Wait the Patreon is only five dollars???? Why did I think it was like, 30???????????

Sterek Fic Rec - February 2021. Ah the month of love! And what better way to spend the second month of the year than to read about our two adorable dorks. Enjoy another list of fanfiction recommendations!

It's A Love Story, Baby, Just Say Yes by fairytalesandfolklore (1/1 | 1,825 | Teen)

For a while, there's a whole lot of nothing, just the sound of water splashing against tile, the scent of Stiles's Old Spice body wash wafting in the summer air, and— Wait. Is that…is Stiles singing Taylor Swift? Derek tilts his head to the side, catching sight of what is unmistakably Stiles's silhouette framed in the open window, towel wrapped around his waist, using a hairbrush as a makeshift microphone and belting out what Derek is 99% sure is the song Love Story by Taylor Swift.

Derek Hale Is Not Romantic by ash_mcj (1/1 | 3,507 | Teen)

Derek Hale is not romantic. He’s not. Sure, he cares about Stiles...he guesses he has changed a little as a side effect of dating the guy. But he has not become, and will never become, one of those stupid romantic boyfriends.

[or: Derek (and his pack) realize that he has totally become a hopelessly romantic boyfriend]

(For~ Sterek Valentine Week 2021; Day 1: Hopeless Romantic)

I Know You by sparkandwolf (thatnerdemilyj) (1/1 | 1,733 | General)

“I thought I’d find you here,” Derek said, placing a gentle kiss on Stiles’ temple. He could barely feel Derek’s lips through the thick hair he had let grow during his senior year. He was never expecting to rid himself of his signature buzz cut, but it wasn’t exactly a priority when battling the danger they so often faced.

“Am I that obvious?” Stiles asked.

“To me,” Derek said simply, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder.

Shirt Thief by allourheroes (1/1 | 4,113 | General)

Derek's wardrobe has changed...which wouldn't be such a big deal if he wasn't wearing Stiles's shirt. What the hell?

In which Derek is a thief, witches are basically unimportant background characters, and Malia is the only one who understands what's up.

i got you on my mind by nicotinedaydream (1/1 | 1,263 | Teen)

"Are you Stiles?"

Stiles groans. He admits it is fairly immature, but fuck it. He hates his life right now. He wishes everyone would just go away.

"No. I'm not. I'm 'Leave Me Alone'," he gripes, pulling at his hair aggressively. He hears the person snort. He looks up, nostrils flaring. "Seriously, dude. Leave me the fuck alo—"

His brain just—stops. Warranted, it never does that. But this stranger is beyond-this-universe level of hot.

Dark black hair, light yet murky grey-green-brown-blue (what the fuck???) eyes, jawline that could give him a paper cut if he touched it, and bulging arm muscles under the tight-knitted maroon sweater the guy is wearing.

He coughs, swallows, tries to not make a fool of himself. "Actually, yes. I am Stiles. How may I service you—fuck! I mean, how may I be of service?" He face-palms. Epic. Fail.

Happy Birthday To Me by clottedcreamfudge (1/1 | 10,819 | Mature)

"Hi there, and welcome to Full Moon Jewellery. Thanks for browsing! I’m a designer based in California whose only dream in life is to get through art school without having to sell off my organs - which, by the way, is still on the table. You need a kidney? Let me know in your personalisation request, and I’m sure we can work something out. Guy’s gotta have that dollar to buy curly fries."

It's Laura's 30th birthday and Derek sucks at buying gifts. Then he stumbles across 'Full Moon Jewellery', an Etsy store run by an art student who has strange ideas about nutrition, and whose enthusiasm for his new commission is actually kind of adorable.

In which the whole pack wants Derek to get a life, and Derek just wants some peace.

(But not really)

If The World Was Ending by spaceprincessem (1/1 | 2,315 | General)

Derek swallowed the lump in his throat. “If the world was ending,” he started, eyes fluttering open to meet Stiles’ doe brown ones, “I would find you and tell you-”

He broke off, biting down on his tongue hard. He felt Stiles’ fingers trace over cheeks, thumb brushing softly against his bottom lip.

“And if the world wasn’t ending?” Stiles asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Give you that thing you can't even imagine by LunaCanisLupus_22 (1/1 | 10,999 | Explicit)

The omegas came out onto the stage next, and Derek did his best to smile and shake hands with enough polite distance as possible, to avoid giving the impressionable ones ideas.

Or the one where mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he's about to find out he's very, very wrong.

the other shoe by stilinskisparkles (1/1 | 4,633 | Teen)

They’re lounging on Derek’s bed one afternoon, Stiles halfheartedly trying to make headway on an essay, and Derek’s supposedly helping. Instead, Derek’s spent the last eight minutes mouthing lazily at Stiles’ shoulder, and Stiles is five seconds from giving up completely.

How Do You Solve a Problem Like Stiles? by LadyMerlin (1/1 | 1,955 | Teen)

The problem with Stiles is that he absolutely totally 100% thinks he's hilarious.

It's not so much a problem as it is... No, it's a problem.

Because he really isn't, except maybe when he snorts milk out of his nose, or when he mimics Coach Finstock perfectly, or when he goes to Deaton's to play in the puppy pens and ends up with the same grumpy Pomeranian chewing his hair each time. But that's entirely besides the point.

Nothing about the way Stiles is fellating that Popsicle is funny. Nothing.

princecharmingwinks special mentions (this fic has badass Stiles with magical glowing tattoos and is sooo well written. the feels!!!)

Beltane by DevilDoll (1/1 | 8,254 | Explicit)

"Watching Stiles heal someone has always been a little uncomfortable for Derek, like he's seeing something intimate and private that shouldn't have an audience. That's nothing compared to how it feels." This is an AU in which Stiles has magical healing powers.

