#so an index card always has the potential to be a flash card

[idontdrinkgatorade]

so, you know like, blank revision cards? or like flash cards to some people. I think they're also known as index cards.. but flash cards are also like memory cards like for cameras so maybe it's best to avoid that for clarifications sake.

Ok so I looked on line and it said they're also called study cards or study notes but I've never heard that so I'm not going to use it. A teacher once called them placards but that's a little old fashioned in my opinion.

I guess it doesn't really matter if they're blank. They could have words on them if you want, I stopped using them because I found them too hard to keep track of. I'm going to stick to calling them revision cards I think. It makes life easier and I think we could all do with things being a little easier. I hope things get easier for you whatever you're going through.

Anyway back to revision cards. It's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it? Flash cards are easier to say, but as previously mentioned that term has another meaning related to memory sticks. Are they called memory cards anywhere? that sounds right. Are revision cards called memory cards, I mean, although I'm sure memory sticks have at one point been called memory cards. I think I'm creating more confusion and it would be best to stick to calling them revision cards.

anyway what if you could smoke them

"what if" as if there were anything stopping you. live your dreams. smoke that index card

when i was in sixth grade we had to write a shit ton of vocabulary for my social studies class on index cards and we hated them so much that we decided we would get together as a group at the end of the year and burn them in a bonfire. it never happened.

anyways if index cards were safely smoke-able i would probably still refrain from smoking them bc of smell and taste sensitivity and the smell of smoke makes my nose burn.

#asks #in my area we call them both index cards and flash cards #if they're blank or just have notes on them then they're index cards #but if they are meant for studying (they have a phrase/word on one side and a definition on the other) then they're flash cards #like quizlet if you've ever used it. where you flip the card for the definition or the answer #those are flash cards #i think flash card just entails the way the text is on the card bc we have digital flash cards #but there's no such thing as a digital index card #so an index card always has the potential to be a flash card #but not all flash cards are index cards #if that makes sense #congratulations anon this may be the ask of the year

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 23

“Erica,” I ask her, “what the fuck are you doing?”

“Shut up,” she tells me, glancing behind her. I hear movement and then Marcus comes into view. He has a slim pistol gripped in his hand and casts a wary glance around the interior of the Cord before his eyes fall on the Sergeant’s prone form, laying just ahead of us.

“Is he dead?” he asks.

Erica prods at him with her foot gently. The Sergeant doesn’t move. I glance over at Elena; she is staring at his dead body with an unmistakable look of horror. I’ve never seen her look scared before.

Erica’s gun is still trained loosely on us but without it pointing directly at me I begin to relax a little. Her hand, I notice, is shaking a little.

My heart is still pounding and there is a heavy, queasy sensation whenever I look at the Sergeant’s body, but I shut it out, don’t even begin to process it. I can see the golden gleam of the other bullets in the revolver’s cylinder, pointed at me, blunt and shark-nosed. I can feel myself trembling lightly, adrenaline and exhaustion and grief all welling up inside of me.

“You aren’t going to get away with this,” Elena says, and Erica rolls her eyes.

“Can we have a little less from the peanut gallery?” she asks. “Hand over the crystal and nobody else is going to get hurt.”

There is a moment of frozen silence before Elena and I both blurt out our responses to this ludicrous request at the same time. “The crystal?” I ask. “You know about the crystal?”

“Nobody else?” Elena asks. I can feel her fists clench next to me and I have to resist the urge to reach over and hold her back. “Nobody else?” she repeats. “You didn’t have to fucking shoot him!”

“I’m not here to get in a goddam argument,” Erica growls, prodding the barrel of the revolver into Elena’s chest. I eye Marcus warily; our eyes meet for a moment and he looks away, glancing over at Erica, but his pistol remains trained on me.

I can see Elena thinking about it, as she looks down at the pistol. Erica has committed one of the cardinal sins of holding someone at gunpoint – you never actually touch them with the gun. Or touch them at all, really, if you can help it. Every point of contact between them and you is a conduit for information – they’ll be able to tell the way you’re moving, how distracted you are, might even be able to guess how willing you are to actually pull that trigger if you try something.

And it can be a point of attack. During my Karate years in Oklahoma we did a section on realistic encounters – what to do if someone pulls a knife on you, pulls a gun on you, and so on. If they’re holding it close to you and you are very, very quick, you can snap your hands down from where you’re holding them up and empty-palmed and jerk the gun away, maybe even get it into your hands. I don’t know what hand-to-hand training in the Coast Guard or in the park ranger service was like, but if even I know the technique Elena probably knows something similar.

And she will also know that it isn’t something you can ever realistically pull off. The person with the gun has to be distracted, or possibly just disabled, not to be able to react in time. There’s a reason Ali always told us in class, very seriously, that if someone was holding us up to mug us, to just give them what they wanted. “You are not,” he said, “going to be faster than someone’s index finger moving a couple of centimeters. You will die, unless you are very lucky. If they want something, give it to them. If they’re going to kill you, though,” he said, waggling his finger at us, flashing that brilliant smile, “it’ll be better than nothing.” Then we practiced headlocks and sleeper chokes.

So even though I can see Elena’s hands flexing with an unconscious urge to rip and choke and get us out of this situation, she doesn’t move a muscle. I see her glance over at me, just a flicker, like checking a pulse, making sure I’m still here, I’m not panicking.

“Hand it over,” Erica repeats, glancing between us. I am very curious to find out how she expects us to just give her a crystal that’s roughly the weight and shape of a refrigerator, but maybe she doesn’t know how big it is. How the hell does she even know about it to begin with?

Makado. Somehow I know it must have been through Makado, one way or another. If she was willing to tell me, she’d potentially be willing to tell someone else, someone even more of a security risk than I am.

I remember Peter telling me, what feels like ages ago now, that the cult was harmless. Just a bunch of broken people trying to get by.

“We don’t have it,” I tell Erica. “It was a mess down there, an ambush. If you want it, go get it.”

Erica’s eyes are very cold. I can practically see the gears working as she measures what I’ve said. Elena edges slightly closer to me and the feeling of her there at my side is a comfort, but I am just praying that Erica isn’t cold-blooded enough to just shoot the two of us right now that she knows we don’t have the crystal.

Erica finally tells Marcus to search us, and he does so, tossing all of our various tools and gear into a small pile on the floor. I hear the lens of my camera shatter when he drops it and I can’t help but wince. He doesn’t pat us down very proficiently besides searching our pockets and our bags, which makes me reassess my initial assumptions – maybe this isn’t something that had a lot of planning put into it? Or at least she definitely couldn’t have been expecting to run into us here.

I look Erica over, head to toe. She’s dressed in hiking gear, but loosely – long shirt, long pants, but fairly thin. Without a climate controlled suit the humidity would be the real danger. Marcus is dressed similarly; I can’t tell for sure but I think he must have changed clothes at some point after he got into the Pit, changed into something more suitable for a long stay. And there must have been – well, what would he have eaten? Just – carved out bits from the walls? No way. Even if you were a certified card-carrying badass on a mission you’d have brought your own food. And Marcus does not strike me as the disgruntled ex-Army-Ranger type. Even just the way his hands traced over me with extreme delicacy and hesitation when he’d searched me made me think that taking captives must be an entirely new experience for him, and not one he’s comfortable with.

No, Erica is improvising. Which makes her more dangerous, especially if she gets desperate.

So let’s not make her get desperate.

“We’ll take you back down to get it,” I suggest. Erica looks over from her huddle with Marcus. Well, half a huddle, both still turned towards us, watching cautiously, guns still aimed at us but fingers off the triggers now. Elena nudges me and looks at me like I’m crazy but I shoot her a look that I hope says ‘trust me.’

“I thought you said it was an ambush?” Erica asks. “Down in the barrows?”

“Well, yes, but –“

“What, do you want us to go down there just to get eaten by copepods?”

“Do you want the crystal or not?” I shrug. “Doesn’t bother me none.”

She looks at Marcus. His face is tight and unreadable. “We’ll go down and check,” she says, nodding. “We’ve come all this way, it’d be stupid not to.”

“What about them?” he asks.

“Look,” Elena says urgently, “the Sergeant had a tracker PDA in his bag. It’ll show you exactly where the crystal is. Just take it and follow it and we’ll leave and pretend we never saw you.”

I resist the urge to bury my face in my hands. Elena’s got plenty of strengths but negotiation isn’t one of them.

Erica laughs at that suggestion and informs us that she has a better idea.

“Why don’t I,” she asks, rummaging through the pile of gear and coming up with a short length of rope, “tie you two up, and then you’ll lead us down to get the crystal? Or,” she says, brightening, “how about I get rid of one of you first –“

Elena stiffens next to me, but all I can feel is a cold hard knife-edged anger slicing at me. I look at Erica, really look at her, force her to look at me, cram all of the casual hate I can into my gaze and throw it at her. “You’ll have to kill both of us, then,” I tell her. “Because if you kill her, I’m going to do the best I can to lead all of us straight into a copepod’s mouth. And if you kill me –“

Elena picks up where I left off, a little more bloody-minded: “and if you kill her,” she finishes, glancing over at me, “I’m going to do whatever I have to do to tear your throat out with my teeth before you put me down too.”

I have to stop myself from smiling when I hear her say that; I content myself with nudging a little closer to her as well so that our hips touch. That will have to be enough for now.

Erica has faltered a little. Even though she’s still got the gun, hell, she’s got two guns on her side, she isn’t certain. You can see it in her eyes. She draws back, then tries to save face. Predictable. “I was just – I wasn’t going to actually do it,” she says.

There is something very strange going on here. This is too disorganized to be a real attempt to – to what, steal the crystal from us on the way back up? No way. Even if she’d brought the material and equipment needed to actually transport it without the use of Joker, she’d still have to contend with what should have been a full squad of combat-trained rangers, plus two useless hangers-on (me and Euler). She’d have had to have brought enough people to outgun us, and even then it’d be dicey in tight quarters like these, especially if the people she brought weren’t familiar with the Pit.

This – her and Marcus – can’t be it. It simply can’t. Even if she thinks that the crystal could fit in her pocket she would still have to take it from us. This is something opportunistic, something important to her for some reason, important enough to throw her entire life away for a shot at, for a crazy shot at, for a Hail Mary at the buzzer.

I turn and look down the Cord, at the sparking depths of it, at the rows and rows of spiral-staircase encasing it. I wonder where Fumi is, what Fumi’s doing, whether he’s okay. Maybe it was cowardly for him to run but I’m glad that he did, I’m glad that at least he got out of this okay. For the moment anyway.

She’s going to make us go back down. There’s no way around it. I can feel myself sagging at the thought of it, at the thought of going back down there and seeing with fresh eyes all the death that’s waiting down there. I had kept it together admirably well up until now but I can feel myself clenching, I can feel myself freezing up, shying away from even thinking about it like if I don’t it won’t be able to touch me. I want to close my eyes and cry, for Euler, for the Sergeant, for Ellis, for Slate and Crookshank and all the others that are down there even still, I want to just heave out sobs until I can’t any more and I’ll be empty. Being empty sounds good right now but I’m not and I can’t be.

I wonder for a brief moment whether this is what PTSD is, whether I’ve been damaged somehow, and then my lip curls without any conscious effort and I can feel myself tighten, drag myself back upwards like chains ratcheting along my spine.

“Fuck it,” I say. Everyone looks round at me and I realize that I’ve said it a little louder than I meant to. Ordinarily I’d shrink and get embarrassed but I have gone through so much shit lately that I feel an uncharacteristic willingness to take up space, to be violent. I am tired.

I look at Erica again. “If this crystal is so fucking important we’ll go back down and you can look at it and admit that it was a stupid idea to go down there and then we can come back up. Alright? But don’t you ever point that fucking gun at her,” I say, pointing to Elena. “No, fucking look at me, I’m serious. I don’t give a shit. You don’t know this terrain, you don’t know this area, and even if you’ve been here before you don’t know the lay of the land right now. You need us, both of us, so give us a little fucking respect. We’ll fucking guide you down there but treat us like fucking human beings, you bitch.”

Erica’s eyes are very wide, and it is very, very quiet as my voice fades into the dull, thick air. Then her eyes go slatey and hard and she strikes me across the face. I see it coming and could have blocked it but I stopped myself, which is a little harder than it sounds, because the instinct when you can see a blow like that is to either dodge it or put your hands up, but she’s still got the gun.

I can feel the butt of the revolver smack into my cheekbone and there’s a starburst of pain there. I stagger back a little, bumping into Elena, and then she is holding me. I can hear her growling at Erica, calling her a bitch, but Marcus points his gun at her and she quiets a little. Then Erica hauls me to my feet. Her nails are digging into my shoulder painfully and I cry out softly. She digs the barrel of the gun into my gut and the feeling of it is like icewater. My hands are shaking and no matter how hard I try I can’t stop them.

I begin to realize that I may have made a mistake.

“No,” Erica snarls, “you listen to me, you little shit. You are in no position to make any fucking demands. You’re going to lead us down there and thank us profusely if we decide not to end your miserable lives once we’ve got the damn crystal. You understand?”

Her hand tightens further around my throat – when did she start choking me? – and I croak something out, but I am too busy panicking to realize whether or not I actually meant to form words or if I just let out a mindless squeak of fear.

One thing karate in a dojo will not teach you is how to handle imminent mortality. Nobody who learns karate expects to ever actually need to use it. Karate isn’t even a real way of fighting – it’s more of a sport, something for lazy dojo tigers to pad around showing off, sparring for points. The grabs and chokes and defenses I know are more MMA than anything else. What’ll karate, pure karate, do to help in a real fight? Are you going to throw a spin kick at somebody? Please.

I can’t breathe. I bat ineffectually at Erica’s face and her shoulders but she doesn’t even bother to stop me. Finally, after what seems like forever, she lets go and I fall to the ground in a huddle, coughing and gasping. Elena is there, curled over me protectively, glaring daggers at Erica, and even Marcus is eyeing her a little warily.

“You could have fucking killed her!” Elena spits, and a little of that uncertainty returns to Erica’s eyes, or at least I think it does – mine are still a little bleary. When I can blink the tears from them and look at her again she seems utterly unruffled.

“Tie their hands,” she says to Marcus, and after only a moment of hesitation he does so, and then we are making our slow, awkward, armless way down the Cord, back towards the barrows.

 * * *

 “We need a break,” Elena points out again, and again Erica does nothing but click her tongue and urge us onward, gesturing with the barrel of the revolver. Not only has Marcus bound our hands but he’s also tied us together, making it so that Elena and I are linked by only a couple feet of paracord. It’s been biting roughly into my wrists for the last couple of hours and if this keeps up I’m going to have ugly welts because of it. Erica and Marcus have both relaxed a little, especially since they’ve gotten rid of all of our gear. She got Elena to show her how to work the Sergeant’s tracker, and I almost cried when they had to flip him over in order to take it from his bag. The look of stunned surprise frozen on his face was so gentle and unlike him that it almost made him look like a different person entirely.

I don’t even know why I was crying – he was an asshole, for sure, but there was something, I don’t know, something meaningful to him that made me think that there were reasons. And of course there are always reasons that people end up acting like that but sometimes people end up being so crabbed and gnarled and nasty that you don’t want to find reasons to unpeel them from themselves and look at the kind of person they are really. The Sergeant I would have liked to have sat down and had a drink with and gotten to know, just for pure raw opportunistic curiosity.

I didn’t even have the luxury of closing his eyes for him, because as soon as Erica had retrieved the PDA and browbeat Elena into showing her how to work it – oh, how my blood boiled as she called Elena a bitch and a cunt and worst of all fucking stupid just because she kept fumbling with the login screen and getting her account on the PDA to track the crystal as well – we were off and marching, leaving the Sergeant sprawled there, staring up dead and empty at the cold metal-capped ceiling.

I don’t have it in me to feel angry, I don’t have it in me to hate. That will come later. Right now I’m too tired. I am too damn sour at myself for reading Erica wrong. I thought I could cow her, I thought that even though she had the gun she’d back down. At the very least we wouldn’t be tied up, even if we were marching all the way back down to the barrows on a pointless errand that might get us killed.

Once we’re down at our stop on the Cord and out and walking down the long, damp path down to the barrows, Elena turns around, fixes Erica with a glare. I can still see a cold light of hatred burning somewhere deep down inside of her cool grey eyes and for a moment I feel frightened for her, I feel momentarily terrified that she’s going to try something and get herself shot and I – I –

“What’s this crystal to you?” she asks Erica, and I swallow hard and glance back at Erica as well, waiting to see what she’ll say, if she’ll even give us a straight answer. I look at her and those dark eyes stare back at us. She is – I will give her this, she’s determined. She has set her mind to doing this, whatever the hell this is, and she’s going to be willing to throw us all away if she has to. You can see it in the set of her jaw, in the way her eyes rake us like an eagle’s claws. “What’s the point of all this?” Elena continues. Erica’s nose wrinkles lightly. I wonder if she’ll even bother trying to win us over, whether she’ll figure that her having shot the Sergeant will have turned us against her permanently.

Erica nods to Marcus and he unties us and we all huddle there for a while against the side of the corridor, sit down in the sopping squelch of it, too tired to care. Erica leans against the ribbed wall of the vent and looks down along its depths towards the barrows. She’s still holding the revolver but at least it isn’t pointed at us.

Elena leans in to me and rests her head on my shoulder and I kiss the top of her head, and I feel her smile faintly, but it vanishes fast. This isn’t going how I wanted at all. I want to say something to her, I want to kiss her and tell her it’s going to be okay. She’s so tough but she’s so scared, I can tell she’s scared, and I want to show her that I can be tough too. That I am more than an anchor. But doing that in front of Erica and Marcus would feel – dirty, somehow. Uncomfortable. I itch at the thought of it. So instead I sit there very still and let her rest her head on me and let that be enough.

“My husband was there four years ago,” Erica says, and we both look up at her. Marcus doesn’t look interested, clearly he knows this story, he’s heard it before. “At the disaster,” Erica clarifies.

She waits for a moment, maybe to see whether or not we’ve got any response. Elena and I stay quiet, no ‘oh really’ or ‘no way.’ If she wants us to be buddy-buddy with her she’s straight out of luck.

“You know what that crystal is, don’t you?” she asks, and Elena snorts. I would as well but the welt on my cheek from where she got me with the butt of the revolver hurts too much whenever I move my nose.

“I do,” Elena says. “Do you?”

Erica laughs. There isn’t much humor in it. “I don’t think you do. I think I know much better than you do.”

“Explain it to us, then,” Elena tells her, and I nod in agreement. The longer we can keep her talking, hopefully, the longer we’ll be able to rest.

“My husband Burt,” Erica says, “was a ranger here at the park. And he was here in 2007. But he wasn’t the ordinary type of ranger, he worked at the one place in this park that required a security clearance.”

Elena frowns. “I don’t know what –“

“You see,” Erica continues, “when they found the Pit back in the 70s, they found ritual grounds too. Old places, places that the indigenous tribes had been using for centuries to commune with the Pit. This place,” Erica gestures widely, “is alive. It feels and reacts. It thinks.”

Elena snorts again, a little softer this time. “In the ritual grounds there were crystals exactly like the one you were sent down to find, only carved and shaped so that if someone who knew what they were doing hit them with a strike in just the right way, they’d resonate. And that resonance could influence the Pit. Make it calm down if it were starting to wake up, make it wake if it were sleeping. Calm the wildlife, make it possible to live down here without any danger. Or send them into a frenzy.”

“Sounds like magic,” I murmur, but without much conviction. Makado, in that hurried briefing after Slate had died, had said something a little similar. I look at Erica, meet her eyes. “Did your husband work on the – the contingency plan?”

That catches Erica up for a moment, but she nods, glancing over at me. Her eyes, I notice, linger for a moment on the swollen mark on my cheek. “Yes,” she says finally. “Yes, he did. And he was there when they broke the crystals. See, I figure someone, Veret probably, told you about the crystal and why they want it. But nobody would have told you about what exactly the crystal did when it was broken.”

“Well, it – it put the Pit to sleep.”

“Yes,” Erica nods. “Yes, it did. But did they tell you what it did to the people there? Some of them, at least.”

Elena frowns. She starts to say something but I nod. “Peter told me,” I say. Elena is giving me a very confused look. “Not all of it,” I add, “but enough to piece together the parts. I hadn’t known it was breaking the crystal that had done it, but I could guess.”

“What - ?” Elena starts.

“It’s a – when they shattered the crystals it caused something like a contagious psychic plague,” I tell her, glancing at Erica. “From what Peter told me it sounded like it would gradually erode your self-control and make you want to come to the Pit, to come down into the Pit and, well, I don’t know what happened to them once they got in. I don’t think Peter did either. And if you weren’t able to get to the Pit you’d get to a point where you’d be spreading it to everybody you were near just – just mentally, I guess. I know it sounds like bullshit but it’s true, I swear it’s true.”

“But if that’s true why was Peter smuggling people in? It must have been people with that – with that disease,” Elena says. “Why didn’t he try to help them? I mean, Christ, people without any preparation, sick people, down here in the Pit, they wouldn’t last a fucking day. That’s –“

“Because the cure,” I tell her, “has a good chance of completely wiping out your personality,” I tell her, and she quiets. She believes me, I think, she has to believe me. Or if she doesn’t believe me she trusts me, at least. I don’t give myself time to feel warm and fuzzy about it. “That’s what Peter told me, anyway. He was one of the lucky ones.”

“He had this disease?” she asks, glancing over at me.

“Yes,” Erica says. “He did. Roan’s pretty much right about the details. Peter was lucky.”

“So he and Makado decided it would be better to just smuggle people in? Let them go down there to die?”

I can tell by the look on her face that Elena thinks this would be just as bad. I shrug. I can feel the exhaustion in the weight of my shoulders. “Peter told me that there’s a point where it becomes contagious, right before you die of it. But if you’re in the Pit, that doesn’t happen, there’s no contagiousness. That’s why they were letting them in.”

“That seems awfully convenient,” Elena remarks, and I shrug.

“I don’t know if it’s true,” I say, “that’s just what Peter told me.”

“Surely there would have been a better way -“

“Peace,” Erica says quietly. “All that’s over now, now that Peter’s – well, is he dead?”

I think about it. “I didn’t see him die,” I tell her. “But he must have. I don’t know how anybody else could have lived down there. It was awful.”

“It was stupid,” she says, “going down to the barrows to try and get it.”

“Makado was desperate,” Elena says. “She was afraid that the Pit was going to wake up sometime soon and without another crystal to break to send it back to sleep, they wouldn’t be able to contain it.”

“Well,” Erica says, running a hand through her hair, “you can see the logic in it, can’t you? But I think she’s being played. And in turn she’s playing you, all the rangers in the team that went down. How many were there?”

“Eight,” I say. “Plus me and one other.”

Erica nods. “See, the problem with breaking the crystals is that, yeah, it’s an immediate solution. But did you ever think why they found those thousand-year-old crystals carved and perfect and intact? Not cracked to pieces?”

“Why?” Elena asks. She still has an ugly sullen undertone to her voice but she’s listening, she’s evaluating. I don’t think Erica is necessarily going to lie to us but I think whatever information she’s operating off of must be flawed if she’s come down here herself.

“Because,” Erica says, giving us a little mirthless smile, “cracking one of those crystals is like knocking the Pit out, rather than easing it into a natural sleep like you supposedly can do if you strike it the right way. It’ll wake up sooner and angrier and hungrier than it would otherwise. I don’t think they meant to crack it but I don’t think they’ve done their research, they haven’t even tried to reach out to some of the native communities around here that might still have had a little knowledge about how these things work. They fucked everything up in the 70s, made a lot of people very mad at them. I don’t think they know how bad they’ve made things. If they get their hands on that crystal and end up cracking it again, it’ll –“

“Alright,” Elena says. “I get the picture.”

“What happened to Burt?” I ask, and Erica sighs.

“Well,” she says, “they told me he was dead. Wasn’t true for a couple months after, though. They shipped him off to a lab somewhere, I have no idea where, and used him and a bunch of other people from the park who were suffering the worst to try and develop some kind of treatment. I only found out because he was able to sneak out and call me from a pay phone someplace outside wherever they were keeping him. He told me everything and ever since then –“

She can’t go on, her voice cuts off in a sudden choke.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, and Elena looks at me sharply. I meet her gaze evenly, then turn back to Erica. “I’m sorry that that happened, because you nor him deserved it. But coming down here, killing the Sergeant, with no plan, not even the –“

“If I don’t at least try to do something to stop everything from happening all over again,” Erica tells me, “I’d never forgive myself.” She pauses for a moment, starts to say something, then thinks better of it. Her voice is like broken glass. “Maybe I’m making a mistake but I’m going to do the right thing.”

There is a brief, brief silence that passes between us. Elena reaches over and hugs me, but while her lips are pressed close to my ear, she hisses to me that this isn’t our fucking fight and to follow her lead when she makes us get moving again, and as she says it I feel a looming terror break over me like a riptide and I look at her as she pulls away and want so terribly to tell her not to, whatever she’s thinking about doing to just not, don’t do anything stupid, if I lost her I – I –

And then Erica is gesturing at us with the gun to get up, saying that it’s time to get a move on, and as Marcus comes over, his slim little automatic clutched loosely in his hand, aimed at us but from the hip, and offers Elena a hand, she takes it wordlessly and pulls herself up, her hand leaving mine with only a tight, brief squeeze. Then once she’s up she shoves Marcus off-balance and before he can even think to do anything other than reach out reflexively to catch himself she’s got both hands on the gun and is struggling with him for it. “Elena!” I croak, starting to rise, just as Erica screams at her to stop, legs spread wide in a shooter’s stance, trying to get a clear shot at her. Marcus’s gun is pointing straight at me and I scream and throw myself to the side just a moment before it goes off and a bullet shrieks past and buries itself in the fleshy wall of the corridor behind me, just where I had been standing. While I try to scramble to my feet amid the dirt and muck on the floor I hear another gunshot, and then a body falls next to me face-down and starts writhing, and when I see Marcus staggering to his feet and realize who has fallen heavily, a string of curses bubbling from her blood-flecked lips, I scream Elena’s name over and over again, pressing my hands over the streaming hole in her side with desperation born of utter futility.

Continue with Part 24

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#mystery flesh pit #writing #writeblr #fiction #Novel #mystery #Michael Crichton #horror #caving #disaster

[ochard-fics]

Bad Ideas - A Spider-man Story

Chapter Index: 1, 2

Pronouns used for (Y/N): they/them

Genre: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, young love

Warnings: None

Word count: +7.1k

Summary: Though  you moved across the country about half a year ago, you are still  trying to find your footing in the strange streets of New York. On top  of that, you are desperately trying to balance your demanding school  life at Midtown School of Science and Technology, where you like  everyone but you was much more talented and smarter than you could ever  imagine to be. Among those students is the one whom you loathe the most:  Peter Benjamin Parker, the boy who’s success both in school and in  Stark Industries is constantly shoved in your face. The only person who  helps you escape those troubles is Spider-man, the hero of Queens and  your crush.

A/N: Hello all! Thank you for waiting so patiently for the next chapter in the series. I hope you are all staying safe and healthy during these unfortunate times. Please enjoy this chapter! Comments, reblogs, likes and feedback is greatly appreciated!

A HUMONGOUS thank you to @tinybabyrat​ who helped me out while I wrote this!

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Chapter 2 - Peter Parker, the nuisance

How did everything go south so fast? You thought your Tuesday was looking up. No major tests or quizzes today, no horrible mile run in P.E., and no over-cooked rice in the cafeteria lunch! However, the universe decided to say fuck you and here you were, sitting uncomfortably in your guidance councilor’s office. Ms. Lee was busy typing away at her computer, her thick, wavy black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Your eyes began to wander around your surroundings, like the wall calendar pinned to the corkboard behind her, that showed Claude Monet’s Water Lilies painting for the month of February. Or the several post-it notes of various bright colors with reminders, and then photos of her and her wife, Ms. Narvaez, happily smiling together with their two rescue dogs Fritz and Sadie, who were mutts. Waiting in there started to feel like forever until Ms. Lee straightened her posture and turned her figure towards you, clasping her hands as she put her arms on her desk.

    “Hey kid,” she greeted you with a warm smile, “I can see that you want to know what you’re in my office.” You replied with a stiff nod, looking at her with meek eyes.

“I wanted to talk to you about your current progress in school, particularly your general education courses” she states, adjusting her square, wire-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose, “I need you to take a look for yourself.” She takes the frame of the monitor and it toward you, where you could see your current report card displayed upon the screen.

    “From the looks of it,” she says, looking over at the monitor, “Your grades have gone down significantly since you started your year here at MSST.” Oof, that was not good news whatsoever. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably as she continued speaking.

    “I have noticed that math and chemistry have been particularly difficult for you,” she mentions, “Is there a reason why?” You looked down, fiddling with your thumbs, a habit you had recently formed out of anxiety.

“W-well,” you stutter as your voice cracks, “I’ve always had a hard time with math. A-and chemistry has a lot of concepts about it that are hard for me to understand.” Which was true. Anything having to do with math you immediately panicked upon seeing. Math, to you, was a whole other language that you still couldn’t understand. Which was rich, considering you could speak four languages fluently. Chemistry was a lot like math and it even included it, so it was just another layer of confusion for you. 

 “I understand your frustration with the subjects,” she says with a nod, “You are not the only student here that struggles with them.” Yeah, you thought, like 12 kids out of the who knows how many here? This was a science and tech school for crying out loud; everyone around you was a prodigy! Well, except for Flash Thompson. “(Y/N),” Ms. Lee begins, “Do you know your current GPA*?” She looks up at you, to which you give her a shrug. 

