from her grandmother. Without consulting her brain, her legs began to move through the kitchen from the diner to the bed and breakfast. She didn’t know where she wanted to go. All she knew was that she had to move. Some deep and primal instinct howled for her to run.

But she had nowhere to go. 

A hundred and eighty bucks! The amount was the final twist of the knife. They were so close! Compared to how much money there was in the world, it was almost nothing! A hundred and eight bucks. Mrs. Gold probably spent that much going to the hair salon! Mr. Gold probably spent that much on a tie!

It was almost nothing. 

But it was something they didn’t have. 

So it was everything. 

Ruby bolted through the kitchen into the other building that housed the bed and breakfast. She paced around the empty lobby, going in circles until she felt like a wild animal trapped in a cage. She was sure as hell ready to bite and claw and howl.

“It’s not fair!” She heard the tears in her voice when she spoke out loud. “We worked so hard! And we’re so close!”

Granny had followed her. She stood in the doorway to the lobby, looking at Ruby and wringing her hands. 

“We could ask somebody?” Ruby tried. “It really isn’t that much money. Just twenty dollars from nine people. Or ten from eighteen! Don’t you have friends, Granny? Can one of them help us out, just until the bank opens?”

Granny took off her glasses and let them fall from the chain around her neck. “This afternoon I called everyone I knew. What we’ve got here--” she patted her sweater pocket where she had a wad of cash wrapped in a rubber band-- “is with all the help I was able to get.” 

Ruby looked at her in disbelief. 

“Don’t forget, everyone we know who’ll lend us money also has rent due today. But they dug in, and they did the best they could--”

“And it wasn’t enough,” Ruby finished, so quietly she could barely hear herself. “And the best we could do wasn’t enough. Nothing is enough. No one in this town can do anything, can they? I’m so fucked.” 

  She slumped against the front desk and covered her face with her hands. After a minute, she felt Granny’s hands on her shoulders. She was holding her, hugging her, giving her affection that Ruby hadn’t felt in as long as she could remember.

“It’ll be okay,” Granny assured her. “We’ve been in this spot before and we’ve pulled through.”

“Yeah, remember when he wanted your jewelry?” Ruby was trembling. “And the time before that, it was that old wolf doll from when Mom was a kid. He took those things, and now we don’t have them anymore. Think, Granny, what else do we have? What else would a man like that want?”

It only now occurred to her that she hadn’t told Granny about Mrs. Gold’s visit. Not about the specifics, anyway. But she must have seen the truth from the look in Ruby’s eyes. She could put the pieces together without Ruby ever having to say the words.

“Oh, sweetie,” Granny breathed. “Oh, Ruby Red, you’re not going to--”

“What choice do we have?” She backed away from her grandmother, wouldn’t look at her. If she thought about what she was doing, if she confronted this reality and then had to look into the face of love that she so rarely saw--she would scream.

Granny sighed and let her go. “At least it won’t be too bad for you.”

Ruby blinked. “What?” She turned her head sharply to the old woman. “What did you just say?”

Instead of backing down, Granny stood her ground. The moment of sweetness between them had passed, and all their old resentments were coming back to the surface. “Well it’s not exactly like you’re saving yourself for marriage. I know you’ve been around the block--been around every block in Storybrooke from what I hear.”

Her mouth dropped. For the second time in ten minutes, Ruby felt like she’d been physically attacked by something Granny said. But this wasn’t a punch in the stomach, it was a slap in the face! It was an insult. From her own goddamned grandmother!

“Is that what you really think of me?” Ruby whispered.

Face going red, Granny tightened her fists. “I think if this was a normal Sunday, you wouldn’t have woken up in your own bed--or at least not alone.”

Ruby opened her mouth, but no words came out. “So--so what, does that make me a hooker to you? Do you think I deserve for this to happen? You think because I’m such a slut I’ll be able to just fly through the act of selling my body for money?

“Ruby…” Granny tried to come closer, but Ruby just backed away.

“Don’t act like I’m the unreasonable one here! Yeah, I go out on Saturday nights. Yeah, I like to have a good time. Yeah, Granny, I like to have sex!” She hissed the word, like it was just as dirty as Granny seemed to think it was. “But that doesn’t mean I’m for fucking sale!”

“I don’t think--”

“You think I’m just like her, don’t you? You don’t think I’m any better than Mrs. Gold!”

“Well you certainly don’t look any different!” Granny snapped, clearly done trying to make things better. “Maybe that’s why Mr. Gold thinks he can treat you the same as her. Because you do dress like a hooker, Ruby. And before today, I wouldn’t have said you were much of a waitress.”

Ruby slammed her hand down on the counter. “I’ve worked my ass off my whole life for you! You’re the one that doesn’t know how to run a business!”

“What would you know about anything that isn’t boys and beer?”

“I know enough to know that a hotel in New England isn’t supposed to be empty on every weekend of fall! And I know that there are five Sundays this month, Granny. If you knew that, I wouldn’t be about to put myself up for rent just to save your shithole of an existence!”  

   “Don’t act like I asked you for any of this, young lady! You are free to sleep your way up and down the eastern seaboard whenever you--

“Hello?”

A new voice entered into the conversation. Ruby and Granny both looked at the door. There was a woman. She was blonde and pretty, but tough-looking. Her red leather jacket was amazing. She lingered in the entrance of the lobby, unsure of what was going on. 

“Is… this place open? The bed and breakfast?”

“We sure are!” Granny recovered more quickly than Ruby could. She put on a smile and pulled out the hotel sign-in book from under the counter. There was a thin layer of dust on the cover, and Granny wiped it away with her sleeve before she opened it up to the woman. “How long will you be staying with us?”

“Just a week, I think,” the woman said. “That should be enough time for me to figure some things out. Then I’ll be on my way.”

“That sounds great,” Granny kept smiling. “Now, we have a forest view or a square view. Normally there’s an upcharge for the square view, but we can waive that--”

“If you pay in cash!” During the course of their conversation, Ruby had done some quick and desperate math. “It’ll be two hundred dollars, right?” She looked at Granny. “To stay for a week in the smallest room, that’s two hundred. But we can give you the best room in the house for the same price. If you pay up front. In cash.”

The woman looked skeptical of the bargain, but willing to go along. “Sure,” she said. She put her wallet back in her jacket pocket and reached down to her combat boots to pull out a wad of bills. “Two hundred, you said?”

“Yes!” Ruby squealed and reached out to take the cash. The precious cash--twenty whole dollars more than what they needed! 

With a wordless look, Granny handed Ruby the roll of bills. Smiling more than she had in her entire life, she took out twenty dollars’ worth of measly fives and ones and added the blonde woman’s twenties to the roll. The twang and snap of the rubber band were the most satisfying noises she had ever heard. 

Granny took up a pen and held it over the register book. “So what’s the name?”

“Swan,” the woman said. “Emma Swan.”

“Emma.” It was a man’s voice, deceptively soft and friendly-sounding. Mr. Gold walked into the lobby. “What a lovely name.”

Ruby glanced at the grandfather clock. It was 8:15. He was right on time.

But he was also too late.   

Ruby slammed the roll of cash onto the counter. “It’s all here.” You son of a bitch.

If Mr. Gold was disappointed or angry that he wasn’t going to get his “something sweet,” it didn’t show on his face. There was something weird about him right now. His expression wasn’t sharp and calculating. He didn’t look like he was on the hunt for souls to buy. He looked at Ruby as he took the money, but he didn’t seem to see her at all.

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” he said distantly. He turned his eyes back to the blonde woman. “You enjoy your stay--Emma.”

The woman, Emma, gave him a pleasantly blank look. The kind of look women all over the world give to men who seem too interested in their lives. “Thanks.”

And then, as quietly as he had come in, Mr. Gold walked out. Poverty and desperation passed them by for another month. 

When the front door closed behind him, Ruby burst out laughing. She had never felt so light. Emma Swan was the first guest the bed in breakfast had seen in as long as Ruby could remember and right now she was the most important person in the world. 

“Oh my God!” Ruby had been smiling all day, but now she meant it. “Thank you for paying in cash! You do not know how much you saved my ass!”

Literally.

Emma kept up the same cautious-but-amused half smile she had given to Mr. Gold. “Who was that guy, the local mafia heavy?”

“Mr. Gold is the landlord for just about every place in town,” Granny said as she wrote down Emma’s information.

“Including here, huh? Must be some kind of hardass.”

“You have no idea!” Ruby was still giddy with relief. 

“Anyway.” Granny pulled out one of the keys from the wall and handed it to Emma Swan. “Welcome to Storybrooke.”  

[kisskissbanggang]

California Sunrise

[~20 Min. Read, ~4.5K Words -- Mystery Member 👀 x Female Reader -- Non-Idol AU -- Romance, NSFW, 1/2 Fluff, 1/2 Smut -- Spoilers in tags, summer romance, drinking, exhibitionism, cockwarming]

[Prompt "Champagne Giggles" for neowritingsnet Summer Writing Fest]

By now, you weren't sure if you couldn't fall asleep, or wouldn't fall asleep. Surely, it wasn't the summer heat keeping you up, since the ocean air cooled down considerably at night. It couldn't be the bed; it was the most comfortable thing you'd ever slept on. Perhaps it was the noise. The light and the noise. It was never completely dark here like it was back home, and never totally quiet.

Sitting up, you rifled through your pile of clothes that had taken up residence on the desk chair beside the bed and pulled out a hoodie. You weren't quite sure why you were tip-toeing through the living room of the condo -- your aunt would be working at the newsroom until well after the morning broadcast. A set of keys sat on the kitchen counter with a loving note offering to let you borrow the car, and this was the first time you had felt confident enough at all to take that opportunity.

It was only day three that you were in Malibu at your aunt's place. You wanted to take the summer before your graduation to truly relax, maybe scope out some grad schools while you were out here. The culture shock was huge, beginning from your landing at the Santa Barbara airport. Your aunt had her own cute little sign for you at baggage claim, squealing with delight at seeing you for the first time in years, but she was a whole other person on the freeway, expertly ducking in and out of traffic and unflinching when other drivers honked or flipped her off. You had spent the first couple days getting used to her gorgeous condo (that you had affectionately been calling the Malibu Barbie Beach Retreat) and getting shown around town, but you still hadn't been able to fall asleep, beginning from night one. Now your aunt was back at work, and you needed to get out of here and work out some of this energy. Maybe all you needed was a change of scenery.