It appears I was mostly in the fluffy mood this month (not a lot of smut - oh dear! I’ll have to include some more E rated next time hehe). Hope you enjoy this fics. Remember to leave kudos and comments. <3 

bubblegum pop

requested: no

group: twice

pairing: sana x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: rich girl!sana, college!au, cashier!reader.

warnings: none

synopsis: An unfortunately hostile encounter with the school’s sweetest rich girl might just lead to more than you ever expected.

a/n: inspired by @pearicot​‘s mean girl rosie series! (by the way, i’m not trying to feed into the “dumb sana” stereotype with this; i just thought that her personality fitted the character i was trying to achieve! does anyone wanna request continuations or scenarios in this universe 👀

word count: 3.3k

Something about Mondays the week of finals always got you in a bad mood, especially when you had  to work double shifts at the same stupid ice cream shop you’d worked at for the past 2 years of college. 

So maybe, just maybe, there was reasoning behind you snapping at the love of your life during your first meeting.

Actually, there really, really wasn’t.

There were plenty of mean girls on campus who you wouldn’t regret yelling at whatsoever, but you just happened to blow up at one of the considerably nicer rich girls.

Minatozaki Sana didn’t mean anything bad when she innocently held out a hundred dollar bill to pay for a $5 ice cream. She didn’t mean to seem pretentious, nor did she mean to mock you and your minimum-wage job, but you just so happened to take it that way.

“Really? You have to rub it in my face like that?”

Sana stared at you, the money that she held out wavering in the ear. “Sorry?”

Pinching the space between your eyebrows, you huffed out an exasperated breath. Luckily, there was no one else in the shop about to witness the stupidest meltdown of your life. “You think I don’t know that I’m poor? It’s five dollars for God’s sake, no need to bring out the big guns. Oh, or are you doing this to avoid seeming more pretentious with your daddy’s black card?”

The brunette’s hand retreated quickly, the heels of her Louboutins clacking softly against the pastel-toned linoleum of the ice cream shop. Fuck, you hated that linoleum. “I... I didn’t mean any of that, I swear! Um, is there an ATM near here?”

Once again, the girl meant well, and you took it badly. You scoffed, glaring disbelievingly at her. Some part of you was screaming out that you were putting your entire job at stake, and your morals as well, but you disregarded any common sense remaining in your brain. “An ATM for 5 bucks? Dude, just don’t.” Dipping your hand into the tip jar, you scrounged out a lousy crumpled bill and threw it down on the counter, shoving the bubblegum-flavored sweet to Sana. “Okay? Now get out, I don’t want to see your privileged ass anywhere near here.”

The dense gray clouding your mind somehow missed the hurt expression on the girl’s face as the staff door swung open. Wendy’s hands, though gentle on your shoulders, shoved you behind her with surprising force. “I am so sorry, Sana, it’s finals week. Surely you can understand? The ice cream’s on the house.”

“No, of course it’s okay!” Sana sounded genuine enough, that was for sure; you caught her glancing worriedly at you a couple times, nothing malicious whatsoever in her eyes. “I can pay though, are you sure?”

“I’m sure. See you in class,” Wendy called out, smiling all the while until the girl disappeared into the Lamborghini parked by the curb. As soon as that happened, she turned back to you, concern tugging at the corner of her lips. “Y/N...”

“Yeah, I know,” you mumbled as you crossed your arms. Already, you were regretting what you said, though you were far too stubborn to actually apologize on the spot. “No arguing with customers about capitalism. Sorry, Wendy.”

The girl bit her lip, scanning the store to make sure that there wasn’t about to be an influx of customers. Usually she enjoyed working with you; you just had absolutely terrible mood swings sometimes, and those days were nothing short of hellish for her to deal with. “Just head home. Focus on your finals, and come back next week. Okay?”

You hesitated to agree, knowing that you needed the money, but the grim expression on Wendy’s face told you that you had no other option. “Okay. Sorry.”

As you snatched up your stuff and shoved the door to the street open, you missed the sight of Sana watching you through the tinted windows of her 6-figure car.

“Really? Sana?”

“I know,” you groaned, biting down on the plastic spoon in your mouth. The flavor of the month (the only one you could eat completely free) lingered unpleasantly on your tongue, the taste of it oddly salty. “She was so nice about it, too.”

Jeongyeon and Mina exchanged glances, not touching their respective cups of “Ocean Caramel” either. It was extremely kind of them to come and accompany you on the slow days, both of them even offering to suffer through the gross ice cream with you.  “If it was Park Roseanne I might understand, but Sana,” Mina winced. Jeongyeon nodded in agreement; after all, everyone on campus knew about the reputations of Roseanne and Sana.

On one end of the “rich girl” spectrum, Roseanne was quite possibly the bitchiest one of all. She and her Bugatti Veyron, the college upgrade from her old McLaren, absolutely weren’t to be messed with. People who went to high school with you often told story of the G Wagon she smashed, the locker room she lit on fire, and so many other horror tales of a spoiled girl gone wild. You were sure that had you gone off on her, even Wendy wouldn’t have stopped you.

But on the other end, Sana was notoriously kind. Sure, her family raked in an income close to that of the other girl’s, and her wardrobe was just as expensive, but she made a point to donate to charities every time she went shopping. She tipped in the hundreds, and she didn’t ever ask for her designer clothes back when she lent them to strangers. She paid any dinner bill in full when she was there, and sometimes even when she wasn’t invited.

No one was entirely sure about the relationship between the two, but Roseanne seemed to hate Sana more than she did other people. The two fought publicly occasionally, but Sana’s kind heart made it so that even Roseanne couldn’t carry a fight very long. She didn’t respond to insults, it seemed, nor did she ever seem to actually take them personally. 

Stirring her half-melted soup, Mina continued, “Hopefully she doesn’t hold it against you. She doesn’t seem like the type, but...”