“It’s currently a 2.78,” She says as she points to the top of the report card, where it was displayed, “It’s not a bad score. However, compared to your GPA from your previous school year it has dropped significantly.” You furrowed your brows, waiting to see where she was going with this.

Ms. Lee looks at you very seriously and says, “If your grades continue to decline, you could potentially fail your junior year, and will have to repeat.”  A lump formed in your throat upon this new information. Repeating a year of high school was up there with your biggest fears, along with heights and your dad. The mere idea of failing school started to make you internally panic.

Ms. Lee looks at you sympathetically, folding her hands upon her desk once again.

"I understand that moving across the country is incredibly difficult,” she starts, “You know that I'm from L.A. as well. I miss it dearly. All of my family and childhood friends reside there. I miss going to my favorite boba shops with my friends, I miss going to Malibu, and I even miss the forty-minute drives to go from one place to another! But oh boy, do I not miss the traffic." This made you chuckle, which brought a smile to her motherly face.

"However, I had to move here for college,” she continues, and you listened intently, “It was incredibly difficult for me to adjust to life here. Manhattan felt like a whole new world in comparison to Los Angeles. On top of that, I didn't know anyone here. I was alone, and the loneliness took a toll on my performance in school. Though you know what got me back up?" You shook your head in response. 

"I got help. With the suggestion of a councilor I made a study group with a few of my classmates so we could all assist one another. As time went by, they eventually became my closest friends throughout college, and Manhattan as a whole. Additionally, when I didn't understand something in class, I went to the teacher for clarification. If they could provide it, of course." 

"I will admit, it was incredibly hard for me to ask for academic aid," she looks down at her folded hands as she continues to reminisce about her past, "I grew up with this idea that I couldn’t do anything without my parent’s help. I depended on them to solve my problems and it damaged my self confidence. Then culminated this sense of guilt, because I felt like I was totally helpless. Though I tried to be self-sufficient, I was met with criticism because I would make mistakes. This led me to develop a perfectionism complex, and if I didn’t get something right on the first try I just gave up. It felt suffocating.” 

“From the information you have told me these past months,” she looks up at you, “You are in that current situation. You’re afraid to ask for help because you think of it as a sign of dependence. That you cannot do anything without help. Which is unfortunate, because help shouldn’t have to feel like a burden.” Shit, she was right on the ball. All your life your parents would hold your hand whether you liked it or not. And just like she experienced, when you tried to be independent and failed, it only confirmed to your parents that you couldn’t do anything without them. That’s why you felt guilt whenever you were offered help; it was because it made you feel weak. Then when you tried to grasp at something on your own, you’d slip, and you would get frustrated and surrender your attempts all together. It was exhausting.

“Speaking of your parents,” she glances over at the computer monitor and back at you, “Are they aware of your current grades?” You shook your head in response, looking back down at your twiddling thumbs.

“Haven’t shown them any of my assignments this year,” you replied honestly, “My dad used to check up on my work, and then instead of trying to help me with corrections he’d take over my homework and make sure it was perfect. I-I got fed up with him doing everything for me so I told him to stop. He got mad and told me to never go back to him if I needed help with school.”  Ms. Lee listened in intently as you spoke to her, which was what you really appreciated about her. She was like a therapist, very patient, and willing to listen to your troubles. Which was nice, considering that there was at least one adult in your life that was willing to listen to your troubles.

    “I think it was very mature of you to tell your dad that,” she assures you, “Especially considering what you’ve told me about him. You wanted him to help you, not enabling you. How else will you learn, but through making your own mistakes?” If only your dad could listen in to the conversation you two were having, maybe he’d finally realize that he’s been wrong. But knowing your dad, he’d probably call Ms. Lee a fraud of a councilor so mauve it was best that he wasn’t there.

“I know you want to be independent of him,” she continues, “Any child would want to break away from that type of environment. It’s a pity that your father cannot be more supportive of you and your endeavors. You’re incredibly talented, (Y/N).” The compliment was very sweet of her, but for some reason, you believed she was saying that just to be nice. You heard her let out a worn-out sigh.

“Look,” she starts, turning the monitor back to face her, “In order for you to get into the college of your choice, art or not, you need to get a 3.0 or higher.”

“I can’t afford art college,” you admitted, “My parents would never help me with it, either.”

“There are several colleges that aren’t art universities but have excellent art programs,” she replies, typing on her keyboard, “Many of them being in California. And they cost half the price.” You looked up as this greatly piqued your interest. She turns the screen back to you and you look up, looking at the list of public schools that were ranked the top ten best art programs in the country, the majority of them being, as she said, in your home state. Your eyes widened in interest.

“You’re a smart very kid,” Ms. Lee assures you, but you give her a look, “You are. And if you can pull your grades up to a 3.0 or higher, you can apply for scholarships from these schools.” Damn scholarships always feel like a carrot on a stick, taunting you with their possibilities. However, with the amount you were being paid by Delmar for your work, you wouldn’t have a chance at paying for your college of choice. A scholarship could save you big time, and without the guilt of being a burden on your parents.

“If you can get them up by the end of the semester,” Ms. Lee says, “You’ll be secured for a scholarship. Maybe even more than one.” You chewed the inside of your lip, contemplating this information. Damn it, it seemed too good to be true. Getting your grades back up was much harder than bombing them, which you thought was totally unfair. The GPA system felt like a whole scam.

“This means you need to, pardon my language, kick your ass into gear,” she says, making you smile at her profanity, “But because math and chemistry are the classes that are giving you the most trouble, you will require extra help with them.” You raised a brow at her, sensing that she was getting somewhere with this. What was she up to?

“I'll set you up with a tutor,” she reveals, turning to you, “And don’t worry, they’ll be someone from school so your parents won’t have to pull out any pocket money. Your eyes widened in shock. A tutor? Was she being serious?!

You opened your mouth to object but she continues, “I talked to Cobwell and we’ve found the perfect tutor for you. A classmate of yours, actually.”

“W-wait, can’t I get tutoring from Cobwell? Or do those group tutoring sessions that student resources hold?” you asked, the idea of one it being one of your classmates sounding much worse than the tutoring itself.

“We did consider that,” she says, “But Cobwell just got assigned to assist Harrington with the academic decathlon, and we believe that because of your current situation, one-on-one would work for you best focus-wise.” You slumped back in your chair. Maybe you should have taken up Cobwell’s help when you had the chance. Now, you were going to be stuck spending an hour or more on subjects you hate with a burning passion with someone you probably don’t like. Speaking of which, you asked Ms. Lee who they chose to be your tutor.

“Oh, glad you asked,” she said, giving you a smile, “It’s Peter Parker.” 

It took every inch of your body to hold the urge to scream. You did pray, though, that she was bluffing you. She had to be! But you saw no sign that she was fucking with you. You felt your body go into a cold sweat. You leaned toward Ms. Lee, horror in your eyes.

“Do you have anyone else but him?!” You cried, “Anyone?! I can not have him tutor me! Anyone but that loser!” Ms. Lee raises a brow at you, unamused by your reaction.

“Why not?” She asks, “He’s in all of your classes, as well as being the top student in math and chemistry.” You leaned back into the chair, letting a troubled and dramatic groan out.

“He’s a total numbskull!” you said exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air, “Flash Thompson will never let down that I’m going to be babysat by Parker.”

“You should be more concerned about your grades than your reputation, (Y/N),” Ms. Lee comments, making you purse your lips, “Additionally, I’m making the tutoring mandatory. So if I find out that you purposely ditch Parker, you will be penalized.” You frowned upon hearing this. Of all things you wanted to happen in your life, being forced to be in the same room as Peter Parker was the last thing you wanted. And you were going to get punished if you ignored him?! Not cool.

“Plus,” she continues, “If you give him a chance, you’ll see that you both have much more in common than you think.” This has to be some cruel prank, it just has to! If you found out that the Norse god of mischief Loki was behind this, you would make sure to find him and kick his ass all the way to another dimension.

“B-but,” you leaned towards her, eyes narrowing suspiciously, “What if he becomes negligent again? MJ told me what he did last year with the decathlon team.” She hums in response, leaning back on her chair.

“I assure you that Peter will not do such a thing,” she replies, “Actually, the other reason why we chose him as your tutor is that he has to complete community service hours due to his misbehavior last semester.

“I’m community service now?!” you exclaimed. How humiliating!  You dropped your head into your hands, letting out a dramatic groan.

“Look, I understand that you’re uncomfortable,” Ms. Lee says, sitting up in her chair, “But you deserve the help. And part of being independent is knowing when you need it. And you don’t have to feel ashamed to ask for it.” You looked up at her, seeing that she was watching you sincerely. You knew she meant well, it was her job, after all. Yet this was the worst possible situation you could've put it. Yet again, it is your fault for procrastinating assistance with school for this long. Still, you would’ve taken anyone but Parker as your tutor. Even Flash Thompson! You let out a huff and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to process all of this very unfortunate information.

“Peter is a nice kid,” she assures you, though you give her a look that says you think otherwise, “Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable with him, it’ll help him help you. ” She points at you, and though she wasn’t doing it you could almost feel her finger pressing down on your chest. You bit your bottom lip, feeling unsure. Opening up to other people has become much harder for you since the move, and it’ll be much harder in an academic setting. Now, you have to do it with a person you deeply despise. She really was asking too much out of you.

You let out another sigh and straightened yourself then asked her “How often do I have to meet with him?” Please just once a month, you begged in your head.

“At least twice a week,” she answers, “I would like for you to meet with him tomorrow after school. The sooner you guys work the quicker you can improve.” A low groan was let out of you, earning a frown from her.

“I’ll be meeting with Parker tomorrow morning,” she said, turning to type on the computer, “You both will be in charge of scheduling hours. If you do it right, it shouldn’t affect art club hours or your feeding times for the animals in the biology laboratory.” You pouted. Junior year was already very hard, and this just added to the difficulty of it all. Would this tutoring even work? 

“You’re a smart kid,” Ms. Lee says, “And I know you can do this. But you will need to be committed to this. Understand?”     “Yes ma’am,” you said, begrudgingly.

-

    The next day you arrived to class earlier than usual. The meeting with Ms. Lee gave you the thoughts of possibly failing school and having to work with the person you despised kept running through your thoughts, making it impossible to go to sleep. You noticed that the hall in which your locker was located had a speckle of people around, either chatting with their friends or just chilling by their lockers. You were leaning against yours, occupied with your phone as you watched yesterday's news on the touchscreen. You watched as the news anchor, the lady you had watched before at the bodega that there was yet another bodega stick-up that led to a fight between the robbers and Spider-man, this time in Hell’s Kitchen. The news cut to footage that showed him apprehending them, but took a few hits to the face and chest in the process. Your brows furrowed, worrying if he was okay since those hits looked pretty bad. He had mentioned to you before that he was able to heal quicker because of his powers, but you still couldn’t help but wonder if he was all right. 

    You heard your name being called out to you and you looked up to see Ned, who was approaching you with a wide smile spread across his face. Leaning away from your locker, you were about to give him a wave until you smelled something very putrid, making you cover your nose.

    “Hey there!” he says, greeting you, “Have you seen Peter? I gotta give him his backpack.” He then held up a black and blue backpack, and you realized where the smell came from.

    “Oh my god,” you said, scrunching your face, “Why the hell does that smell so bad?”

    “Oh,” Ned looked at it, “I found it in a dumpster. Peter lost it.”

    “How the hell did he lose it?” you asked with a frown.

“Ah,” Ned shifts uncomfortably, “Pete’s a bit clumsy sometimes, heh…” His face said that it was something else, but the smell prevented you from pressing any further.

“Why the heck did you bring it to school?!” You asked him, “It’s stinking up the whole hall!” You weren’t wrong, students around you were looking at the both of you and frowning as they too tried to cover their noses from the stench. 

“Yeah,” Ned agrees, putting it down beside him, “I tried to put some spray-on air freshener on it but not even the smell of clean sheets could contain the scent of New York trash. Ned was a nice guy, but like Peter, he was also a bit goofy. Having enough of the smell, you turned to open your locker, where you rummaged through it until you found what you were looking for. Ned watched quizzically as you pulled out a beige-colored canvas tote bag. You turned and held it out to Ned.

“Take Peter’s supplies out of the backpack and put them in that,” you ordered Ned, who took the bag and looked at it in awe, “I have it as a backup in case I had paint spill in my backpack.”

“This is so cool!” Ned exclaims, holding up to his face,  “And it even has a zipper in the opening! Did you make this?” You nodded. Last year you had taken a sewing class and had made a handful of items, tote bags being one of them. You had decided to make a few of them, some in which you gave as gifts to your friends and some that you made out of commission for your mom’s friends. Sewing, oddly enough, was something that you were pretty good at.

“Don’t tell Peter that I made it,” you said sternly, “Nor that I gave this to him. I don’t want him to know I did something nice.” Ned raised a brow at you but didn’t object.

“B-besides,” you added, motioning your head towards Peter’s backpack “I don’t want to smell that thing any longer.” 

“Oh, right,” Ned said, unzipping the backpack, “I should probably throw this out. Sucks, ‘cuz he only got this two weeks ago.”

“Peter seems pretty careless,” You commented to Ned, watching him take out Peter’s supplies and putting them in the canvas bag.

“Nah,” Ned replies with a shrug, “He was much worse last year. He lost five backpacks within two months! At one point his aunt May threatened to let him go to school without one.” you furrowed your brows, concerned. What was Ms. Lee thinking!? 

“And he’s going to be in charge of tutoring me?” you thought out loud, “I can’t believe this.”

“Peter’s going to tutor you?” Ned looks up, surprised. You told him about your meeting with Ms. Lee yesterday, explaining the whole situation. He listened, then nodded as you finished wrapping the story up.

“Well, I think you’re in good hands,” Ned reassures you, “Peter can be a doofus but he’s the smartest person I know. You’ll be passing in no time!” And speaking of the devil, you noticed from the corner of your eye that Peter Parker himself was jogging up to the two of you. As he approached, you noticed that his lip has a pretty nasty cut on it. 

“Whoa, what the hell is up with that?” You exclaimed, pointing to your lip to mirror where the injury was on his face, “Did you get mugged or something?”

“Uh,” Peter looked over at Ned, who shifted his eyes at you, “Y-yeah! You know how aggressive New Yorkers are!” He says, then lets out a nervous chuckle. 

“Right,” you said, narrowing your eyes at his suspicious behavior, “Did they take anything?” Before Peter could respond, Ned jumped in.

“His backpack!” he answers for him loudly, holding up the smelly bag yet again, causing both you and Peter to wince from the smell, “I found your backpack, Pete! The ones the muggers took! In the dumpster! What a coincidence! Haha!” Why on earth were these two acting so suspicious? They weren’t telling you something, though you wondered what was so secretive that they were trying to hide it from you? Then, you remembered something that MJ had mentioned to you the other day.

“Wait,” you raised a brow at the both of them, “Weren’t you guys hanging out yesterday? MJ told me you guys were going to the video game store in Hell’s Kitchen. You didn’t get mugged, Ned.” A look of panic plastered upon both of the boy's faces, and they exchanged looks with each other.

“T-the mugging happened when I was going home!” Peter stutters, his voice becoming higher, something you noticed he does when he’s nervous. Or lying.

“Y-yeah!” Ned says, nodding, “A-and I just happened to come across his backpack on my way back home!” This wasn’t the first time that they have acted like this with you before. One time they were like this with you while you were working at the bodega, where Peter had a pretty nasty black eye, and another time was when you caught Ned helping Peter skip the academic decathlon due to the Stark Internship, where the next day he had bruises on his knuckles. Dude seemed to get bruised up quite often, now that you thought about it. Before you could press any further with the two, Peter noticed the canvas bag.

“What’s that for?” Peter asks, pointing to it. Ned holds it out to him, telling him that his supplies are in there now.

“This is really nice!” Peter exclaims, taking the bag with excitement. You avert your eyes to the side as he asks his friend “Did you just have this with you, Ned?”

“Uh,” Ned turned to you, and you looked over at him. You better not tell him, you thought as your eyes met. Ned looks over to Peter.

“Yeah!” he replies, looking back to his pal, “It was just sitting in my locker. Luckily I had it on me today at this exact time.” He lets out another nervous laugh. 

“I actually really like the look of it,” Peter says, admiring the bag, “I might use this as my book bag from now on.” That actually caught you by surprise. Did he like it that much? Hm, better not get careless with it, then you thought to yourself. Peter seems to then remember something, turning to you.

“Oh, (Y/N),” He starts, pulling the canvas bag through his arm and up to his shoulder, “I actually just met with Ms. Lee. She told me about the whole tutoring. thing.” You internally groaned. It was evident that you two would talk about that today, but not this early.

“She said she wanted us to meet today, right?” he asks, “Would it be okay if I could have your number?” You raised a brow at him. What the hell was he getting at?

“Why?” you asked, frowning.

“Oh,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “S-since we’re going to be working together it would be good if we had each other’s numbers. For scheduling and whatnot.” You closed your eyes and clenched your teeth. For long enough you’ve avoided having to have contact with this guy after school. Now, you would no longer be blessed with that privilege.

“Fine,” you said, begrudgingly. You swung your backpack to your chest and opened it, rummaging through it for your pencil pack. You found it and pulled a blue ballpoint pen from it, then swung it to the back once again

“Gimme your arm,” you said holding your hand out. He then held his arm close to his chest, giving you a wide-eyed, confused expression.

“W-why?” He asked. You gave him a look.

“I’d rather write it on your arm than a piece of paper so you don’t lose it,” you replied, “Once I gave my number to the president of the art club and she lost the paper, and then Flash found it and wouldn’t stop airdropping terrible memes from 2006.” That was the most annoying day of your life. You had to ask MJ to threaten him to stop because even when you blocked him he kept finding a way to send you stupid memes. 

To this, he shrugged, understanding your reasoning. He pulled his blue sweater sleeve down to reveal his forearm, which you noticed was actually kind of fit. You moved it closer to him, grabbing his bare forearm gently and pulled it closer to you so you could write your cell phone number. You scribbled it horizontally, then once you were finished you pulled his sleeve down to cover it. The first warning bell of the day rings throughout the school, and you could see now that the hall was full of students, who began to shuffle past each other to get to their first-period class. The boys and you turned to look at each other.

“I’ll text you after school?” Peter says.

“Yeah,” you said, pulling your backpack straps up to your shoulder, “Let’s get to class.”

-

    For the rest of the day, you were dreading the eventual meeting with Peter. During all of your classes together you desperately avoided talking to him as much as possible because you were so pissed at the idea of having to work with him. However, as the end of the school day wrapped up, you could not avoid him any longer. As you walked to your locker, you felt your phone vibrate and pulled it out of the pocket of your yellow windbreaker and saw that you received a text from an unknown number.

Hey, it’s Peter! it read, Let’s meet in the library. You let off a small huff and typed back k. You shoved your phone back into the pocket and trudged your way over to the library. Upon entering, you noticed that it was a bit crowded today but still remained moderately quiet (as libraries should be). Several students were huddled by the study tables, hunched over intently scribbling notes while others were at the computers, doing research for papers, or watching youtube videos. You scanned around for an empty study table that both you and Peter could occupy until you spotted one near the graphic novels section. You made your way over to it, plopping your backpack on one of the chairs to save for Peter. 

Deciding to kill some time, you unzipped your red backpack and pulled out your sketchbook and pencil pack. Grabbing your mechanical pencil from the orange pouch, you flipped through your rugged hard-bound sketchbook to a blank page, where you then began to draw. You started to sketch those around you, like one student who was pretending to study but he was really watching Netflix on his phone, a girl that was coding on one of the computers, and the librarian, Mr. Fill. Soon you transitioned to drawing animals from the biology lab, like a starfish from the biology lab’s man-made tide pool, a garden eel named Pickles, the pink zebra beauty tarantula Zelda, and the corn snake Sir Elote II. 

You then felt your mind drift and began to draw Spider-man, whom you’ve doodled more times than you can count. If anyone were to look through your sketchbook (which you let few do), they would find several pages full of sketches of the blue and red hero of Queens. To you, it was genuinely embarrassing how much you drew him. It was hard not to think about him when you had such a hard crush on him. You wondered what he would say if he knew you were drawing all of this fanart of him.

    “Ooh, nice eel!” You heard a voice whisper to you. You looked up and saw Peter, who was looming over you as you drew in your sketchbook, making you jump a bit.

    He takes your backpack from the chair beside you and sets it down beside you, then asks, “Does it have a name?” 

“No…?” you answered as you watched him sit down beside you.

    “Well,” he makes a goofy smile, “If you name it, its name should be Eel-i,” A silence hung over you as you looked at him, giving him the blankest look you have ever given anyone.

    “G-get it?” his voice quivers, his smile wavering from your lack of response, “Like Eli?”

    “I did,” you responded with a deadpan tone, “But that was probably the worst joke I have ever heard. And I work for a middle-aged dad.” His mouth pursed into a tight line and his ears went red, embarrassed at his horrible attempt of lightening the mood. 

    “So,” you let out a sigh, “have you ever tutored someone before?”     “Nope,” he says, shaking his head in response as he tucked himself into the table, “What about you? Have you been tutored before?” You nodded in response. Back home you used to have a tutor in grade and middle school, who was actually your favorite teacher in the third grade. However, because of your dad seeing tutoring as a waste of money, you were forced to stop sessions when you went to high school, where he took on as a tutor. However, with your dad’s lack of patience, tutoring turned into a session in which he would criticize how slowly you understood the topics you were going over. At one point, it became too much for you, and you stopped asking for help with school-related subjects altogether.

    “Great!” he exclaims, but in a controlled whisper as to not disrupt the students around him, “One of us has experience with this! So, I guess we should just go over what you’re having a hard time with.”

    “Alright,” You put your elbow on the table and rested your head on the palm of your head, looking over at Peter, “Which subject are we talking about? Math or chemistry?”

“Uh,” Peter furrowed his brows in thought, “Chemistry? Since we had that quiz a couple of days ago.” 

“I have a hard time with all of it.” You replied. 

He blinks, a bit unsure of what to say. “U-uh, What do you mean by that?”

“It means what it means. I have a hard time with all of it. That’s why I’m in this position in the first place.”

“W-well, what part of the quiz did you have a hard time with? Maybe we can go over that today?” 

“Hm,” you rubbed your chin in thought, digging into your brain trying to remember what was on that quiz since you tried to block it out of your memory. You thought for a few more seconds until you remembered something, then looked up at Peter and replied, “Well, bond energy got very confusing.”

“Great!” Peter exclaims, his eyes lighting up, “I mean, it’s not great that it was confusing for you, but great in the sense that we can start looking at that today.”

And so you did. Peter opened up the chemistry textbook and began to re-teach chemical bonds to you, despite both of you learning about them last week in class. Ten minutes in, you were able to pay some attention to what he was saying. However, twenty minutes in you started feeling your focus float away. You tried to grab at it like a piece of paper floating away in the wing, yet everything Peter was saying just went over your head. It didn’t really help that he kept saying “Right?” after stating something (“It depends on strength and interactions between cations and anions in lattice, right?”), and you just nodded in response even though you had no idea what the hell he was talking about. Thirty minutes passed and your focus completely turned off, and suddenly you could hear the sounds of keyboards being typed on, the scribbling of pens, and, oh shit, is that a fly in the library? Your focus had gone to anything else but Peter, who took notice when you wouldn’t respond to a question he asked you. 

“Hey,” he turns to you with a concerned look in his hooded eyes, “You doing okay?” He put his hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daze.

“I-,” you looked over but averted your eyes away from him. You felt face heating up from embarrassment. Darn it, what’s wrong with you? Why was focusing on something such a task?!

“How about we take a break?” Peter suggests, closing the chemistry textbook and getting up and stretching his arms, “I’m going to grab something from the vending machine. Do you want anything?” You shook your head in response, then watched as he grabbed his wallet from the tote bag and headed out of the library. You let out a frustrated groan, which was a little too loud because it earned you a hush from Mr. Fill who just happened to pass by. You put your head in your hands, letting out a huff, and tried to figure out what was causing you to be like this right now.

As you thought back to the last thirty minutes, you realized that Peter was the one making the session so agonizingly dreadful. It felt like you were back in chemistry class all over again, and no offense to Mr. Cobwell but that wasn’t the most interesting class to you. Contemplating on everything that Peter was doing wrong, you also noted other faults such as his pacing while he , his assumption that you understand what he’s talking about, and his mundane voice that he used when he was explaining everything to you, making you want to fall asleep. You pressed your nails into your pals, newly-made fists shaking as your frustration with Parker grew. It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t keep up! It was his fault for being so bad at teaching you! You looked up and saw that Peter had returned, two water bottles in each hand. 

He approached you and set one bottle in front of you, saying “Thought you might be thirsty,” He got you a water bottle from the vending machine? Huh...that’s odd, you think.

Without saying a word, you looked down at your insulated water bottle that was tucked in one of the side-pockets of your backpack. He followed your eyes and noticed this, and his eyes widened with realization. He whispered an “Oh” to himself, but you turned back to the plastic one and took it out of courtesy, saying you could use it as a refill as you placed it in your backpack. He apologizes and sits back down in his chair. You give him a hollow thank you, to which he seems pretty pleased by. 

“Okay,” he begins with a nod, re-opening the textbook and turning to the chapter you guys were just going over, “U-um, was there something that you needed some clarification on?” All of it, you thought, but you felt like that would’ve not been the least bit helpful to him. Wanting to protect your ego and get the hell out of here, you just pointed to a random section on the page that read Hybrid orbitals. He looked to where you pointed and nodded.

He says, grabbing his pencil, “Let’s go over that again.” You held the urge to let out a groan. Time to suffer more! However, about twenty-five minutes in and you grew incredibly bored with Peter’s dull rambling. Your mind checked out and instead of paying attention, you began drawing circles instead of taking notes in your notebook, to which Peter noticed.

He put his pencil down and turned to you, asking “Hey (Y/N), You listening?” You jumped in surprise, looking up to see him catching you in the act. Without thinking you nodded, but he made an expression that thought otherwise.

“Right,” he then points with his pencil to a diagram on the textbook page, “Can you explain to me what this is?” You gazed down at what he was referring to, and your mind went blank. What on earth were you guys talking about again? The lack of sleep from last night had made you loopy and exhausted earlier than usual, making it hard to think straight. You tried your hardest to think of what the hell that could possibly be, but you couldn’t think of anything for the life of you. 

“It’s...a bond?” you answered, looking up at him sheepishly.

“Okay…” he leaned forward a bit, “But...what kind of bond?”

“A…” You looked back at the diagram, then back at him, “Chemical one?”

“Yes,” he replied, but you could tell he was trying to get more out of you, “But it’s a special kind of chemical one. It’s a…?”

“Very special chemical bond,” you replied without thinking, and you wanted to kick yourself in the head for such a dumb answer. Peter blinks at you blankly. 

“It’s a hybridized orbital,” he responds, “You weren’t paying attention.” You felt your face heat up. It’s one thing to not be paying attention a, but getting caught was so much worse

“S-sorry,” you said shyly, hunching over out of habit, “B-but it’s not my fault this stuff is so boring!”

“I get that it’s difficult to understand,” Peter assures you, leaning back in his chair, “But when something seems confusing, you need to tell me at the moment.” You frowned at him. Who was he to tell you what you do?

“Well sorry,” you sarcastically say as you crossed your arms in a huff, “It’s a bit difficult when the person you’re listening to is incredibly mundane.” 

“Excuse me?” He turns to you, annoyed, “I asked you several times if you understood what we were talking about.”

“Yeah, but you kept assuming that I knew what you were blabbering about. You were going too fast, too. Not my fault I can’t keep up with you.” 

“Then you should’ve told me to slow down!” he exclaims irritably, “I’m here to help you, not confuse you.” You let out a sarcastic laugh and. What was his problem?! Why was he getting annoyed at you? It’s not your fault you were telling the truth! He just can’t take criticism.

“Well, some help you are.” You looked over at him, “Can’t believe the smartest kid in our grade can’t figure out how to teach someone.” He clenched his jaw.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he says, trying to control his current aggravation, “But in order for me to help you, I need your feedback. If you had just said something-”

“You want feedback?” You raised your voice and turned to him, cutting him off, “I’ll give to you feedback! You’re boring to listen to, you have the talking pace of the Roadrunner, and you have the personality of a stalk of celery. You’re built like one, too.” Students around you began to stop what they were doing and watch the two of you make a scene in the library.

“What the hell is your problem with me?!” he asks irritably, “I’ve been trying to be nice to you since you got here, but all you do is treat me like shit. Even when I’m doing nothing you act maliciously towards me! What have I done to piss you off so much?” 

“You exist.” you spit out angrily. A heavy silence hung over the both of you as you stared daggers at each other, the students around you holding their breaths in anticipating. However, you had enough of his stupidity, so you grabbed your notebook and backpack and stormed out of the library, ignoring the looks and whispers you were receiving from the students that were observing you. As you exited the room, you reached for your phone to text your mom that you were heading home. As you pulled it out of your pocket, it slipped from your fingers and bounced three times onto the school’s hallway until it ended with a cracking sound. You felt your heart clench in fear and rushed to go pick it up. A spew of cusses left your mouth as you saw three cracks upon the screen.