You carefully climbed into the gorgeous sports car housed in the parking garage downstairs. The condo was in pristine condition, as was your aunt's own car, but this particular vehicle was in desperate need of some love and attention. Then again, why should she care for the car she valiantly won in the divorce? After all she'd been through, the least she could get was a fat wad of cash and the asshole's beloved car. So now here you were, trying to familiarize yourself with this hilariously nice ride just so you could bop around town with no real objective. Finally content with the mirrors and controls, you backed out of the space, picked a direction, and drove.

How did it figure, then, that of anywhere in the city you could end up, that you were sitting on the curb in front of a gas station convenience store? You sighed and thanked the one kind old man who had offered to help tow you off the busy main road and help replace your flat tire, insisting on giving him the sparse bills in your wallet for his trouble. However, a lack of cash made you antsy and this whole adventure was quickly turning into a bruise on your ego, so you poked into the convenience store to buy a couple snacks and a comically large slushie with your atm card. With cash in your wallet and some comfort food in your arms, you were feeling a little better as you headed out the entrance -- that is, you would be if it weren't for the stranger colliding with you in the doorway, upending your gigantic drink all over your school hoodie. You felt the giant blue patch all over your (thankfully) black pullover before you saw it, looking up to see an appropriately horrified guy looking back at you.

"Oh -- oh my god, I am so sorry, holy crap--"

"No no, it's fine." You put your hand up to stop his babbling. You felt bad. He'd be cute if you had time and this wasn't some random encounter, his handsome features making him look a bit like a cute owl.

"Are you sure? The least I can do is buy you a new one--"

"Thank you, truly, but no thank you. It's just one of those nights; no big deal."

You stepped around the guy, out the door into the night air that blasted the wet patch on your hoodie to be freezing cold. You beeped open the car, piled the snacks into the driver's seat and stripped off your sticky top layer. The t-shirt you had on underneath hadn't been so lucky: a giant blue stain was setting in on the white cotton. You attempted to pat it dry the best you could with your damp sweatshirt. Sighing, you caught the eye of the guy still in the gas station, now in line for the cashier. He still looked appalled. Maybe you made this one of "those nights" for him, too, now. You pulled on your best smile and shrugged for him, tried to wordlessly let him know there were no hard feelings as you flipped all your snacks into the passenger seat and climbed in.

After you pondered and considered what to do with your ruined shirt, you sat in the living room looking out over the balcony, munching on snacks and sipping on coffee until sunrise.

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The next night it was the same story. You thought spending the daylight hours going on an adventure to get a new set of rear tires for the car, as well as supplies to tie-dye your stained shirt, would tire you out, but to no avail. This time, you took a different series of random turns and wound up at a corner store, renting a couple movies from the kiosk outside and loading up on more snacks for the night. You considered the cheap snowglobes across from the register as you waited for the cashier, genuinely considering a cute little one with a beach scene. The cashier called you up and you turned, gasping and glad you didn't have another drink in your hands as you turned back around and right into a stranger's chest.

"You're kidding, right? I can't be this unlucky for you," the stranger laughed. Your eyes widened as you let out giggle. The guy from last night? The chances were miniscule, but here he was. "Can I at least buy you a new drink now?"

You shook your head. "Thank you, but no thank you. I'll tell you what, though. If I run into you again you can get me a whole damn bottle of champagne. Deal?"

The stranger smiled wide and nodded. "Deal."

You returned his warm smile, giving a little wave after you paid the cashier and strolled out the door.

Returning to the Malibu Barbie Beach Retreat, you sat on the balcony, watching movies and snacking until surfers started arriving down the street for the breaks at dawn.

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Surely this would help you sleep. A late, midnight dinner in a diner you found would hopefully weigh your stomach down and help you get tired. You checked your relefction in your phone screen, noting you were starting to get some regrettable circles under your eyes. You were shaken out of your little bubble at the sound of something touching down on your table. Your food!

Or not.

A small bottle of champagne.

You swung your gaze up to find, sure enough, your faithful stranger pretending to sigh in exasperation at the edge of your table. "Turns out I can't even hit up my favorite diner without running into you, I guess." He laughed and gestured to the empty seat across you and, still a little stunned, you nodded.

"How do I know you're not just following me and you're actually going to kill me?"

The guy smiled. "You don't. But I can assure you right now that that's way too much work for me and I'm sure you're much cuter alive than dead."

You breezed past his sly compliment. "And the champagne?"

He shrugged. "I called your bluff and bought it right after I saw you last night. Just had it sitting in my car and, sure enough, here you are."

The waitress came with your food greeted him by name, confirming his claim. "Taeil." He only asked for coffee and a couple glasses.

"So, Taeil," you prodded, "what were you up to last night?"

"The last couple nights you caught me when I got off work. Or, rather, I caught you. I was just heading to the gym last night when I saw you. What about you?"

"Couldn't sleep." You sheepishly admitted.

"Hey, me neither! That's why I started working nights."

The waitress came back with coffee and a couple water glasses. Taeil grabbed the bottle of champagne and opened it, pouring you both a glass. He raised one to you.

"What are we toasting to?" You asked as you grabbed the other.

"How about you having a better vacation with some actual sleep?"

"Vacation?" You braced, ready to run if this cute guy turned out to be a creep. So many charming ones usually tended to, in your experience.

Taeil shrugged. "You were wearing a school hoodie the other night. And last night you were looking at the snowglobes, which -- sorry -- only tourists do."

"Fair enough."

You clinked glasses and drank as you talked. Taeil went to school during the day, pursuing a Masters in Choral Conducting. At night, he worked at a bookstore and cafe across town. You talked to him about school, about how you weren't entirely sure what you wanted to do after undergrad, but more than anything you wanted to find a better fit for you than your hometown.

"Well," Taeil wondered as he stroked his chin, "there's a lot you should try out in California before you decide you like it here. You've seen the sunrise by now, and a few sunsets. Have you been stuck in traffic yet?" He chuckled as you nodded heartily. "Of course, you've been to the beach."

You nodded again, eagerly telling him about your first day in town, how you immediately dragged your aunt the couple blocks to the beach. You hadn't been to the beach since you were a small child, and it was surreal to see the water beyond the surf stretch out to the horizon. Taeil listened intently, wanting to understand what it must be like to not grow up near the ocean air. "What's one thing you think I should do before I decide if I want to stay?"

"I think you should try going on a date." He smiled warmly after finishing another cup of coffee.

Intrigued, you raised an eyebrow. "With you?"

Taeil shrugged nonchalantly. "With anyone, but I was hoping with me."

Your heart leapt in your chest. You were never with anyone this open and up-front before, let alone acting like that yourself. However, you had to admit it was exciting. Something about Taeil made you feel like a whole new person. There was an odd sense of intervening fate permeating the air. You noticed a streak of orange wash over the back of your hand and you looked out the window, noticing how the sun was already rising. Taking Taeil's hand on the table, you returned his smile. "Let's make a deal," you offered, "if I see you again, you'll get me another glass of champagne and you'll get a date."

"Deal."

You pushed your empty plate out of the way and left a few bills on the table before leaning across to tentatively, delicately, uncharacteristically and impulsively place a kiss on Taeil's lips, lingering as long as he would let you and as long as you could stand before you changed your mind and stayed in this booth. "Goodnight, Taeil."

"Good morning," he replied, smitten as he watched you grab your things and walk out into the slowly growing sunlight.

Back at the condo, you hummed to yourself as you cooked breakfast for your aunt when she returned from the newsroom. She had no idea about Taeil. In fact, she would probably be thrilled if she knew, seeing as she'd been suggesting you try going on a date or two while you were here. However, it was fun to have secrets every one in a while, since you never had much a need for them.

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A couple nights had gone past and no sign of Taeil. No amount of gas stations, diners, or bookstores turned up any results. Maybe fate wasn't on your side after all. Barring any chance of ever hanging out with him again, you resorted to an old tactic that helped you sleep back at school: exercise. Now, the community gym at the condo wasn't open all night, so you would have to go the dreaded route of getting a temporary membership somewhere. Fair enough, you figured, if it meant getting some sleep. You grabbed your backpack along with some workout gear and perused your options out on the road. Ultimately, you decided on an older establishment that was open all night.

After warming up with a quick jog on the treadmill, you got set up on the rowing machine on an easier setting than normal since it'd been a while. You were content that despite the convenient hours, the gym was virtually empty. It was easy to find yourself regularly distracted. Did Taeil even want to run into you by now? You astounded yourself that you came across such a ridiculous idea. For all you knew, Taeil was going crazy trying to find you, too. You lost yourself in thinking about your one clandestine kiss, how forward and reserved he seemed at the same time. This was the hundredth time you'd daydreamed about it since, the thought always inevitably turning to what else Taeil's lips might be capable of. You shook yourself out of it and concentrated on your breath, using the low music in your headphones for pace when you were startled by what you could've sworn was the sound of someone sputtering out water. You looked up, instantly surprised and elated as you locked eyes with Taeil from where he stood in the loft where the free weights were, wiping his mouth dry and setting his water bottle down. Springing to your feet, you had the distinct sensation of being 15 again and meeting your homecoming date as you ran to meet Taeil as he flew down the stairs. You collided at the foot of the stairwell, your excitement pushing you up and into his arms, your lips against his. You leaned back, bashful at your accidental eagerness until Taeil gave a breathless chuckle and pulled you close to do it again. You quickly ducked into the hall leading to the locker rooms right off the stairwell.

"Where's my champagne?" You giggled into his kiss.

"In the car. I didn't think I'd see you again," he murmured against you, "I was looking for you--"

"I was, too." You pulled back, gazing into his hooded eyes, giddy as he seemed excited by your admission. "Is this dumb? This whole thing?"

Taeil nodded earnestly, his arms wrapped around your waist, almost as if he'd been doing it for years. "Absolutely. But I'm enjoying myself too much to stop." He kissed your cheeks, your lips, your nose. "Not to mention I've been daydreaming about you since I last saw you."