Jeongyeon shook her head, opening her mouth just as the doorbell rang. You froze when you looked up to find a designer-dressed bombshell, a sweet smile outlined in Chanel Rouge Allure. She looked completely out of place amidst tired college kids spending their last paycheck on ice cream, white gauzy sleeves and blue dress shimmering under LED lights. If you were being honest, you’d say that she was the most beautiful person you’d seen in your life, but you were always well versed in lying to yourself. “Y/N, you better go.”

“Why?” you whined, pouting at your much more responsible friends. They ignored your puppy face, though; Jihyo was usually the only one you could sway, Momo sometimes if she was feeling merciful. “I’m on break.”

“Only when there’s no customers,” Mina argued, shoving you to stand. Jeongyeon smiled at you, waving you away. “Go, and don’t screw it up this time.”

You forced a smile onto your face when you reached the counter, bowing and adjusting your name tag. “Hi, what can I help you with today?”

“Hi, Y/N!” Sana grinned, bowing back. The fact that she remembered your name only made your guilt worse; if she forgot who you were, you could at least pretend that she didn’t remember the incident at all. “Ah, could I have the same thing as last time? Bubblegum Pop ice cream, on a sugar cone today. 3 scoops?”

Nodding, you moved to open the case, avoiding the girl’s gaze as you did. “Of course.” She was quiet at that, staring at the ceiling so as not to rush you. Without prompting, you blurted, “I’m... I’m really sorry about last week, by the way. I don’t know what I was thinking, blowing up at you like that.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay!” she protested, waving a manicured hand in the air. “I promise I understand you. We all have our bad days.”

You wanted to apologize again, if just to assuage your guilt, but you held off on it, joking, “How do you deal with them? Yell at Gucci assistants?”

Sana looked honestly offended as she accepted the cone proffered to her, eyes widening in shock. “I’ve never done that, I swear! Besides, I don’t like Gucci much.”

A light smile quirking at the corners of your lips, you handed the receipt to her as well. She didn’t ask for it, probably not caring about the measly price or having the space for it in her tiny bag, but took it anyway. “I’m sure you don’t. Your total is $5.23, will that be cash or card?”

“Cash!” She held out a 10 dollar bill, pride shining behind that gorgeous face as you raised your eyebrows in surprise. When your hands brush together, you were reminded of how much better she was than you, how you probably weren’t worthy at all to be touching her with your shop-issued baseball cap and grimy apron. But Sana doesn’t seem to mind, still smiling that airy smile at you and not moving away. She broke your stare by offering, “I don’t want to sound rude, but keep the change.”

“Not rude at all,” you fully laughed that time, dishing out the remainder to stuff in your tip jar. You still felt terrible that she felt the need to apologize about such a normal comment, asking, “Are you sure it’s okay? You can have this one free too, if it makes up for me shouting at you...”

Sana shook her head, sugary light pink already mixing into her lipstick. She walked away, still waving with that gorgeous smile on her face. “It’s okay. I’ll see you soon, Y/N, you look really pretty today!”

Turning back to your friends, you whispered, “Damn. She’s really nice.”

You planned on spending your one day off from school and work cozied up with a good book and your favorite hot drink, but you supposed that getting into a fight with Park Roseanne wasn’t the worst way to go either.

As soon as you entered campus, book in hand and blasting music in your earbuds, you found a crowd of at least 3 dozen people right in front of the library building. It was unlike you to butt into others’ business, especially when it might lead to a ruined day, but Roseanne’s voice carried loud over the hushed whispers of everyone else. “--huh, Sana?”

It wasn’t any of your business, but for some reason, Roseanne’s tone when saying Sana’s name angered you immensely. Frowning, you shouldered your way through the crowd. The closer you got to the center, the more expensive the clothing that brushed against your own rough jean jacket was, cotton and leather becoming silk and velvet. You originally planned to just fit in with the other spectators, but with a shove at the small of your back, you were thrust into the center too.

To your shock, Sana’s eyes were red and shining with tears, the tip of her nose cherry-colored as well. Her head was almost bowed as she stared at her shoes, but she looked up to you when you almost bumped into her. You stuttered out, “H-hey. What’s going on?”

Instead of an explanation from the Japanese girl, though, your gaze was drawn to the blonde across the courtyard. “Didn’t you hear? Little Miss Perfect here got broken up with,” Roseanne scoffed, an infuriating smirk on her perfect face as she tilted her head at you. “By a future CEO, no less. I guess she isn’t a gold-digger, or maybe there’s some other reason that he didn’t want her anymore.”

Your hand shot out to protect Sana, a scowl making its way onto your own face. “Excuse me? From my standpoint, any future CEO is still way outta her league, so forgive me for doubting that he’s the one who didn’t want her. You’re the one dating someone who makes a tenth of what you do.”

Roseanne rolled her eyes, lips thinning. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that, Y/L/N, or you’ve got another thing coming. There aren’t many lesbians in this damn school.”

“You know me, don’t you?” Sana’s voice was wavering as she spoke, but it was strong enough to echo in the courtyard. To your surprise (and somewhat satisfaction), the blonde  girl’s eyes widened as Sana stood forward, her lips jutting forward. “That’s why I’m not dating him anymore. I like girls, too.”

Somehow, you’d never expected that Sana was attracted to girls, but it made perfect sense. An irrational part of you wanted to cheer, but instead, you forced yourself to speak.

“R-right.” You continued to glare at Roseanne, who finally seemed to be speechless. “Yeah, so how come you’re tearing Sana down? We should be supporting each other, but you’re being so rude to someone so kind, and that says all I need to know about you.”

Reaching out, you latched onto Sana’s upper arm and pulled her out of the circle, people parting to let the two of you through as Roseanne wasn’t able to conjure up something to respond with. You didn’t stop walking until there was only silence surrounding you under the shade of a swaying tree, finally stopping to let the girl sit. “Are you okay?” you asked, brow furrowed as you knelt to be mostly face-level with her.