------

Annotations

*=GPA stands for Grade Point Average

#peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spider-man reader insert #MCU fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #peter parker reader insert #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #bad Ideas fic #tom holland #tom holland fanfic

[ngame989]

“Drive” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 8

Writing: @ngame989​

Art: @toxicpsychox​

Editing: @ubercelloczar​​, @toxicpsychox​, @seddm​

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: It's back to school for Marco, and Star is left to face the specter of real world responsibility once more - with a bit of help from the adorable antics of Mariposa.

Comic Page

Masterpost

Finally, a new chapter! This one took a long time to put together in a way I was satisfied with, so sorry as always for the delay. Writing is a bit of a secondary hobby for me, and while I absolutely love Starco and love making this series, the actual act of putting words to a page is rather draining for me. I'd love to promise more or faster updates, and if the right creative inspirations strike that is still what I'd love to happen, but it's gonna come at whatever pace it comes at. If that means I'm here for years to come, so be it. See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“Alright, next up is Wilhelm… Wund? Want? Wouldn’t? Marco, this name is weird.” Star waved the flash card around in the air.

“Wundt, but the Ws both sound like Vs. It’s German.”

“German… that’s the place where that guy who was basically mustache Mina came from, right?” Marco froze in his tracks as his eyes widened in complete incredulity. Star uncurled from the ball she was in on their bed and sat up, hair and nightgown all astray as she tilted her head to the side in befuddlement. “What, did I say something wrong?”

“No, that’s- it’s just- that’s one way to put it. Don’t worry about it.” No way he was touching that subject with a mile-long pole.

She crossed her arms proudly. “See, I did remember something from school, then! OK, so Wundt, what’d he do?”

“What didn’t he do? He basically invented psychology! Before him, everyone just kind of thought about thinking, but he was the first one to really study it with any sort of scientific method.” The first week of school had been going fairly well, Marco thought, but it was certainly busy. Maybe it was the fact that this was his first classroom education in two whole years, but it was way faster paced than anything he remembered. All the reading he’d done to prepare before the school year started helped, sure, but it was a sizable effort to keep on top of everything.

“Mhmm, I see.” Star tentatively raised her hand, nodding thoughtfully to his every word. “Tell me about his glasses.”

“What?”

“The glasses? For seeing someone’s problems really clearly? Come on, Marco, it wasn’t that hard to figure out. I bet they were ginormous.”

A few giggles escaped his lips and Star puffed her cheeks up in indignation. “No, Star, that’s not how glasses work. They just sorta- they make you look smarter, I guess?”

Star stuck her tongue out and pinched her fingers together to form two circles, aiming her hands carefully to position them over Marco’s eyes. “Nope, you seem just as smart without them. Anyway, let’s see here, next up is Pavlov.”

“Oh, you’ll love him. He studied stuff with his dogs.”

As if on cue, some of the laser puppies scrambled out from under the bed, jumping into Star and Marco’s arms. Star’s shout of “PUPPIES!” sounded like background noise behind the licking and panting invading his personal space, but it was a welcome change. With how big their yard was now, their pets were often gone for so long at a time that Marco felt like he barely saw them anymore, but they had a way of showing up randomly at oddly convenient times. Despite being laserless since magic had been destroyed, whatever dog breed the wand had concocted seemed to stay just as small and cute forever. Barko Diaz stayed in Marco’s arms while Star cuddled the rest and cooed over them one by one. “Anyway, his dogs drooled whenever food was placed in their mouths; that’s just the natural response. But Pavlov noticed that if he just held the food in front of them before feeding it to them, after a while they’d start to drool whenever they saw the food. That’s how he invented the name conditional reflex.”

“I, Star Butterfly, officially vote for puppy guy as the best- Sajak, hahaha, stop it!” The dogs pounced on her face and she fell backwards onto the sheets. “Marco, help! I’m being swallowed by a fur-ocious tidal wave! Get your jammies on and join the fun!”

Marco rolled his eyes as he pulled off his shirt and pants. Top drawer… nothing. Middle? Nope. Still only in his underwear, he quickly rummaged through both their sets of drawers in search of his usual blue pajamas to no avail. A frustrated groan rumbled in his throat as he bent over to check underneath the drawers.

“That’s it, mama like,” he could hear Star murmuring. He quickly glanced behind him to find… Star sitting up, his pajamas in hand. “Staaaaar,” his voice and brain both exasperatedly grumbled. Though he’d figured out that his own sense of sexuality was grounded in emotional intimacy more than anything, they’d still become quite comfortable with each other and themselves physically; normally he wouldn’t complain in the slightest about the attention, but he still had a job to do.

“Ooooone more second,” she drawled out while her half-lidded baby blues roamed his body.

“Alright, Star, let’s just pick one more card, OK? I need to make sure I’m ready for tomorrow.”

“Fiiiiine. The last one is… Freud. I’m probably saying that wrong, too. Wait a second, Janna talked about him once, after I told her about that psychology stuff we did years ago. She said he’d be really good at figuring out my mom issu-”

“Not the same thing. Come on, Janna…” Marco grumbled. Leave it to Janna to give the worst possible introduction to academic psychology. “Alright, that’s enough of that,” he stated decisively and snatched all the index cards out from under paws and tails before crawling onto the edge of the bed.

“Yay! Now scooty that booty, you cutie patootie!” Star gently cleared the space between them and the puppies all left the room except for Marco Jr. It wasn’t the best dog name, but it was at least better than it would’ve been for his sibling.

He propped himself up on his elbow and fluffed his pillow. “I’m honored to do my duty.”

“Hehe, you said doodie.” Before he’d even fully settled into his usual spot, Star had already climbed halfway on top of him and settled her head on his chest, prompting him to embrace her. Marco smiled and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her neck. Sometimes it was too warm, too cramped, and she’d strangle his limbs hard enough that it took him 10 extra minutes to stand up in the morning; despite all that, he couldn’t be happier to snuggle every night away.

“I-I know it’s been crazy this past week, so thanks for helping with this, even though you hate school.”

“Hey, I don’t hate it. I just don’t like classes, tests, homework, and having to ask to use the bathroom...” She paused and blinked a few times. “OK, maybe I do hate school.”

“If it makes you feel any better, in college you can just go whenever you need to.”

“You know, that actually kinda does. Anyway, learning can be fun, and you’re a good teacher. Keep it up and in a few years maybe I’ll have a secondhand degree,” she snickered. Her fingers started to fidget with his hands while her toes tangled themselves up in his pant legs. “Sorry I was so distracted. I guess it’s finally sinking in that you’re gonna be doing this for years and years and now I’m the one with no clue what I want to do. Sucks a little bit to think about.”

“Doesn’t mean we’re not still gonna be a team, but it- yeah, that kinda does suck. Maybe we can try looking through some more options, if you want? I know you didn’t like any programs at the college, but I’m sure there’s all kinds of jobs or volunteer work around town. We could-”

She squirmed in his grasp, tilting her head downwards and away from his. “Marco… I don’t know, I just really don’t think I’m even in a place where I can just point at something and say, ‘yep, that sounds like a great job to sign up for!’ Maybe I’m just not ready for that yet.”

It always saddened him when she had this little faith in herself because he knew firsthand how capable she was of the most amazing things. Whatever he could do to help get her self-confidence back and live up to her potential, he would. He brought his hand closer to her face, stroking her cheek gently - though not before clumsily misjudging distance and poking her in the mouth, which elicited a snort of laughter. “OK, whatever feels right. Besides, it’s not like I know what I want to do with my entire life right now either. We’ll figure it out whenever you’re ready. In the meantime, there’s a new season of Dude’s Food Feuds and a plate of nachos with our names on it this weekend! “Plus, I heard Mom and Dad say they might spend part of this weekend at Eclipsa’s…” he trailed off, nuzzling into her neck and pulling her closer.

She twisted herself to look at him as best as she could. “Oh yeah?” Her eyebrows wiggled  suggestively.

“Yeaaaaaaahn.” His attempt to continue being flirty was foiled by a giant yawn, indicating once and for all that it was time to sleep, and her laugh at his expense was stifled by her own yawn indicating she was in the same position. “Let’s get some shuteye, I’ve got another early morning tomorrow. Night, Star.”

“Night, Marco.” After a good-night peck Star turned herself around and they resumed their embrace. Less than a minute later, slumber claimed him.

***

“Dangit, Tom, again? You’ve gotta be free to chill at some point!” Angie folded the corner of the poetry collection she was perusing and looked up at Star who had her phone sprawled across their couch. “But I wouldn’t even mind doing kingdom junk. It’s better than another day on the couch by myself!” With her free hand, Star absentmindedly dangled around a spare doll of Marco in the princess outfit, which a starry-eyed Mariposa was stumbling around on the floor trying to catch. “So I’m not ‘physically capable of sticking my arms into lava tar’, I don’t see what that has to do with-” Even from the other end of the phone, Angie could still pick up on the mounting frustration in the demon prince’s tone. Star suddenly sharply inhaled and took a moment before responding. “Sure, maaaaybe it would have something to do with clearing a toxic hellgae infestation from the depths of the lava tar pits. Ugh, fine, you’re right. Can I at least see you next week, then?” Only a split second went by before Star sat up suddenly. “JANNA? Hello? Dangit,” she groaned while tossing her phone to the other end of the couch.

“Is everything alright, Star?”

Star crossed her arms and huffed. “Tom’s super busy with Underworld stuff, and I guess Janna’s there too for some reason even though humans really shouldn’t be able to handle any of it. Ponyhead has some kinda interview with some production company or something, Eclipsa and my parents are on vacation, and even Ferguson and Alfonzo are too busy to hang out!” She flopped facedown into one of the cushions; her final cry of “stupid school” was barely intelligible.

Mariposa giggled and yanked the doll from Star’s now-limp hand. “Mago! Mago!” Mariposa babbled while waddling around. Her little foot got caught on the fabric of the doll’s dress, and like a tiny giant she slowly toppled to the ground. Angie moved to help her daughter, who let go of the doll to grasp for her mother’s hand. “Mama!” It had been only a few weeks since Mariposa began to put together words with any regularity, and she’d already taken a fierce liking to calling for her parents and brother.

“Mariposa, I’m trying to be grumpy here and that’s really hard when the cutest thing in the universe is talking about the other cutest thing in the universe, and that includes the entire Puppybunny Dimension!”

Suddenly, an idea came to Angie. “Why don’t you come with me to the community college and help watch Mariposa? I’ve missed spending time with her this week but I couldn’t take care of her all day, plus it’d be good to get her out of the house.”

“Marco said he was really busy today, though,” Star pouted.

“Well, then I guess it’ll just have to be a girls’ day. What do you say, Mariposa? Do you want to go with mommy and Star to school?”

She clapped her hands cheerfully. “Gool!”

“Who am I kidding, I can’t say no to you,” Star cooed, pinching the toddler’s cheeks. “So when are we going?”

“I have office hours in an hour, so the sooner the better. Come out to the car whenever you’re ready.”

“Just gotta get my purse!” Star bounded across the living room and up the stairs quickly enough that her voice trailed off even at full volume. Angie smirked as she went about gathering her usual toddler travel supplies. While all the reasons she’d given for their trip today were true, she had an ulterior motive. It was pretty obvious that Star was in a funk from life catching up to them, and a change of pace never hurt. Well, that, and Star drives everyone a bit crazy with nothing to do at home. Seriously, who knew one girl could spill so many gallons of pancake batter all over the counter in a day?

Once she had everything, she headed out to the faithful family minivan and strapped Mariposa into her carseat, tossing in her small satchel for work and the much larger bag of baby supplies. Right as she finished, she heard the front door shut and lock behind her as Star made her way to the car. “Can I take Mariposa around the college today? Marco’s baby carrier fits like a glove.” Star quickly strapped it on, tightened it, and did a little twirl before taking it back off and climbing into the backseat.

While Angie was driving, she barely had any ability to check how the girls were doing in the backseat - there’d been so much construction on the Earthni road system that she could never trust the routes she was used to - but there were little glimpses of Mariposa being enthralled with Star’s playful antics. Star’s classic yellow smiling star purse swung like a pendulum for Mariposa to catch and they both cheered when she finally succeeded. Before she even knew it, they arrived at the Echo Creek Commewnity College, which had expanded dramatically in both size and architectural diversity as a result of the Cleaving. Most places in town (and throughout the world, so she’d heard) had merged in ways that left individual communities intact, but for whatever reason the college campus had become completely intertwined with a Mewman campground. It was certainly more of a spectacle than the once-modest town college and did wonders for getting both halves of the Earthni community involved.

Star marveled at the seamlessly blended hybrid buildings and scenery while Mariposa did much the same with her own thumbs. Nondescript brick buildings mingled with medieval wood and stone and the occasional ornate decorations, which is why the quad had a marble dragon standing proud among the trees. “Woah, is that a cornball and football field at the same time?”

“That’s a good question. Honestly, I’m still not used to all the changes myself,” Angie laughed. “A few months ago I tried to use the swamp water machine for my coffee. I had lily pads in my teeth for days.” While they were walking, Mariposa had become noticeably fixated on Star. Her dress, her hair, her hands, anything that was available to gawk at and grasp was fair game.

“She’s such a wonderful little tot, isn’t she?” Angie asked as they stepped into the cool air of Bonner Hall. She walked slowly towards her office while Star flitted around poking at every plant in the hallway.

“Yeah. So much calmer than Meteora. Remember the birthday incident?” Angie lightly chuckled in response; how could anyone not remember that? It wasn’t every day that a one year old just spontaneously grew a full head of hair and then got her tail hopelessly caught in it at another one year old’s birthday party.

Once they’d arrived at her office, she pulled out her key and opened the door to invite Star in. “Bienvenue! I’m teaching Intro to French Literature this semester, so I’ve got this whole theme going on.” Quotes and pictures of authors hung all around the room alongside some images of major landmarks and a little French flag sat on her desk next to a miniature statue of the Eiffel Tower. Angie helped Star unstrap Mariposa and set her down on the floor where she began waddling and crawling around.

Star sat on the edge of Angie’s desk kicking her feet back and forth, careful to avoid the toddler. “Soooooooo… what’s the plan for today?”

“You’re more than welcome to stick around but if office hours get too hectic it may get pretty cramped in here.” She’d have liked to do more with a larger space, but given how infrequently other community college faculty even got offices to themselves it was a blessing to even have this. “Although I have to teach later so you won’t be able to get back into this room if you leave after that.”

“Marco’s not free until, like, 6, so…” She trailed off dejectedly. The vibrant enthusiasm that Star normally exuded was still lacking. Hmm, this might be more serious than I thought.

Angie gently laid a hand on Star’s shoulder until those big blue eyes finally met her own. “Star, honey, it’ll be fine. I know it can be hard not being able to spend all your time with someone anymore.”

The headband on Star’s head shifted and almost fell off from how hard she was tugging and frazzling her own hair absentmindedly, “It’s not that… well, it’s not just that. Everyone else is starting their big life dreams now, you know? Marco wants to be a psycho therapist or something, Tom’s actually kinda happy about being a prince for once, and even Janna seems like she’s figuring it out in her weird Jannaniganish way! I have no idea what I want to do! Even went through a big ole’ list of ideas with Marco and they all just seemed blegh.” Star threw her hands up in frustration before curling back into herself more than before. “And I want to find something too, you know? Ugh, where’s Mr. Candle when you need him...”

The words resonated very strongly with Angie but it was difficult to put into words. She backed away from Star, her gaze darting around the room until she had a realization. “Have I ever told you the story about my summer in France?”

“Don’t think so.”

“When I was about your age, I wanted to get away for a while, so I packed up all my things and went to France for a whole summer. The food, the music, the history… everything was better there. For months after I came home I tried desperately to hold on to all of that after it was over, and I still cherish that experience, but it was just a fun handful of weeks that I spent someplace else and it was better that I just dealt with the fact that it was over. But,” she forcefully interjected when Star raised an eyebrow in protest at the seemingly antithetical point being made, “I know now that it’s not a universally ideal handling of such events. All the excitement of the last few years made me think about that… people might sort these things out for themselves in very different ways.”

“Like how Jackie literally spent a summer in France too, but she and Chlóe are still together long distance.”

“Mhmm, I could see that.”

“Or how Ponyhead started wearing a prosthetic tail for a while after staying with Seahorse’s family.”

“Hang on, what-”

“Don’t ask.” Never a dull moment.

“Or what about when-”

Alright, I’ll just have to get to the point myself. “I was mainly thinking about Marco, Star. I told him this same story before he left for Mewni, and honestly, I didn’t know how important it was to him. But he grew into such a confident and capable young man there and I couldn’t be prouder.” Angie softly took both of Star’s cheeks into her hands. “Star, you’re a wonderful, caring, smart young woman. So what if you’re not following every step at the same time as your friends? Everyone goes through these sorts of crises at some point or another, but what’s important is that you take the time to make the decision that’s right for you.” Star’s gaze sunk to the ground while the gears in her mind were so obviously turning that they might as well have been visible and Angie gave her some space in turn. “So, with all that said, what are you thinking now?”

Star crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. “Even if I’m not rushing to figure everything out, I don’t want to just do nothing until I magically find my lifelong dream. And I know Marco and I aren’t gonna literally live the same lives; heck, I don’t want to do all his school junk anyway, but… whatever I end up doing, I still want it to be together. That’s why I left for Earth,” she finished with her voice dropping to a solemn whisper.

“Didn’t he do the exact same thing? You don’t need me to tell you that you two are something absolutely special. I may not know what all is going through his head, what mother of a teenage boy does, but I know he’d do anything for you, Star.”

Nodding more to herself than to Angie, Star took a deep breath before speaking. “Thanks, Mrs. Diaz.”

“You can call me Angie, if you’d like. Or Angelica, or maybe ‘The Coolest Mom in Town.’ I’m not picky,” she said with a smirk.

After a short pause, Star hopped off the desk and wrapped Angie in a bear hug so deceptively strong that it knocked the wind out of her, but she still managed to reciprocate. “Thanks… Angie.” A rumbling sound interrupted the moment. “Heh, well, seems like I’m also thinking about lunch.”

“That’s an excellent idea. Why don’t we-” The digital clock on the desk caught her attention. “Dammit, office hours already started a few minutes ago. Don’t think I’ll have time for a while. But there’s plenty of places around here to eat, and a few of them are actually good!” she chuckled. Just as she mentally ran through some places in the student union, a thought struck her. “Say, Star… there’s a lot of clubs and events and such that are open to non-students too. Maybe it’d be worth looking into some of them? It’d be something to do, you and Marco would be closer, and I could even drive you some days if you needed. Why don’t you take Mariposa with you and explore for a while? She seems pretty restless today.”

Taking a few deep breaths to center herself, Star nodded her head. “Yeah, that’s a good idea! Heck, it’d be good just to know my way around for any time I visit Marco anyway.” She bent down and beckoned for Mariposa, who’d been ogling a bronze baguette for some time now. Once the carrier was locked and loaded with a docile toddler and some of her supplies once more, Star skipped out of the office. Angie’s time alone, however, was cut short when a student skidded in and immediately started nervously rambling about homework questions and grading policies and the works of François Villon. Back to teacher mode. Angie afforded herself one last glance through the door at her young daughter gleefully riding along with the girl who might as well be her other daughter. Rafael had mentioned to Angie on more than a few occasions that Star and Marco reminded him of themselves in their youth, and Angie had agreed at the time but now she wasn’t so sure. Her teenage - and even young adult - years with Rafael, while wonderful, had been filled with many bouts of uncertainty and it’d taken them many, many years to get it right once and for all.

But Star and Marco? As far as she was concerned, they already had.

***

Boring classroom… Boring classroom… Boring restroom… Hey, wait a minute, is that a cornshake machine? A few minutes, a few dollars, and one cornshake (plus a sippy kid size) later, Star found herself not much better than she’d been when she set off an hour ago, but the surprisingly high quality of the vended drink did bolster her spirits. She resisted the urge to call Marco because it’d be waaaay more fun to surprise him later. And also because he might still be in class, that too. A tall rock creature walked in front of her, interrupting her thoughts, and she saw a nervous expression on his face as he feebly tried not to disrupt foot traffic too much. Looking around, she was a bit surprised to see just how much the cultures of her own world had been brought to the forefront and blended in despite humans comprising the majority of people she’d seen on campus. Some people who she guessed were Mewmans by their dress glanced back for a bit longer than most but otherwise went about their day without a fuss. Two guys, one human and one Septarian, were laughing and holding hands on a bench. All in all the atmosphere reminded her of high school, but was freer in a way that didn’t discomfort her as much as she’d anticipated.

A few of the passersby looked her way as she wandered, and one or two even said hi to her - not that uncommon, given that it was public knowledge that she and Marco were responsible for the Cleaving, though Eclipsa had tactfully phrased it as a consequence of the two working together to destroy magic - but it was just as likely that Mariposa was the one attracting attention for a multitude of reasons. She knew she shouldn’t have expected it, but part of her was disappointed that after going through four whole bustling buildings she hadn’t run into Marco, or even anyone she knew. Glum and tired, she was about to abandon her pursuits when a huge bulletin board around the corner caught her eye. As she jogged over to it, her hopes came true: it was a giant wall advertising all the clubs and events on campus for the start of the year.

Her eyes roved the board up and down, left and right scanning for anything that seemed interesting or had some sort of meeting today. There were some fliers that Star dismissed right away, including a woodworking workshop series, a community choir, a sketchy-looking “how to date a demon” seminar. The last one might have at least been good for a laugh, but it had a note scribbled on it that attendance was maxed out already. She noted some sort of upcoming school dance for all local teens, but it was months away and the poster was uninspiring since the theme was still listed as TBD. It made sense that most extracurricular activities didn’t happen in the middle of a school day, but she still frowned at how few options seemed available and potentially interesting. Once she’d perused the entire wall and selected those that were, she set out on her mission to find her purpose.

“You ready, Mariposa?”

“Gool!”

Chess Club

“Rook to G3.” Star’s opponent, whose nametag said Fred, positioned the black castle piece ahead of most of his pack.

“King to-” Her tongue stuck out as she concentrated on the board layout instructions, trying to find her place. “King to E3!”

“Um, first of all, the king piece is not allowed to move more than one square at a time. Second, since it is the most important piece, the singular goal of the game is to keep yours alive while defeating the enemy’s. Therefore it is ludicrously ill-advised to position your king into such immediate danger, and in most cases would automatically lose you the match” Star’s opponent responded matter-of-factly.

Star scratched her head in puzzlement, replacing the piece. “Why is the king so slow? My dad was literally a king and he can run at highway speeds.”

“Perhaps the Mewman traditions are different, but the Earthly ways of the monarchy are enshrined in a-

“Alright, whatever. Then I have my Queen ride the horse into combat! No, wait, can it be a warnicorn instead?” She ripped off a corner of the scoring sheet and deftly curled it into a cone before placing it on the top of the plastic figure with a satisfied grin.

“Although an intriguing concept, there is no precedent in the ancient tradition of the sport for-” Mariposa interrupted her tirade by kicking the edge of the table, which knocked over Fred’s black king. See, now this was the sort of thing she could see herself getting into!

“Checkmate!” Star shouted with a wide grin, one decidedly not mirrored by her opponent or any of the onlookers.

Cornball Tryouts

“Well, Mariposa, that was a bust. But cornball is a Mewni thing, so I’m gonna super nail it this time!” Star set Mariposa down and removed her from the baby carrier. “Stay right here, you little angel,” she cooed before jogging over to the group of hopefuls discussing strategy. “Hiya everyone!”

One of the girls who resembled a fox waved in welcome. “Sup, I’m Bleck, I was the Monster Cornball League’s ace stickler for a few years.”

“And I’m Jason, I was Mewni Cornball Alliance’s forward maizeman.”

Star shook both their hands. Did something seem familiar about them? “I’m-”

“Star Butterfly, we know,” Bleck responded. “You set up that integrated game on Mewni. Sorry about that, by the way. We were the captains and it, um, kinda got out of hand.” Ah, so that’s why Star recognized them.

“Yeah, that was our bad.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck shamefully with one hand with his other on Bleck’s shoulder. “I’ll be honest, this whole ‘monsters and Mewmans and Earth Mewmans all together’ thing is still new to me, but don’t wanna let some petty grudges get in the way of some good old fashioned cornball. These Earthers are crazy competitive, we’ll need the best team we can to have a chance of even making regionals.

“Speaking of which,” another Mewman spoke up warily. “Does anyone know anything about that new teenage husker that already made captain? CB Nation says she’s already poised to be hotter than Jispy Jenkins.”

“I heard she’s the reason the Cassidy bros quit moat guarding.”

“Well I heard she averaged 50 shucks per game in her rookie season.”

A hush fell over the group; as much as Star loved the sport she never really followed it, but it was still clear just how good this mystery player was.

“I think that’s her…” one of the monsters said, pointing at a shadow emerging from the clubhouse. “Oh corn, hold me!” He fainted on the spot.

“Star? Star!!!!!!!!” It was hard to make out details against the glaring sunlight, but there was a webbed hand waving at her. Wait, was that-

“KATRINA!” Star dashed as fast as her legs could carry her to meet her friend who was doing the same. Katrina scooped her up in a big slimy hug. “You’re so big now!” The girl was now taller than Star, with a stocky build, but her big sparkly eyes still had every bit of youthful wonder that she remembered. Given how much of a powerhouse Buff Frog was, Star could only imagine the athletic potential his kids could have.

“Yeah, I’m starting ECCC this year! I got a full ride scholarship as team captain! Sorry I haven’t been talking to you as much lately… I’ve been so busy working towards this, it’s a dream come true!” Katrina set her down and glanced over towards the sidelines. “Is that Mariposa over there! Hi, baby! Wow, humans age really slowly. You and Marco better not take too long getting your own kid, Auntie Katrina still wants to still be spry enough to play with ‘em.”

Star’s face heated up. “I- Katrina, you- We aren’t-” She stammered incoherently. This was going to take some getting used to.

“C’mon, Star, I’m kiddiiiiiing. I’m already four, I’m not a kid anymore. Anyway, are you here for the team? That’s so cool! You’re always so great at everything, you’ll definitely make the team.” She finally turned to the rest of the attendees to begin the session. “Alright, welcome to the ECCC cornball tryouts, I’m really happy you’re all here! Let’s go over some logistics. Practice is five days a week in the evenings until the league begins on Dartuk 30. That’s the 26th of September for all the Earth people here. We’ll have two regular matches each week and will be travelling most weekends. If we want to show who the real cornballers are, I’m going to need your complete dedication to this squad! School’s important too, but otherwise this will be your life while you’re on my team, so let’s talk drills-”

With each passing sentence, Star’s anxiously fidgeted more and more. It was… intense, more than she’d ever expected. She was ecstatic that Katrina was finding so much success and joy doing this and felt her heart swell with pride as the crowd hooted and hollered in support, but was this really what she wanted most for herself? While Star was zoned out, Katrina had apparently wrapped up her speech and everyone else had already dispersed. Katrina took Star’s hands and shook them up and down excitedly. “Are you as pumped as I am?”

“Yeeeeeeaaaaaah…” Star hesitantly cheered, casting a nervous glance back at Mariposa who now was booping Star’s purse repeatedly with her nose. “About that…”

Driver’s Ed

Maybe I should just learn to drive so I can visit Marco myself, Star pouted. “I could get us a pair of matching cool car driver sunglasses, so we can be rad Earth style,” Star whispered to Mariposa while Miss Skullnick (who was apparently working at the college now, and was human again) finished going over her slides.

“And that’s the introduction for this seminar series on automobile safety. Any questions?”

Star raised her hand and Skullnick sighed heavily before calling on her. “Is there a way I can start driving next week?”

“Get out!”

***

“Today sucked,” Star gloomily groaned. She was curled up sideways on a bench in one of the open quads while Mariposa was using her stomach as a pillow for her late afternoon nap, tuckered out after a recent diaper change. “I mean, it was so cool to see Katrina again, and in a weird way I almost missed Skullzy too, but I’m still completely stuck. But hey, at least I got to spend a day with you.” Star gently stroked Mariposa’s soft brown hair. Now that she thought about it, getting to spend hours a day with the adorable tot was one of the only consistently rewarding parts of the past week, it seemed. Even Meteora’s shenanigans were heartwarming in their own way, namely one that involved way more property damage. Her eyelids drooped shut, heavy with the weight of everything on her mind.

She couldn’t have been out for more than a minute when a child’s voice startled her. “Hello? Are you sleeping?” Was that Mariposa? No, it couldn’t have been, her mind concluded as she exited her half-conscious delirium. A small monster child, no older than the human equivalent of four or five with some features of an elephant, tugged on the sleeve of her dress with tears in his eyes. “I’m scared.”

Star rubbed her eyes and gathered everything into one corner of the bench so she could make room for the child. “What’s wrong, little guy? I’m Star.”

“My- my name’s Trevor but Mom and Dad call me Trev. I was playing on the slides but then everyone was gone,” Trevor began sobbing pitifully.

“OK, it’s OK. Let’s take a deeeeeeep breath, OK? Like this.” She inhaled as much air as she could, puffing up her cheeks and chest before blowing all of it out with an exaggerated flair. The boy nodded and took a small breath. “Again!” Star repeated, and he followed, back and forth until he had calmed down and was grinning at her absurdly over-the-top routine. “Feeling better?”

“A little.”

“How about we play a game? I’ll say one word, and you say whatever word comes to your mind. Ready?” He sniffled once, but nodded.

“Candy.”

“Tasty.”

“Dancing.”

“Fun.”

“Snuffleupagus.”