You raised your arms to wrap around his neck, your fingertips feeling the sweat he'd been working up. "Good," you grinned, "me, too. Daydreaming about what?"

Taeil didn't let your lips drift further away, always eagerly following you. "About how fun you are. How pretty you are." He leaned in, brazenly kissing you deeply and holding back a groan as you gladly reciprocated. "... And it looks like I was right to think about how much I want you. What about you? What have you been daydreaming about?"

You bit at your lip. "I've been thinking about how nice you are," you nuzzled your nose to his, occasionally brushing your lips together and savoring his small shiver, "and how exciting this is... How excited you make me." You were convinced your face was beet red by now but didn't have a chance to ask Taeil as you noticed he had leaned back, almost deep in thought as his eyes ran over you.

"I make you excited?" He asked quietly. You briskly nodded. A sly smile spread across Taeil's face for just a moment before he pulled you in, his lips on yours before you finally felt his tongue bravely probe into you. You gladly accepted, unable to hold in a small moan that made Taeil tense against you. He grew bolder, pushing open the door to the women's locker room beside you and practically sending you both flying into it.

Taeil led you down the twisting maze of lockers, his tongue unable and unwilling to leave your mouth until he laid you down on a bench. He gently spread your legs to climb in between them, his lips meandering from your lips to your cheek to your ear, down to your neck where he held you firmly as the sensation made you squirm. You watched, entranced as Taeil kissed and nipped down your chest, his fingers crawling under your shirt. His searching hands gently groped you, almost faltering every time you softly moaned until the locker room door creaked open.

Fighting to stifle your laughter, you slid out from under Taeil and, grabbing his hand, pulled him into a shower stall and turned on the water. By sheer luck, you'd picked the accessible stall and had plenty of room to dodge the spray as you pulled him close, making quick work of grabbing his shirt and pulling it up over his head and tossing it over the shower curtain rod. For just a moment, you waited for the sound of a second shower to turn on while you admired his toned chest and taut stomach, your wandering hands drawing his attention for just a second until he regained focus.

Taeil kicked off his shoes and leaned down, tugging off his socks and pushing them to the side before reaching for your shoes as well. Your shoes joined his and Taeil gazed up at you, taking his time as he slid his warm hands up one of your legs. You sucked in a breath, trembling as he patiently pulled down your shorts and removed them. He looked to you again, waiting for a nod of approval before he gently pulled down your panties next, throwing the items over the shower curtain rod as well and pulling a laugh out of both of you. Watching Taeil admire your pussy made you blush all over, every nerve in your body on fire as you waited for his next move. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the cool tile wall, an involuntary gasp escaping you as Taeil tentatively licked into your glistening lips. The gentle roll of your hips in response emboldened his tongue, diving forward again to taste and savor you.

You bit into your lip hard until you heard the shower turn off, and it was an excruciating wait. You'd been eaten out before, but never with this much patience and attention. Taeil gradually slipped a finger inside you, his thrusts methodical as he playfully smiled up at you. You clapped a hand over your mouth to swallow your moans, well aware of the glistening drips trailing down your thighs and his chin from all his hard work. Finally, the echo of a locker closing and the door opening and shutting made you both let out a hearty sigh of relief.

"Good?" Taeil asked, dazed and almost drunk off you, off of this moment that neither of you figured you were capable of.

"Good." You assured, running your fingers through his hair to get a solid grip and leading his tongue back to your folds. You hooked a thigh up over his shoulder, your hips gladly following any tempo he set for you. Taeil deftly pumped his fingers into you as he worked his tongue against your soaked clit. Your legs shook, your heart racing as you knew your orgasm was coming. "Taeil," you pleaded, "make me cum."

"Absolutely," he panted against you, his tongue and fingers never stopping until you cried out, grinding onto his lips until your orgasm faded and you came back to earth.

Taeil sat back on his heels, obscenely pleased with himself as he rocked up onto his heels and grabbed your clothes. "What now?" He asked as he slipped his shirt on. You pulled him to you for a deep kiss, impressed with how you tasted on him.

"Take me home." You suggested. Taeil raised an eyebrow at you, the grin on his face loudly voicing his agreement.

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Taeil reclined with you on the chaise lounge out on the balcony of the condo, wrapped up together in a blanket and enjoying your glasses of champagne. The drive home had let your arousal taper off for the time being, though the thought of Taeil's gym clothes and soaked socks swirling with yours in the washing machine kept you giddy. It had taken just a second of convincing him that you'd be fine hanging out naked on the balcony. After all, it was well past midnight and you were covered up. You watched each other slowly undress in the dim living room, only illuminated by the moon hanging over the shore. Taeil was beautiful in a way you hadn't really considered guys before, only exaggerated by the way his gaze caressed every inch of your exposed skin.

You laid on the lounge, your legs tangled together and your head on his chest as he stroked your hair. "When do you go home?" He asked quietly.

"In a few days." You replied solemnly. "What'll we do? If you want to do anything, that is."

"Don't be a dummy," he laughed. "I don't know what we're doing, but we're doing the hell out of it. You can give me your number and I'll call you every day."

"Really?" You asked, humoring him.

"Or at least text you." He admitted.

"Good," you nodded, "you can send me pictures of what I'm missing. I can't believe I'm leaving the beach."

"Oh!" Taeil exclaimed, making you jump. "Before I forget--" he prodded you up and off his chest as he reached for his gym bag. He set something on the side table. The small, cheap, silly snowglobe.

You playfully punched him in the arm. "When?!"

He laughed and pulled you close again, wrestling for just a moment until you were laying on top of him. "Would you believe if I said that night at the corner store? When I bought the champagne, I turned back and grabbed it. I just couldn't decide if it was dumb to do or not.

"Absolutely," you nodded gravely, crumbling into a laugh as you kissed his momentarily astonished face, "but I love it. If you're not careful, I'm going to fall in love with you."

Taeil stared, his astonishment returned. You could see the moonlight shining in his widened eyes, dimming as the night slowly approached an end. "I'm glad to say the feeling is mutual."

Your train of thought barreled off the tracks, only brought back when you realized you felt Taeil's bare cock throb to attention against your thigh. You brought your lips to his, grazing against them. "What's mutual?" You whispered.

"The feeling is." He laughed quietly.

"Say it." You persisted, kissing him repeatedly and observing his cock throbbing with each one.

"If you're not careful I'm going to fall in love with you." He repeated, treading carefully as the soft head of his cock nudged up into the entrance of your pussy. "Or," he wondered aloud, "I already am but that sounds too dumb for me to believe it."

"It definitely sounds too dumb," you agreed with a smile, your hips easing down onto his length, accepting him into you with shallow thrusts and gasps. "But my feeling the same way leads me to think you might be onto something."

Your hips landed flush against his, his whole length nestled snugly inside you. You lay like that, not thrusting, not grinding, just laying together under the blanket.

"Well, then," Taeil wondered, his fingertips absently dancing up and down your back and shoulder blades, "maybe we are. For now. It doesn't have to be forever, but for now we are."

"Okay," you nodded confidently, "say it, then."

Taeil brushed your hair over your ear and cupped your face, his own eyes shining warmly in the night despite the dimming moonlight. "I love you." It was almost a whisper, but it sent echoes down your spine. "Your turn," he insisted.

"I love you, Taeil." You replied, your hips silently sneaking up on his length as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You let go for a kiss, suddenly realizing what your hips were up to as you slid down to meet his lips. You both let out a breathy moan as you moved. Taeil's hands drifted down your back to your hips and helped you find a rhythm together, quietly whispering your sweet revelations of affection for each other as you embraced.

You laid like that, slowly making love on the balcony as the night faded. You giggled and spoke sweet nothings to each other as you rocked your hips on top of him, wondering just how your vacation turned into this when you suddenly felt the light-headed sensation of an approaching orgasm yet again.

"Taeil," you whimpered, "I think I'm going to cum again. Do you want to make me cum again?"

"Oh god, yes," Taeil groaned, taking the chance to grab your shoulders and roll you both over. He adjusted the blanket so you were still covered before finding his own rhythm. You wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him down, your lips finding his ear and moaning growing encouragement as he steadily thrust into you.

"Taeil," you gasped, "say it again."

"I love you," he strained, "I have no clue what happened or how, but I love you tonight, and I think I'll love you tomorrow and the next day, too."

"I'm glad to say the feeling is mutual," you laughed, well out of breath, "now please, please cum with me." Your orgasm swiftly approaching, you clutched tightly onto each other as Taeil's hips stuttered against you, filling you up with each thrust.

And you slept. You fell fast asleep in each other's arms, only awakened by the sound of your aunt dramatically screaming at the sight of you in Taeil's arms, sleeping naked on the balcony as she came home late that morning. You shared a laugh together and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, suddenly more awake and alive than you had been all vacation.

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[aeneidpdf]

big sky country

chapter: 3/?

word count: 4.3k+

summary: they set out for Niagara Falls, and stop for lunch at Becket Quarry.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24394804/chapters/59282086

They got through the checkout line quickly, and then they were back in the van- Pete in the back, Ray and Art in the middle seats, and Abraham and Collie up front. Abraham fiddled with his phone, pulling up the directions to Niagara Falls while Collie popped in the first of the Johnny Cash CDs that Pete had bought.

It was the American IV: The Man Comes Around album. Johnny Cash’s voice came over the speakers, saying: "And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder. One of the four beasts saying, 'Come and see.' and I saw, and behold a white horse."

“Great,” Abraham said. “A song about judgement day to start our trip. That’s not a bad sign at all.”

“It’s just a song,” Ray said.

“Ray’s right,” Pete added, lazing in the back row. “No need to worry yourself, Abe. Geez, good thing it wasn’t God’s Gonna Cut You Down or we never would’ve gotten this thing off the ground.”

In the side mirror, Art could see a hint of a grimace on Abraham’s face, but Collie was laughing and asking him to start the directions. Over top of the music, came the canned voice of the maps app: “Turn right to merge onto Maine Turnpike toward I-95. In 55 miles, keep left on I-95 South.”