Somehow, there was a smile on her face; a slightly snotty smile, but nonetheless the most beautiful one you’d ever seen in your life. You ignored the uncomfortable leap of your heart when you reached out to take her hands into your own, somehow forgetting about the hostility you’d felt towards her from the beginning. “You- you stood up for me.”

“Yeah. I did, I guess,” you shrugged, smiling slightly. “I’m sure that was rough, though, to come out. How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly, much better,” Sana sighed. She leaned back, fingers curling slightly around yours as the afternoon sun shone golden brown in the locks of hair spread out on her shoulders. “It was good to get it off my chest. I didn’t even know you were into girls, you know.”

Reaching up to scratch your head, you chuckled, “Well, I am, if it makes you feel any better. What happened between the two of you, by the way? She seems to hate you so much.”

The girl laughed, as bubbly and airy as her regular voice. “I may or may not have dated her girlfriend before. But it was a long time ago, and I’m still friends with her! Roseanne just can’t forgive me.”

You feigned shock, swatting at her arm. “How terrible of you! I’m so disappointed.”

You were stuck simply smiling at each other for a good minute or so before you looked away, picking at your shoelace for something to do. “So. Uh, Roseanne knew the whole time?”

“She did,” Sana confirmed, nodding. “She just never talked about it.”

“Well, it’s good to know that she isn’t the only other one in the school with me,” you sighed, sitting back on your heels.

Sana lurched back forward, hands clasping together at her chest. “Then we should celebrate! We can go shopping or something, and we can just be happy that we aren’t alone anymore.”

It suddenly struck you how quickly you could change the girl’s entire outlook, a smile coming onto her face with no effort from you whatsoever. But even more surprising, you smiled even larger than she did just looking at her. 

Laughing, you sat back on your heels and shook your head lightly. Seeming to take it as a rejection, Sana’s eyes widened. “Oh, only if you want to, of course! We can go wherever you want, we don’t even have to go shopping if you don’t want to!”

“No, we can go shopping,” you answered, reaching back over to squeeze her hand and pulling her up with you when you stood. “Come on, then. Let’s go celebrate.”

Sana wasn’t a great driver, but you didn’t expect much else. You were practically sick to your stomach by the time that you reached the mall, face green as you swayed out of the car.

“Ah, Y/N, I’m sorry!” Her hands rubbed lightly at your back as you squatted in the parking lot, fist held tight to your mouth. It wasn’t like you were actually going to throw up, but you didn’t want to risk ruining the girl’s expensive shoes. “I’ll let you drive next time.”

Next time? you wanted to ask. But you managed to stand, nodding quickly to ease Sana’s worry. “Yeah. It’s fine, I’m fine. Should we go?”

Immediately, she latched onto your hand, swinging between the two of you as she started to rush forward. “H-hey, lock your car first!”

Sana had unsurprisingly expensive tastes, but also surprisingly understated ones. She was fun to shop with, that was for sure- she loved to offer you clothes and also to offer to pay for them, but you didn’t necessarily hate a pretty girl telling you you’d look gorgeous in a certain sparkly dress.

She didn’t do any of the typical stuck-up things you expected her to- Sana carried her own bags, and she never forced you to follow her instead of doing what you wanted to. She did like to try on outfits and show them to you, but that could be ignored when it was just another opportunity for you to stare at her.

Eventually, you ended up having ice cream at one of the stores in the mall. You balked at the price, but Sana swiped her credit card without hesitation. “I have to admit, this bubblegum doesn’t taste as good as yours,” she pouted.

Chuckling, you savored the rich flavor on your own tongue. “You should’ve picked an expensive flavor then. Vanilla and chocolate are always good in these kinds of stores.”

“You know a lot about ‘these kinds of stores’ for someone who claims to be poor,” she teased, eyes widening as soon as the words slipped out of her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

“Nah, it’s fine,” you smiled, leaning on your palm. “I’m good with it, since we’re friends now.”

Sana grinned at that, her eyes curving charmingly. “We’re friends? Most people don’t want to be friends with me, I’m really glad you’re willing to.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Looking down for once, the girl mumbled, “They say I’m dumb. You know that everyone says I’m nice, but they also think I’m dumb because I pay for everything. I just want to be kind, but no one takes me seriously.”

A wave of guilt rushed over you for previously feeding into the stereotype. The more time you spent with Sana, the more you realized that she was as brilliant as any other, and far more kind. “Well, that’s stupid. You are kind, Sana, and you’re amazing. I’m lucky to be your friend.”

She clasped your hand over the table, soft skin warm over yours, pink flushing in her pale cheeks. “Thank you, Y/N. You know, this is the best time I’ve had in a while. My boyfriend didn’t even listen to me this well,” she laughed.

Despite the fact that she treated it as a joke, you felt horrible. She was all too used to thinking the worst about herself and not believing that she was worth any better, and that was the worst possible thing you could imagine for a girl with a heart of gold. Jabbing your spoon into the remaining ice cream, you blurted, “Then go on a date with me. A proper one, not just a normal hangout like this.”

Sana instantly blushed, looking down as if it’d hide her face at all. But she missed the heat that rose to your cheeks too, the nervous biting of your lip as you waited for a response. “I would love nothing more,” she smiled, her eyes shining brilliantly. “And I can’t wait.”

Hold Me Up

Prompt 42. Group of friends. Economic disaster, no jobs; eventually in desperation someone in the group suggests making a porno for $, the idea takes off, as they work on a script and put out ideas, a lot becomes clear, like who has kinks, who has tried a lot, and that one is an inexperienced virgin. Does the writing experience have consequences to the group dynamic, will they actually film and sell it, will they stay friends? Are any couples or siblings part of the group? Are secrets revealed through brainstorming?