He cracked up a bit at that and she grinned back at him. “Silly.”

“School.”

“Sad.”

“Why does that make you sad?”

“My brother’s busy at school here all day now, so he has daycare watch me instead. My group was at the playground and Felipe bet I couldn’t go on the big slide so I did but I got stuck and when I got out, everyone was gone.”

“You poor thing,” Star responded. “I know how you feel. Tell ya what, let’s go try to find them together!”

“Can- can we stay here?” Her heart broke at how obviously terrified he was of the situation and the prospect of any more unfamiliarity wasn’t something he was ready to deal with at all.

“For a little bit, but then we really should get you back to the daycare.”

“OK,” he said somberly. “Who’s that?” He pointed at Mariposa who was crawling in circles around the bench.

“Oh, this is Mariposa! She’s my boyfriend’s sister.”

“What’s a boyfriend?”

Of all the conversations Star thought she might have today, this was far from one of them. “It’s like… boyfriend and girlfriend are like what a mom and dad are before they become a mom and dad.”

“My Uncle Matt is Mom’s brother but Dad calls him brother too. Does that mean she’s your sister too?”

Star met Mariposa’s eyes for a moment. It was weird to think about, but… was Trevor even wrong? She’d been living with the Diazes for almost all of Mariposa’s life, after all. There wasn’t a clear definitive answer in Star’s mind, but she needed one to sate the boy’s unending curiosity. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

“Cool! My big brother’s awesome. I miss when we used to play all the time. You’re really cool, too.”

“Thanks. I know change can be scary, but I’m sure your brother misses you a lot too. Sometimes big kids and grown-ups have to do grown-up things for a while, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still love being your brother.”

A few voices echoed in the distance; once they were close enough for Star to make out the words, she realized they were calling Trevor’s name. “Over here!” she shouted back in their general direction. A large elephant monster with ripped jeans and ear piercings ran as fast as he could and gave Trevor a tight hug. “Hey, Trev, buddy, where’d you go? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“It’s OK, Star took care of me.” It came out muffled from how his face was still buried in his brother’s arms.

“Woah, wait- Star? Like, the Rebel Princess Star Butterfly?”

“That’s me. Or was me,” she shrugged.

“I was your biggest fan for years! Remember the cave hideout? Don’t think I introduced myself then, I’m Geoff.”

“Oooooh yeah, you were with the ‘alternative monsters’! How have you been?”

“Pretty dope. Once that wicked Cleaving thing happened, we found a bunch of humans just like us! Being alternative is just, like, normal now. They even sell clothes with all the holes in them already so you don’t have to do any work! It’s nice to just get to be myself now, and I don’t think I’d ever get to do that without everything you did. You’re the best, Star. And thanks for taking care of lil’ Trev here. C’mon, buddy, let’s get you home.”

Trevor hopped up on his brother’s shoulders for a piggy back ride and waved. “Bye, Star! Bye Mariposa!”

“You must be a miracle worker with the kids,” the human man who had run up with Geoff finally spoke up. He had a thick beard and glasses and wore a red flannel shirt and jeans. “I’m Antonio, by the way, I run the ECCC Child Care Center. We just call it the Six Cs.”

“Nice to meet you,” Star responded. “I just did what anyone would, really.”

“No, you definitely made Trevor’s week. He just joined on Monday and he cries almost all the time from missing his family. We see that a lot, but it’s definitely hitting him harder than most, going from being at home all the time to being with a bunch of strangers for hours a day.”

Star unconsciously turned away and rubbed her arm. “Yeah, I… I know the feeling.” She shook it off and turned back towards him. “So, what happened with Trevor?”

“One of the girls got a splinter on the playground. Everyone was busy trying to keep her calm when we left the playground that we skipped headcount. I called Geoff right away, he was very understanding. It’s no excuse, but we’re way too short on people right now with all the new students.” His attention suddenly pivoted to Mariposa who was reaching up to grab at the fabric of his shirt. “This is Angie Diaz’s kid, no? May I?”

“Yeah,” Star dumbfoundedly responded after a moment’s hesitation. “You know her?”

Antonio hefted Mariposa up like she weighed nothing and gently rocked Mariposa back and forth in his burly arms. “Her older son, Marco, used to come here every now and then. Heard through the grapevine not too long ago that she had another kid, I asked if she’d be coming to the Six Cs but she said she already had someone at home. I take it I’m talking to her?”

Star’s eyes widened. Angie had said that? She was the only one who didn’t have plans most days, so… it had to be her. “Marco’s my boyfriend. I was their foreign exchange student for a year, then he came to live with me on Mewni for a year, and then… well, you’ve probably heard about how the Cleaving happened.”

“Afraid not, I don’t keep up with the news much these days. I just try to take care of all the kiddos as best I can, doesn’t much matter to me what goes on with the world. So what brings you to this humble campus?”

“Well, Marco’s going to school here now and I don’t have much else to do, so... yeah.”

“Ah.” His deep voice was laden with sympathy, and with that one word Star felt like he immediately understood her turmoil. “Well, if you’re ever looking for something to do, we could use someone like you on the team.”

“Really?”

“You’ve clearly got a big heart and a keen eye for how to take care of the younguns, that’s more than enough in my eyes. This one’s been staring at you almost since we started talking, she clearly trusts you more than you may know.” Huh, he was right; even while being rocked gently into slumber, Mariposa’s warm brown gaze remained firmly on Star’s face. “Well, I should get back to the staff. No rush if you’re unsure, but you can come with me to meet the crew before they leave for the night if you want.” He set Mariposa back down on the bench while Star reassembled the baby carrier and got Mariposa settled back in.

Star couldn’t say she was any clearer now on a life goal, but maybe that wasn’t what she needed right now. Looking back on the day and week thus far, even the most exceptionally crummy day in recent memory could be salvaged by Mariposa alone, so why should she be worried about more of that? Though she hadn’t really thought of herself as Mariposa’s caretaker until just a few minutes ago, her breath hitched with pride at the notion.

When she finally answered Antonio’s question, it was the least unsure she’d felt in a while.

***

Done. Finally. Marco swiftly stuffed his assignments into the binder in his backpack and hustled out the door of the student union. Cramming all his homework into one day had drained him, but it was worth it so he and Star could have the whole weekend to themselves. He liked all the things about school that Star hated, sure, but his life had changed so much and so many times that he worried he wasn’t even cut out for it anymore. ‘B’ on the pop quiz, really Diaz? The rational part of his brain knew it was fine, but the Marco of old was disappointed. He’d aced the questions he’d studied with Star, at least, so maybe the Marco of old wasn’t the one to follow.

Nachos, ever the talented dragoncycle, had founded a part-time rideshare service in the town and was busy tonight, so Marco navigated his way to his mom’s office for a ride home. “Hey Mom, hey Star, h- wait, Star?”

“Marcomarcomarcomarcomarco!” Star excitedly leapt into his arms with a barrage of cheek kisses and a crushing embrace.

“Missed you too, Star,” he chuckled, kissing her on the forehead in return before backing away to take off his backpack and slump into a chair. “What are you doing here?”

She sat sideways in his lap, hooking her arms around his neck. “Surprising you, goofhead!”

He closed his eyes for a moment and drank in her affection, letting it wash away his fatigue. “Well, color me surprised. Really glad you’re here.”

“Long day? Did you defeat the quizzards?”

“Yeah, and for the third time, it was just a regular quiz and not evil mystical quizzards giving me riddles. Besides, don’t they have a game show now?”

“Totally, totally, totally… I knew that.”

“I just kinda miss you, Star. It hasn’t been the same going all day without seeing you. I guess the last few years have made me realize I don’t want to be wherever you aren’t.”

“So cheesy,” Star cooed while pinching his cheek. His mom and Star exchanged excited glances. “But don’t worry about that anymore, Diaz, because I’ll be here now too!”

“Hubbawha?” Marco blurted out.

“Star’s going to volunteer for the Six Cs and take care of Mariposa there.”

She stood up and walked over to Mariposa, poking her nose just as she came out of a nap. “Yep, and they said I can make a schedule around yours so we can dragonpool to school and have lunch together or whatever! Plus I get to spend time with my other favorite person in the whole wide world.”

Mariposa fully opened her eyes and stared vacantly at Star for a second before smiling wide. “Ta.”

Star stopped in her tracks. “Wait, is she saying-”

“Tar. Tar. Tar!” Mariposa bobbed up and down on the desk, clearly as overjoyed about her words as everyone else was. Tears welled up in Star’s sapphire eyes as she leaned down to gently snuggle Mariposa. Marco walked over to join her and caught his mom absolutely beaming with as much pride as he’d ever seen her have. The wholesome moment was interrupted as his little sister, not content to stop, kept rambling on. “Tar! Mago! Tago! Tago!”

“Not you too!” Star sputtered out, still choked with emotion, and Marco couldn’t help but laugh.

And later that evening, after the four had gotten dinner and piled into the Diaz van for the trip home, Marco looked over to see that Star had fallen asleep on the other side of Mariposa’s carseat. He took her hand in his, yawning as he realized a nap wasn’t such a bad idea. Just before succumbing to the day, he swore he heard a soft, squeaky murmuring from the toddler next to him.

“Sihtah.”

#starco #svtfoe #star vs the forces of evil #fanfic #tgg svtfoe

[flowerbeom]

Go For Broke | 02

Im Jaebeom x Older Female!Reader

Genre: Fuckboy!AU, Aspiring Songwriter!AU, Slow Burn, Angst/Humour/Smut (loads)

Warnings: Incredibly mature themes, Asshole Jaebeom (because he’s a real asshole in this), Swearing, Explicit smut scenes.

Word Count: 5.3k

Concept: Premier fuckboy Im Jaebeom is used to getting his way.  Though, he wants more, he craves more. He wants his music to be heard, he wants his music to be loved. So when he learns that the attractive woman he buys records from has an connection that’ll get him into the industry, he uses every trick in his book to get in.  Seduction is his game, and he plays to win.

A/N: Enjoy.  All GIF credits for this series go to @defsenses.

→  Mood Board →  Series Index        - Links to the Spotify Playlists are available in Series Index

Your eyes scanned down the column of the excel spreadsheet on the screen, lips screwing into your cheek at the numbers displayed. Standing slightly to lift your foot onto the chair, you pulled your knee into your chest before leaning back. 

“Yo, when the hell did Arctic Monkeys get popular again?” Yelling into the back of the store, you watched the empty void behind the stockroom door for movement. You heard a few rips of plastic and a whack of the microwave door shutting; your eyes rolled at the sound. 

“Hmmm, why?” Mark appeared, filling the empty void to lean a shoulder into the door-frame, pushing up the sleeves of his way-too-big-for-him hoodie. 

“They’re my highest selling artist this week. After that it’s David Bowie, but I can understand David Bowie cause he’s…” 

“Classic.” Mark interjected.

“Classic, yes. But Arctic Monkeys? And AM no less.” The 2013 seminal album proved the most popular purchase on your weekly report, and it confused you to no end. You turned to better hear Mark’s potential explanation, but he had disappeared into the void once again; returning a few breaths later with a reheated burrito in hand. Your jaw slacked open as you watched him proceed to inhale half of said burrito in one bite; eyebrows only furrowing when you couldn’t make out what he tried to mumble through a mouthful of brown rice and guacamole. 

“Come again?” Mark swallowed loudly with a grunt and wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm. 

‘Peaky Blinders.” You paused, eyes lifting in realisation and returned the nod Mark gave you once he saw it all click in your head. Lifting the pen you were twirling into the air, you puffed out your chest with your inhale. 

“There is God.” 

“And there is the Peaky Blinders.” Mark returned, burrito held high in salute. A moment of shared shame hung between you, you knew you’d never be forgiven for butchering the Cockney accent. Though your attention was stolen by the person strolling into your store. 

“Good show.” There was an air of arrogance in Jaebeom’s voice that irked you, but you found yourself smirking instead. Pushing your pen into the messy bun tied high on your head, you shifted in your seat - tilting your head in defiance when Jaebeom smirked back.

“Day off?” Jaebeom nodded, sliding off his cap to push his hair back and away off his face and you caught the tick in his jaw as he did. You tongued your one of your canines, hoping you had stitched up that part of you that had snapped well enough to endure that moment and exhaled sharply when Jaebeom caught your eyes after placing his cap back on. Straightening his watch under the cuff of his hoodie, Jaebeom’s tongue found his own canine - his shoulders shifting to sit at their broadest. 

Mark coughed from where he stood; coughed or choked, you weren’t too sure - but it broke the narrowed stare you and Jaebeom were exchanging. Angling your chin towards the stockroom door, you waited for Mark to swallow the last of his burrito before holding out your hand to him.

“Mark, Kid.” Then sweeping your hand over to Jaebeom.

“Kid, Mark.” 

“Oh, you’re the Kid.” The way Jaebeom’s expression made his eyes slit with irritation made it hard to suppress the urge to laugh; especially with the smile Mark had plastered on his face. Jaebeom held out his hand, Mark eagerly reached to meet it; shaking once on contact then once again out of respect. 

“Jaebeom.” He pressed. “Nice to meet you.” Mark winked, wordlessly gesturing that it was indeed, nice to meet him too. 

“After some records, Jaebeom? Y/N here has the best selection.” Mark chimed, scrunching up his burrito wrapper and taking up a perfect Kobe stance to free-throw it into the bin behind you. Mark pumped a fist when it made it in and you raised a congratulatory eyebrow. 

“That, among other things.” Jaebeom’s voice dipped into the territory belonging solely to seduction and let his eyes float across his bottom lashes as they stayed locked on yours when he stepped into the Hip-Hop section. You held his stare while he fingered through records while doing your best not to show how tightly your jaw was viced shut. 

“And by other things,..” Yours and Jaebeom’s eyes both shifted to Mark. “You mean you’re keen on taking her out for a drink? Maybe show her a good time? Cure her of her loneliness.” 

Jaebeom’s eyebrow cocked devilishly, eyes not lowering as he pulled out a record from the stack. Mark on the other hand, could feel your pupils branding him with a marker for impending death; contempt practically seeping out of your pores. 

“Come on, Y/N. Admit you’re lonely. You crave my daily visits.” Mark crossed to the counter, digging a single knuckle into your arm. 

“No, you just crave my Nespresso.” Standing abruptly to flick Mark in the ear, he swatted away your hand, just for his other hand to yank the pen out of your hair; you could feel your ears stinging as he sniggered.

Spinning on his heel, Jaebeom suppressed the need to laugh by pulling out another record from the Alternative section. Jaebeom scooped his selection under his arm and met you at the counter, gingerly placing the records into your outstretched hands. 

“So what do you say?” Tone still bobbing on the surface of seduction.

“On these?” Musing over his choices. “Grandmaster Flash, Son Lux, L’Orange. Interesting choices as usual.” Scanning each bar-code without ever meeting his stare. 

“No, on a drink.” Persistent. 

“A drink?” Ringing up the total, you slid Jaebeom’s card out of his fingers - finding no protest from him. 

“Yes, a drink. With me.” Tapping his card against the EFTPOS machine, you finally looked him in the eye once the transaction went through; subconsciously signalling that if he wanted your attention, he’d have to pay for it - in one way or another.

“Why don’t you message me when you want to take me out, and I’ll see if I’m free.” Handing him his records, you let your finger drag across his as he pulled them from your hands; you relished in the minute flicker of his lashes - in the tiny part of him you had somehow disarmed. 

Tucking the records under his arm, Jaebeom swallowed. “I’d love to, but you need to give me your number first.” 

“What? You don’t already have it?” Feigning disappointment with a hand pressed against your heart. “Well that’s just too bad.” 

Jaebeom inhaled sharply through flared nostrils as you licked your smirking lips. Steadying to rebuke, Jaebeom halted when Mark pushed off the counter to the sound of 503 horsepower pulling up to the curb outside. 

Jaebeom’s head whipped around, his potential meal ticket sitting in the driver’s seat as he did a few days prior, Rolex glittering through the tinted window and Jaebeom involuntarily stepped to the door like a greedy moth to a fluorescent bug trap. The driver looked out through the passenger window, not at Jaebeom, but behind him, at you. 

“Gonna come out and say hi?” Mark asked as he slid past Jaebeom. 

“I see enough of him at home, he’ll survive if I don’t grant him pleasantries this one time.” Mark shrugged, but nodded anyway and the driver pulled back his head from the angle it had been and looked over the steering wheel instead. Tapping the back of his hand against Jaebeom’s forearm, Mark gestured he should leave with a cock of his jaw. 

“Her bite is worse than her bark, you should leave now while she’s still smiling.” Jaebeom angled his chin over his shoulder to catch you smiling with only one side of your face, hand lifted no higher than your shoulder - fingers wiggling their goodbye. 

You watched him slink away, records under one arm; his other hand sliding into his jeans pocket after shaking Mark’s. You watched Mark slide into the Vantage, grinning a little too much but you shook it off. You could tell Jaebeom was watching the Aston Martin as it sped away. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was slurping up the drool that had pooled under his tongue; all boys were the same when it came to cars like that. Who you were you kidding? All boys were the same regardless. Yes, all boys. 

Jaebeom finally breathed easy after twenty minutes of trying to shake off the girl he was dancing with after he determined she was a little nuts; no matter how hypnotising her ass was. Though nuts was a bit of a stretch, he just didn’t like the way she moaned whenever he grinded into her. Bit much, he thought; she didn’t have to try so hard, he still would have fucked her if she kept her mouth shut. But alas, he had lost his appetite. 

Claiming he’d wait by the bar when she said she needed to go to the bathroom, Jaebeom counted the seconds it took for her ass to disappear down the dark corridor before he snapped around and through the back door. 

To him, 1-AM always felt the same. Like how the air feels suspended just before it rains, but you feel weightless instead of suffocated. And that’s what he wanted, standing in the alley behind the club; and he had it for a moment before Bambam’s shrill laughter invaded his senses. Dropping his head from his gaze at the moon, Jaebeom turned to see Jackson and Bambam a few meters away, passing a cigar back and forth. Taking a pull then holding it in his mouth for a second, Jackson blew the thin column of smoke through his lips before handing it to Bambam.

“Cubans, they know their stuff.” Bambam repeated the motion, rocking back on his heels before shivering, the 1-something-AM air a little too cold for his liking. Jaebeom cocked his head when he heard another voice. 

Further down, concealed in shadow, Jaebeom made out Jinyoung’s form; pacing between a brick wall and a dumpster. He took two steps towards him, then paused when he heard the ache in Jinyoung’s voice. 

“What’s it to you what I do tonight? It’s not like you’re here to stop me.” Passing headlights lit the pain etched between Jinyoung’s brows before darkness hid it from view again, Jaebeom somehow felt it hammer against his chest. 

“I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want, since that’s all you ever do anyway.” Jaebeom knew who Jinyoung was arguing with on the phone, though he never told him he did. 

“Why don’t you call me when you’ve made up your mind.” Jinyoung couldn’t hang up fast enough, his thumb slamming against the screen before clawing his phone into a fist. Jaebeom took another step when it looked like Jinyoung was going to smash his phone into the ground, but eased back when Jinyoung’s shoulders dropped - his hand shoving his phone into his pocket. 

“Hey, Nyeong!” Jackson heckled, completely unaware of the fight Jinyoung just dragged himself through. Jinyoung approached at a languid pace, catching Jaebeom’s glance but unable to read it. 

“What’s eating you Gilbert Grape? You look like you need a fuck.” Bambam coughed through his exhale, the Cuban hit catching on his tonsils - Jinyoung merely grizzled. 

“There’s a gorgeous brunette at the bar. She’s down about five vodka raspberries. I’ll warm her up for you if you want.” Jackson’s teasing slithered through a slanted grin; Bambam coughed through another exhale, smoke sputtering out through his chuckling lips. Jaebeom saw Jinyoung’s eyes narrow in rage, so he lifted a hand onto his shoulder; Jinyoung’s anger smothered under the weight of it. 

“How about a drink? I could definitely use one. This one’s on me.” Said only to Jinyoung but loud enough for Jackson and Bambam to feel ignored. Jaebeom led Jinyoung back into the club - the music blasting through the open door to dissipate the thick tension that had clung to the night air. 

“Hyung it’s alright, I-..I don’t want, I might just go..” Jinyoung stuttered, weaving through the crowd behind Jaebeom. Jaebeom didn’t want to turn around, afraid his resolve would break and Jinyoung would see the worry behind his eyes. Though, through a heavy breath, Jaebeom steeled himself; turning to square Jinyoung.

“One drink?” Jinyoung shook his head.

Jaebeom stood stoically where Jinyoung left him, watching as he left the club. Eyes following his friend pass the bouncer on his way out, Jaebeom almost turned away but froze as he caught sight of someone else slipping past the line and straight into the club. 

Jaebeom clenched his jaw as he watched you place a kiss on the bouncer’s cheek and smile as you slipped out of his embrace; he swore he could hear you giggle when the bouncer, his bouncer, tried to snatch at your hand. His eyes slit suspiciously to better see you glide through the crowd; stopping every so often to greet regular attendees and staff alike. His mind was racing. If you could get in with only a smile and swat at the owner’s hand as it tried to place itself a little too low on your back, why had he never seen you before? Why did it seem that his club, was yours? All yours. 

Jaebeom crammed his hands into his jeans pockets; eyes still fixed on your figure at it strolled towards the DJ booth. The crowd seemed to part for you - faces beaming when you approached and mouths gaping when you passed by. Jaebeom was enthralled. Confused, but captivated by the scene unfolding before him all the same. 

You bounced up into the DJ booth, the skirt you wore riding up your thigh as you cleared the height. Jaebeom felt the driest swallow crawl down his throat. Again, he was thrown as his DJ threw his arms around you, greeting you like an old friend he hadn’t seen in years. Your expression mirrored his happiness, hands staying put on his shoulders as you spoke to him over the music. Jaebeom’s jaw was ticking, cheek flaring as he stared. 

Watching you drop a hand into your bag, Jaebeom saw you pull a few records out to hand them to the DJ - his headphones falling off and onto his shoulders as he bounced with glee. You were pulled into another embrace before pulling back to say what looked like a few stern, yet lighthearted words to the DJ. And he nodded, agreeing with whatever you had ordered him to do and Jaebeom was floored. 

Shifting his weight onto one foot, Jaebeom leant against the pillar beside him. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He continued to stare as you jumped down for the booth and like the Red Sea, the crowd parted for you again, making way for you to approach the bar. Jaebeom’s seething curiosity flared, tongue clicking against his teeth when he watched the bartender, his bartender, place a drink on the counter even before you got there. 

Your smile was tender, almost loving when the bartender refused to accept the twenty dollar note you held out to him - merely fanning your hand away and pushing the carefully prepared drink closer towards you. You accepted, not much to Jaebeom’s surprise, and drank the drink in one tip of your chin. 

Another dry swallow scratched down Jaebeom’s throat when he saw you plant your hands on the counter to hurl yourself up - leaning over the marble to place a kiss on the bartender’s cheek. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get excited at the sight of the underside of your ass, your skirt doing you absolutely no favors. But he was stuck trying to compute the entirety of your presence in his club. 

He was still calculating who you could be to all these people, all his people, when he watched you leave as slyly as you entered. Gliding through the crowd and letting the bouncer give you the hug he wanted to give you moments before, you left a lipstick stain on his cheek before you slipped through the exit - the only trace you left before you disappeared into the night. 

Jaebeom didn’t hear Jackson ask him what the fuck he was doing just standing there. He didn’t feel Bambam whack his shoulder as he walked past, or hear him yell at him about the girl that was checking him out. Jaebeom was fiddling with the piece of paper in his pocket. The piece of paper Mark slipped into his hand when he shook it outside your store. 

Pulling it out, Jaebeom read the scratchy handwriting under the dim red light he stood beneath. 

      Good luck, Kid.        +092 6683 9845

One hand sunk itself into the pocket of your denim jacket while the other tapped the back of your phone against your cheek. Head tilted to one side, you watched, bemused, as Mark stood hunched over, staring with wandering eyes at your key-less lock. He slid open the cover and watched the numpad illuminate and as if a switch flipped off in his mind, he slid the cover back down. Fanned fingertips pressed into your door, his whole body leaning forward in hopes the door would swing open - and when it didn’t, his hand fell limp by his side. 

You watched, amused now, as he repeated himself - slid open the cover, gazed as the numpad lit up and slowly dimmed and then pulled down the cover; fingertips replaced with his forehead trying to push open the door. It was time to end his suffering, you thought, despite knowing full well you could watch him struggle until he passed out. 

“You alright there, bud?” You tried not to let your question sound condescending but with the way Mark simply swiveled his head to follow the sound all without lifting his forehead from the door made it impossible to smother the squeak that escaped you. 

“Y/N! Hey! I brought Thai food!” The fact that it was two in the morning did not escape you. The fact that Mark was three steps away from blind drunk did not escape you. And the fact that Mark still had his forehead pressed to your door while holding up the bag of take out for your inspection certainly did not escape you. But that was not the first time you had seen him, white girl wasted, trying to enter your apartment at some ungodly hour. You also knew, it would not be the last. 

Curling your hands around his shoulders to pull him back, Mark dropped his head onto your shoulder; the unmistakable waft of Patreon XO Cafe spilled out of his mouth, and apparently down his shirt too upon a cursory glance. Probably when he was still six steps away from blind drunk. 

“You gotta put the code in, stupid. You remember the code right?” Trying to balance his swaying head on your shoulder, you pinched his nose to focus his attention. Mark whined, but found his own balance; standing erect and holding out a finger to the numpad. 

“The code, right..” Elongating a single syllable word into ten. “That’s what I forgot.” 

You patted the top of his head. A slight stretch, despite the heeled boots you had on. Mark was tall. Real tall. 

You watched his pupils dilate, laser like focus; and you screamed the code in your mind, hoping he’d telepathically hear you. 

Four

“Four…” 

Nine nine zero.

“Nine. Nine. Zee-roh.” Oh he’s doing so well. 

But then he stalled; tongue poking into the corner of his mouth - searching for the last two digits. 

Four Zero. 

But he continued to stall, finger quivering above the numpad.

Four Zero!

Nothing. Your mind link with him had severed. So you took his hand in yours and keyed the rest of the code with your free one. Mark giggled deep in his throat, letting you push him through the open door and into your apartment. You watched him toe off each one of his shoes, one sock deciding it wanted to remain sheathed and clung to the inside of his shoe. Mark, valiant as ever, fought against the resistance, claiming back his sock and strolled victorious to the couch; one foot fully socked, the other holding onto it’s sock cover by his toes alone. 

You muffled your laughter with bit lips and puffed cheeks, unzipping each of your boots to place them down beside Mark’s discarded sneakers. 

“Tell me you went to Fresh Chilli.” Slinking one arm after the other out of your jacket. 

“Of course I did. What do you think I am? A savage?” Mark plopped down onto your couch then carefully placed the plastic bag on your coffee table. He began to undo the knot in the bag, lips pursing as he pulled it apart with wobbly fingers. 

“Red duck curry?” Mark nodded, pulling the first container out. 

“Rolled omelette?” Mark nodded again, placing the second container next to the first. 

“Coconut rice?” Mark began to whistle, liken to the sound of a missile about to collide with earth, he revealed the last container, dropping it onto the table along with a comical explosion blowing open his mouth. 

“You cool to get spoons? I’m gonna get changed.” Mark took his cue, rising from the suede cushions and marched towards the kitchen drawers. A man on a mission. 

Despite his completely inebriated state, you trusted him to navigate your kitchen with ease. You were roommates in college, and despite moving to the other side of the city, the layout of your apartment remained practically identical. Urban living at its finest. 

“Where’s Eric?” Hollering from the inside of the sweater you were still pulling over your head. There was a delay in Mark’s response. Either because he was still figuring out how to answer your question, or because he had two mouthfuls of coconut rice and curry in his mouth. 

“Probably still at work.” Every syllable muffled. Definitely three mouthfuls of coconut rice and curry. 

Leaving your bedroom and sitting on the floor across from him, you picked up your spoon; tapping his away when it dove for the only lychee your favourite Thai restaurant ever put in the Red Duck Curry. A little nugget of sweet succulent semi translucent goodness. 

“I messaged him and he said he has to meet with the A&R team. Something about a rookie group’s debut coming up.” You nodded while spooning a heaped pile of rice and omelette into your mouth. 

You swore you were beginning to fade into a curry induced nirvana when Mark groaned. Your eyes shot up, widening as Mark angrily shoved half-ladened spoonfuls into his mouth; the metal clang it made as it hit his teeth on entry and exit made you cringe. 

“People suck.” Breaking the silence between chews. 

“Okay?” You uncurled one of you legs to lean an elbow into the bent knee.

“If someone messages you, you should, out of courtesy, message back!” Slamming his spoon onto the table, rogue grains of rice bouncing into the air. 

“Well you said Eric’s with the A&R team, he’s probably stuck discussing some important shit.” Answering nonchalantly, picking up rice grains with your fingernails. 

“And if you tell them you love them, they should, out of courtesy, answer back even more!” Mark’s hands were flinging around his body, explosive expression of emotions. 

“I’m sure Eric knows you love him, as weird as that may be.. ” Nonplussed in your response, though Mark only withered into himself; flopping dramatically onto the couch; legs curling into his chest. Mark’s favourite position to wallow; fetal. 

You rolled onto your knees, every intention to crawl to him and stroke his hair affectionately. Patronisingly, but affectionately. But the rattle your phone made on the coffee table halted you from displaying sympathy. 

A message from an unknown number piqued your curiosity; though unknown numbers at 3-AM granted you more apprehension than interest.