Collie whistled low through his teeth. “Shit. Fifty-five miles.”

“Better get a move on!” It was Pete, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Lot more where that came from.”

Collie didn’t answer that, and they pulled out of the parking lot and merged onto the Maine Turnpike. Art didn’t quite know what he thought about the song, but he felt like he was on Abraham’s side. He didn’t practice much now, but he was raised Baptist, and his family had been heavily involved in the church down home in Louisiana, until they moved. They’d found a new church when they moved up to Maine. Art had been baptized in Highland Lake, just a thirty minute drive out of Portland, when he was eleven.

He had stood in the water that came up nearly to his armpits, his clothing floating loose around him and the marshy bottom of the lake swirling and tugging at his feet. It was a bright hot day in early May, but the water was cold, and the look in the minister’s eyes was serious. Art had been scared then. He wanted to turn tail and run back to his mother. But his mother and father and aunt and uncle were watching with bated breath, and his siblings were waiting on the shore, their shoes and socks shucked off and tossed aside. They were watching him too, and waiting for their turn. He was the oldest now; he had to be brave.

Art had then been dunked under the water and he resisted the urge to thrash against the strong hands that held him. The lake water wrapped around him and engulfed him like a coffin. He was drowning. He had forgotten to take a breath before the minister submerged him, and now he was drowning. He thought of another body, rotting in standing water, and bubbles expelled from his mouth in a mad burst as he let out a soundless scream. Finally, he was hauled up by the collar of his starched white dress shirt, and he came up breathless and temporarily blinded by the sun, while his mother cheered hysterically on the shore.

Thinking of it now still made him feel like he was going to be sick.

Even more than religion though, his life was ruled by superstition.

Superstitions were as sure as summer storms and waves of summer heat rising up from the cracked and melted asphalt. The whole south was steeped in superstition, and the Baker family was no exception. Superstition worked its way into the practices and customs of every season. On New Year’s, they ate black-eyed peas and collard greens for good luck and money. In fact, that was what they ate nearly all year round, because that was what they could afford.

The Baker children went around town with dimes strung around their necks to ward off the devil, and whenever his mother opened a new loaf of bread, she threw the first end slice in the garbage. “To keep money comin’ our way,” she explained when Art asked about it. Art watched, forlorn and hungry, as she tossed the bread into the garbage. Money never seemed to come their way.

In the summer, when the alligators came out of hibernation and the humidity floated off the wetlands and settled heavily over everything, Art was warned about alligators climbing out of the bayou and slithering under his house. Those meant there would be a death in the family soon. Art always took the stairs up and down the porch two at a time, frantic to get away from the monster hiding under the house, waiting for the perfect moment to snap at his ankles and drag him under.

There weren’t any alligators in Maine, but Art still sometimes dreamed of one, lying in wait for him, red eyes glowing out of the darkness. He shuddered imperceptibly at the thought.

Would a song ruin their whole trip? No, but a part of him still felt apprehensive.

Outside the window, South Portland disappeared, and they were on the Maine Turnpike, heading south. The song had changed, and Hurt was playing now. Over the van’s speaker system, Johnny Cash’s voice sang: “What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end.” The guitar melody built behind his voice in a way that made Art’s chest tighten. It rose in a crescendo and then disappeared as the next verse began.

“Have any of you heard the original of this song?” Ray asked.

From behind them, Pete answered, “Yeah. Nine Inch Nails. It’s good, but, you know, it’s not this.”

“I’d be fucking pissed if I wrote a song and then found out Johnny Cash did a cover of it,” Collie said.

Abraham laughed in the passenger seat. “Of course you’d be pissed.”

“Well, yeah! You write a song about some personal shit, and then Johnny Cash comes along and sings it and makes it a hundred times better. How would you feel?”

He thought for a moment and shrugged. “Shit, yeah. I guess I’d be kinda mad too.”

“You guys are thinking about it the wrong way,” Art said. “Imagine getting a call that Johnny Cash wants to record your song? That’d be exciting. That’d be an honor.”

He could see Collie looking at him in the rearview mirror, his eyes creased with his smile. “I guess that’s right.” It made Art smile too, and duck his head.

“It’s a good thing you’re on this thing with us, Art,” Abraham said, twisting around in his seat to face him. “It’s a good thing at least one of us isn’t an asshole.”

“Hey!” Pete protested. “Ray’s not an asshole.”

Ray snorted, and said, “Thanks, Pete.” Abraham twisted back around in his seat. The song changed. Art looked back out the window.

///

In a half hour, approximately forty miles into their journey, they passed a sign saying that there was a  toll plaza in four miles.

“Alright,” Collie said, turning the music down a few notches. “Who brought cash for tolls?” Silence answered him. Art had completely forgotten that they’d even need to pay tolls. “Jesus, nobody?”

“There’s a rest stop coming up on the right,” Abraham told him, reading the road signs as they zoomed past. “There’ll be an ATM there. We can take some cash out there.”

A couple miles down the road and they pulled into the rest stop. The parking lot was mostly empty as they all piled out of the minivan. The rest stop was a small building with a dramatically slanting roof and the front was mostly covered over with windows. Out front was a Smokey the Bear statue with a sign next to him proclaiming the fire danger in the area for today. The risk was low.

“I say we each take out $20,” Abraham suggested. “That should be good to start out, right?”

“I think so,” Ray said, looking like he was deep in thought. “After this, we’ve got a toll to get on the New Hampshire turnpike, and a shitton of them in Massachusetts. Once we’re west of New York, I have no clue.”

“Geez, you’re like a walking road map,” Pete said admiringly. Ray ducked his head. “We can spend whatever leftover cash we have on food and stuff.”

The group turned and headed towards the rest stop. Art followed, but Collie caught his arm and held him back. Art looked down at the hand and then into his friend’s face. Collie dropped his hand quickly.

“Art, if you want I can take out money for both of us,” he offered, his face flushed like he was embarrassed. “You don’t have to take out the $20 if you don’t want to.” Art heard the implication there. He meant: “if you can’t.”

Now it was Art’s turn to feel embarrassed. It brought him back to being a kid, and not being allowed to go to birthday parties because he couldn’t afford to rent the bowling shoes or the roller skates. It brought him back to eleventh grade, when they all got their driver’s licenses and started to go out to eat on the weekends and pass late nights crammed into diner booths. Pete had always pulled him aside and offered to pay his way for him. Pete always looked at him with a kind and earnest look in his eyes, and shame always rolled around in Art’s stomach like a hot coal.

He felt it now, rolling around in his stomach and pressing down on the back of his neck, forcing him to look down at his shoes. Collie was bouncing from one foot to the other, looking back at the rest stop every so often. The others were probably already crowded around the ATM, wondering what the hell was wrong with them.

“It’s alright, Collie. I can pay my own way. I have some money saved up,” he answered, finally looking back up at Collie. “Besides, it’s not like any of us have a ton of money.” Sickly he thought: there’s a big difference between being middle class and being poor. He knew that, and he knew Collie knew that. For a second, he thought Collie was going to say it, but mercifully, he didn’t. He just patted Art on the back, and the two of them walked across the parking lot to the rest stop.

///

Once they had finished at the rest stop, Collie had a modest stack of twenty dollar bills in his hand. The twisted the key in the ignition and the van rumbled to life. They pulled easily out onto the highway.

It was still only 9:30 in the morning, and the only traffic was huge semi-trucks carrying goods and produce across state lines. They rose up around the minivan on all sides, dwarfing it. Art figured the traffic would be heavier once they got closer to Boston. The route that Pete had devised had them driving within thirty miles of the city before veering off west into New York. Abraham’s phone estimated they wouldn’t reach Niagara Falls until 5:00 in the evening.

Their Johnny Cash CD had just restarted, and Abraham was shuffling through the other ones Pete had bought as Collie pulled up to the tollbooth. The toll only cost $3.00, and he handed the woman working in the booth a twenty with what looked like an apologetic smile. She gave him his change, the bar lifted, and they drove on.

“She probably thought I was a dick, paying with a twenty,” he mumbled to himself, sticking the change in his cup holder as he continued down I-95 South. Over the radio, Johnny Cash sang: “Whoever is unjust let him be unjust still. Whoever is righteous let him be righteous still. Whoever is filthy let him be filthy still. Listen to the words long written down, when the man comes around.” It was the song that had played when they first left the Target back in South Portland, the song that had made Abraham nervous. It made Art nervous, too. The upbeat guitar playing underneath it only served to remind him of his father, playing hymns on the back porch in Louisiana. The songs were always happy, but they said such horrible things.

He wondered if Abraham still thought the song was a bad sign. He wanted to ask him, but couldn’t bring himself to do it, in the car, in broad daylight. It seemed like the sort of thing where, if you admitted to it in the daylight, all the monsters and all the bad luck in the world would find you and strike you down. Better to say it in the dark, where you could hide. Art gulped- he guessed he was more superstitious than he thought.

Abraham ejected the CD, causing the music to cut out sharply. He put in the next CD, the American III: Solitary Man album. The first song on the album was I Won’t Back Down. A cover of a Tom Petty song. He noticed Collie was singing softly to himself. It made Art smile. He knew it was just the sort of song Collie would latch onto.

Ray had turned in his seat, and he and Pete had their heads together, putting their playlist together. Collie’s words in the Target that morning hadn’t deterred them.

“How much do y’all have so far?” Art asked, turning in his seat too to face them better.

“We’ve got like a hundred songs,” Ray answered. “All sorts of stuff.”

“Wow,” was Art’s only response.

“I think once we add a bit more we’ll be done,” Pete added. “We’re gonna be on the road for some ninety hours. Gotta be prepared.”

Art turned back around. Not for the first time, he wondered what exactly he had set into motion. Ninety hours on the road.

They crossed over a bridge, and beneath them the Piscataqua River lazed along. Some sailboats were gliding over the surface. Art wondered what it would be like, to lay on the deck on a sailboat, warming in the sun. Maybe his friends would be there too, casting their fishing lines over the side of the boat. Art decided that would be nice.

A sign posted on their right announced that they were entering New Hampshire.

“Look at that! We’re in New Hampshire!” he gasped out.