Submitted by @567inpanem

Author: JLaLa

Rated M

Summary: “What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

Strapped for cash, a group of friends—plus two strangers—decide to go all out.

Multiple pairings, and of course, Everlark. 

“Hold me up in the palm of your hand Lying to you is a river of sin Your metaphors, your silent calls Your feelings are too real…”

                                                -Live

Hold Me Up

Part One

Katniss closed her eyes as the rush of hot water hit her face. It had been a hell of a day.

Her boss cut her hours at the record store due to the lack of sales. She had done everything short of offering to blow the man—wouldn’t have worked, he was gay—to get as many hours as possible. However, everyone was suffering due to Panem’s economic disaster and Heavensbee’s hands were tied.

All she wanted to do tonight was eat the leftover Chinese in the fridge, binge watch Bridgerton for the hundredth time and use her vibrator until she climaxed to the image of Simon Basset eating her out—

“Katniss!” There was a quick knock before the door opened. “Sorry, but I have to piss like a racehorse—”

She pulled back the shower curtain to the sight of her roommate and friend, Peeta, unzipping his jeans.

“Seriously, couldn’t you do that somewhere else? Like, maybe get a plastic cup or do it in the sink?”

“Last time I did, Gale totally flipped out on me,” her friend replied. “It’s not like you haven’t seen my dick before. You’ve seen it plenty of times, most of the time it was erect.”

The peril of living with two boys was that you always seemed surrounded by morning wood…any kind of wood really.

“Fine.” Katniss closed the curtain. “Try not to be loud about it though.”

“How am I loud while I pee?”

“‘Oooh fuck, finally…I’ve been holding that in all day!’ Katniss mimicked mockingly. “You’d think that you were doing something else instead of emptying your bladder.”

“Honestly, sometimes a good pee is better than sex,” Peeta retorted. “I don’t think that I’ll be able to stop it once it starts so just sing something really loud or you’ll be hearing me hitting the porcelain pretty hard.”

Katniss walked under the shower to rinse her hair and belted out the first song that came to her.

“I got a new life

You would hardly recognize me

I’m so glad

How could a person like me care for you?

Why, why do I bother

When you’re not the one for me

Is enough enough?”

“I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes…” Peeta sang along and Katniss giggled hearing his melodic baritone. “I saw the sign…life is demanding without understanding—”

“We should start a group,” she offered as she turned the nozzle and the water stopped. “Especially since I’ll likely be laid off soon.”

“Oh shit! I’m sorry, Katniss.” A hand peeked through the curtain, holding a towel and she took it, quickly wrapping it around herself. “We’re all taking it up the butt, aren’t we?”

She pulled back the curtain and stepped out. “What do you mean?”

“Haymitch and Effie will probably have to close down with everything happening,” he informed her. “The rent for the bakery space is just too much for them. I mean, we still have our regulars, but they’re not making enough to pay me to make a dozen danishes and scones.”

“That sucks.” Peeta was still wearing his apron around his waist, a red bandana covering his blond locks, along with his usual baking uniform of a fitted white tee and jeans. “I know how much you love that job. Not to mention, Haymitch and Effie are pretty kickass.”

“Well, at least we have Gale,” her friend replied as he opened the door, letting her step out first before putting a companionable arm around her waist. “Old reliable Gale—”

There was a cough and they found Gale sitting on their couch lighting up their emergency joint.

This was bad.

++++++

“My whole department was pretty much eliminated,” Gale explained once he stepped out of his daze. “They led us in, one by one, into that small office and gave us the whole spiel about making cutbacks before handing us our severance checks. This will hold me for about six months of my piece of the rent—”

“This is probably the worst time to tell you,” Katniss started. “But Heavensbee reduced my hours at the store and I’ll probably be getting the boot soon.”

“Effie and Haymitch can’t afford to keep me at the bakery,” Peeta told him. “They’re also likely to lose the business, too.”

Gale nodded, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. “Well, we’re fucked.”

“Now there’s that positive attitude that we know and love,” a sharp feminine voice said.

The three looked up to find the rest of their friends stepping into the apartment led by Johanna, who lived across the hall from them. Madge, her roommate, followed in with a pizza box and the group was finished out with Finnick, who lived downstairs and was—until today—Gale’s teammate.

“Well, we’re fucked!” Gale repeated, his voice hitching up at the end. He looked to Johanna. “Good enough?”

“We’re all getting it,” Madge said, sitting next to him calmly. “The Forever 21 I’m working at is closing. So, I’m screwed, and I won’t even have severance like you and Finnick.”

“I have thousands of dollars in debt over the camera equipment I just bought,” Finnick told her. “I’m supposed to be working on my documentary.” Their friend was a budding director. “Now, I’ll be using the rest of my severance to pay it off.”

Johanna plopped down in their lone seat, putting her feet on the table.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but I’ve been out of a job for months, so your sob stories mean nothing to me,” she said. Grabbing the joint, their friend took a long inhale and breathe out in relief. “The job market is non-existent at this point.”

“God, maybe I should’ve pushed on blowing Heavensbee,” Katniss muttered.

Finnick snorted. “What?”

“He’s gay, but probably not getting any,” she replied, next to Peeta. “If you close your eyes, it feels the same.”

“You might have something there,” Johanna suddenly said, her oak eyes contemplative.

Peeta glared at her. “Not funny. You really want Katniss turning tricks for rent?”

“Hardly,” their friend replied. “No offense—” Johanna looked to Katniss. “—you alone have no sex appeal, and this is coming from a full-fledged lesbian.” She turned to Madge. “She would—with the pouty lips and the big titties. Not to mention those golden locks. Put a little red hood on her and you’ll have those Fairy Tale freaks begging to see what’s underneath.”

Katniss crossed her arms. “Well, thank you for telling me that I’m undesirable.”