       03:09am        +010 4522 2858        Weren’t you a vision walking into CREAM like that.          But, next time don’t run off so soon.        I’ll be happy to keep you company. 

You scrabbled on hands and knees to Mark as if possessed, smacking the side of his head instead of lovingly stroking it like previously planned. 

“What the fuck did you do?!” Enraged. Mark cupped his ear, mewling through his pout. Puppy dog eyes welling with tears on full display. 

“What?!” Thrusting your phone into his face, your arm shook as Mark blinked to focus. He read the message. A few times over and once a moment of stillness had passed, clapped a hand onto his mouth and exploded in laughter. 

“Fuck, the Kid has balls after all!” You smacked him again, Mark shooting up to scurry to the other end of the couch. You were quick to your feet, lunging onto the couch though Mark caught your wrists to save himself another beating. 

“Hey, hey, HEY! Stop, calm the fuck down woman, fuck.. Fuck, stop!” Mark growled, his tenor vibrating down your spine and you rocked back. Sitting on your feet, you breathed in a few steadying breaths and once Mark was almost sure you weren’t going to hit him, released your wrists. 

“So you gave him my number?” Voice steady, body shaking. 

“Yes.” 

“To the poster boy of all Fuckboys?” Voice still steady, but eyes twitching.

“He’s not a Fuckboy, probably...” Mark insisted, but with the way his face contorted proved he didn’t completely believe himself. 

“Mark, it’s three-am. Who the fuck sends a text like that at three-am if you haven’t got your dick on permanent slut-scan?!” Mark flinched when you threw your hands into the air, exasperated to say the least.

“Okay okay, good point. But what’s done is done.” Mark clapped his hands together, a finishing move of sorts.

“Why the fuck did you do it?” Your voice cracked, body close to boiling point. 

“Cause you need to get fucked.” Your body suddenly calmed, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over you and doused your flaming rage. You blinked heavily, Mark’s eyes starting to show sober thought. 

“Excuse me?” Quieter than before, meek even, would be a good way to describe your tone. 

“When was the last time you got laid?” Your mouth opened and closed like a loose screen door caught swinging back and forth in a tornado.  

“Like ten months ago? Like not since that rapper from Sydney broke your poor little heart?” Mark jutted out his chin, eyebrows raised awaiting your answer. And when you gave none, Mark shifted to cross one leg over the other and dropped an arm behind the back of the couch. 

“Listen.” In that holier than thou tone you hated so much, but you were still struck dumb and Mark knew it.

“The Kid is practically begging to take you out. And from the look of the thighs on that boy, could be a good lay. Perhaps a great lay.” Rage started to simmer within you again, your cocked jaw and narrowed eyes giving it away. 

“Don’t even get me started on those shoulders. He’s like a walking proverbial Schrodinger’s fuck ready for the taking.” Mark’s chest popped as he sneered, and you clenched a fist reactively, but kept it glued in your lap. 

“So why don’t you..” Mark edged forward.

“Drop the ego..” Knocked a knuckle against your chin to straighten it. 

“Uncross your legs..” Dragged his thumb down your bottom lip to pop your lips apart.

“And let the Kid show you a good time.” Waggling one brow to better accentuate his suggestion. You wanted to right hook the smug look off his face. 

“Come on, tell me he isn’t the perfect guy for some harmless, casual, no strings attached fun! Good old fashioned hit it and quit it.” 

Silence fell between you. Though after a pregnant pause of weakly angered contemplation, Mark saw the break in your resolve and unhooked his arm from the couch and leaned over you; grabbing your phone from where it fell when you wailed on him. Holding it out to you, Mark tampered down his smirk as he tapped his thumb on the screen to wake it. 

“Harmless, casual, no strings attached fun, you say?” Tone skeptical but you couldn’t deny the lurid curiosity simmering deep within you. Mark nodded and tapped a patient finger against your phone one more time. 

“Go on. Open the box.”

Jaebeom yanked at the fistful of hair in his hand, the chin of the poor girl he ghosted hours before digging into his kitchen counter. If you asked him why he hunted her down after unceremoniously ditching her, he’d tell you with Hail Mary conviction that her ass was actually far too hypnotising to pass up. He in no way, would admit that he was irrationally angry; broiling from the inside out. 

He in no way, would admit that watching you prowl through his domain like some rogue Alpha turned him on as much as it irritated him. He’d never admit that he swallowed down his delicate sensibilities to message you, because of course, he had none. He would absolutely never tell you that after an hour of hoping, maybe two of waiting for you to message him back, had left him irate enough to peel the chick he found displeasing off Jackson just so he could claim her, so he could claim something. 

So if you asked him to deny that he was rage-fucking some poor girl because he felt threatened by your complete indirect display of power, he would. He would tell you through gritted teeth and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes that seeing you tonight meant nothing and that in the end, that chick’s ass was indeed far too hypnotising to pass up. And he was going to prove it by hammering his hips into her as hard as he could while keeping her bent over his kitchen counter.

No, he didn’t learn her name. No, he didn’t listen when she told him. No, he didn’t care. He probably wasn’t even paying attention; every rut senseless, every deep drive into her dripping cunt, indifferent. He couldn’t hear her moan, he couldn’t hear his name spill out through her lips; drool pooling under her cheek onto his fake stone bench top. All he could see was you and your charming smile and vexing demeanor and the marvelous glance of your ass that he drank up. 

You’d be tempted to ask him if he was imagining you bent over for him, taking his dick like a champion and filling his apartment with erotic noises. You’d be tempted to ask him if he was rearranging the poor bottle blonde’s insides to regain dominance that you didn’t even know you had taken. You’d be tempted to ask him if he enjoyed the thought of doing just that. On the surface it’d be a flat no; but deep down, it’d be a hard yes. 

Jaebeom was getting closer to climax, and god was he happy about it. The sooner he could get what’s-her-name out of his apartment, the sooner he’d be able to actually deal with his emotions. If, of course, he even knew how to do that. But as release sprinted towards him, it was stripped away just as quickly when his phone blared harsh white light into the darkness of his apartment; your name flashing bold on the screen. 

Jaebeom picked up the phone off the counter, not even pausing stroke to read the message. If anything, he snapped his hips harder into her; every thrust punctuated with a Kahlua scented moan. Jaebeom found euphoria as he read the last word of your message; spilling out inside what’s-her-name like a conditioned puppy finding pleasure in receiving even a smidgen of your attention. 

       03:46am        Noona        Alright, Kid. And only cause you’re cute.        One drink. 

#got7 #got7 story #got7 smut #got7 humour #im jaebeom #got7 scenario #got7 imagine #got7 jaebeom #got7 jaebum #jaebeom smut #got7 fic #got7 fanfic #jaebeom story #jaebum story #im jaebum #kpop story #kpop imagine #kpop fanfiction #jyp #jype #jjp #jj project #jus2 #go for broke #GFB

[0kayblue]

A Peace Offering

Summary: You’ve graduated from Hawkins High and summer has officially begun, bringing new beginnings with it. You’re focused on turning over a new leaf and becoming an actual adult, putting your Queen of Hawkins High title behind you.

So far it’s turned out in your favor. You’ve got a job, your parents almost off your back about college, and a best friend who works for the ice cream shop up stairs.

Adulthood is proving itself to be pretty fruitful, but one day when you go to visit your best friend, Robin, you cross paths with the former King of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington. You and Steve were most definitely not strangers but you wished you were as memories flood both yours and Steve’s minds

Word count: 10k

Notes: Anything written in italics is a memory. It is either a memory from you, Robin, or Steve. I understand how that can be pretty straight forward as you read, but the groundwork for this piece is the memories.

Character Relations: Robin x reader (best friend), Steve x reader (romantic interest), Billy x reader (close acquaintance)  

A/N: Hi! This isn’t the first imagine I’ve ever written, but it is the first Stranger Things centered one. It’s also one of the first imagines I’ve ever even posted. I really enjoyed writing this and I also feel a little accomplished, lol. There might be a part two? I haven’t decided if I really want to dive deeply into this or not yet. Anyway, if you read thank you so much! Critiques and comments are welcomed with open arms!

WARNINGS: Cursing, lots of cursing. Fluff? Angst? A mix of emotions.

                                                    ……………

As you flashed an obviously fake smile at the dusty blonde man who “complimented” you on your ruby red lipstick, you felt the urge to jump across the table and strangle him.

“Well, I thank you. It’s a new shade I’ve decided to try out. Now, is that all I can grab for ya?” You said with a tone too sweet to indicate how venomous it actually was. The fake twang seemed to echo in your head and you wondered how anyone with a natural accent could handle the sound of their own voice.

“Ah, no thank you dear. I’m afraid that’ll be it.” He smirked and you simply nodded as you turned and walked up to the diner window. Your cheery facade fading as you glared at the cook behind the open order window.

Sal, the cook, chuckled as he analyzed how upset you were starting to get. You weren’t a stranger to the irritation you felt every time you stepped foot in this damn diner.

You clipped the order onto one of clothespins and let out a deep sigh as you rested your head on the cool smooth steel counter. Sal just smiled as he threw a hamburger patty on the grill. You looked up at him and he just continued to chuckle.

“Y’know I think you should drop that fake twang, you might be less miserable.” Sal was a bigger built man, he reminded you of your father, just bald.

“I might be less miserable if I didn’t have to wear scratchy outdated themed clothes that do nothing but irritate the irritable.” You huffed out laying your head flat on the counter.

“Mhm.” He just groaned out. “Only way you are getting rid of that poodle skirt is if you quit.” You groaned in defeat knowing quitting was not an option.

“Then it’s empty pockets.” You said as you stood up straight, the snickering of table five being overheard. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

“I’m serious, kid. I don’t know why you are here. You should be enjoying your summer and going to college in the fall. You’re smart enough for it.” You rolled your eyes.

College seemed to be the only thing that people wanted out of you. A nice college education and maybe you could make something out of yourself. You couldn’t help but scoff and give Sal a look of distaste.

“I’ve been over this with you. And my parents. And my grandparents. And basically everyone. I don’t want to go, at least not yet. I want the experience of working first.” This wasn’t an exact lie per say, it was more of a beefed up truth. You didn’t want to go back into the school system mainly because it just made you feel like shit, and you believed knowing all sides is better than just one. So an honest job was not only a way to get experience and out of college pressure, but to also to hold onto to this fleeting feeling of youth.

“Besides, this is also to fund potential college endeavors.” You smiled as he placed two plated burgers on the counter in front of you.

“Yeah, right. You better take this to table five so you can take your break.” You rolled your eyes as you picked up the plates and walked over to table five with a painful fake smile.

“One double cheeseburger with fries and a single hamburger with extra ketchup and fries.” You sat the plates in front of the correct recipients of their order. “Is there anything else I can get ya? Refills, maybe a milkshake?”

“A strawberry milkshake, but only if we can share, doll face.” You looked at the black haired man as the blonde across from him stifled a laugh. You bit your inner lip taking a deep breath and tried not to break your smile.

“So you won’t be needing anything else. Wonderful.” You reached into your apron pocket and pulled out your order book. You ripped out their order and lightly slammed it on there table. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to check you out due to the fact that my break is about to start, so just take your receipt up to the register and Sal will check ya out.”

The black haired man sent a glare but quickly recomposed himself with a smirk. “No problem, doll. A milkshake tomorrow, then?” You unwillingly bit your tongue and just smiled.

“We’ll see.” You said and turned. You tried to not stomp as you walked back and pushed open the kitchen door, but it didn’t work. You could hear them laughing as you yanked your punch card off the wall.

“Don’t let them get ya.” Sal said as you went ahead and punched your time card into the machine signaling you were officially off the clock. You yanked off your apron and threw it on the clean counter by the freezer.

“Yeah, uh huh, I’m headed to Scoops. You want me to bring you back anything?” You said as you took your hair out of that headache inducing high ponytail. As you fluffed your hair out you took a deep breath and exhaled, clearly exhausted from working the morning and afternoon shifts.

“No thank you. Watching my figure.” You chuckled as you walked past him patting him on the back.

“Suit yourself.” You said as you walked out into the nearly dead mall. You figured the heat index was keeping everyone either inside or at the pool, but you honestly didn’t expect the mall to look this empty. It was weird to only have to walk past people and not forcefully push your way past.

Starcourt was Hawkins newest addition and it’s busiest. Which was sort of sad as you saw local businesses close one by one. You overheard of a scheduled protest to take place on the lawn of City Hall, but other than that, nothing was really being done to help savage Hawkin’s local flare. You weren't doing much to help it either, I mean hell, you worked for Starcourt. There wasn’t anything you could really do, you tried to get a job down main street, but alas no one would hire you. Mainly because they couldn’t afford to pay you for any work you might actually stumble upon.

So, naturally, you ended up working in Prime Time 50s Diner on the first floor right across from Hot Dog On A Stick. Which was just as depressing as it sounded. Hot Dog On A Stick was busier than the diner nine times out of ten and you legitimately thought about moving across the way just for something more to do.

As you stepped on the escalator you spotted the bright flashing bulbs of the big Scoops Ahoy sign. You enjoyed ice cream and even though you had ice cream at your job you couldn’t resist the getaway from the smell of greasy cheeseburgers and the constant repeat of the same old songs. You walked your way into Scoops Ahoy glancing at the few people eating ice cream inside. No employee in sight as you approached the front counter. You smirked and began to ring the front bell in front of the register rather obnoxiously. You loved this stupid little bell it was a great way to get under Robin’s skin. You stopped ringing the bell and just stood there for a split second and rang it one more time. You snickered and headed over to look at the ice cream flavors they had today. Contemplating on trying something new or not, you wouldn’t, but it was always nice to look.

Your ears perked up as you heard shuffling to the door, a thud, and then a sliding window open.

“Ahoy!” Robin said with a tone of annoyance in her voice. Her face sarcastically fell realizing it was just you and you smiled. A slight smirk found her face when you giggled at her.

“Ahoy there!” You said as you lazily gave her a two finger salute. You both let out a laugh and she walked around and met you on the other side of the counter.

“What are you up to?” She asked and you just shrugged.

“Same old, same old.” You smirked as you saw Robin grab your favorite flavor. “You know I could’ve changed my mind, I could’ve wanted the U.S.S. Butterscotch.”

“As if.” Robin said as she rolled her eyes. You always knew of Robin, you, of course, went to high school together and knew each other through passing. But you never were friends. You simply just knew of each other and that was that, until one day during your lunch break you guys started talking.

The food court was packed and almost every seat was filled, except for two right across from each other. You sat on one side and Robin sat across from you on the other side. You started friendly conversation not expecting much of anything to come from it.

“So, you work at the 50s place?” She asked trying to keep her gaze towards you limited. You wondered what she actually thought of you. You hoped that you never did anything to offend or hurt her in high school because she was proving to be pretty cool and not just the band geek you originally thought.

“Yeah.” You said with a friendly smile, wondering how much she remembered of you from high school.

You were the Queen of Hawkins and the ruthless truth rang down the halls as you called people out on their bullshit. If they started something you would sure as hell would end it. Not in any physically violent way, but words do cut like knives.

You understood that, but you couldn’t stop yourself once the thought entered your brain. People liked seeing you be a bitch, so you were a bitch. For six hours a day five days a week, you were Queen of Hawkins High, the Bitch of Indy, not (Y/N).

“You should stop by, it’ll be on me.” You smiled honestly wanting to give Robin a chance. You were tired of being lonely and pretending. You wanted a friend, an actual friend, something you haven’t had in a long time. It was time to be an adult.

Robin’s head shot up as her eyes meet with yours. There was some sort of gleam in her eyes, like she was finally able to hang out with the popular girl. Your eyes met hers with a shared excitement.

Now, this was something new and you planned to just let the walls you built crumble a bit and you were genuinely excited. High school was over and you could be who you wanted to be, who you should have been.

“Maybe tomorrow, lunch?” You questioned and she nodded. You stood up and apologized due to the fact your break was over. “Great. I have to get going. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.” Robin said with a smirk as she returned to her Chinese food.

The next day she met you for lunch and you gave being open a chance. You didn’t expect Robin to stay after that, but she did. She put up with your stubbornness and your tendencies to shut down, and actually stuck around and helped you out of that hole you were stuck in for so long.

You told each other everything and you both knew everything about each other. Even Robin’s biggest secret which was actually pretty funny because you thought she was dying when she very mysteriously “had something she needed to tell you before your friendship could continue”.

“Seriously? That’s it?” You questioned.

“Yeah.” She said shakily and she was so nervous. “I’m a lesbian and I understand if that’s a problem and you don’t want to be friends-.”

“Robin.” You cut her off abruptly. “I thought you were dying. Dying. You being gay doesn’t matter to me. As long as you are happy I will always support you. You are my best friend and I have no idea where I’d be without you.” You pulled her into a hug, holding back tears. Robin let a few slip, but would never admit it. As you parted you put your hands on her shoulders.

“Movie night?” You asked smiling.

“Movie night.” She affirmed.

“What are you up to tonight?” You asked her.

“Not much of anything. Movie night?” She asked as she handed you ice cream and as you took it you nodded. You shoved money into the tip jar knowing that she wouldn’t take it. She rolled her eyes and you heard another thud from the back. You raised an eyebrow and tried to glance around her. She quickly fidgeted so you couldn’t take a peak, not that you’d be able to see into the break room that was down the hall.

“What is going on back there? Did they finally hire some help?”

“Just some shelf assembly.” Robin said and you raised an eyebrow quizzically. What type of shelf was being put together? What idiot was assembling it? “But, yeah they finally hired help. What movies are you thinking of for tonight? I was thinking maybe a classic or something along those lines.” She tried to gently ease the conversation away from the noise that came from the back. You just shrugged.

“Anything works tonight.” You said taking a lick from the ice cream cone as you studied Robin. She’s hiding something and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Robin knew something you didn’t. “Who is your new co-worker? It isn’t Tommy is it?” You stifled a laugh picturing Tommy in the sailor uniform. You leaned against the counter continuing to eat your ice cream.

“Ah ha, no. So, about this movie how do you feel about Dargonslayer, I heard-.”

“So you are avoiding the co-worker conversation.” You cut her off and grinned. “Do I know them? Is it Tammy? C’mon just tell me-.” You went to finish but was cut off by the loudest thud thus far.

All conversation stopped in Scoops Ahoy as you and Robin made desperate eye contact before you both ran into the back. As you both took a sharp turn into the break room your eyes locked with the complete and utter idiot who was laying underneath the poorly constructed steel shelf.

“Harrington?” You spat, your actions not correlating with your wicked tone as you went to pull the shelf back onto its four legs.

“(Y/L/N)?” He questioned his eyes not leaving you as he pushed the shelf off of him as you pulled it up. The shelf wasn’t completed therefore it wasn’t that heavy but it was in fact tall. When you had it back and up straight you crossed your arms as Robin gave Steve a helping hand up.

You crossed your arms and glared at him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as he dusted himself off. Robin chewed the inside of her cheek knowing it was only a matter of time before you and Steve crossed paths.

“Why are you failing to assemble a simple shelf?” You questioned and he mocked you. You could cut the tension in the room it was so thick.

“Ha, well I think it’s time for you to scurry out of here. Besides you aren’t supposed to back here anyways..” Robin said with a clap trying to relive some of that bottled up tension, being no stranger to the rocky relationship you and Steve had.

“Yeah, Scoops Ahoy employees only.” Steve said as he went back to the shelf and its instructions. Steve wanted to continue to look at you, but knew it was best to turn away.

“Right.” You said not wanting to hang around anyway.

“Right.” He said as he picked up a screw driver.

“I’ll see you tonight, Robin. 7 as usual.” You said as you left. You took a lick of your ice cream cone and shuttered. It no longer tasted as sweet nor as refreshing as it usually did. You couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington was the newest Scoops Ahoy employee. Throwing the ice cream in the trash you left Scoops Ahoy with mixed emotions.

Robin went to call after you but decided to let it go. She glared at Steve and Steve just looked back at her somewhat confused.

“What did I do? Are you guys friends?” Steve asked as he put the last screw into the shelf to make it sturdy. He was clearly disgruntled, something Robin hasn’t really seen on Steve. He was just fine not too long ago, going on about how Dustin was to be coming back from camp soon.

“What is with you two? You guys have been bickering back and forth, since, well the whole King and Queen thing started.” Robin said as she began to help Steve by putting boxes of plastic utensils on the newly constructed shelf. You never told Robin the real reason you and Steve were at each other's throat, she asked one time, but didn’t get anywhere.

“Some people just don’t get along.” Steve grunted, a hint of sadness lingering. It was out of character, well as far as Robin was concerned, to see Steve get so upset so fast. Not to mention stay upset about something.

“Something has to have happened. I believe you guys were fairly close in middle school.” Robin said and Steve just sighed.

“Harrington!” You yelled from the end of the middle school hallway as kids tried to rush past you and out the school.

“(Y/L/N)!” Steve yelled back as he shut his locker and lightly jogged down to the end of the hall to meet you. As he met you with a smile you both walked out of the school and continued on the way down to the end of the street. You and Steve both walked home and went in the same general direction, so it just made sense to Steve for you both to just walk together. Thus, a friendship was born.

“Did you see Mrs. Karly today? What was the deal with those glasses? They made her look like an owl.” He said and you both laughed picturing the big bright orange circular glasses on Mr. Karly’s thin and brittle face.

“Well it was nothing compared to Carol’s new braces.” You chuckled smiling at Steve as both your laughter died down.

Once you guys where further away from the school you sighed and your head fell. Steve could sense that something wasn’t quite right with you and he playfully pushed your shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked as he could feel a type of fear grow in his stomach.

“It’s nothing really. I think I’m just worrying for no reason…Maybe?” You questioned facing him.

“Spill the beans, (Y/N).” He said and you just sighed.

“Do you think we will still be friends, Steve. In high school? I mean we only have one more semester of middle school, one, and then a new cycle of everything begins.” You let the words fall from your mouth as you tugged on your back pack straps.

Steve looked at you baffled wondering why you would think he’d leave you. Steve really liked you, really liked you. You were funny, and honest, and not to mention very pretty. What would bring him to not have you around him in the slightest had to end.

“Of course we will.” He said in a stern tone unsure of how to exactly convince you he didn’t want to be anywhere you weren't. You laughed and the way he looked at you with such seriousness made your checks warm.

“Yeah, of course, we will.” You said with a smile as you looked at Steve. He coughed and looked away as a hand found the back of his neck, his body temperature rising causing him to flush red. You laughed and punched him in the shoulder and you both just died of laughter.

When you both parted ways that night to your proper houses, you both had a lot to think about.

“Just forget about it.” Steve said, clearly cranky and an out of place redness to his face. “She’s your friend, why don’t you ask her.”

“After how upset you just made her, with only saying, what, eleven words in total to her. I’m clearly afraid to ask her anything.” Robin and Steve finished putting the multiple boxes from the floor onto the shelves. “So,  go on, what exactly happened? High school is over, right?” Steve rolled his eyes and pulled out a chair from the break room table and sat down. Steve hasn’t really talked about you since his last rant about you to Nancy Wheeler.

“I just don’t understand! It’s like she’s lost her goddamn mind! What is she thinking getting between Carol and Tommy like that?” Steve exclaimed to Nancy. Nancy was listening to Steve, but her mind was also going elsewhere with thoughts of Barb’s parents and how her and Steve had to cancel dinner, yet again.  “She’s not stupid, Nance. She has to know that Carol isn’t taking this lightly.” Steve said with frustration as he ran his hand through his hair. Nancy just nodded making a noise of affirmation.

Steve was trying to focus on the road and wrap his head around your actions and why all of a sudden you chose to mess around with Tommy. Tommy, of all people, Tommy. Really? It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his blood boil at just the thought of Tommy.

He was a giant prick! If anyone knew that, you did! You constantly reprimanded Tommy. He couldn’t believe it when he first overheard some people in the hallway gossiping about it. You hated Tommy, you have since fifth grade. Tommy! Who’s next, that new guy, Billy? Steve’s hand moved from his hair as he put it out of the car window. Steve grunted as subconsciously his foot put more weight on the gas.

Why are you fucking around and acting like a child? Is it because he hasn’t apologized for what he said at that party junior year? Is it because you needed some type of drama? What ever happened to Michael McEvers? Were you just lonely and would just take anyone? What was he chopped liver?!

“Steve!” Nancy shouted and Steve brought his full attention back to the road and the stop sign fast approaching. Steve’s foot slammed on the break as he watched the blue Camaro race past their four way stop. Steve and Nancy both caught their breath and looked at each other. Steve took a deep breath and just slammed his hands against the steering wheel. Nancy, finally pulled out of her own thoughts  of guilt began to comfort Steve as he laid his head against the steering wheel and sighed.

Somehow, he managed to make it through a lecture from his father this morning, starting yet another college application, a rough basketball practice with Billy joining the team, and a deep conversation with Nancy that nearly avoided a break up. And this, this was just the icing on the cake. Steve’s eyes started to water.

“Steve, honey, it’s okay.” Nancy’s brows furrowed as she cooed and rubbed Steve’s back.

“She just-. I just-.” Steve began but kept getting cut off by his own sobs. “I should’ve stuck around. I shouldn’t have blown her off. I kept meaning to call. I keep meaning to show up at her door and talk with her. I should’ve been there for (Y/N), Nancy. Why wasn’t I there?” Steve sat up and put the car in park. “O-Oh yeah, that’s right I was too busy being an absolute a-ass.” Steve sniffed trying to pull it together. Nancy leaned against Steve’s shoulder and ran her hand up and down his arm.

“Steve, things happen. People get busy, especially after what we just went through. You can’t let yourself be responsible for everyone. It’s okay.” Nancy said as she placed a kiss on his cheek and genuinely felt bad for Steve. Steve just sighed out a chuckle and shook his head slowly. He could’ve fixed things with you. Steve took another big sniff and without even thinking he just started speaking.

“I just miss (Y/N), so much, Nance. If I could go back and get her, I would. In a heartbeat.” Steve rubbed his red and irritated eyes and his mind just focused on you.

They sat there as Nancy seriously began to contemplate on her and Steve’s relationship, and the relationships they didn’t take.

Steve regretfully looked at Robin as she sat on the edge of her seat. Steve sighed and took a deep breath.

“We just got into a fight. That’s all.”

“You can’t just leave it at that. I need to know the details.” Robin said with a raging curiosity in her mind. Robin knew that you would tell her in your own time, but she wanted to know now. It was hard to admit but Steve’s goofiness was growing on her and the fact that he actually did stuff at Scoops and she wasn’t alone anymore made her life a lot easier. Robin looked furiously at Steve and he just sighed.

“Take a seat.” He said and gestured to the other seat. As Robin took a seat, Steve thought about where to begin. It’s funny how you can recall things in such vivid detail and once someone asks you what happened you can’t find the words to say to describe it.

A laugh escaped both yours and Steve’s lips as you flopped down on the king sized bed that belonged to Tammy Thompson’s parents. You both laid next to each other on the bed. Neither of you were drunk, just a little tipsy. You both had drunk enough just to find each other and sneak off together.

As you stared at the ceiling Steve’s eyes were glued to you. He took in the way your hair fanned out onto the bed and how it looked against the dark purple comforter. He wondered what was going on in that head of yours and how he could work his way in there and take up as much of your attention as he could.  

As you rolled your head over to look at him and you had a big goofy smile on your face. A redness started to become present on your cheeks.

“What?” You questioned as you playfully punched him on the shoulder. You focused on blinking as if your eyes were cameras taking pictures of this moment and capturing it so you could put those pictures into a scrapbook.

“You are beautiful, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He said with rose tinted cheeks that he blamed the booze on. He also blamed the booze on this need to be close to you, this need to tell you how wonderful you are, and how he had to be touching you. As his hand laid against yours his eyes studied the way your lips looked, and he couldn’t help but wonder what flavor chapstick they tasted like.  

“Shut up, Steve. You’re drunk.” You stated as you snuck a glance at his lips telling yourself not to linger for too long. You couldn’t make that mistake tonight, even though the thought of both your lips synchronized in harmony against each other warmed you to your core.

“What, and you’re not?” Steve asked as he looked into your eyes. You bit your lip, like a tease, and Steve swore on God that you were going to be the death of him. He wanted your body pressed against his, he wanted his hands to roam over every square inch of your body, he needed to know how your lips felt against his. As his thoughts drove him insane he came to the conclusion that tonight, wasn’t the night for that. Not while you both of you were almost off your asses, you deserved better. He wanted to give you better.

You turned on your side as you propped yourself up you began to think about that one conversation you had on that one walk home from school. Your mind quick to distract yourself from the intrusive thoughts of Steve.

“Why didn’t we stay friends, Steve?” You questioned sadly, not exactly wanting to take that road. It was too late now and now you had to know.

“We still are friends.” Steve lied looking up at the ceiling and away from you. Steve couldn’t look at you and lie, he couldn’t handle the way your features settled into disappointment.

“Bullshit. We really aren’t, Steve. This is the first night in, like, forever that we have had an actual fragment of a conversation.” You said exasperated, beginning to get annoyed.

“(Y/N), can we not, can we just-.” You sighed and sat up. As sadness filled the room where drunken laughter once rang out. Steve followed you quickly and reached for your wrist. “Hey. C’mon, (Y/N), what does it matter?  We are friends right now. Stay with me.” You yanked your arm away from his gentle grip.

“What does it matter?” You said standing up and Steve sighed. Your heart broke. Steve sat up straight up as he felt the consequences of what he said.