“New state!” Abe cheered, banging on the car dashboard.

“Maybe New Hampshire will be more to your liking, Parker,” Pete teased from the backseat.

Art was excited- it had been a long time since he’d crossed the Maine state line. They finished crossing the bridge, and the Maine Turnpike became the Blue Star Turnpike. The trip felt real in a way it hadn’t before. Art hadn’t left Maine since he was a kid, and now he was going to travel across the country. He looked around him, eagerly left and right, and took it all in.

After another twenty miles of driving, they came to another tollbooth. “Christ, again?” Collie exclaimed. “Fuck Maine, and fuck Maine’s roads.” They all laughed at his customary outburst.

“I think you mean New Hampshire?” Abe supplied.

“Yeah, fuck New Hampshire, too,” Collie grumbled.

“So… so far Parker hates 4% of states. Should we start placing bets on what that number’ll be by the end of the trip?” Pete asked.

Collie ignored him and gave the man at the tollbooth a few crumpled dollar bills. Then they were through.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” Ray asked him fondly.

“Not at all,” Pete replied, and leaned back in his seat.

Art looked out the window.

///

They were in New Hampshire for only half an hour, and then they were crossing into Massachusetts. Another state to add to Art’s list. As they passed over the state line, Pete asked, in that fake earnest voice of his, “What do ya think of this one, Collie? Gonna add it to the list? Make it 6%?”

“You’re gonna get your stupid ass thrown out,” Art choked out between laughs.

“Art’s right, Pete. You’re getting yourself on my shit list,” Collie said.

“Who isn’t on your shit list?” Abraham asked.

“You know, Abe, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Hell, it’s fun to watch you get all red in the face.” Abraham grinned. Collie rolled his eyes but grinned too and kept on driving. They merged onto I-495 South, and then all the road signs began to point towards Boston.

“I was thinking we could stop and eat lunch around noon, and then switch drivers,” Pete said. His antagonistic streak seemed to be over, and he was back to examining the itinerary he’d put together for the trip.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Ray agreed.

“I like the sound of that,” Collie said.

“How you doin’ up there, Collie?” Art asked.

“Oh, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” he assured, rolling back his shoulders and stretching. “But I’ll be ready to switch two hours from now.”

///

They were mostly quiet after that, just singing along to the CD playing over the radio, until they were nearing Lawrence, Massachusetts. There was an exit leading onto I-93 South, which would take them into Boston.

“Collie, can we go to Boston?” Abraham asked, looking longingly out the window, as if he could see the city’s skyline from the highway, thirty miles away. “I’ve never been to Boston.”

“Who the fuck lives in Maine and hasn’t been to Boston?” Collie asked in disbelief. “I’m not even from here and I’ve fucking been to Boston.”

“Well, fuck you. I don’t have a car, dipshit,” Abe shot back.

“That’s a shitty excuse. Just take a Greyhound from Portland into Boston,” Collie replied. “You guys have been to Boston, right? Even you, Art?”

Ray and Pete nodded, but Art shook his head. “No, I’ve never been. Until this, I hadn’t even left Maine in like eight years.”

They all looked faintly surprised at this. “Jesus, what?” Collie asked incredulously. “I’ve failed the two of you as a friend,” he said to Art and Abraham. “Once we get back, I’m taking the two of you to Boston.”

Art liked the sound of that- exploring a new city with Abraham and Collie Parker. His world seemed so much bigger than it had this morning, so much bigger than his present in Maine and his past in Louisiana.

///

By the time noon rolled around, they were nearing Blandford, Massachusetts. Boston was over a hundred miles behind them. “Pull off here,” Abraham instructed, and Collie did, and they rolled into Blandford. The welcome sign said the population was 1,233.

“There’s a park around here that’s really pretty. We should eat there,” Ray said, looking intently at his phone screen. Collie asked for directions, and Ray gave them. After a few minutes of driving they pulled into the parking lot of Becket Quarry and Collie paid the parking attendant $10. They’d already spent nearly $20, and it had only been a few hours. That stack of twenties wasn’t stretching as far as Art thought it would.

They all got out of the van and crowded around the trunk, pulling sandwiches and water bottles out of the cooler Abraham had brought. Collie grabbed one of the packs of beef jerky out of a Target bag, and then they were locking up the van and heading down the trail.

It wasn’t a far walk to the quarry, and along the path and trees surrounded them, green and leafy and tall. They reached the end of the path, and came upon the quarry. It was beautiful- the surface of the water reflected the endless blue sky overhead, and large rock faces emerged from the water and towered over it, covered over with moss and bright green foliage. There were a few different groups sitting around the quarry, but it was mostly empty- plenty of room for them to spread out and eat their lunch.

Abraham climbed one of the smaller rock formations overlooking the water and set his water and sandwich down. “We should go swimming.”

The rest of the group looked eager, excited at the prospect, but Art hesitated. “How deep is it?” he asked.

“Well, it’s a quarry, so I think the most shallow spot will still be at least forty feet,” Ray answered.

“Forty feet,” Art repeated softly to himself. That was awfully deep. It would be easy to disappear in that water and never come up again. That old panic gripped him.

The rest of them were stripping down to their boxers to swim. Abraham dove in first, and then Pete jumped in, dragging Ray with him by his hands. Collie went next, doing a cannonball and splashing the three of them in the water.

Art wished he could follow, but he imagined jumping in and sinking down down down, away from the light. Instead he took off his shoes and socks and sat at the edge of the water, his legs under it up to his mid-calves. The water was cold, perfectly refreshing for a summer day.

A few feet away, Abraham was floating on his back, and Pete and Ray splashed at him, giggling to each other like conspirators. Collie was swimming laps around them, his tanned arms glinting in the sunlight. Show off, Art thought, and suppressed a secret smile.

It made Art happy to watch him, and it felt good to bask in the sun, to feel it on his arms and his legs. It was still early June, but the temperature must have climbed past eighty degrees. It had been humid in the forest, but by the water the air felt crisp and clean.

The sun flashed brilliantly off the surface of the water, casting his friends in a harsh glare. They looked like an old overexposed photograph, or a child’s crayon-colored dream come to life. This, he thought, is what summer is.

Collie noticed him sitting on the bank alone and swam over. “You coming in?” he asked. Art shook his head. “Can you not swim?”

“I can swim,” Art answered. “It’s just… it’s too deep.” He could only see a foot or two below the water’s surface. Below that, darkness straight down. He could see Collie’s arms as he tread water, but the rest of him was obscured by the quarry water. Pete, Ray, and Abraham were just floating heads, bobbing and laughing a dozen yards from shore.

“Oh.” Collie pushed his wet hair out of his face. “I get that.” He braced his hands on the rock and lifted himself up out of the water, sitting next to Art. Art’s shirt sleeve was wet from where Collie’s arm touched his.

“You don’t have to stop swimming on account of me,” he said softly.

“Oh, it’s not on account of you,” Collie answered. “We have to dry off and eat anyways. I don’t know about the rest of them, but I don’t want to drive around for another four hours in wet shorts.”

They sat in companionable silence for a minute, Collie kicking his legs and churning up water. The droplets seemed to catch fire in the afternoon sunlight. “What bothers you about the water?” Collie asked, looking over at him. The heat of Collie’s arm was still heavy against his arm, but neither of them moved away. Art’s face burned with the proximity.

“I can’t see the bottom. I can swim fine,” Art explained. “But I don’t like it when I can’t see the bottom.” He almost wanted to add that no one knew what was down there, lurking below the reach of the sun. But that was the stuff of nightmares, and he didn’t want to seem stupid.

“We’ll have to find you a swimming pool, then,” Collie replied.

Art fixed him with a look. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No, I’m not making fun of you. I’m trying to be nice. I don’t make fun of you, you know. At least not, like, seriously.” He had a faintly hurt look in his eyes, like this was something he really wanted to get across.

Art answered that look with a smile. “A swimming pool sounds nice, then.”

“Good,” Collie said simply. He got up and walked over to where his clothes were discarded, and started getting dressed. Art averted his eyes. He called out to the three in the water, “Come on and get out now! We gotta hit the road soon to keep on schedule!”

“Don’t be so lame!” Pete shouted back, in the middle of dunking Ray under the water. Ray pushed him away, laughing.

“Dumbass, it’s your schedule,” Collie answered, sitting back down and ripping open the pack of beef jerky. “Get over here and eat your sandwiches.” The three reluctantly swam over and pulled themselves out of water, instead eating their lunch and drying under the sun. Art left his perch on the edge of the rock and went to sit with them.

They ate their sandwiches and drank from their water bottles, warming themselves in the sun and keeping an eye on the time. When it hit 1:00 PM, Collie got up and said, “Time to go, guys. Pete, you’re driving.” He tossed the keys, and Pete caught them cleanly.

“Aye aye, captain.” Pete gave a mock salute and started getting dressed. “Ray can sit up front with me. We’ll debut our playlist.”

“Can’t wait,” Collie grumbled.

As they left, Art looked back at the quarry one more time, at the murky depths and the glare it cast on the rock formations surrounding it. Then, he turned around and followed his friends through the trees.

[thereluctantinquisitor]

❝ I’ll pay for your [meal/coffee/groceries/etc] ! ❞ for modern darrus? :))

Okay so I used the prompt for inspiration but didn’t really incorporate the exact quote, so… don’t sue me!

                                                         –

“I, ah… just a second. Hold on.” 

Cyrus could feel his cheeks heating up as he frantically dug through his wallet, checking every card slot for a loose coin. Despite what felt like desperate tunnel-vision on his fumbling hands, he was hyper-aware of the line behind him, other people’s groceries already lined up on the belt, fingers thrumming along the handles of shopping carts. God, this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening. He’d find something. He had to have something lying around…

Glancing up at the unimpressed cashier, he swore softly to himself, tossing his wallet on the narrow counter and digging through his pockets. His fingertips brushed paper, and fora second he allowed himself to hope, but he just pulled out an old receipt, crinkled beyond recognition, stained slightly blue from his jeans. He threw that on the counter too, his heart hammering in his chest because he was at the front of the fucking line and he’d been rummaging for over a minute and people were watching.