“I didn’t say that.” Johanna looked between Katniss and Peeta. “I said you alone would have no sex appeal but put you with him—” She nodded at Peeta. “—or her.” A hand waved over at Madge. “People will pay big money to see that. A nice little ying and yang.”

“What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

++++++

Several beers in, the idea started to make sense.

“Babe, if this thing took off, we could pay off the camera equipment,” Annie, Finnick’s fiancée, said. She had joined them a little after the major freak out over Johanna’s idea. “Also, you could get some experience in handling the equipment and I could get experience with the boom mic.”

“That is true,” Finnick mused.

“Guys, do you know how many different types of porn there is out there? How would we make one that people would be interested in?” Gale asked. His voice had taken on a rough slur, five bottles in, as he leaned against a drunken Madge.

“Simple,” Johanna smirked. “We do our research. This neighborhood is full of not-so-reputable places; it’s why rent used to be freakishly low. We can ask what men and women would like to see. Also, we’re all decent looking.”

“What about the fact that you’re talking about us having sex with each other?” Peeta asked, eyes bloodshot. Katniss laid on his lap, singing along to the music on her phone. “No offense, but I don’t want to have sex with you. You scare me a little.”

“Well, who would you want to have sex with?” Madge asked with a buzzed grin.

“Easy.” Peeta looked at the giggling woman on his lap. “Katniss.”

“Really now?” Finnick leaned forward in interest. “Why her?”

“I’m comfortable with her,” he explained. “We were each other’s first kiss, granted we were only five—but also, she’s seen my dick plenty of times.”

Katniss drunkenly waved her finger at him. “I’m not scared of it…”

“Dude, why aren’t you together?” Annie asked.

Peeta shrugged. “Seemed better to stay friends.”

“Those two are such chickens,” Gale called out. “They just tiptoe…and tiptoe…and it’s all like ‘I think Katniss is beautiful’…or ‘I want to have Peeta’s babies’…and I’m just like why don’t you just fuck already?”

“Fine.” Katniss slid onto the floor and held her hand out, palm down. “We’ll do this. I get to fuck Peeta because everyone is so invested…but we all have to be in this.” She looked at the rest of the group, her eyes landing on Peeta. “Do we agree?”

Johanna placed her hand over Katniss’. “I’m in.”

Madge followed immediately. “Me, too.”

“Fine,” Gale muttered before his hand landed on the pile.

“We’re down,” Finnick said, adding his hand.

“But only as the filmmakers,” Annie added before placing her hand on top of her fiancé’s.

Katniss looked to Peeta; nervousness laced in her grey eyes. “And you?”

He examined her, almost losing himself in her gaze before placing his hand down to seal the pact.

“Let’s do this.”

++++++

“Do you like oral?” Katniss asked the scantily-clad waitress. “Giving? Getting?”

“Yes, to both,” the pretty blonde answered.

Johanna and Gale had gotten to work quickly, both making up the questionnaire that they were using for research. While that was happening, Annie and Finnick put up an ad looking for available actors and actresses to add to their production.

Two days ago, their questionnaire had revealed that threesomes, double penetration, and girl-on-girl were high on the list. Unfortunately, they didn’t know who would be doing what except for Katniss and Peeta.

“And anal?” Katniss continued as Peeta joined her at the table.

“Sure,” the woman answered. “I’m pretty open. Me and my ex used to film ourselves all the time.” She looked at the two. “You two looking for tips?”

“Maybe,” Katniss replied. She turned to Peeta. “Did you want anything?”

“Coke, please,” he told the woman. “I’m still recovering from the past few days.”

“Coke for him and a Lagavulin for me,” Katniss told the waitress.

“You like the good stuff.” She gave Katniss a saucy wink. “I’ll be right back with your drinks. I’m Delly, by the way.”

“Katniss.” Katniss gestured over at Peeta, who gave Delly a light wave. “Peeta.”

She nodded. “Nice meeting you.”

As soon as Delly walked away, Katniss turned to her friend. “What do you think?”

“Decent rack, sweet face, and she has experience apparently,” Peeta replied. “Thoughts on having her on the team?”

“Well, she seems friendly,” Katniss replied. She eyed him. “Would you do her?”

“If I had to…sure,” her friend replied. “How about you?”

“Me and Delly?” Katniss looked to the woman at the bar, awaiting their drinks. She was pretty with wavy, shoulder-length hair and wide eyes. Not to mention, her body was banging—the bejeweled bustier made her breasts look incredible—and her personality was easy. “Sure. Why not? I mean it will make me more…desirable.”

“Are you still pissed off that?” Peeta asked. “Johanna loves to rile you up.”

“I hate that she can.” Katniss sighed. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Haven’t you ever been curious?” Peeta’s gaze fell warmly on her. “How it might feel like between me and you?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “We kissed that one time, but nothing came of it. I thought maybe you didn’t like it…or me.”

“I do like you. I love you.” Peeta reached for her, pulling her onto his lap. “I guess we were just both too scared to explore what kind of love we could’ve had.”

Her arms wove around his neck as Katniss pressed her forehead to his. “I love you and I like you, too.”

“Your drinks, lovebirds.” Delly approached them, a bright smile on her face. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Actually.” Katniss stood up, pulling out the business card with Johanna’s number on it. “I have a proposition for you.”

++++++

“What are your special skills?” Johanna asked as she looked over Delly’s resume.

Delly gave the group a bright smile, her eyes landing on Katniss with a wink.

The group gathered the following day for auditions for the two additional actors at Finnick and Annie’s place.

Currently, Annie and Peeta were reviewing resumes and headshots in the hallway while the rest of them assessed the auditions.

The group had agreed to hold them at Finnick and Annie’s since it looked the most professional. The couple’s apartment was stylishly decorated thanks to Annie’s chic but budget-friendly taste—most of their furnishings from Target and IKEA.