He fucked up, he royally fucked up.

“It matters because I’ve tried calling and everytime I did your mom answered and said you were out. Or that- that you had a friend over to help you study.” You said putting air quotes around the words “out” and “study”.

“I’ve been busy.” Steve said, and he has been. Trying to navigate his way through his feelings and thoughts. Evaluating what he wanted and building a reputation along the way. You just chuckled and Steve stood up annoyed. “Like you haven’t?” He questioned with an edge to his voice. Trying to keep the volume down not wanting anyone to overhear.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You questioned and Steve stood there dumbfounded. You weren’t with him, therefore you had to have been busy.

“You know what it’s supposed to mean. I’ve seen you around with Michael and his crew of football cronies!” His voice raised and stern, any thought of keeping anyone from hearing gone. You let out a sharp laugh. “Which has apparently given you a complex to just go and call anyone out. You yelled at Tommy just this past week.”

“Tommy needed to be yelled at! He was ogling up Barb and Nancy like they were greasy hamburgers fresh off the grill!”

“That’s what Tommy does! He’s harmless!” Steve bickered back.

“So that’s supposed to make it okay?” You questioned raising your brows and looking at him in disbelief.

“What? No, of course not!” You just shook your head and rolled your eyes.

“Then why don’t you say anything? Why don’t you call Tommy out on his bullshit? Ever! You just stand there with this look on your face. It’s like you know what you are doing is wrong but you don’t do anything about it! You just stand there with this shit eating grin and it’s not you! It’s not you.” You yelled and Steve was left speechless. He didn’t know what to say and even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to say it. Tears were threatening to start to pour, but you just sniffed refusing to start crying.

Steve wanted to apologize. Steve knew you were right. Steve understood that his actions weren’t a true reflection of who he was. He was just lost and the attention he was getting wasn’t something he wanted to give up, yet. So as most things go.

“Not me? (Y/N), you don’t know me! You don’t know shit about me and you can’t stand here and lecture me when you have your own title you don’t even live up too! Queen of Hawkins my ass! You show off this fake face to everyone and feed into their obsession of seeing if they can please you or not. They see this mean character that you mask around as and you love it!” He yelled and you just laughed because you knew he was right to a point.

“Yeah, well, at least they get honesty from me!” You shouted back at him.

“Do they get the complete honest you, though?” Steve asked his voice lowering, selfishly hoping that he was the only one that knew this you. The real you. You stood there refusing to give him the ‘no’ he wanted and you gritted your teeth as you headed for the door. As your hand gripped the door knob you took a deep shaky breath and then exhaled. As you faced Steve with a couple tears leaking out of your eyes. Steve’s demeanor softened and he regretted everything he just said. He went to bring you into a him but stopped as you flinched away from him. You longed for his embrace but you knew it would shatter your already broken pieces. Steve stood frozen, broken, and hesitantly awaiting for you to say something. Anything.

“Like you said, ‘what does it matter’? We all put on these facades and we don’t get hurt. I don’t get hurt.” You said as strongly as you could as you opened the door and began to walk away from the room as quickly as you could without alerting the rest of the party that something had happened in that room. Steve just looked at the empty doorway and his jaw tightened. He paced the length of the bed thinking.

“Shit.” He shouted frustrated with himself. What was he doing? Maybe it wasn’t too late to change. Maybe he could fix things, fix this. Steve took strong strives out the door and he began to scan the hall for you. His pace quickened as he repeated your name.

“(Y/N).” He tried to say audible enough for you to hear over the blaring music as you made a beeline for the stairs.

“(Y/N)! I need-!” Steve was cut off by a sharp hit on his shoulders. It was Tommy.

“You slept with (Y/N)?” He asked with a sinister grin and a light laugh.

“What? No, Tommy I need to get-.” Steve went to begin.

“You dog!” Tommy shouted. “King Steve! King Steve! King Steve!” As Tommy began to chant the whole party started to join in. With their chants getting louder and louder you turned and glared at Steve.

Steve’s heart broke and your glassy eyes told him enough. You stumbled down the stairs and away from the chanting upstairs.

“(Y/N), wait!” Steve shouted as he began to take off after you. The chanting followed Steve down the stairs, Tommy sinsterly lurking behind him. His eyes glued to the back of your head as he tried to get as close as he could to you. He didn’t want to let go, he wanted to fix this.

As you were almost out the door you tripped over the now stained welcome mat and into Michael McEvers arms.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Michael asked concerned pulling you up and you just nodded while trying to dry your eyes and sniffling. Steve was so close to touching you when Michael’s eyes met Steve’s he knew Steve did something. “Get away from her, Harrington!” Michael shouted as he pulled you out into the porch and slammed the door behind you. Steve went to go after you to make things right but Tommy’s hand found Steve’s shoulder holding him back.

“Let the slut go. C’mon we can get you another.” Tommy said wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

Maybe it was best that he let you go. He’d only say the wrong things and hurt you even more. He couldn’t fix this, he couldn’t make things right, it was just too late. He had to accept that. Michael was a good guy anyway, he could give you things Steve couldn’t. Steve took a deep breath furrowing his brows as a headache started to form.

“Let’s get you wasted.” Tommy said as he went to go get Steve a drink. Being wasted and feeling as light as air sounded a hell of a lot better than how heavy and broken he felt now.

As Steve finished his brief synopsis of your guys’s argument to Robin, guilt settled in his stomach.

“And you didn’t say anything after that night?”

“No, I figured it was best to leave her be. She didn’t need me anymore. Or at all to be completely honest.” Steve said as the bell from outside rang and he stood up pushing in the chair and working his way to the front. Robin followed him on his heels. He silently thanked whatever customer rang the front bell.

“Are you serious?” She questioned wondering how someone could be so stupid.

“I wasn’t going to waste my breath.” Steve said. He thought about making it up to you countless times. But, one time he called when he really needed you, desperately needed you, you couldn’t get to the phone.

“You are joking?” Robin was astounded with how much of an idiot Steve was being.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” You strained out through a hick-up as you leaned against Robin’s shoulder looking at both of your reflections in the pool. Robin just laughed.

“Let me just waltz up to Tammy Thompson and say, ‘Hey! I really like you and I think you should’ve been gazing into my eyes instead of at that stupid Steve Harrington!’ yeah, you do that and then tell me how well it works for you.” Robin continued to laugh. It was a movie night and for some reason you couldn’t focus on that dumb rom-com you picked. Which lead to you sneaking some beers from your dad's “secret” stash and hiding out in the backyard wasted with Robin. Sitting on the side of the pool with your bare feet in the water and you smiled sadly. Steve, “the hair”, Harrington. King Steve. You snickered at the thought of him and you could almost smell a faint hint of Farrier Fawcett hairspray.

“What made you two go at each other’s throats all the time?” Robin just asked. You looked at her confused.

“You and Steve. You guys were always bickering and it literally made no sense. I mean you were Queen and he was King of Hawkins. Why didn’t you guys run the place together?” You nodded sadly understanding what Robin was saying.

“Yeah, I really liked, Steve. Like I mean I liked him.” You said with an emphasis on “liked”, but it was so much more than the simple like.

“Oh.” Robin said shortly understanding fully well how that stuff works.

“But then he turned into ass hat McAsserton and everything changed. He just pissed me off so much, and it wasn't him, like, I know Steve Harrington. He is such a goof and he was being someone I knew, I knew he wasn’t and I just couldn’t stand it. He’s such an-.”

“He’s changed, y’know.” Robin cut you off. “He’s lonely.” Steve had just hired in at Scoops Ahoy and Robin could tell that something had changed and for the better. You scoffed and slid off of her shoulder as you laid on the wood deck connected to the above ground pool.

“Okay.” You snorted refusing to get your hopes up.

“If you could change why couldn’t he?” Robin stated as she leaned back to joining you. “Think about it.” Robin was right as she usually was. You took a deep breath and thought about that night. You should talk to him. You should go see him. You should be there. Then maybe this weight on your chest would be gone. This summer you would finally patch things up with Steve Harrington once and for all. A creed you pushed aside in the morning once the hangover was gone.

“Well, I think you could do better than Tammy anyway.” You said as you turned your head and looked at her with a smile.

“You think?” Robin asked knowing what you were doing, but she just let it be. She wasn’t going to force you to talk about anything you didn’t want to talk about.

“Oh my god, definitely, Robin.” You both laughed as your thoughts wondered about Steve.

“Don’t you miss her?” Robin asked, her tone giving away her confusion.

“Of course I miss her, Robin.” Steve said in a matter of fact tone. “What can I get for you?” Steve asked as he pulled out his ice cream scoop from it’s holster around his waist. He twirled it in his hand as the old lady examined the flavors.

“You do understand that all of this could be solved by just talking to her. Right?” Robin said with her hands on her hips and a serious look in her eyes.

“Gee, I never thought of that.” Steve said with an airy laugh.

“How about the mint chocolate chip?” The lady said squinting trying to figure out who exactly she was talking to.

“You could have fooled me, Steve.” Steve made a ‘tsk’ sound as he shook his head and began scooping up some ice cream.

“It’s a lot easier said than done when you have that much history with someone, especially someone as stubborn as her. Also, she could come to me, y’know.” Steve said putting the ice cream into a sugar cone and taking it down to the register handing it to the old lady not even bothering to ring her up. “It’s on the house.” Steve said frustrated, what if you didn’t want him around anyway.

“Why thank you, Miss.” She said taking it and hobiling away. Robin stifled a laugh as Steve threw his hands in the air out of frustration. Today has not been his day.

“Steve.” Robin said straightening up bringing her focus back to the matter at hand. “Do you honestly think the Queen of Hawkins would go to you first? Especially when she was in the height of her high school career? Honestly? Especially after the whole school branded her a slut after that party. Which you totally should have done something about, by the way. Jumping from you to Michael when she didn’t even have a thing with either of you.” Steve stood up straight.

“She didn’t have a thing with Michael? They were dating, holding hands in the hall and everything.” Steve said feeling completely and utterly confused.

“No, dingus. Michael’s-. (Y/N) fake dated him to keep it from getting out that him and Tyler were, well,-.” Robin said not exactly knowing how to phrase what she was saying. She tried to be cautious not knowing how Steve would take the news that Michael McEvers was totally gay. “A thing.” She said with little fear while she scanned Scoops Ahoy with her prefils hoping the two people there weren’t catching on.

“Michael McEvers?” Steve questioned wondering how he didn’t pick up on it. Then again he could’ve sworn Jonathan Byers was gay, but he was currently seriously invoved with Nancy. “Wait, how do you know that?” Steve asked Robin with an eyebrow raised.

“(Y/N) told me.” Robin said quick to get any suspicious thoughts about herself away from the conversation.

“Shit.” Steve mumbled.

“Y’know I think that pale yellow looks great on you, Mike.” You said as you straightened up Michael’s cardigan.

“Really?” He questioned.

“Of course.” You said as you leaned against the lockers. “Tyler doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Michael shut his locker as he awkwardly took your hand.

“Thank you, for all this.” Michael said quietly and you just smiled.

“Please don’t mention it.” You smiled softly as you both walked down the hall.

“Do you want to go to the movies tonight? Tyler will meet us there.”

“Yeah. Of course.” You said and Michael continued to talk. As you and Michael walked to Algebra you both passed Nancy and Steve. Yours and Steve’s eyes locked, a sadness lingering over the noisy hall. As you passed you looked straight ahead while Steve looked back.

“Steve?” Nancy questioned.

“Uh huh.” Steve said and looked back at Nancy.

“You have basketball tonight, right?”

“Right.” Steve said as he let go of Nancy’s hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“So a double cheeseburger with a side of onion rings and a large coke to go.” You read off the order to Billy while simultaneously ringing it up.

“You got it, Queen.” Billy said with a wink and you rolled your eyes. Billy had a fascination with you and he couldn’t just place his finger on what made you so different. He liked your attitude and he liked the way you handled yourself.

You and Billy never got together, together, and maybe that’s why he liked you, you weren't throwing yourself at his feet.

Usually when Billy was around you were open and gentle with him, because you could tell he was dealing with something that he couldn’t handle. You wanted Billy to know if, or when, he wanted to talk that you were here.

“What’s the matter, doll?” Billy asked before he could even think about why he even asked.

“Nothing, Billy.” You sighed as you sent the order to Sal. The diner still as empty as it was an hour ago.

“C’mon. I haven’t seen you this frustrated since I almost T-boned Harrington’s car.” Billy laughed.

“That wasn’t funny, he and Nancy could’ve really gotten hurt. Not to mention we could’ve really gotten hurt.” You said leaning against the counter facing him.

“It was an adrenaline trip and you can’t deny that. Almost had you in my lap.” He laughed and you smirked.

“You and I remember that drive very differently then.” You laughed and crossed your arms. Billy smirked trying to think of something that might cheer you up. Maybe keep that smile around.

“Do you remember that Halloween party? Do you remember Tommy being shit faced and his face just colliding with the porch cement out back. He always was a giant prick.” Billy laughed and you did to. You didn’t go to that Halloween party but you had heard about it. You were appreciating what Billy was trying to do so you just went along with it nodding and laughing.

“Mom! Get the phone, please! I’m kind of busy!” You yelled as the phone rang off the hook and you tried to paint your nails with your non dominant hand and flip a page in your magazine at the same time. The last thing you wanted to do was answer the phone to a drunk sobbing Carol asking why you weren’t at this party to comfort her while Tommy hit on anything with a pulse. Steve was also there with Nancy and you didn’t feel like feeling like shit for once. You didn’t want to be jealous of Nancy anymore. You didn’t want to see them. As the phone stopped ringing, your mom obviously not grabbing it, you just sighed. Finally, just some time by yourself. Nice and quiet-. Your thoughts suddenly interrupted by the phone ringing again.

“Mom!” You yelled as your aggravation got the better of you.

“Hold on!” Your mom yelled from downstairs as she shut the door on a couple of trick or treaters in ghostbuster costumes. As she sauntered her way over to the phone she picked it up with a friendly hello.

“The (Y/L/N) residents, (Y/M/N) speaking.”

“H-Hey, Mrs. (Y/L/N). I-It’s a- um Steve. Is (Y/N) around by any chance?” Steve choked out through tears.

“Steve Harrington?” Your mom questioned with an edge to her voice.

“Uh,-.” Steve coughed. “Yeah, Steve Harrington.” He said his voice breaking while he was hoping to God you were home. Your mom chewed the inside of her cheek as she contemplated her next few words as wisely as she could. She knew Steve and she knew that he sent you into multiple whirl winds of consent confusion.

“Mr. Harrington, if you know what is good for you, you’d leave (Y/N) alone and you wouldn’t dare to call this number again.” She threatened and hung up the phone.

Steve on the other end was a mess of tears while his heart felt like a black hole. Steve nodded swallowing back tears. His house was empty, it was just him and the mind numbing silence.

You got up from your desk and went down the stairs to see your mom glaring at the telephone and you were completely bewildered by her strange and unusual attitude. The doorbell rang and as you went to the kitchen she went towards the door.

What could that phone call possibly be about to make your mother's whole attitude change on a dime.

“One double cheeseburger with side onion rings to go!” Sal shouted and as you picked up the to go bag and coke you glanced at the clock. Only 30 minutes left to your shift then Jessica comes in to replace you.

“Well, Billy here you go.” You said as you handed Billy his to go bag of grease.

“(Y/N), if you need a time out, you know my number.” Billy said with a sly smile. His intentions were truly pure, maybe Billy was also growing old of the part he used to play. You smiled at him not breaking eye contact.

“I know, Billy. I know.” you said as Billy completely took the bag and gave you a cheeky wink.

“I’ll see you later, alright?” He said as he turned and left.

“Whatever you say, Billy.” You chuckled and waved. As you watched him leave you heard Sal whistle.

“What?” You snapped as you had a light glare targeted at him.

“You two would be cute together, that’s all.” You rolled your eyes, unfortunately a lover wasn’t on the agenda for you. But, when did your agenda ever go as planned?  

Steve was on the escalator on his way down to the first floor to grab himself and Robin a corn dog as a little snack that wasn’t ice cream. On his way over there he peered into the diner and saw Billy leaving. Steve just scoffed as he hopped off the elevator peering through the big open entrance of the diner catching glimpses of you. As he headed towards Hot Dog On A Stick he stopped. He could see your full frame as you laughed at something someone must’ve said. As he leaned against the pillar near him he examined how when you laughed your hand found your mouth. Steve chuckled as his cheeks grew pink and his stomach flipped excitedly.

He wanted to make things better and that’s all he’s been able to think about since hearing your voice earlier. Since he saw you earlier.

Steve didn’t think he’d ever even see you again. He thought for sure you’d be packed up and out on your own, away from Hawkins, away from him. College bound with the world at your feet. Maybe it was a sign? Maybe it was time. It’s been so long, too long. A peace offering. He needed a peace offering. His brain told him to move, to get going. To use this excitement that was coursing through his veins to pull something together. But his body didn’t move, instead he continued to lean against that pillar and look at you. Just look at you and the way when you really started to laugh you you would throw your head back. He just wanted to look at you for a while longer.

“I swear you just want me to leave.” You said as your laughter died down. You glanced out into the mall and your eyes unexpectedly locked with Steve’s. A light smile on your face as Steve quickly looked away and took off towards Hot Dog On A Stick. You sighed, just talk to him. He wasn’t going to bite, quit being stubborn and grow up.

“Hey, Sal, I’ll be right back. I’ve got something I have to do real quick.” You said and began to lightly jog out of the restaurant and catch up with Steve.

“Hey. Hey!” Sal called and you just waved. Sal rolled his eyes as your eyes locked on the back of Steve’s head. Enough is enough. You are an adult now. You can pick up after yourself and mend relationships. As you finally caught up to Steve and stood behind him in line, and you were about to touch his shoulder to get his attention when all of that confidence left and was replaced with doubt. What if he was still mad? What are you doing? He should be coming to you. He’s the one that fucked up, not you. Turn around and go back.

“I can help you over here, ma’am.” Said a spunky looking teenage girl in a bright and obnoxious primary colored uniform. She pulled you out of your thoughts causing Steve to glance behind him.

“I, uh-.” You began but was cut off by Steve.

“She’s with me.” Steve said quickly, praying that you actually were with him. If you said yes it would make it easier to explain the apology corn dog, if not he’d probably get cold feet and give not only your corn dog to Robin, but his own.

“Uh, um, yeah.” You said awkwardly and he smiled letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “I’m with him.” So cold feet weren’t an option. Steve had to go through with this long over do make up conversation. You smiled and the girl at the other register just rolled her eyes.

“Three corn dogs.” Said a man in front of Steve holding them between his fingers. Steve broke eye contact with you, turned, and grabbed the corn dogs.

“Thanks.” He said with a smile and handed over some cash. “Keep the change.” Steve spit out quickly as he turned back to you.

“Let’s go for a walk.” You stated not giving Steve the option to turn you down.

“Definitely.” As you both walked out into the nearly empty food court you held your hands behind your back. How did this work? How do you talk to someone you know so well, but were mere strangers with.

“This.” Steve said holding out a corn dog. “This is for you. If you want it of course. I wanted to get you one so we could start talking. Well, I could start talking to you, make it less awkward and maybe soften you up a bit.” Steve let out an awkward laugh and you just smiled. “I don’t even know if you really like corn dogs. I know you used to. I remember when we went to the state fair and you got one that was the size of your head. You said it was good, but people's taste buds change. I guess I should’ve gone with candy, or maybe flowers. I should’ve thought this out-.”

“Steve, you’re beginning to ramble.” You said taking the corn dog. Only Steve Harrington, only Steve Harrington.

“Right, so.” He said before starting in on his corn dog. God, this was hard. You both walked in an awkwardly comfortable silence and before too long Steve’s corn dog was gone. Steve’s always been a nervous eater, it was quite an adorable little quirk he had. You took a bite of your corn dog and held the corn dog closer to him, signaling you’d share yours with him.

“This is a bit weird.” You said as Steve leaned and took a bite of your corn dog. He didn’t say anything but he did agree. It’s been almost two years since you didn’t snap at him the first time you saw him and he didn’t run away. You took another bite of your corn dog and then passed it back to Steve.

“Y’know, I think the sailor uniform fits you, it’s kind of cute.” You laughed and Steve almost choked.  

“S-Seriously?” He laughed and you couldn’t wipe the grin from your face.

“Seriously.” You said with a nod as you guys continued to walk down through the food court. No idea where you were going or how much time has passed. It felt like you’ve been walking for hours, both your corn dogs gone and Robin’s getting cold. When in reality it was only mere minutes since you’ve left the register at Hot Dog On A Stick. You caught a glimpse of  Jessica walking into the diner.

“Steve, I, uh, I’ve got to go. Maybe-.” You started trying to break away from this until you had yourself together and you could put together what you wanted to say and how you wanted to say it.

“I’m sorry.” Steve blurted out. He had to say this before you left. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve called. I was scared you wouldn’t want to listen to me. I’m still afraid you don’t want to listen to me. I should’ve came around, I just. I thought I was-. I’m a schmuck. I was a real asshole and I’m so sorry. You looked like you had everything figured out. I didn’t think you’d want to deal with me. I tried calling one time and your mom answered, she told me to leave you alone. I mean, I couldn’t blame her, in fact I could even agree with her. I already put you through a lot. It felt wrong, but you seemed to be doing alright and I thought that maybe if I searched for you elsewhere I wouldn’t miss you as much. It didn’t work, I mean it helped, but it didn’t work.  I miss you so much. I want to make things right, I have got to make things right with you. You don’t have to stay around, I just need to know how you feel. I get it if you don’t want to see me again. I’ll leave right now if you want me too. I’ll pack up my sailor hat and I’ll-.” Steve started to speak quickly not even really thinking about the words coming out of his mouth. He just had so much to say and it was pointless for him to try and organize all of it. He wanted you to know every thought that ran through his mind.

“Steve.” You interrupted him and as he caught his breath you grabbed ahold of one of his hands. “I’m sorry too, so unbelievably sorry. I miss you too.” You smiled lightly and Steve let out a nervous sigh as his eyes traveled to your hands holding one of his.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Jessica yell from the diner. You whipped your head around.

“In a minute!” You yelled across the mall. You faced Steve and followed his eyes down to your hands. You quickly let go with an awkward chuckle. Steve let a small smile escape as he saw your cheeks go a rosy red and you playfully pushed him away.

“Truce?” He asked holding out his hand. You smirked and took it both of your hands gliding down each others wrist as your pinkies enter locked. You both had wicked smirks plastered on your faces as you both chuckled.

“You dork.” You said and Steve’s mouth hung open dramatically.

“I’m the dork? You did it too.” He laughed and you both just felt so at peace that it didn’t matter that your fingers were starting to intertwine.

“(Y/N)! Come clock out!” Jessica obnoxiously yelled from the opening of the diner.

“Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later.” You said as you began to head off towards the diner, your heart lighter than air.

“Movie night tonight, right?” He shouted.

“That’s up to Robin not me!” You shouted turning and walking backwards. “I don’t think she’s sold on you, yet!” You joked and turned back around and entered the diner.

Steve chuckled taking a bite of the other corn dog in his hand. Not sold on him, yet? How could she not be sold on him yet. As Steve swallowed his bite of corn dog he realized that Robin wasn’t going to be sold on him if he went back upstairs with a cold corn dog with a bite taken out of it.

#stranger things #Stranger thing #stranger things imagines #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley #billy hargrove #starcourt mall #starcourt #hayley writes a bit #writing #for fun #80s vibe #romance #romantic build up #cute pining #fluff #angst #confusing emotions #adulthood #someone help me out here #i dont know what to tag #thank you

[krumbine]

Red Alert in the Department of Human Asset Management and Existential Mitigation

Oil prices have plunged into negative territory. The used car index has cratered. Governments are issuing a universal basic income to its citizens.

Society as we know it is a house of cards built upon smoke and mirrors. There's a very dangerous reason the Powers That Be don't want people to see the truth.

But it’s already too late.

###

Several miles beneath a desert that was currently radiating more heat than the planet’s ozone knew what to do with, an office worker who specialized in Existential Minutiae Mitigation was tapping away at his terminal keyboard, finalizing a report on a recent Blue Alert.

In the cubicle adjacent, another office drone stared at a green-glowing terminal monitor as blocky text scrolled by. “Oil just went negative,” Packard said. “Dude, oil has never gone negative. They’re literally paying people to take the oil.”

“Mmh.” Wilson kept tapping at his keyboard. Blue Alert reports didn’t write themselves.

“Look, I’m telling you––” Packard’s eyes were fixed on his terminal as he stabbed a finger at the screen, “––this is gonna be the big one. At the rate things are escalating, we’ll have a Red Alert by end of week.”

Packard turned to face Wilson. He leaned forward, resting elbows on the cubicle desk, bulky shoulders stretching a poorly-fitted white short-sleeved dress shirt. He peered over the cubicle partition at Wilson, obviously enthusiastic about the developing crisis. “You know the last time we had a Red Alert?”

Wilson didn’t answer and Packard wasn’t waiting.

“Three-point-five years ago. The D.C. incident. It took eighteen months to finish cleaning up that mess.”

Wilson nodded absently. “I remember.”

Packard leaned back in his too-small desk chair. “Hell, the fellas on Twenty-Nine are still mopping up the residuals from that one.”

A moment passed and Wilson filled it with typing. He didn’t mind gossiping about current affairs––well, listening to Packard gossip about current affairs––but it wasn’t every day that Wilson was assigned a Blue Alert. Since he had handled it with textbook precision, it was critical to log the details carefully. There was a reason Blue Alerts were considered career makers.

“Hey. Dude.”

Wilson resisted the urge to sigh. He looked over the partition at a grinning Packard.

“When the Red Alert does come, who do you think’ll get it?”

Wilson chewed the inside of his cheek. That was interesting.

There were a total of three alerts in the Department of Human Asset Management. Each alert corresponded with a different color which corresponded with a different level of existential panic and subsequent crisis.

Yellow was as mild as it was frequent. It was accompanied by a comparatively gentle beeping––soft tones that were separated by stretches of silence nearly five times longer than the alert tone itself.

Wilson knew this because he had timed it. It was the nature of his work to discover random details like that. Wilson also had plenty of opportunities to track the timing since, again, the Yellow Alert was set off frequently. Most recently, an office worker who coordinated ad buys in Titusville, Florida wondered if there was really any point to a job that processed paperwork for something that didn’t actually exist. The ad buy paperwork had nothing to do with the advertisement or even how the advertisement was scheduled, but merely the purchasing of the time and the ephemeral digital space that the ad would eventually exist in.

That is, if you could say that ads in Titusville, Florida are even capable of existing.

If advertisements in Titusville, Florida don’t actually exist (whatever that means), what definitive meaning could a person possibly find in the transaction of the invisible, non-tangible time that nonexistent ads are supposed to exist within?

From there, the office worker in Titusville almost realized that money had no value, societal structures were carefully fabricated lies to keep the human assets distracted, and time itself was a construct designed to imbue artificial meaning into that ad buy paperwork because if it’s not processed now then it’ll be too late and then how will Paige Smith of 6233 Forest Wood Lane ever know that this new smartphone is so much better at opening Facebook than the one she bought four months ago?

It is a well-established fact that the snowball effect of a Yellow Alert could be catastrophic for the Department of Human Asset Management.

Fortunately, the Titusville alert was swiftly mitigated when Wilson’s colleague in the adjacent cubicle had the coordinator’s manager initiate a Performance Evaluation process which promptly derailed the coordinator from any potential existential enlightenment by forcing her to quantify and justify the value of her work in buying non-existent time for an advertisement someone else created to convince people to buy things they don’t need.

Yellow Alerts were about as boilerplate as things got for Wilson.

Blue Alerts, on the other hand, were another matter. The last one was three days prior and, as you would expect, it had escalated from a Yellow Alert.

The alert tone buzzed and blue light flashed overhead. An algorithm sent the ticket to Wilson’s terminal and he immediately got to work. No one much cared about Yellow Alerts, but the time-to-close on Blue Alerts could make or break careers in the Department of Human Asset Management. This was Wilson’s opportunity to show leadership his true value.

It had been a pastor of a non-denominational congregation in Lubbock, Texas. The non-denominational part was already a complication. Traditional religions made Wilson’s job easy with their overreaching rituals and rules and general do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do-or-burn-in-Hell mandates designed to keep simple people from misbehaving. Non-denominational churches were infamous for eschewing large swaths of this fanaticism, thereby opening the door to those problematic bigger questions about existence.

The Yellow Alert went off when the pastor in Lubbock, Texas couldn’t square a local mass shooting with a “loving God” who had called the pastor to service. The mass shooting (Blue Alert #04987, nighttime event) had killed six members of the pastor’s congregation.

These six members were all pillars of the church’s financial infrastructure. 

Again, the Yellow Alert could have been an easy fix. Tax breaks, bailout money, even a well-placed lottery ticket could have mitigated the questioning of the pastor’s faith.

Unfortunately, none of those things happened fast enough.

What does happen fast is the spread of an existential crisis of faith.

Soon, nearly 90-percent of the congregation was starting to see their religion for the house-of-cards that it was. That was when Wilson was assigned the ticket.

This was the whole point of the Department of Human Asset Management and Existential Mitigation.

This was Wilson’s moment.

And he motherfucking nailed it.

Simple solutions were always the most elegant. Wilson orchestrated a $6 million anonymous donation to the church. The amount was so absurd, the pastor––and subsequently his congregation––were left with no other options: God works in mysterious ways, always looking out for his flock.