The cashier cleared his throat. “Sir, do you need to—”

— “No, I don’t.” In truth, Cyrus had no idea what the guy was even planning to suggest. Use his phone to pay? Go to an ATM? Yeah, sorry buddy, neither option was going to make this shit any better. He must have spent the last of his money on gas, and his paycheck wasn’t coming in for another five days.

Fuuuuck.

He glanced at the bag of groceries. It wasn’t even enough that he could pretend he had just got carried away and over-shopped. It was basic shit - water, a couple of cans of spaghetti, alcohol wipes, bread. That sort of thing. Someone coughed behind him in the line and Cyrus felt the last of his resolve waver and crumble to dust.

“Just… forget it,” he muttered, snatching his empty wallet off the counter and shoving it back into his pocket. “I don’t—”

— “Hey, there you are!” 

A loud voice interrupted Cyrus’ living nightmare. He turned to see a tall blond man working his way through the line, smiling sunnily, murmuring ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ as he wove his way towards…

… him.

“Phew, just made it! Thanks for stalling. Forgot which checkout you went to.” He winked at Cyrus and placed a small pack of ibuprofen on the counter. “Don’t you just hate it when you remember something at the last minute?” He seemed to direct the comment to the cashier before turning to commiserate with the person next in line. Apparently the plight was universal, as both laughed quietly and nodded, as though partaking in some kind of inside joke. Still smiling, the blond turned back to the cashier, slipping a bill out of his wallet. “Anyway, really sorry for the hold up. How much?”

The rest of the transaction passed in something of a blur. The stranger paid for… well, everything. All the irritation Cyrus had sensed from the people around him before seemed to give way into a strange kind of exasperated amusement as the blond gave the line a final apologetic wave, scooping up the grocery bag and nodding his head towards the door. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Uh… sure.” In truth, Cyrus had no fucking idea what to do. The guy had his groceries. Well, more like commandeered his groceries. He could just take them, really. They were technically his. As the blond moved towards the automatic doors Cyrus found himself following like a lost puppy, although without the requisite enthusiasm. It was wariness that kept him a few paces behind the man, his attention on the bag swinging absently by his side.

What was he up to?

They paused once they were near the edge of the carpark, near a cafe in the process of recovering from the afternoon rush. The tall man turned, smiled again, then seemed to realise with a start that he was still holding the bag. “Oh! Here - sorry. These are yours.”

Cyrus just stared at the bag, then glanced back up at the blond. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” He waggled the bag, the paper crackling as it swayed. “But I did, so… you might as well take them.”

Every fiber of Cyrus’ being wanted to tell him to keep them. That he didn’t need them. But the empty pit in his stomach was a constant reminder that he wasn’t in any position to skip another meal. Shit, he’d salivated over canned spaghetti. 

So he took the bag.

“Thanks,” he murmured, then cleared his throat. “Look, I don’t have a lot right now, but I can pay you back. Just… I don’t know. Tell me a place to meet you next week.”

The blond seemed taken aback by the suggestion, paused, then broke into a bright smile. “Hey, I’m more than happy to meet up with you next week, but I don’t want you to pay me back or anything. Just… think of it as a favour.”

Cyrus shook his head. Mostly in disbelief. “A favour?” he repeated. “I don’t even know you.”

“Oh! Right.” The blond immediately held out his hand. “Darren Miller.” 

Feeling like he was constantly on the back foot and racing to catch up, Cyrus shook his hand on instinct. “Uh… Cyrus.”

“Nice to meet you!” His grip was firm. If anything, it lingered a little longer than Cyrus was used to but… not necessarily in a bad way. He wasn’t really sure how to explain it. When Darren did let go, it was with a kind of amused half-smile that did something strange to Cyrus’ chest. “There,” he continued with a satisfied nod. “Now we know each other.”

“Not really…” Letting his hand drop to his side, Cyrus tried to salvage some remnant of his pride. “Listen, I was serious about paying you back. I don’t just take money from people.”

Darren cocked his head, a lock of his blond hair flopping from one side to the other. “You didn’t. I gave it to you.” He shrugged. “Besides, someone paid for mine once. It’s kinda like… ugh, what’s that thing from that movie? With the kid and the assignment…?”

Cyrus quirked a brow at the man. “Pay it forward?”

It was, apparently, the correct answer. Darren’s face lit up and he nodded excitedly. “Yeah! Wow, I haven’t seen that in so long…”

“It was… kind of a downer. From memory.” Cyrus didn’t remember much of it - only that he cried at the end. But he was a kid at the time, which meant there was probably nothing to really cry over.

“Yeah, I cried so hard at the end.” Darren laughed as Cyrus watched him, wondering if the tall man could read his mind somehow. “But then again, I cry in most movies. And some ads. Have you seen that Thai life insurance ad? It’s so…” Something about Cyrus’ expression must have finally registered because Darren trailed off and, for the first time, a pink flush crept up his neck and onto his cheeks. “I’m… rambling, aren’t I?”

Despite himself, Cyrus gave a snort of amusement. “Yeah. A little.” 

Was it weird that a part of him wanted to add ‘but I don’t mind’? 

“Sorry. I do that when I’m nervous. AH, I mean—” For a few seconds, it seemed like Darren was planning to salvage his sentence, but then he just sighed and gave up with a sheepish chuckle. “Just… sorry. I’m not normally this bad.”

Nervous? Why would he be nervous? He’d just sidled through a grocery line like Cyrus’ knight in domestic armour. Shit, Cyrus was going to eat tonight because of him. “No, I… you’re fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Darren favoured him with a grateful look. Then his gaze flicked back down to the small grocery bag and a faint frown creased his brow. “Those… aren’t meant to last you a week, are they?”

Cyrus froze. How did he…?

Right. He said he could pay him back next week. Fuck, why did he even open his big mouth?

“It’s enough,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t need much.”

“Right. Okay then.” Darren was nodding, but there was something about his tone that suggested he didn’t believe the lie. Admittedly, it was a pretty poor one. “Hey, how about instead of meeting up next week, we might up again later tonight?”

Cyrus frowned. “Why?” He already told the guy he wouldn’t have the money until next week. 

Again, Darren’s cheeks reddened, and he reached up, scratching his cheek. “I dunno… might be fun? There’s this bar a few blocks away that does open mic Fridays. You get a mix of things - singers and comedians and stuff. It’s always interesting. If you’re, ah… y’know… interested.”

It took a few solid moments before Cyrus realised what was actually happening. “Are you asking me out?”

Darren chuckled, seeming almost relived that Cyrus had at least understood that much. “Trying to! Although I’m getting the feeling I’m not doing a very good job.” He sighed. “Sorry. I don’t really… do this often. If I’m making you uncomfortable just say the word and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No, you’re… you’re fine.” In truth, Cyrus wasn’t used to being asked out. Picked up? Sure. He cleared his throat, acutely aware of the bag of groceries in his hand. “Look, I want to go with you, but I don’t exactly have the cash for eating out.”

“That’s okay! My idea, my shout. That’s how it works, right?”

Cyrus supposed that was true. Besides, if all else failed, it was a free meal. One that wasn’t from a can. So, he relaxed, regarding Darren for the first time with something other than skepticism. “You know what? Sure. Why not.”

The grin the blond man shone back at him was dazzling - it was like Cyrus had made his whole year in a few simple words. “Seriously? Great! Here, let me give you my number…”

As Darren rummaged around for his phone, Cyrus couldn’t help but shake his head slightly in disbelief. Of all things he expected to happen today, having his groceries paid for and going on a date was the furthest from likely. 

But hey, maybe sometimes even he got to catch a break. 

[booknerdphd]

International Student Tips: Shifting Stuff

Hey guys!

So, I shifted to the US a day or so back and I’m settling in slowly. It is obviously a big mental shift, even if I did spend 6 years in the US as a kid.

I’m going to outline here the things everyone will have to do once they get here, things that are probably obvious, but maybe it will help people out. There will be a Part 2 of this post, I will link it here once it is up.

This post covers what you need to keep in mind immediately after you land. That post will talk about furniture, finding a place to stay, etc.

Immigration Stuff

You will find this from your to-do list from Uni or from the Government websites, but either way, here is a list. You have a 30 day time period (from your I-20 start date, is my understanding) to update all of this, but try to get it done as soon as possible. The sooner the better

1) Your I-94: As a kid, I remember my parents filling out this form, but luckily for us all, this in now all online. After you land and have internet connectivity, download the I-94. Keep your documents ready in digital form (page 1 of I-20, Passport with expiration details, F1 visa (except for Canadians)). You will need to accordingly upload the same for your check-in with University. Make sure this is all in pdf format.

2) Phone Number and Address: Once you land and take a day to just recuperate from your travel, head out to get a sim card. Research before hand what the best option is. If you’re already decided on the preferred service, it makes it easier to get it all done with quickly in a day or two. As for the address, you may be staying in a hotel or a friend’s place till you shift into your new place. Temporary addresses are accepted. I am actually waiting for my lease to start to update it, though, since my start date and my lease start date are the same.

What will Happen When You Land

Okay, so, while I am on the topic of immigration, let me explain what the process will be.

When you land in the US, you will first join a queue to interact with homeland security. This is the immigration point. This is your last test, so to speak. The person there has the final authority to reject you. Your F-1 visa is not a definite assurance that you will step on US Soil. 

Here, you may get some questions, and if they want you to discuss some more, they may send you aside to have a different person talk to you. Don’t be afraid, you will be fine. Just answer the questions and you will get through it. 

Once this is done, you get to the baggage claim. You will pick up your stuff and go to customs. They will have already identified and marked which luggage they want to check or deem suspicious. You will have to declare anything they think you shouldn’t be bringing.

Once this is done, you’re finished, you can now book a cab, get to your stay of choice and pass out (or not, please stay awake to avoid jetlag).

Money Matters

One thing that is a big question mark is how to carry your money or manage your money. I will provide two options that could work for you, based on what I did and based on what my friend did (though she was going to Australia).

Let me give you an understanding on what was different for us. She was staying with a family friend and her brother was already in Australia, so she went through a slightly different route from me. I was staying alone, though at a friend’s house, and I had no one in the country.