“Can you look into the camera?” Finnick asked from where he stood in the center of the living room.

“Sure.” Delly looked straight into the camera, smiling into it. “Well…I can do a handstand and suck dick at the same time.”

“Can we see?” Madge asked from where she stood next to Finnick.

“The sucking dick part or the headstand?”

“How about we just see how it looks?” Finnick suggested. “Have Annie bring the next male audition in.”

Gale stood from his seat. “I’m on it.” He quickly came back, followed by a tall, dark-skinned man who flashed them all a handsome smile. “Everyone, this is Thresh. Thresh, why don’t you join Delly in front of the camera?”

“Sure,” he said easily and walked over to Delly, holding out his hand. “I’m Thresh.”

Delly shook it, her mouth widening in a grin. “Delly.”

“Okay, whenever you’re ready,” Johanna told the two.

Nodding, Delly bent over, pressing her palms to the floor. Then as she steadied, the woman easily lifted her hips…then her legs…before straightening them, her toes pointing in the air.

“Amazing,” Madge whispered.

Next to her, Gale nodded in agreement.

Katniss stood from her seat, going to Finnick, and looked at the camera’s viewfinder.

Delly and Thresh made a strikingly good couple on camera. They were at ease, chatting as if Delly wasn’t in front of the man’s crotch and at a perfect angle to go at his junk.

“Thresh, any special skills?” Gale asked, handing Johanna the man’s resume.

“I can get an erection on command,” Thresh told them.

“Okay, we all need to see this,” Johanna said. “Someone get Peeta and Annie in here.”

“Delly, you can get off your hands now,” Katniss said.

“Let me help—” Thresh held her hips as Delly eased down. As she did, the crotch of her leggings met his groin, and she wrapped her legs around his to steady herself.

“The perfect standing wheelbarrow,” Finnick remarked from behind the camera. “Bravo!”

Peeta and Annie stepped inside as Thresh helped Delly onto her feet. She smiled gratefully, kissing his cheek before dashing over to where the rest of the group was gathered.

“Even if you don’t hire me, I need to see this,” she told them.

Peeta joined Katniss’ side. “What are we looking at?”

Finnick signaled Thresh. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The man simply undid the top button of his jeans, unzipped, and holding the sides of his jeans lowered them down.

Taking a deep breath, the man closed his eyes, as the group watched his cock—a rather thick one—go from half-mast to full in less than a minute.

“Well, that deserves some applause,” Peeta told everyone and began to clap.

The group quickly joined in, but not before hiring both Delly and Thresh.

++++++

“Okay, two things,” Gale announced, going to the easel and whiteboard that he had set up in their living room. He wrote out ‘Location’ and ‘Plot’. “First, location. Any thoughts?”

“We can’t just do it in one of our apartments?” Finnick asked.

“Would you want to sit on your living room couch thinking that Johanna ate Delly out on it?” Gale asked him. “Or Katniss and Peeta on your kitchen counter—”

“True,” Annie said. “Let’s not shit where we eat.”

“Maybe we can rent out space for very cheap,” Thresh said. “I might know some club places where I work security that might be in our price range.”

They learned that Thresh was a part-time security guard and a returning student at the local community college. He was trying to get his Business degree and planned to open a gym after he graduated.

“Great idea,” Gale wrote down, ‘Thresh-club spaces’. Anyone else?”

“That bar I work at might be willing,” Delly told them. “I might have to give the owner a boost—”

“No way,” Peeta interrupted. “We don’t want you doing those kinds of favors just to get us a workspace.”

“Definitely,” Katniss agreed, smiling at the girl. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay, what about a plot?” Johanna went to the board. “Every porn needs one to entice an audience. Why don’t we do a round robin and everyone says one thing that turns them on? I’ll start.” She turned around and wrote on the board—‘A clean bush’.

“Doesn’t everyone like it to be clean down there?” Finnick remarked before looking to Annie. “I mean you keep it pristine—”

“No need to tell everyone about my cat, love,” his fiancée retorted.

“I mean, I don’t mind it being wild down there,’ Gale told the group. He took the marker from Johanna and scribbled, ‘Bossiness’. “I like a dominating woman.”

“Definitely a good BDSM storyline,” Madge remarked as she walked up to the board, writing ‘Rough play’. “I like manhandling and being manhandled. I worked with this guy and we use to hook up all over the office. Once after everyone left, we were going at it and he takes me and lifted me—” She mimicked her lover with her hands. “—onto the copy machine before pounding the living daylight out of me.”

Everyone stared in shock at the seemingly sweet blonde twirling a tendril of her hair.

“Come Monday, everyone was trying to figure why there were a hundred copies of someone’s bare pussy on the copy machine tray,” she said in a daze.

“Damn—” Gale swallowed harshly. “—thank you for your contribution.” His gaze went to the person sitting next to Madge. “Katniss?”

“I…I…” Katniss bowed her head. She wasn’t thrilled with everyone knowing just what got her going. However, at some point, they were all going to be seeing her being thoroughly fucked by Peeta. “I like…dirty talk.” She shifted in her seat, aware that next to her sat her soon-to-be co-star. “I don’t have any experience, but when I’m…masturbating, the voice in my head is usually whispering very depraved things in my ear.”

“Care to expand, sweetheart?” Thresh asked from where he sat across.

“Well—” Katniss folded her hands in her lap. “The voice will tell me how much he loves feeling his fingers being squeezed by my cunt, how drenched I am around his dick, how he wants to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs…sometimes he talks about fucking me in both holes…his dick in my pussy and his thumb in my asshole—”

Peeta suddenly jumped from his spot. “I’m going to grab some water from the fridge. Anyone?”

He quickly disappeared into the next room before anyone could even answer.

“You just gave Peeta a boner,” Delly cackled from her seat on the carpet. “Why aren’t you dating?”