Never mind the mass shooting.

Never mind the deaths.

Never mind the house-of-cards or the smoke and mirrors––Lubbock, Texas was getting a brand new, ostentatious white-and-gold-trimmed church building.

With a final tap to his keyboard, Wilson submitted his report on Blue Alert #05332. It was a job well done and residual reporting had confirmed that Lubbock, Texas was currently free from any active existential crises.

Packard whooped, startling Wilson.

“Holy shit, dude!” Packard cried, too loud for the muted cubicle farm.

Wilson glanced over the partition and confirmed that Packard was practically buzzing.

“Used car prices just cratered,” he said.

Wilson glanced up at the bank of alarm lights. Yellow, blue, and red were all dormant. The used car market was hugely problematic. If the used cars are too cheap, people don’t buy new cars and new car production can’t scale back fast enough to assure people that everything is perfectly normal, nothing to see here.

“Dude, it’s not just the used car index. People aren’t buying anything––“

That other house-of-cards, Capitalism.

“––motherfucker––“

A high-pitched whirring alarm sounded and a flashing red light bathed Wilson and Packard’s cubicles. The two colleagues looked at each other. So much for end of week.

Terminals across the Department of Human Asset Management began chiming with new information as the office began buzzing with the news.

Packard read the details on his screen and cursed again. “The government is supposed to be on our side!”

Wilson read the news that had set off the Red Alert. Legislation was just passed that established a universal basic income.

Packard was furious. “People are literally getting paid to do nothing!”

Idle minds make fertile grounds for existential questions.

People were yelling at each other in the office, racing down hallways. Panic escalated.

This was not a drill.

Wilson scanned the mounting chaos around him. Based on the growing confusion, he could tell that the Red Alert ticket had not been assigned yet.

This could be the big one––the very crisis that the Department of Human Asset Management was created to mitigate.

After Earth Mark I had fallen, the Powers That Be needed to ensure that the population of Earth Mark II never questioned the reality of their existence.

It was too dangerous.

The former Earth was a forgotten memory––a desolate red reminder suspended in the void of space, one hundred and twenty million miles away from Earth Mark II.

It was no mystery that the Red Alerts were named after the Red Planet.

Amid the high-pitched whirring alarm, the flashing light painting the chaos of the the office a crimson red, Wilson heard a soft beeping notification from his terminal.

The ticket had been assigned.

###

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jordan Krumbine is a professional video editor, digital artist, and creative wizard currently quarantined in Kissimmee, Florida. When not producing content for the likes of Visit Orlando, Orlando Sentinel, or AAA National, Jordan is probably yelling at a stubbornly defective Macbook keyboard, tracking creative projects in Trello, and animating quirky videos with LEGO and other various toys.

Leave a dollar in the Tip Jar: https://ko-fi.com/krumbine

Short stories: https://bit.ly/2XY5D7I Books on Amazon Kindle: https://amzn.to/3bsqK5Y YouTube: https://bit.ly/2W41nSG Twitter: https://bit.ly/2VH0Vbu Facebook: https://bit.ly/2VpnylZ LinkedIn: https://bit.ly/2xnmk1e

http://www.krumbco.com

#writer #short story #science fiction #office #existential thoughts #existential questions #existential anxiety #amwriting #economy #oil #Religion #church #universal basic income #writeblr #krumbine #jordan krumbine

[strategemme]

I THINK WITH MY HEART AND I MOVE WITH MY HEAD

EMMELINE VANCE: Character Task No. 1

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

The lion cannot protect himself from traps, and the fox cannot defend himself from wolves. One must therefore be a fox to recognize traps, and a lion to frighten wolves. I don't trust society to protect us, I have no intention of placing my fate in the hands of men whose only qualification is that they managed to con a block of people to vote for them. They used to say that if Man was meant to fly, he’d have wings. But he did fly. He discovered he had to. There are things that have to be done and you do them and you never talk about them. You don't try to justify them. They can't be justified. You just do them. Then you forget it. Due to personal reasons, I will be performing vigilante justice. 

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Emmeline L. Vance; there isn’t a soul (presently) alive that knows what the “L” stands for. NICKNAMES: Em; other abbreviations of her name are generally acceptable as long as you don’t try to call her Emmie.  AGE: 22 BIRTHDAY: August 27, 1957 GENDER: Female PRONOUNS: She/Her

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Florence Vance neé Chevalier ( 50 ) { born in France, moved to England after marrying Devon } // muggle  FATHER: Col. Devon Vance ( 57 ) { recently retired from the British Army } // muggle  SIBLINGS: Anthony Vance ( 28 ) { named after a dear friend of Devon’s that was killed during the Second World War } // muggle 

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Demet Özdemir BUILD: Average height, athletic HAIR: Long, worn in waves on nights requiring effort and otherwise tossed into a bun   HAIR COLOR: Brunette EYE COLOR: Brown SKIN COLOR: Tan DOMINANT HAND: Right { she’s pitiful when it comes to her left hand }  ANOMALIES: (1) Scar across her left palm from making a blood-pact as a ten year old; it’s so faded now that you can only catch a gleam of silver in the bright sun. (2) Various small burns across her hands and forearms from healing poultices gone askew. SCENT: Vanilla and cedar wood; she’s worn the same perfume since her Hogwarts  ACCENT: Standard English  ALLERGIES: Cats  DISORDERS: Insomnia; she’s always attributed it to a general pace of “too much to do and too little time,” but there are nights when all she wants to do is collapse into her bed yet finds herself condemned to staring at the ceiling; many people make the mistake of believing that she doesn’t need sleep to operate, but her history of errors speaks otherwise.  FASHION: She spends far more time in lime green robes than she cares for, and thus compensates with a wardrobe full of neutral colors. She still feels more comfortable in muggle attire than wizarding robes, and thus is seen frequently in various combinations of jeans, blouses, and boots.  NERVOUS TICS: After years of having her tics evaluated and erased, Emmeline has largely eradicated any tells of nervousness. Old habits die hard, however, and with the stress of the war mounting, she’s falling back into drumming her index and middle finger on any solid surface capable of absorbing her anxiety. As she’s assumed a leadership position, she’s also taken up the habit of pacing while waiting for her teams of tier three operatives to return.  QUIRKS: (1) With the current travel restrictions, Emmeline has fallen back into driving. She learned during one of her summers away from Hogwarts, and her trusty Vauxhall Viva has carried her across Britain and back several times over. (2) When approach Diagon Alley for pleasure, Emmeline prefers to enter through the Leaky Cauldron. There’s something symbolic about crossing from Muggle to Wizarding London. (3) If Emmeline starts something, she has to finish. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, she cannot abandon a task already underway. It is one of the reasons she spends so long planning: planning necessitates time and distance while action must be immediate. 

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Puddlemere, England { London has always been home, and her work at St. Mungo’s frequently brings her into the city. But as war rears its head, Emmeline has opted for more strategic ground. The community of Puddlemere is welcoming to muggleborns, and her proximity to other Order members offers safety that could never be found in city streets. } BORN: London, England  RAISED: Too many places to count, though Emmeline isn’t partial to declaring military barracks as her hometown. Jokingly, she’ll say that Hogwarts was the most permanent home she had while growing up. More seriously, she’ll consider herself a Londoner.  PETS: A tawny owl named Machiavelli, though she considers him more of a useful friend than a pet.  CAREER: Healer { additionally, a vigilante; she offers free... how shall we say.. r e t r i b u t i o n to muggleborn and half-blood families that need a little extra muscle, be it of the offensive or defensive sort. } EXPERIENCE: In the medical field, Emmeline has specialized in accident and emergency, though it seems every Witch or Wizard only deems medical care necessary in such cases. Outside St. Mungo’s, she has frequented several underground dueling clubs to keep her skills sharp.  EMPLOYER: St. Mungo’s POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Order of the Phoenix  BELIEFS: The the Wizarding community is in desperate need of some muggle influence (preventative medicine, to start, but automobiles, microwaves, and telephones would be a wonderful addition). The motivation of purebloods to eradicate such influence only keeps the community from advancing and reaching full potential, and the mounting war is representative of the collision between the old world and the new. (That said, she’s strongly of the belief that no one should have to die while seeking out inclusivity.)  MISDEMEANORS: Nothing that has found its way onto her record.  FELONIES: Being a muggleborn is starting to damn well feel like one.  DRUGS: Never. As much as Emmeline has a tendency to lock herself within her mind, she has yet to seek out drugs as a key.  SMOKES: Unfortunately. She knows she shouldn’t, but nicotine is often the only thing capable of taking the edge off and stimulating her focus at the same time. It’s a necessary evil, and her pocket is rarely without a pack  ALCOHOL: A taste for scotch runs in the family, and it’s often one of the most expensive items on her list of expenses for the month. She refuses to touch it while in the process of acting, but it plays a large role in her planning stages.  DIET: Emmeline never managed to find the time to take up cooking, and as such, she depends on local takeout.  LANGUAGES: English, French  PHOBIAS: Deep water { she adores swimming, but will never go so deep that her toes can’t graze the bottom } ; failure { a common fear, but many years passed where she refused to speak up in class because her fear of being wrong was greater than her confidence in being right; now those days have passed and she’s perhaps too passionately outspoken, but if she isn’t complete convinced of something, the words will never pass her lips } ; death { she’s grazed the reaper more times than she can count, either in her own life or accompanying the paths of others. still, she can’t imagine what it would be like to see her own funeral. she acts with certainty and confidence, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t fear what is on the other side of that bright green flash. } HOBBIES: Reading, board games or cards, camping, pick-up games of very, very, very amateur Quidditch  TRAITS: I never dreamed about success; I worked for it.  { + }: Hardworking, clever, frequently compassionate (but...) { - }: Occasionally apathetic, subconsciously manipulative, righteous 

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Diagon Alley; it is the place where she first felt that her magic was a blessing rather than a curse, and it continues to instill that childlike hope in her whenever she visits. It’s one of the few bright places remaining.  SPORTS TEAM: Puddlemere United, naturally. She’s only recently moved to Puddlemere, but she has a long history of training Mediwitches and Mediwizards during Puddlemere’s practices and matches, and as such has brushed shoulders with the team just enough to be emotionally invested in their success.  GAME: Chess (of either the muggle or wizarding variety)  MUSIC: She knows the correct answer to this is anything orchestral, yet Goodbye Yellowbrick Road is the most frequently-played record in her flat.  MOVIES: The Godfather, Patton, Saturday Night Fever FOOD: Her mother’s Beef Wellington. She’s yet to find its rival.  BEVERAGE: Scotch, Earl Grey COLOR: Light green (but certainly not lime, damn those robes) 

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Ravenclaw  WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 11.25in, sturdy, redwood, dragon heartstring AMORTENTIA: Leather, incense, cotton  PATRONUS: Hawk  BOGGART: The visage of the first patient that died due to her negligence. It isn’t an exact replica from her memories, but one that is in the process of decomposing. It’s propped up in a bed like the ones populating St. Mungo’s. 

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral good  MBTI: ENTJ MBTI ROLE: Analyst ENNEAGRAM: Type 8  ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Achiever  TEMPERAMENT: Choleric WESTERN ZODIAC: Virgo  CHINESE ZODIAC: Rooster PRIMAL SIGN: Corgi TAROT CARD: The Chariot TV TROPES: Lady of War, Female Empowerment Song, Historical In-Joke, Showing Up Chauvinists  SONGS: Tongues -- Joywave // History Has Its Eyes on You -- Christopher Jackson // Come With Me Now -- KONGOS // Vindicated -- Dashboard Confessional // Baba O’Riley -- The Who // Vienna -- Billy Joel // Machine -- MisterWives // Kill Your Heroes -- AWOLNATION // Sabotage -- Beastie Boys 

𝖎 𝖉 𝖊 𝖔 𝖑 𝖔 𝖌 𝖎 𝖊 𝖘

Muggle influence will do more good for the wizarding world than it ever will harm

Encourages second chances but condemns those that require a third 

People should expect to get out of the world what they put in (no more, no less) 

Violence should be a last resort, but damn if it isn’t a definitive one

Those that are neutral in a time of oppression have chosen the side of the oppressor 

Sugar has no right to be in coffee or tea 

History repeats itself; if you can’t find a parallel within the pages of history books, the situation simply hasn’t developed thoroughly enough yet 

Cheap scotch is worse than sewer water 

#dulcetask #m #development #// what is consistent formatting?? haven't met her #// also i spent way too much time on this R I P

[ckcker]

Tale of Incremental Zooms

A video of live crabs in a pot with colored lights flashing over their bodies, grisly EDM plays loud enough to overwhelm the microphone of the recording device.  A second video, slightly closer to the crabs, of the same thing.  A third video of the crabs in common incandescent kitchen light, now being boiled in the pot without music.  A 46 second video of a large rat that has caught a pigeon with its jaw and is thrusting the pigeon around, trying to break its neck.  The pigeon is the same size as the rat and slightly larger when it opens its wings, this doesn’t seem to help it in any way.  Eventually the pigeon manages to escape and runs but cannot fly as its wing is hurt or broken.  The rat applies scurrying to reignite the structure and drags the pigeon off once again by its neck.

A man put on his bubble vest after having worked on his laptop for the last hour. He put away his computer as well and took a sip from his water bottle, then bussed his coffee cup and came back to his area, all packed up and ready to leave, standing, but there was one last thing to do.  He had forgotten to spend 16 minutes looking down at his phone while standing next to his backpack.  When finished he glanced around briefly, picked up his stuff, and left.  In laziness we enjoy learning that the avoidance of inevitable events is more crushing than fantasies of death.  Literally, the backsplash in the backpack’s lash tab.

Relaxation reminds us of all the things we could be doing within our time limit. Afraid of the speed possible in a life, I looked at a weed plant pushed by the breeze of an open window.  The speed of nature would be difficult to index.  I will admit that I’ve looked at a framed watercolor of a big green tree in an STD clinic bathroom like I knew how to look or care about nature.  Ha ha ha, feel it for the first time again.  Don’t ever mention abstract art if you come near me, it is highkey gangrenous, I look at realistic landscape paintings only, I want to look at nature.  Aroused, ungrateful, bored, I have the ability to look at nature.  When I noticed the progression of deciduous foliage fastened along a ridge I wondered, “where is my Doha skyline?”  Nature never took me back, with an uncontrollable flash, like that skyline, in sunset’s pacing, foregrounded the speed of memory, driving me back, tragic, ahahaha.

In watching 30 seconds of Doha skyline footage shot from a small wandering boat, my attention was instantaneous, my regret erect and parking me in fog.  I felt it for the first time again — don’t ever talk to me about abstract art.  I would learn to look at nature, something I could do is look at nature photography.  Nature photography celebrated the effortless beauty of what people considered a separate world.  The appeal of photographing nature was that it never asked or could expect approval for its beauty, that it was unforced and exhaustible, fully incapable of giving consent.  Nature photography depicts nature as interchangeable, which is relaxing and meditative.  A photo of a leaf from any angle is almost always portrayed as a leaf, which is the definition of practicality.

I was never taught how to look at nature. I passed through the walkways of Doha, attempting to spree-insert the root of the word apocalypse (apokalyptein: to uncover, reveal), awaiting my first extermination.  That is, the touch of gummous hands guiding a root into some unthinkable part of me, not my eyes, closing my eyes, drunk in Doha.  The skyline approaching rapidly, the skyline bringing me towards the leakage of poetry, the automatic hues of smog-pink expanse in speed of the setting sun. Surveillance in the woods is more manageable than surveillance of the sea.  And still I could never remember a tree like I could the hard blue light pocked on the skyline of Doha — don’t talk to me about nature photography.  I want to study trees so I can better recognize them, to see them for the first time again.  

Trauma ejects us from our cursed discipline, our concepts of a ‘natural progression,’ from the dishonorable repetitions of stable life.  Trauma reveals possibility, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to create a list of all the things that are possible.  It was possible to remember.  It was possible to listen, and to smile, and to saran wrap things.  One could sit in the kind of brunch restaurant where attractive people could be photographed; it was possible to photograph attractive people.  One thinks of nature as a spiritual solution, or as the ultimate spiritual release, when their level of isolation demands they constantly analyze and decode the world around them.  Typically, a tree will have difficulty getting in your way until, all at once, a gust sparks its unpredicted movement.  In this case, it’s much worse to have a tree get in your way just once than, if living in a city that promotes its skyline as photogenic, the incalculable number of times per day a person gets in your way.  

Even the most sensationalized animals of the deep sea — printed, mounted on plexiglas and installed in hotel lobbies — could not escape the flattening of their specificity when entering the radar of nearby shrimp’n’grits, peach sangria brunch processes.  Framed cuttlefish appeared in worse condition than the information detailed in unanswered sexts.  Wildly fun mango light, castrated in minor tones, lined my way back from the Doha nightclub.  The pursuit of experiencing “all that is possible” is considered decadent because it is individualistic, does not “progress ethically,” or maintain society, is considered greedy.  Walking into the bar with an aura of, “if you think I’m attractive, that’s your fault.”  Leaving with the business card of a local hairdresser and a drink in the belly that I had not monitored the pouring of, given to me by him. Lost in eye contact with a silver gelatin print exploring the idea of bark, the bodies of men can continue. One of the best parts of having fun is knowing what year it is, what country you’re in, what city, who matters the most, how you will frame your day, and, of course, what you look at.  Burr bushes had the ability to hold onto a scrap of cast-off leopard print legging.  Make nature trashy, hotness is the best part of being trashy.  And trashiness is the best part of being desperate.  

There are no gay clubs in Doha, homosexuality is illegal there.  Yet it was Doha, it felt like Doha, it felt like somewhere tennis players could avoid taxes; that skyline mattered. It made me feel global, the lights on the skyline were obnoxious and dour at once, uncoordinated and club-ish, gay.  An anonymous punctuation on the desire to fill up cities.  It 100% absolutely without a doubt was not in Doha, I’ve never visited the Middle East.  I compared pictures of skylines from various cities and rated their suppleness, their gauzy amplifications of drama, their register of capital unleashed and of course their level of potential to be used in sentimental poetry, and what I discovered is that I was never in Doha, well. The conclusion is that, unable to find its application, a memory moved.

[droneseco]

Can the Ucam Blockchain Encrypted Security Camera Protect Your Home?

Ucam Private HD Home Security Camera

8.00 / 10

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Is your home security camera totally secure? The Ucam from Tenvis claims to be, with end-to-end encryption and blockchain technology.

Key Features

End-to-end encryption

Blockchain

Specifications

Brand: Tenvis

Resolution: 1080p

Connectivity: 2.4Ghz wireless, Ethernet

App Compatibility: Android, iOS

Night Vision: Yes, 36 feet

Internal or External: Internal

Power Source: Micro USB 5V

Axis Control: 360 degrees, pan and tilt

Pros

Easy to set up

Lightweight

Feature packed, stable app

Affordable cloud storage

Cons

microSD card slot difficult to access

Occasionally drops network connection

Buy This Product

Ucam Private HD Home Security Camera amazon

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Networked security cameras that you can use to observe your property when you're away, or late at night, are increasingly popular. They generally record to a microSD card, or upload to the cloud for you to access remotely.

I've reviewed six home security cameras in the past couple of years. Perhaps it's natural paranoia, but there's always a niggling feeling that the feed isn't 100 percent private and secure, even if in fact it is.

In an attempt to dissuade this discomfort, IoTeX and Tenvis have teamed up to release the Ucam, the world's first blockchain-secured personal security camera.

Blockchain, Encryption and Ownership

Threats to home security IP cameras have been highlighted repeatedly over the years. It's a simple concept: if the camera is improperly secured, it can be easily hijacked. The result is that camera feeds from homes can appear online for anyone to view. Even cameras that ship with security features like passwords can be hacked if the same password (or group of passwords) are set for each device.

The Ucam presents an alternative to this risk. While manufacturers have improved their security and support passwords that must be changed on first use, the Ucam takes things to a new level.

So, you've got end-to-end encryption, private cloud storage, data privacy, and full ownership of your data. This is an important consideration, although if anyone were to learn your Ucam's encryption key it would be rendered meaningless…

Ucam also boasts blockchain authorization. The blockchain-based login is provided by IoTeX, a key provider of blockchain solutions for Internet of Things products. IoTeX 's blockchain technology has been developed by engineers from Google, Intel, and Facebook, while IoTeX is a Co-Chair of the Industrial Internet Consortium (IIC) Blockchain Group (alongside Amazon and Huawei).

Unboxing the Ucam

Opening the jet-black box, you'll find the Ucam staring back at you, a compact camera measuring 4 inches high and 2.5 inches wide. It weighs just 168 grams, making it ideal for placing on a shelf or mounting on even the thinnest stud walls.

The back of the camera features a Wi-Fi antenna which can be removed, although the wire inside cannot be detached. An Ethernet port and micro-USB power port accompany this. The front of the camera, when angled up, has a slot for the microSD card, and a reset button.

A small black box is included with the camera. This includes a wall mounting plate, 2x screws, 2x anchors, a "quick start guide," and a blank card to make a note of the device's private key.

You'll also find a 1.5-meter USB power cable and mains adaptor.

To use the Ucam you will need an Android or iOS device. The app runs on Android 5.0 and later, and iOS 12.0 and later.

Ucam Features

The Ucam offers a mix of standard and unusual features. You already know about the end-to-end encryption and blockchain technology that limits the feed to who you authorize to access it.

The Ucam also has 1080p high definition video with night vision. This sees up to 36 feet in "absolute darkness" thanks to 12 infrared LEDs.

With Smart Motion Detection, the Ucam automatically records video clips when motion is detected. Using the mobile app, you can set detection schedules and alert types, specify scanning areas, and set a level of sensitivity for detection.

Whether using automatic motion detection mode or the remote control in the app, the Ucam has 360-degree coverage, plus up/down tilt action. There's also two-way audio, giving you the option to use the Ucam as a baby or pet monitor. You could even remotely chat with visitors.

Footage recorded on the Ucam can be shared with family members or whoever you choose. You can toggle access as and when required. Video can be stored on a microSD card (up to 64GB is supported, but the card is not included) and cloud storage is also available. The mobile app has a timeline feature to help you easily find events to play back.

Setting Up the Ucam

Despite the heavy security angle, setting up the Ucam is surprisingly straightforward, whether mounting on a wall or placing it on a shelf.

Start by inserting the microSD card. This isn't 100% necessary, although it makes constant observation simpler. The slot is a little tricky to access; in our test device the push-to-eject had an over-powered spring that sent the microSD card across the room. With this done, the device should be connected to the network. You have two options here: the Ethernet port, connecting it directly to your router or a powerline adaptor, or Wi-Fi.

Ultimately, Wi-Fi is the preferred option, but Ethernet is okay. It also comes in useful if you cannot connect the Ucam to your wireless network. It supports 2.4Ghz, so be sure to ensure your router broadcasts at this frequency. Newer routers are 5Ghz by default, although you can usually open a secondary 2.4Ghz network---check your router documentation for details.

Accessing the Ucam With the Mobile App

With the camera set up and online, you can access the feed only via the mobile app. While some security camera mobile apps lack important features, this is a packed collection of options.

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To start with, there is the standard camera view, with its directional buttons to adjust the view. You can pinch to zoom, view in full-screen, and even toggle 360p mode (useful for slow networks). Events can be viewed using the "police siren" button, while the Account option lets you check the private key. This should be noted down before verification and kept safe. A lost key means using the De-registration feature, which prompts the creation of a new encryption. This is a time-consuming solution however---keep the encryption key safe instead!

Elsewhere in the app you can select a preferred storage option (see below) and change the camera name. Looking for granular security options? You can set a detection schedule, sensitivity, and even specify the desired detection zone in the Event Recording screen.

Should you opt for multiple Ucams around your home, the app can display feeds and alerts from all of them. The app also features a tool to scan the QR code for a shared camera, or create a QR code to share this camera.

Cloud Storage or microSD Card?

As noted, the Ucam uses cloud storage or a microSD card to retain videos. Each has its advantages, but which option is best?

Cloud storage: this is encrypted, with a three hour, 10-second event recording available free. This can be upgraded to a seven day or 30-day subscription, with prices starting at $1.99 a month. Payment is via credit card; the subscription can be upgraded easily from within the app.

microSD card: this is potentially cheaper, although the 64GB limit is restrictive given the affordability of flash storage. Continuous recordings will be stored on the microSD card. Note that the card can be easily removed if the camera is situated within reach.

Given the affordability of the storage subscriptions, this seems a smarter option than relying on the microSD card. However, if continuous recording is a feature you need from your security camera, use a microSD card.

An Encrypted Home Security Camera With Added Blockchain

Tenvis's association with IoTeX is a smart piece of business. While the use of the "blockchain" word is ­slapped onto products purely to sell them, you get the feeling that Tenvis has actually thought this through. IoTeX supports the product's security with decentralized identity, putting you in full control of the device, authentication, and the footage recorded.

That sets the Ucam apart from other similar products, while an easy setup and intuitive mobile app makes this a home security solution you should place at the top of your shopping list.

Can the Ucam Blockchain Encrypted Security Camera Protect Your Home? published first on http://droneseco.tumblr.com/

[holytheoristtastemaker]

We are gathered here today….

Today I write in memory of Adobe Flash (née Macromedia), something that a bunch of people are actually too young to remember. I write this with love, longing, and a palpable sense of relief that it’s all over. I have come to praise Flash, to curse it, and finally to bury it.

We’ve been hearing about the death of Flash for a long time. We know it’s coming. December 2020 has been announced as the official timeframe for removal, but let’s be real about this: it’s dead. It’s super-dead. It’s people-are-selling-Flash-game-archives-on-Steam dead.

That last bit actually makes me happy, because Flash games were a huge part of my childhood, and the archives must be preserved. Before I’d ever heard of video cards, frames per second, and “git gud”, I was whiling away many an hour on disney.com, cartoonnetwork.com, MiniClip, Kongregate, and other sites, looking for games.

I think we’ve established in my previous work that even as a missionary kid, I did not have a social life.

The Internet itself gave me a way to reach out and see beyond my house, my city, and my world, and it was wonderful. Flash was a part of that era when the Internet felt new, fresh, and loaded with potential. Flash never sent anyone abuse, or death threats. Flash was for silly animations, and games that my parent’s computer could just barely handle, after half an hour of downloading.

I even built my first animated navigation menus in Flash, because I didn’t know any better. At all. But those menus looked exactly like the ones I’d designed in Photoshop, so that’s what mattered to me, young as I was.

That was a part of Flash’s charm, really.

What Flash Got Right

Flash Brought Online Multimedia into the Mainstream

Funny story, JavaScript was only about a year old when Flash was released. While HTML5 and JS are the de-facto technologies for getting things done now, Flash was, for many, the better option at launch. JS had inconsistent support across browsers, and didn’t come with a handy application that would let you draw and animate whatever you wanted.

It was (in part) Flash that opened up a world of online business possibilities, that made people realize the Internet had potential rivalling that of television. It brought a wave of financial and social investment that wouldn’t be seen again until the advent of mainstream social networks like MySpace.

The Internet was already big business, but Flash design became an industry unto itself.

Flash Was Responsive

Yeah, Flash websites could be reliably responsive (and still fancy!) before purely HTML-based sites pulled it off. Of course, it was called by other names back then, names like “Liquid Design”, or “Flex Design”. But you could reliably build a website in Flash, and you knew it would look good on everything from 800×600 monitors, to the devastatingly huge 1024×768 screens.

You know, before those darned kids with their “wide screens” took over. Even then, Flash still looked good, even if a bunch of people suddenly had to stop making their sites with a square-ish aspect ratio.

Flash Was Browser-Agnostic

On top of being pseudo-responsive, the plugin-based Flash player was almost guaranteed to work the same in every major browser. Back in a time when Netscape and Internet Explorer didn’t have anything that remotely resembled feature parity, the ability to guarantee a consistent website experience was to be treasured. When FireFox and Chrome came out, with IE lagging further behind, that didn’t change.

While the CSS Working Group and others fought long and hard for the web to become something usable, Flash skated by on its sheer convenience. If your site was built in Flash, you didn’t have to care which browsers supported the <marquee> tag, or whatever other ill-conceived gimmick was new and trendy.

Flash Popularized Streaming Video

Remember when YouTube had a Flash-based video player? Long before YouTube, pretty much every site with video was using Flash to play videos online. It started with some sites I probably shouldn’t mention around the kids, and then everyone was doing it.

Some of my fondest memories are of watching cartoon clips as a teenager. I’d never gotten to watch Gargoyles or Batman: The Animated Series as a young kid, those experience came via the Internet, and yes… Flash. Flash video players brought me Avatar: The Last Airbender, which never ever had a live action adaptation.

Anyway, my point: Flash made online video streaming happen. If you’ve ever loved a Netflix or Prime original show (bring back The Tick!), you can thank Macromedia.

What Flash Got Wrong

Obviously, not everything was rosy and golden. If it was, we’d have never moved on to bigger, better things. Flash had problems that ultimately killed it, giving me the chance, nay, the responsibility of eulogizing one of the Internet’s most important formative technologies.

Firstly, it was buggy and insecure: This is not necessarily a deal-breaker in the tech world, and Microsoft is doing just fine, thank you. Still, as Flash matured and the code-base expanded, the bugs became more pronounced. The fact that it was prone to myriad security issues made it a hard sell to any company that wanted to make money.

Which is, you know, all of them.