Given this, here are the two ways to manage:

1) Carry only Cash: My friend only carried some cash with her, and then her father transferred the remaining amount to her brother. Once she got her bank account (since she didn’t have any expenses like food or stuff like that), her brother transferred the money to her.

2) Carry Cash, Card and Transfer the rest: What I did was I budgeted two month’s expenses and broke it into 3 parts. One part I was carrying in cash, one part I kept on a forex card and one part I kept in my account in India. This money I had transferred once I opened my account. 

A forex card is a good option because it has a 5 year time period and you can also use it to just keep that money safe after you open a bank account. It was ideal for me since I was landing in the weekend and would have to wait a while to open an account. In this case, it would mean that without the card, I would have to use cash, which would end up with me getting looottss of change I would never be able to use. 

Keep in mind, however, that your forex card may have a set date you need to use that money by. Mine was 60 days, and I opened it in August. Make sure you put small amounts of money in it till you have to shift money into the bank account.  Also, check your atm withdrawal charges and see if you can put money on your card and then withdraw it all and deposit it in a bank once you set up a bank account.

Another option you guys could look into (it depends on how long you think it will take for you to get an account) is a traveler's cheque, which can be put into the bank afterwards. You set it up before you leave your country and encash it once you set up your account.

Misc.

1) Once you set up your account at the bank, make sure to ask them to convert some bills into a stack of quarters. You will need this for laundry.

2)  Once you land, make sure you keep yourself up for a little while- at least till 8 pm local time. Somehow push it through. It will be hard, because I landed in Seattle at 1 am India Time. I have no idea how I even made it to the damn apartment, but I did. Have some coffee, and take a long bath. Just push yourself till 8 pm and then pass out. It will definitely help with jet-lag.

Food

1) When all fails, in terms of figuring out what to eat, find a 7/11. Like, you will find places to eat, don’t worry, but just on the off chance you don’t want to spend too much money or want a big meal, just go to a 7/11. It’s not the healthiest option, but it is good enough till you buy something you can make (in your hotel room or the apartment you will stay at).

2) Buy bread and cereal. If you like rice, buy a small pack of rice. Rice, bread and cereal won’t require much work from you. If, on the off chance, you don’t have a fridge to use, this helps out with that as well. Long shelf life items like potatos, carrots, and onions are good too and can be used with the rice. When you are jet-lagged, half asleep and have no concept of the time space continuum, you seriously cannot be bothered to worry about earthly issues like feeding yourself. Eggs are good too, if you know you can finish them in the time you are in the house/hotel and have a fridge and cutlery to cook. Milk is important too, for the cereal, but buy the small tetra-packs. No one wants to lug food from one place to the other when you finally shift into your new place.

3) HOWEVER, don't feel like you need to do either of the above. For me, the 7/11 was fairly far away so I went to a Safeway, which was a 10 minute walk.  That is okay, don't push yourself to go for the cheapest of stuff if it's too far away. You will have some sort of grocery store nearby- go buy only what you need for a few days and once you feel up to it, look for cheap options.

[thehelleniclunarwitch]

Oh To Be A Barton (Chapter Four)

Tagged: @justgrits

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

Life hadn’t been easy these past several months for the Barton siblings. Clint hadn’t waited around long enough to get a pair of hearing aids. When he was strong enough to get up out of bed, Clint took his sister and they disappeared from Marcy and Buck. It had been their third night sleeping in the park when Clint had found a leftover newspaper with a giant headline breaking the news that their Traveling Wonders had closed down.

Jacques embezzlement had come through and Mr. Carson had decided that it was time for the circus to be done. The crew had left to find other work. Clint had seen his and Emily’s pictures in the papers Buck and Marcy were frantically looking for the children. The newspaper had found itself in the trash bin and away from Emily’s prying eyes. His sister had still been upset that they had to leave their home they had only known. One day she would realize that leaving was for the best for them.

For a while, Clint had resorted to pickpocketing people as his sister distracted the innocent victims with her cute face and charms. They would always gang up on tourists they were the easiest to steal from. They could easily get a few hundred bucks a day and Clint quickly saved up the money. The pair never went hungry. Emily had wanted to start putting some money away for a pair of hearing aids but Clint had refused. He was content with just signing. He swore he didn’t miss hearing. Emily always dropped it, but he knew his sister was determined to get him his hearing back.

Most nights the pair slept in abandoned cars or run down old shops. On bad stormy nights, Clint would rent them a motel room so they could wake up dry. That way they could shower and watch some TV. Those nights Emily was the happiest she always said she felt like they were playing house. With Emily tucked away safely in a motel room, Clint would always take their backpack of clothes and go down to the laundromat to do their laundry. By morning, they would each have a full stomach and clean clothes. Emily would always insist on stocking up on the small shampoo and soaps before they would leave.

Life went on like this for months up until eight months into living on the streets when Clint had gotten caught stealing from one of the tourists. The man had ended up getting annoyed with Emily and flicked her away. Clint exploded and attacked the man. The man easily tossed Clint off and sprouted on and on about how he knew that it was a ploy. Clint read his lips as Emily frantically tried signing his threats to her brother. Clint had forced Emily to run as he held the man off long enough for his sister to escape.

Clint had found himself pressed up against the wall and the man’s fist coming towards his face when another man stopped his attacker. Of course, Clint couldn’t hear anything that was being said, but his attacker let him go. Clint sunk down to the ground and looked up at his savior. The man stood tall, he had black curly hair, a pair of silver glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes were calm and peaceful. He was talking to Clint, but Clint shook his head and pointed to his ears.

Surprisingly, the man nodded and then started to sign to Clint.

Are you hurt? The man asked.

Clint shook his head.

Do I need to call the police? He asked.

No police. Clint signed back.

The man sighed. I’m Bruce. He introduced.

Clint Clint signed slowly.

For you and your sister’s sake I suggest you find another way to make a living. Bruce told him.

Clint nodded.

Clint watched as Bruce dug around in his back pocket. He pulled out his wallet and opened it. Bruce pulled out a few bills and held them out to Clint. Clint eyed Bruce and the money.

Get your sister a hot meal. Bruce suggested.

Carefully, Clint took the money from Bruce.

Listen, it’s obvious that you have things under control. Bruce started.

Clint gave him a curt nod.

But if you ever need anything I’m staying at Stark Towers. I’ll be there for a few weeks if you need any kind of help. Bruce said.

Clint pocketed the money and then sighed his thanks. Turning his back, Clint started to make his way down the alley to find where Emily had hid away at. Feeling eyes still on him, Clint turned to see Bruce still standing there at the end of the alley. He gave the boy a small smile and a wave. Clint returned the wave before disappearing to find his sister. Clint never went to Stark Towers for help and he never saw the Bruce guy ever again.

A hand in his face had Clint blinking away the memory. He looked up to see Emily standing over him. She had two ice cream cones in her hands. One was melting down the side of her hand. Clint smiled up at his sister as he took the ice cream from her. That incident with Bruce was five months ago, but it still felt like it had happened just yesterday.

Are you okay? Emily asked.

Yeah, just thinking. Clint replied.

Oh. What about?  Emily wanted to know.

Summer is almost over. My job will be gone. Clint answered.

We’ll figure something out, Clint. Emily told him.

Clint just shook his head.

Being an archery counselor has been the best thing for us, Emily. Clint reminded her.

I know that, but we will figure something out. We always do. Emily said.

Clint sighed. Emily dropped the subject. The siblings finished up their ice cream and then walked back to where they were staying. The small shop had gone out of business just a few weeks ago. The water and electricity still worked there so the siblings were staying there until everything got shut off. Clint had been on the lookout for somewhere new for them to move to, but he hadn’t found anything as amazing as the old shop.

Emily sat down and started working on her homework. She had wanted to attend a regular school, but that wouldn’t ever happen with them living on the streets. Clint had taken them to the public library and had googled what a nine year old should be learning. The old librarian was more than happy to help Clint find the right textbooks for Emily. And Emily, well she was smart herself that when she was handed the books. She read the book from cover to cover and then by chapter by chapter. Clint could easily find tests online to go along with the chapters she was reading to test her on. Of course, Emily passed with flying colors in every subject, she struggled in Math, but she worked and worked until she at least understood the basics of it.

Clint, I’m going for a walk.

Do you want me to come with you?

No. I’ll keep it quick.

Alright. Be careful.

Will do.

Clint waved to his sister as she pulled on her jacket.

Emily stepped outside into the crisp fall air. The wind tousled her long brown hair as she skipped along the sidewalk. Emily took a short detour down an alleyway, pulled her hood up and over pulling it in nice and tight, and over to an atm machine. Emily looked around her and when she saw that the coast was clear she pulled out a card from her pocket and slid it into the machine. She pulled another little gadget out of her pocket and clipped it to the edge of the card. The gadget beeped and then the machine entered in the four digit pin number.

When Emily got in she quickly withdrew the daily limit of 300 dollars. Emily folded the wad of cash and slipped it into her pocket. She removed her small gadget and placed it in the other pocket. Leaving the card behind, Emily quickly walked away from the atm machine making her way back to where she and her brother were living.

Emily stopped short when she saw a tall, lanky, redheaded teen standing in front of her. Emily didn’t look away from the teen. She cocked an eyebrow as a smirk filled her face.

“Can I help you with something?” Emily asked.

“How many more times do you think you’ll be able to get away with that?” She asked.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Emily denied.

The teen smirked.

“You should be more careful. That’s the fourth time this month I’ve watched you do that.” She said.

“Why are you watching me, creep?” Emily asked.

The girl laughed. “Let’s just say you and your brother are my next case.”

“Brother?” Emily said in fake confusion. “I don’t have a brother.”

The teen reached into her back pocket and pulled out a cell phone. She swiped it open and then flicked through a few things before revealing the phone to Emily. Emily peered at the phone and could see several pictures of her and her brother. Emily kept her cool and looked up at the teen.

“What do you want?” Emily asked cautiously.

“It’s simple. I want you and your brother.” She said.

“For what?” Emily asked.

“Well that’s something I need to discuss with the both of you.” She said.