Secondly, it was SEO-unfriendly: Here was a more serious problem, sales-wise. While we’re mostly past the era when everyone and their dog was running a shady SEO company, search engines are still the lifeblood of most online businesses. Having a site that Google can’t index is just a no-go. By the time Google had managed to index SWF files, it was already too late.

Thirdly, its performance steadily got worse: With an expanding set of features and code, the Flash plugin just took more and more resources to run. Pair it with Chrome during that browser’s worst RAM-devouring days, and you have a problem.

Then, while desktops were getting more and more powerful just (I assume) to keep up with Flash, Apple went and introduced the iPhone. Flash. Sucked. On. Mobile. Even the vendors that went out of their way to include a Flash implementation on their smartphones almost never did it well.

It was so much of a hassle that when Apple officially dropped Flash support, the entire world said, “Okay, yeah, that’s fair.”

Side note: Flash always sucked on Linux. I’m just saying.

Ashes To Ashes…

Flash was, for its time, a good thing for the Internet as a whole. We’ve outgrown it now, but it would be reckless of us to ignore the good things it brought to the world. Like the creativity of a million amateur animators, and especially that one cartoon called “End of Ze World”.

Goodbye Flash, you sucked. And you were great. Rest in peace. Rest in pieces. Good riddance. I’ll miss you.

[webbygraphic001]

In Memory of Flash: 1996-2020

We are gathered here today….

Today I write in memory of Adobe Flash (née Macromedia), something that a bunch of people are actually too young to remember. I write this with love, longing, and a palpable sense of relief that it’s all over. I have come to praise Flash, to curse it, and finally to bury it.

We’ve been hearing about the death of Flash for a long time. We know it’s coming. December 2020 has been announced as the official timeframe for removal, but let’s be real about this: it’s dead. It’s super-dead. It’s people-are-selling-Flash-game-archives-on-Steam dead.

That last bit actually makes me happy, because Flash games were a huge part of my childhood, and the archives must be preserved. Before I’d ever heard of video cards, frames per second, and “git gud”, I was whiling away many an hour on disney.com, cartoonnetwork.com, MiniClip, Kongregate, and other sites, looking for games.

I think we’ve established in my previous work that even as a missionary kid, I did not have a social life.

The Internet itself gave me a way to reach out and see beyond my house, my city, and my world, and it was wonderful. Flash was a part of that era when the Internet felt new, fresh, and loaded with potential. Flash never sent anyone abuse, or death threats. Flash was for silly animations, and games that my parent’s computer could just barely handle, after half an hour of downloading.

I even built my first animated navigation menus in Flash, because I didn’t know any better. At all. But those menus looked exactly like the ones I’d designed in Photoshop, so that’s what mattered to me, young as I was.

That was a part of Flash’s charm, really.

What Flash Got Right

Flash Brought Online Multimedia into the Mainstream

Funny story, JavaScript was only about a year old when Flash was released. While HTML5 and JS are the de-facto technologies for getting things done now, Flash was, for many, the better option at launch. JS had inconsistent support across browsers, and didn’t come with a handy application that would let you draw and animate whatever you wanted.

It was (in part) Flash that opened up a world of online business possibilities, that made people realize the Internet had potential rivalling that of television. It brought a wave of financial and social investment that wouldn’t be seen again until the advent of mainstream social networks like MySpace.

The Internet was already big business, but Flash design became an industry unto itself.

Flash Was Responsive

Yeah, Flash websites could be reliably responsive (and still fancy!) before purely HTML-based sites pulled it off. Of course, it was called by other names back then, names like “Liquid Design”, or “Flex Design”. But you could reliably build a website in Flash, and you knew it would look good on everything from 800×600 monitors, to the devastatingly huge 1024×768 screens.

You know, before those darned kids with their “wide screens” took over. Even then, Flash still looked good, even if a bunch of people suddenly had to stop making their sites with a square-ish aspect ratio.

Flash Was Browser-Agnostic

On top of being pseudo-responsive, the plugin-based Flash player was almost guaranteed to work the same in every major browser. Back in a time when Netscape and Internet Explorer didn’t have anything that remotely resembled feature parity, the ability to guarantee a consistent website experience was to be treasured. When FireFox and Chrome came out, with IE lagging further behind, that didn’t change.

While the CSS Working Group and others fought long and hard for the web to become something usable, Flash skated by on its sheer convenience. If your site was built in Flash, you didn’t have to care which browsers supported the <marquee> tag, or whatever other ill-conceived gimmick was new and trendy.

Flash Popularized Streaming Video

Remember when YouTube had a Flash-based video player? Long before YouTube, pretty much every site with video was using Flash to play videos online. It started with some sites I probably shouldn’t mention around the kids, and then everyone was doing it.

Some of my fondest memories are of watching cartoon clips as a teenager. I’d never gotten to watch Gargoyles or Batman: The Animated Series as a young kid, those experience came via the Internet, and yes… Flash. Flash video players brought me Avatar: The Last Airbender, which never ever had a live action adaptation.

Anyway, my point: Flash made online video streaming happen. If you’ve ever loved a Netflix or Prime original show (bring back The Tick!), you can thank Macromedia.

What Flash Got Wrong

Obviously, not everything was rosy and golden. If it was, we’d have never moved on to bigger, better things. Flash had problems that ultimately killed it, giving me the chance, nay, the responsibility of eulogizing one of the Internet’s most important formative technologies.

Firstly, it was buggy and insecure: This is not necessarily a deal-breaker in the tech world, and Microsoft is doing just fine, thank you. Still, as Flash matured and the code-base expanded, the bugs became more pronounced. The fact that it was prone to myriad security issues made it a hard sell to any company that wanted to make money.

Which is, you know, all of them.

Secondly, it was SEO-unfriendly: Here was a more serious problem, sales-wise. While we’re mostly past the era when everyone and their dog was running a shady SEO company, search engines are still the lifeblood of most online businesses. Having a site that Google can’t index is just a no-go. By the time Google had managed to index SWF files, it was already too late.

Thirdly, its performance steadily got worse: With an expanding set of features and code, the Flash plugin just took more and more resources to run. Pair it with Chrome during that browser’s worst RAM-devouring days, and you have a problem.

Then, while desktops were getting more and more powerful just (I assume) to keep up with Flash, Apple went and introduced the iPhone. Flash. Sucked. On. Mobile. Even the vendors that went out of their way to include a Flash implementation on their smartphones almost never did it well.

It was so much of a hassle that when Apple officially dropped Flash support, the entire world said, “Okay, yeah, that’s fair.”

Side note: Flash always sucked on Linux. I’m just saying.

Ashes to Ashes…

Flash was, for its time, a good thing for the Internet as a whole. We’ve outgrown it now, but it would be reckless of us to ignore the good things it brought to the world. Like the creativity of a million amateur animators, and especially that one cartoon called “End of Ze World”.

Goodbye Flash, you sucked. And you were great. Rest in peace. Rest in pieces. Good riddance. I’ll miss you.

    Featured image via Fabio Ballasina and Daniel Korpai.

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Post Production Editing Timelapse

OpenDrives is the first to admit that expensive all-flash drive technology is not always the best solution for higher resolution, large capacity workflows. There are ways to ensure that a film’s sound is diligently handled, while working within a budget. This often comes from a transparent discussion at the onset of the project about a director’s expectations versus the reality of the budget/schedule.

What is pre and post production?

“That's a wrap!” When a movie director makes the call, cameras stop rolling, and a film is ready to move into its final phase: postproduction. This the final step in taking a story from script to screen, and the stage when a film comes to life.

A lot has to happen between the time when the director yells “cut” and the editors begin their work. Raw video also takes significantly more processing power in order to view, edit, or transcode. With a few exceptions, raw video is almost always much larger than non-raw video. That means more memory cards, more hard drives, and more time spent copying files.

Companies will hire runners who have experience in post, or wish to progress their career in this field. The hours will be long, and the list of task unrelenting, you need to wish to work in some aspect of post to get the most out of the junior roles.

Come see us at #NAB2019. Schedule a demo and when Strawberry knocks your socks off, we can help you out with our show goodie. We are co-exhibiting with #ToolsOnAir in the South Lower Hall SL14813. https://t.co/WSoJb3hJGR pic.twitter.com/mvqvilAIb7

— Projective Technology (@ProjectiveTech) April 1, 2019

The VFX editor will then create a proxy with the same codec that’s being used for the rest of editorial and drop it back into the sequence to make sure that it works as planned. When a VFX shot is completed and signed off on, the VFX house will render out the finished version of the shot to a high-quality Mezzanine codec or to an uncompressed format and send it back to the editorial team. Animatics – A group of storyboards laid out on a timeline to give a sense of pace and timing. Helpful in lengthier sequences, they allow the editor to work with music or voice-over to help create the flow of the sequence(s) prior to commencing computer animation.

Fortunately, plenty of marketers and production managers have already gone through the steps and learned from their mistakes. That's why we decided to put together a list of 20 video pre-production tips that'll help save you a lot of time, money, and hassle. He is also editor-in-chief of the GatherContent blog, a go-to resource on a range of content strategy topics. Rob is a journalism graduate, ex-BBC audience researcher, and former head of content and project manager at a branding and design agency. Online collaboration tools, like Trello, can help teams track their workflows, possibly using a built-in calendar to give a graphical view of the editorial calendar.

Is editing post production?

In the industry of film, videography, and photography, post production editing, or simply post-production, is the third and final step in creating a film. It follows pre-production and production and refers to the work, usually editing, that needs to be completed after shooting the film.

In addition to using a structure map similarly to how you would use a wall of index cards to track your story, you can also use it as a way to track your editorial progress through your first cut using colored labels.

Joined by our primary VFX supervisor Ben Kadie, we developed a plan to address the impact of VFX on 100-plus shots in our film.

Any number of workspaces can be created and can be assigned to individuals or entire teams.

But you will have the ability to leave time-stamped feedback, which makes it much easier for video professionals to interpret and implement requested changes.

Since they are the final stage of production, they are under huge pressure to make deadlines on time. Therefore, this can be a very stressful job and many may have to work nights or weekends close to deadlines. If you work as a post producer, you may spend significant amounts of time working on the computer in a dark room.

XML is a much more flexible format, and so it’s possible to include much more data in an XML file than in an EDL file, but this actually creates another potential issue. Because XML is so flexible, it’s possible for different tools to create XML files in different ways. An XML exported from one piece of software is not guaranteed to work in another.

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What are the 8 elements of film?

Post-Production is the stage after production when the filming is wrapped and the editing of the visual and audio materials begins. Post-Production refers to all of the tasks associated with cutting raw footage, assembling that footage, adding music, dubbing, sound effects, just to name a few.

I understand that I will pay an additional $1.00 per month for bank processing fees included in the dues amounts in this application. I can at any project manager time resign from PPA and stop charges being made to my credit card. If PPA is unable to successfully process my monthly payment, my membership will be considered void, and I am required to pay the balance in full to reinstate my membership.

Top 5 Questions About Working in Post-Production

VEGAS Pro is non-linear, so you don’t have to edit your project in sequence from beginning to end. If you decide to work on scenes or sections separately, nested timelines make it simple to work on individual scenes and then bring your entire project together.

When working on your CV check it through (or ask someone else to) to see it reads well and is correctly formatted. Correct spelling and grammar are crucial; you have to stand out from the hundreds of other people applying for the role so silly errors will mean your CV automatically gets disregarded. Post-production companies are always looking for keen new entrants to take on the role of runner. If you look at the larger companies, the turnover of staff can be very high, not because people drop out but because progression can be quick for the right candidate. However, you should know if your dream job is working in production then working in post production isn’t for you.

Purchasers of the book can download Chapter 10:

Time Savers in the Title Tool. See page 2 of the book for details.

Going to IBC? Visit us at Hall 3 A.28 and see how Strawberry Skies will dramatically improve how media productions create and share media content! https://t.co/utOdCiSYAw pic.twitter.com/7x8FhVZ9GL

— Projective Technology (@ProjectiveTech) September 5, 2019

As with any project, having a workflow can help you manage resources effectively, invest your time efficiently, and keep different teams and individual contributors on task—even if you’re working remotely. Managing video production requires input from many different teams, creatives, and contributors—and that can get messy fast.

ACES aims to solve that problem by creating a single, standardized workflow that can work for everyone who really cares about preserving all of their image data through the entire image pipeline. StudioBinder is a film production software built out of Santa Monica, CA. Our mission is to make the production experience more streamlined, efficient, and pleasant.

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Raise Your Site’s Rank By Using SEO

So, you are looking to use SEO to improve your site’s traffic. That is a great thing! That said, with so much to learn, where do you start? Never fear! The following tips will assist you as you get started on this journey.

One of the most important elements of the optimized site is appropriate keyword density. Your keyword content on any given page should not exceed 20 percent.

If you want a high ranking, help the web crawlers succeed in their mission. Spiders are constantly navigating your site’s content looking for relevant items like your keywords, but for them to do so, your site must be easily navigable. Help them out by featuring a site map. This shows what is important on your site, and it gives the spiders an idea of how you website works.

TIP! For SEO purposes, it’s a wise move to use several shorter articles on your site versus a very long article. A long page will not get you additional attention from a search engine.

Visit competitors websites and view their source codes. This will show you how they use SEO, and the keywords that they are using. While you might not wish to imitate their methods, this bit of sleuthing can make you think of other keywords and things to try.

You do not need to hire an expert to optimize your site for search engines. These days, you’ll find that the SEO resources available to learn from are plentiful. Between books, websites, and blogs, you can learn all you need to know to optimize your site.

You need to proofread your content, lest you leave the “r” out of the word “shirt.” Dedicate resources to making your site readable, both to search engines and to visitors. The chances that a search engine will direct traffic to your site greatly decreases if your site contains many spelling or grammar issues.

TIP! Search engine results can be improved in a number of ways. Once you view areas for improvement for your website, you can choose to allocate your budget dollars to make specific improvements to maintain or improve your website’s usability by users.

Don’t use a ton of keywords. Your site should have about a dozen keywords that everything else is centered around. Keyword tools can help you figure out the right ones to choose.

Search Engine

Using plenty of keywords in your articles is important for your search engine ranking. This assists search engines in finding the keywords and improves your search engine rankings. This will let readers easily locate your articles. Incorporate a keyword into the title, the summary, and about 4 to 5 times in the body.

TIP! To get better rankings with the search engines, populate your “metatag” area with a variety of keywords. Even better, include misspellings of your keywords.

When you are working on SEO, it is essential that you create content for the human reader. Sure, keywords are important, but search engine bots don’t result in sales. Your site must be easily readable. You are sure to fail if it is not.

Think like a customer when you are coming up with tags to include. Find out what the common terms are that people use for your business.

Don’t expect search engine optimization to take effect overnight. You will, of course, want to see all of your efforts pay off. It takes hard work and time to get a following online. Though you may not see immediate results, you must persevere in your efforts. As time goes on, you will see the results of your efforts, and your website will rise in the search engine rankings.

TIP! Meta tags should be placed on every page of your website. Description tags have great value and they will be utilized in SEO.

Domain Names

If you want to increase your site’s page ranking, consider purchasing a previously used domain name. Some search engines provide higher rankings to older domain names. Search for domain names that fit well with your website on lists of expiring or expired domain names.

Search engines will help increase visitors to your website. Making your site spider friendly will increase your search engine raking. Spiders can’t read images, so you need to be sure to give all of your images tags. Be sure to write a description that is rich with keywords.

TIP! If you are working on SEO, avoid Flash. Flash takes a while to load and is not readable for some spiders, so it isn’t indexed.

You have an array of options from which to choose when it comes to getting inbound links to point to your site, including message boards, blogs, articles, press releases and more. SEO success relies heavily upon obtaining strong outbound links.

If you are not writing in English, include a meta tag that shows the language you are using. Thsi can help boost your rankings specific to that language.

The SEO should be based on phrases as well as keywords. You likely do not often search with just a single word. Choose phrases that have the potential of bringing customers your way. Try to include information that is localized on your site. ” instead of “We’re having a sale! ”

TIP! The best way to increase traffic is to place new relevant content on your website. People will not stay on your site if they cannot find the knowledge they are looking for.

Dedicate each page to highlighting one target keyword phrase. Attempting to use multiple keywords on one page can make it difficult to keep the page organized and on topic. Focusing on one thing will create better content that readers will appreciate and will come back for. Remember that it’s the readers and not the search engines that drive your sales.

Anchor Text

Add keywords to each link coming into your site and those linking within your site. ” as your main anchor text. That’s the way to make your anchor text seem credible and relevant to the search engines. Double check that all of your past content has appropriate keywords in the anchor text also.

TIP! Use a title tag that describes the page well so that search engines will comprehend your content. Bear in mind that most search engines do not process title tag content beyond 60 characters.

If you want to go up the ranks when it comes to search engines, then give a lot of content that spans various topics that at the same time stays focused on the niche. Expand topics within your niche by writing about other aspects involved within that niche. If you blog about baseball, include content on baseball cards, players, fans, and equipment. When you publish multiple articles on a variety of topics, you increase your search engine exposure and will gain a greater number of visitors to your site.

With these tips now in your back pocket, you can now make a difference in SEO. There is a lot of information in regards to search engine optimization that you can use. Also, you can reread it anytime.

Many people would like to understand When it comes to SEO services, you really shouldn’t place trust in your business’ Google ranking to someone who is not a Lynchburg SEO Expert. If you are reading this, you most likely are searching for someone who can aid you raise your business’ online visibility, website traffic, and leads.

, but they don’t always know how they should go about it. Luckily, you have found an article that has good information to get you started. Simply make the best use possible of this valuable information.

from Lynchburg SEO Expert https://lynchburgseoexpert.com/raise-your-sites-rank-by-using-seo/

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How the Falling Stock Market and Coronavirus Fears Could Affect the Housing Market

Olena_T/iStock

Everyone, it seems, is finally coming to grips with the threat posed by the rapidly spreading coronavirus. The stock market drops reflect investor panic over the possible effects on the global economy, and are causing regular folks to worry about their retirement funds. And would-be home buyers and home sellers? Well, they’re buckling in for a bumpy ride with plenty of blind corners.

The World Health Organization warned—again—on Friday that the virus that causes COVID-19 could soon reach most, if not all, countries around the world.

So what will be the impact of this mounting crisis on the American real estate markets?

Already, mortgage interest rates have fallen as investors take their money out of the stock market and put the cash into safer U.S. Treasury bonds. When bonds are strong, mortgage rates typically go down.

While this is a short-term boon for buyers on a budget and sellers trying to drum up offers on their homes, a prolonged stock market plunge could put the brakes on home sales, especially in luxury markets. If the stock market continues its slide, that could help usher in a recession—and that could drag down the housing market by sidelining potential buyers, low rates or no.

“People don’t make big decisions in a vacuum, and buying a home is a big one,” says realtor.com® Chief Economist Danielle Hale. “If the stock market is flashing a sign that an economic slowdown is on the way, that’s when Main Street will feel it. And it could lead to a slowdown in home sales.”

The plunge in the financial markets is particularly concerning because there’s no end in sight, says Jonathan Way, a self-employed investment consultant based in Los Angeles. The market has had a good run, he says, rising for about a decade, and 2019 was a particularly good year. But the recent fall “was a sign that this [virus] was really going to have a serious impact,” he says.

China is the world’s second-largest economy and the largest exporter of goods. So all the quarantines, travel bans, and disruptions to the supply chain were bound to be felt worldwide.

“The economy has been chugging along pretty good. But the virus is a wild card that could slow things down,” says Way.

Luxury real estate is the most vulnerable to a stock market drop

The luxury real estate market is generally the most vulnerable to stock market drops. The reason is simple: Wealthy buyers who can afford $1 million-plus homes generally have more money invested in stocks. When markets are down, it takes a bite out of these folks’ net worth.

“If you’re feeling less wealthy, you’re less likely to make a large purchase,�� says Hale.

In addition, fewer Chinese buyers, who have made up a significant chunk of luxury buyers, are touring properties in the U.S. these days, thanks to the temporary travel ban enacted to prevent the spread of the virus.

“With stock market volatility, the market is going to remain slow,” says Ali Wolf, director of economic research at Meyers Research, national building consultants based in Costa Mesa, CA. “If the stock market continues to fall, there’s going to be a lot of luxury homes for sale and not a lot of buyers looking for them.”

New York City–based luxury real estate agent Dolly Lenz says it’s still business as usual for now, but that another precipitous drop in the stock market might change things in the luxury market, where homes always take the longest to sell due to their high prices.

“Real estate is a confidence play in the economy. If people lose their confidence, they’re going to think twice about what they’re paying for something,” Lenz says. “It doesn’t mean they won’t buy it, but they may [not want to pay as much] for it.”

Buyers may dive in to the market—or sit it out

The stock market drops and the spread of the virus could also affect the number of homes sold. For now, the lower mortgage rates, which are likely to continue ticking down, seem to have given sales a boost.

The pending sales index for January jumped 5.2% over the past month and was up 5.7% compared with the previous year, according to the National Association of Realtors®. The index measures purchases of existing homes that haven’t closed yet. It does not look at new construction.

Lower mortgage rates equal lower monthly payments, which means buyers can afford more expensive properties. Rates ticked down to 3.45% for 30-year fixed-rate loans as of Thursday, according to Freddie Mac.

“Buyers right now are trying to juggle whether or not they should jump in when mortgage rates are this low,” says Wolf, of Meyers Research. “What looks like a home that’s out of reach may actually be very affordable on a monthly payment schedule.”

Plus, all this uncertainty may make some folks long for security. And what’s more secure than owning your home?

“We may see a bit of a boost in home sales in the short term,” says realtor.com’s Hale. But depending on what happens, “it’s possible we could see sales slow down later in the spring.”

An additional complication: If the virus spreads significantly in the U.S., buyers may become uncomfortable mingling with strangers at open houses or signing all that paperwork in person.

“At the very least, the coronavirus could cause some people to put home sales on hold,” says Hale.

Depending on just how bad things get, home prices could flatten, dip, or even drop by as much as 10%, says Wolf. But sellers shouldn’t freak out and buyers shouldn’t hold their breath.

“That’s the worst case,” says Wolf. “We’re not there yet. It’s only been a week of this kind of turmoil [in the stock market]. It could rebound.”

The post How the Falling Stock Market and Coronavirus Fears Could Affect the Housing Market appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

from https://www.realtor.com/news/trends/how-falling-stock-market-and-coronavirus-fears-could-affect-housing-market/

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Out-Shine The Competition With These Bright Website Marketing Strategies

The following information will give you understand how to market your products and services over the internet.

You can trick your readers into clicking on the ads you have by creating an image that is discreet and that will link your readers to a product page. Use matching text from the articles and put it at the start and finish. This stealthy method does not look like a traditional advertisement.

Provide an easy way for others to link back to your site. People who share your interests will be happy to link to you, this will guarantee that your link will be visible to them.

Promote your business through other popular sites online. Having your brand recognized can be a powerful way to increase your business success. A website that has a steady, high volume of traffic can expose your ads to a limitless number of people, every one of whom is a potential buyer.

A website which is flash might look pleasing to the eye, but try not to make it too distracting. You have 5 seconds to get a visitors attention. If your site can’t quickly grab your visitor’s attention, then they will leave your site to browse elsewhere.

Make sure there are captions with every image on your site. Search engines factor in the relevancy of your caption text when determining if your site is a good fit for the keyword. Your site’s pages will rise more quickly in the search engine results when your images include strong, relevant captions.

The purpose of Affiliate marketing is recognizing a need or want and filling it.When you start your day, be aware of the problems you are solving.

Minimize the use of tools like Flash or AJAX. These may make your site appear fun and interactive, but they do not help search engines index your site, and no search engines means no visitors. If you want to use Flash or Java script, integrate these elements in your page and use strong keywords to describe this content.

A “squeeze page” can be an effective way to build a contact list. It is a way to prompt visitors for their email address. You should offer a promo item in exchange for the contact information. This service will help both you and they get a free item.

Be sure to include several special choices on your check out pages for orders. You could showcase items that are half off if customers spend over a certain dollar amount, for example. This will allow you to move any older inventory, increase profits, while giving the customer a great deal.

One good tip for Internet marketing is to have an awareness of the competition. Take a look at the websites of your competitor’s site to see what you need to work on. You might also investigate their traffic stats and that will show you how well your site.

When you are making a website you need to take care with your content. Your main focus should be educating your customers quickly so they have an idea what they are buying. Stay away from repetitive descriptions and information that is not useful.

This will let people know exactly who you are and help visitors understand what your company is all about. This will allow you highlight your services and the reasons for your commitment to your products and customers.

The options at your disposal when it comes to running your business and website can be overwhelming. Start out broad and list interests and niches that are important to you. Pare down the list until you have your top pick. Before creating a website, find a niche that suits your business and personality. Setting your goals ahead of time will make the marketing process simpler.

Try keep your website as clear cut and content oriented site. Your main goal should be to provide useful product information to your customers quickly so they have an idea what they are buying. Don’t pad or fluff; stick to stating the essential data with your prospects.

When your website is created effectively, it will help you become more visible. This will keep your audience engaged and they won’t have to dig around for links.

Always utilize signatures when you email others, even if the email is only personal. This is like a business card, and you should distribute it at every opportunity. When you send emails, it can lead to more traffic and higher revenue.

If your internet marketing plan is strong, you already have a good grasp on which products will bring you the most profit. Use your best sellers to tie in with other related products and generate more sales. Come up with other items that can support and supplement your most popular products. Because these products relate to your top sellers, they do not need as much promotion as your other goods.

Read the various studies done on the psychology to understand marketing online. Psychology traits include the colors you use, depending on a lot of different factors.This is crucial information you are trying to get the most money.

To attract the right people to your site, know who you are aiming to reach out to, and what you will need to do that. Once you know who you are targeting, it should be easy for you to find the content that will entice them to visit your site over and over again.

Make a video demonstration showing how to use the product you sell. This way the customer to see you actually using the product. You can post your video on your own website as well as posting it to video-sharing sites.

If your target audience is full of people who are into giving to charity, you should direct a portion of your proceeds to a charity. This information should be clearly stated on your website. You will receive a good bump in business by offering this incentive, even if the actual percentage donated is relatively small.

Keep the information on your site relevant and fresh to improve its quality. A website that works well is inviting and encouraging for readers.

User polls are a great tool to implement to the side of your content pages. This allows you to give your customers a degree of control in the design and maintenance of your site content.

Try using ad banners on your web site that do not have the appearance of being banners. Try to create them appear to be clickable links by which visitors can access additional content. Most of the time people don’t click on banners, so this will entice them to.

Offering a freebie on your website is a great way to lure potential customers and visitors to your site. Offering free downloads is a great way to attract new customers. For example, if you run a construction business, offer an article providing advice to homeowners. This shows customers you see they concerns, and want to help them address them.

Partner with other vendors to see if you can offer multiple products from multiple vendors as a bundle.You can directly increase your sales go up.This is a great tactic for business with companies that are not your direct competitors.

Offer prizes in unique ways. A good idea is to hide terms within an article, and tell customers to search for them. If they are able to find them you can offer a discount that will encourage people to make a purchase. Letting users be a part of your site will give it a more personal touch and it will be more fun. This will make them more comfortable about buying things from you.

To boost your site traffic and optimize your site for search engines, make sure all the content you post is accurate, original and fresh content. This is even more important for retailers that sells similar products with similar product descriptions. You can write your own content, as that is the only way to attract additional customers to your site.

One of the most promising ways to market your services and products is to identify a profitable niche. You cannot sell items to people unless you know what it is that they want. It just becomes easier to sell a product or service you are passionate about, as opposed to anything else. So market accordingly unless you’re a baseball card and old Star Wars toy retailer; then by all means go for it!

A good Internet market tip is to become an expert in the field you are dealing with.

Use incentives to encourage customers to place orders more quickly. Special rewards for your customers could include anything from holiday gift wrapping, expedited shipping, or a free item included after a certain price point. For instance, if you are selling a product that has expensive shipping and handling costs, you can offer the first 50 buyers free shipping. This is an effective way to win over buyers for more sales.

Try to work phrases such as “limited edition” or “collectors edition” in your marketing copy.

If you want people to really be compelled to visit your site, you might want to think about offering them free items. You could, for instance, offer a free webinar to anyone who orders a product. Information, like a course in some trade, will be greatly appreciated by individuals who stop by your site. It’s a reason to keep stopping by.

Add a chat function to your website so your customers to converse. Your website will feel like more of a social destination as well as a convenient place to find your products. A forum gives you the opportunity to learn from your customers can be a powerful marketing tool.

Internet marketers who are successful are optimistic about the products they’re selling and have a positive outlook. Show your prospective customers that you love your product and also how great your business is. By showing enthusiasm you will help your customers become more enthusiastic for your product. Choosing a product or a service you are passionate about will make things easier.

Use tech tools to find how well your online marketing strategy.

Make small changes to your headlines and your content on a regular basis, and pay close attention to how it affects traffic and sales. Once you understand how to incorporate your marketing message, stay with it and use it as your new image. Figuring out what your customers really respond to is worth the effort.

Before you can become an expert in your chosen niche, you must devote a great deal of time and energy. Of course, everyone must get their start somewhere. Make the most out of the advice from this article, and get going on your path to success.

Always test how effective your email marketing is to see what resonates with customers. One method you can use to do the testing is A/B testing. In one of your campaigns, change something in the email. An example would be to change the subject in each email or change your intro paragraph. Send out each version to an equally-sized random subset of your customers, and measure the success. Use the one that is most successful for the rest of your email marketing campaign.

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