“So why don’t you stay here and I’ll skip off and fetch my brother for you.” Emily suggested.

The girl smiled.

“Nice try, but I already know where you live. So why don’t you lead the way and I’ll follow you.” She replied.

Emily huffed.

“You’re really not going to leave us be, are you?” Emily asked.

“Sorry, kiddo, not going to happen.” She said.

“Fine.” Emily groaned with a roll of her eyes.

Emily tucked her hands in her pocket and started walking away. The mystery girl stayed right behind her as Emily walked back to her place. Once they arrived at the shop the pair entered the building. Clint had his back turned towards them. Emily picked up a pair of rolled up socks and tossed them at her brother. Clint turned around with a smile, but when he saw that his sister wasn’t alone his smile quickly faltered.

Don’t worry.

Emily, who is that?

My name is Natasha.

What are you doing here?

I came here on the behalf of Shields.

What the hell is Shields?

Emily quickly left Natasha’s side and went to stand with her brother. She left the talking to the two teens.

First, I have a special gift for you from my supervisor.

What kind of gift?

Natasha pulled out a small box from the inside of her jacket and held it out towards Clint. When he didn’t move to accept the gift Emily went and took the box from her. She opened it slowly and her mouth fell open. She turned back towards her brother and held out the box. Clint peered into the box and then looked up back at Natasha.

Take them, now!

You’re so bossy.

Emily gave him a look and Clint sighed. He reached forward and pulled the two small hearing aids out of the box. He gave his sister one last annoyed look before slipping in the hearing aids. Clint knelt down in front of Emily so she could turn the hearing aids on for him. Emily held her breath as Clint looked back up at her.

“Can you hear me?” Emily asked him softly.

Clint nodded. Tears filled Emily’s eyes as Clint pulled her in for a hug. Emily clung to her brother tightly as Clint kissed her cheek and admitted to her that he should have gotten the stupid hearing aids before they had run off. Finally, Clint stood and turned back towards Natasha.

“Now what do you want?” Clint asked.

“Shields is very interested in a skilled archer like yourself.” Natasha explained.

“What is this Shields place you keep talking about?” Clint asked.

“Why don’t you come with me and find out.” Natasha replied.

Clint looked down at Emily. “I have responsibilities you know.”

“Shields isn’t just interested in you.” Natasha said.

“They’re interested in me?” Emily asked.

Natasha nodded. “Listen, we’re not forcing you to stay. My bosses just want you guys to come in and hear what they have to say. If you don’t like it then you are both free to go.”

Clint looked back down at Emily. Em just nodded her head towards Clint. It wouldn’t hurt them to at least go and find out what was going on.

“Alright, we’ll go with you.” Clint said.

“Good to hear.” Natasha grinned.

The siblings watched her bring her bracelet up to her mouth and then she whispered something. Emily left Clint to watch Natasha as she grabbed her backpack and Clint’s. The siblings slid on their backpacks and then followed Natasha outside.

“Our ride should be here any minute.” Natasha said.

Natasha wasn’t kidding. Five minutes later, a black SUV pulled up in front of the shop. The driver got out and opened the back door for the kids. All three of them climbed into the back of the vehicle. The driver said nothing as he pulled away and started to drive into the main part of the city. They emerged onto the highway and started to drive towards Washington DC.

“Where exactly are we going?” Clint asked.

“Shields base is in downtown DC.” Natasha answered.

Emily sat in between Clint and Natasha. It was weird hearing her brother talk. It had been quite a long time since Clint willingly talked. Without his hearing aids and unable to hear how loud he was talking, Clint stuck to being quiet and just signing, but now that he had the hearing aids and was talking once again was a weird feeling. In the end, Emily was happy though. She wouldn’t have to keep stealing money to save up for Clint’s hearing aids. However, Emily was worried that whatever these Shields people wanted and Clint turned them down would they take the hearing aids away from him?

The SUV pulled up in front of a building. The driver quickly got out and opened the door for the kids. Clint and Emily followed Natasha inside and over to the elevators. Natasha pushed the button for the correct floor. Emily held onto Clint’s hand. Elevators always had made her feel claustrophobic and anxious. The ride up stayed quiet. When they reached the eleventh floor the elevator binged. The three stepped off and the siblings followed Natasha through the floor and back to an office.

Inside, the siblings were faced with two people. The first man was standing next to the desk. He was average height, wore a suit, and a blinding smile. The second man sat behind the desk. He was dressed in a leather jacket, he had a patch over his right eye, and Emily noticed how the light reflected off his bald head. It took everything she had to not break down and start laughing uncontrollably.

“Thank you Natasha that is all for now.” The bald headed guy said.

Natasha nodded, smiled at the siblings, and then quickly left the pair in the office. Clint and Emily stood side by side, Emily was still clinging to Clint’s hand. The man in the suit smiled at the pair before pulling out the chairs in front of the desk.

“Why don’t you two take a seat?” The man suggested.

“We’re good with standing.” Clint replied.

Both men gave a slight smirk before nodding their heads. Both of them moved so they were leaning against the desk and staring at the pair. Clint finally released Emily’s hand so he could follow suit in the intimidation game and crossed his arms over his chest. Emily instantly followed suit and the siblings stood staring back at the two men.

“I bet you two are wondering what you’re doing here?” The suited man asked.

The siblings said nothing.

“I’m Director Nick Fury and I run Shields.” Nick introduced himself.

“And I’m Agent Phil Coulson. I work for Shields as one of their top agents.” Phil said.

“We train only the best to become the world’s best agents.” Nick explained.

“So what does that have to do with us?” Clint asked.

“We’ve been tracking your two movements for awhile now. Shields’ radar has gone off and is definitely interested in having the two of you join them.” Phil explained.

“What exactly does all of that mean?” Clint asked them.

“Shields would like for you to come here and begin training with our specialized trainers. They would really like to see what you two are made of.” Nick said.

“You really need to start explaining more about what exactly this means.” Clint said.

“Both of you will be tested physically and mentally. There will be a lot of obstacles you’ll both be going through. Not only will you be trained to become one of our agents, but you’ll finish your schooling as well with some of the best teachers.” Phil told them.

“Clint, you may have quite the impressive archery skills and we want to improve those skills. Emily, even at a young age you know the inside and out of a computer. Your hacking skills are amazing that even our best people had a hard time following your trials as you hacked your way through whatever you were doing.” Nick explained.

“What exactly are you looking to get out of us in the end?” Clint asked.

“Shields likes investing in young agents. You’re easier to put undercover. Adults are more reluctant to let their walls down to kids. You’ll be able to gain their trust and get their secrets faster than any of our adult agents.” Phil told him.

“My sister has never had any of the training that I’ve had the past few years. She knows how to take care of herself, but nothing like it takes to be a spy. Plus, she’s literally just a kid.” Clint replied.

“We want your sister to be an agent and we’re not going to be stupid about this either. Your sister will get the proper training to be able to protect herself in any type of situation, but we won’t be training your sister for field work. All great teams need a brain behind the plans. We want to enhance your sister’s technology skills. Hone in on what she strives at. If you accept our help, Emily will become yours and your partner’s ‘it’ person. Emily will be in charge of your communication, your gadgets, weapons, locations, GPS’s, and any other behind the scenes help you’ll need.” Nick explained to him.

“If we accept this what is it going to look like for the two of us?” Clint asked.

“What do you mean?” Phil asked.

“I’ve been taking care of my sister since she was just a baby. I don’t want this training to take away from that. I don’t want to become so busy and caught up in this training that Emily takes a backseat. I am making it completely clear right now that Emily will come first no matter what. I will not put my own flesh and blood on the back burner. If we can’t be training together then I want to know where she is at all times. Emily must be able to have access to me at all times. Even if that means you have to pull me from the field. No matter how silly you think her request is she is granted it no matter what.” Clint said.

“Clint, we totally understand that your sister means everything to you. We aren’t trying to trick you into staying by saying that Emily will be trained as well. We are serious about that. Daily you’ll be given your sister’s itinerary and her where abouts. The same will go for Emily. You both will even receive pagers so if either of you need each other you’re just one call away. Shields is interested in the both of you. They won’t do anything to make you leave.” Nick replied.

“Can I have a few minutes to talk this over with my sister?” Clint asked.

“Of course. Director Fury and I will step on out and give you two a few minutes to talk.” Phil said.

Once alone the siblings turned to look at one another. Emily sat down with a sigh as Clint rubbed at his aching head. This was a lot of information to have to sift through. Finally, Clint dropped down next to Emily and rubbed at her back.

“What are we going to do, Clint?” Emily asked.

“They seem pretty serious about all of this Em.” Clint answered.

“So do we do this then?” Emily asked him.

“I don’t know. I mean I’d love to jump at this opportunity. This gets a roof over your head and hot food in your stomach, but can we trust them?” Clint explained.

“I’d like to think we can, Clint. Why would lie about all of this, you know?” Emily told him.

“But a life that is going to be dangerous isn’t really a smart thing to do.” Clint replied.

“So why don’t we stick through it long enough for all of the training we get. We can get well rested and become even stronger and smarter. Once we’re happy with our outcomes then we can bounce.” Emily suggested.

“They seemed to be the type of people to come after us.” Clint pointed out.

“We’ve been on the run for the past several months, Clint. We can do it all over again.” Emily said.

“Yeah, but look at how easily that Natasha girl was able to figure us out.” Clint said.

Emily fell quiet and bit her lip. “So then what do we do?”

“I think we should stay.” Clint told her.

“Okay.” Emily agreed and Clint gave her a curt nod in agreement.

The siblings stood. Emily went back to where she was standing before as Clint went to let the men know that they were ready to talk with them. Phil and Nick both came back to stand near the desk. They stared at the siblings. Emily looked up at Clint as he looked down at her. She gave him a small nod and he nodded back before turning back towards Phil and Nick.

“We accept.” Clint said.

Nick nodded. Phil broke out into a smile as he walked over to the siblings. He shook Clint’s hand and then surprising Emily, pulled her in for a hug. Emily stiffened in his arms as he pulled away.

“You’re going to be really happy here.” Phil said.

“We sure hope so.” Clint mumbled and Emily let out a sigh.