“Because—” Katniss searched for a reason, finding herself unable to answer. “—let me check on him.”

She found him bent in front of the fridge.

He pulled back sans water and turned just as she stepped in.

“We ran out of water.” Peeta met her eyes fully, watching as she approached. “I didn’t mean to run off—”

“Peeta, what turns you on?” she found herself asking.

Katniss stopped in front of him and her gaze took her friend in—swept-back blond waves, a firm jaw, and blue eyes…hazed with arousal. They never really talked about the fact that they had admitted to their friends that they were curious about fucking one another.

To be entirely truthful, the voice in her ear, the one that spoke such deliciously sinful things—was Peeta’s voice.

She didn’t know when the mystery man had morphed into her best friend, but sometimes the image of him—in his usual uniform of a pair of jeans, a tee, and an apron—would cause a heat that threatened to burn her to the very core.

However, this precipice between friendship and whatever it was, scared her.

So, Katniss held back.

Peeta shook his head. “It’s kind of stupid.”

“I just told everyone that a mystery voice gets me wet with talk of double penetration.”

He laughed roughly. “That is true.”

Meeting her eyes, Peeta leaned back against the door of the fridge.

“I like sex in different places…the element of danger…of being caught.” His golden complexion tinged with pink. “It’s a major turn-on.”

She nodded, toeing in closer to him. “Have you ever—"

“No, just fantasies,” Peeta said. “Compared to the rest of our friends, I’m pretty daisy fresh.”

“Tell me the last place that you’ve fantasized having sex in,” Katniss said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he replied, his hand reaching to cup her cheek.

His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth and she resisted the urge to take it into her mouth to taste.

“The bakery.” His gaze fell to her lips. “Specifically, against one of the ovens as it’s warming up and y—whoever and I just get so caught up in the smell of sugar…of rye…and one another that we don’t know where the heat is rising from—”

Katniss suddenly straightened. “Ohmigod…the bakery.”

“What?”

“The bakery,” she repeated.

His eyes widened in realization. “The bakery.”

END OF PART ONE

This will be multiple parts, not sure how many though.

Yes, before you ask, this is loosely based on Zack and Miri Make a Porno which I think is a hilarious movie with some great music.

Speaking of music, the title comes from Live’s ‘Hold Me Up’, which was used in the soundtrack of Zack and Miri. It also plays during a pivotal scene.

Other music used: ‘The Sign’-Ace of Base

I hope you’re enjoying it so far—as if now, I have just completed the second part.

Thanks for reading!

-JLaLa

would you have me, would you want me?

Part I

Castiel wipes his sweaty hands on his slacks. 

He tugs at the tie strangling him, and runs a hand through his hair. He grimaces. So much for all the preparation he put into his appearance in front of the mirror twenty minutes ago.

He inhales a deep breath and steps inside his high school for the first time in ten years.

The fluorescent lighting doesn’t do the old halls any favors, and the entryway, at least, smells violently of lemon-scented cleaner. There have been a few pathetic attempts at livening up the stubbornly beige walls - colorful signs mark the way to the gym, like Castiel would ever forget even after ten years.

It’s strange to see the place so empty.

“Hello!” Becky, their alumni representative, waves him over to a table just inside the entryway. It’s completely cluttered with bits of paper and blank name tags. “Are you here for the reunion?”

Castiel coughs. “Yes.”

“So glad to have you here,” Becky says as Castiel drags his feet closer. “Name?”

“Castiel Novak?”

“Oh!” Becky says, her eyes widening. “I hardly recognized you without the books, and the coat, and the...” she gestures vaguely to her own face, which Castiel takes to mean the semi-permanent scowl he wore all throughout high school. Before Castiel can react, she ducks her head and drags her finger down a clipboard. “Alright, Castiel, I’ll mark you down as present. Fill out a name tag if you want, and here are your tickets for your two drinks. Would you like to enter the fundraising raffle? We’re hoping to send the volleyball team to nationals this year.”

Castiel quails under Becky’s doe eyes and forks over ten dollars for the raffle. He also writes out a name tag, since his classmates might have the same reaction as Becky.

Armed with his name tag and drinks tickets, he follows the signs to the gym.

* * *

Cas wipes his sweaty hands on his slacks.

He shouldn’t have agreed to this. He doesn’t go to parties. He is not a partier. The closest he’s ever come to one was after his brother’s graduation, but that was eleven years ago. Cas was seven.

Cas successfully avoided all high school parties for the past three and a half years, but apparently nothing lasts forever.

Biting his lip, he presses down hard on Tessa’s doorbell. 

The door opens, and Cas barely has enough time to school his face into a less terrified expression before Tessa appears. “You’re not the pizza man,” she says, frowning.

Cas blinks at her. “I... sorry?” He offers the wine Uncle Marv gifted his parents, the one Cas’s mother promised never to drink in a million years.

Tessa’s face brightens as she takes it from him. “Who invited you?”

“Dean - Dean Winchester,” Cas says, like there could be any other Dean that mattered at Edlund High.

Tessa opens the door wider, calling over her shoulder, “Dean!”

Cas steps inside without waiting for Dean to rescue him. Dean is probably too occupied to see him inside - or so Cas assumes. He’s never been to a party like this before, but even the senior year loner hears about the types of things Dean gets up to at events like these. 

Cas follows Tessa past a flight of roped-off stairs further into the house. The noise and the people hit him full force in a dimly lit living room. Music blasts from speakers connected to a massive entertainment center. The whole area is jam-packed with teenagers and smells strongly of beer and hormones. Cas scans the crowd, recognizing more faces than not, to his relief. 

“Kitchen’s that way,” Tessa says loudly, pointing to a door, bright light spilling from beyond. “If you want to get a drink, be my guest.” She shoulders past a group of girls from Cas’s homeroom and disappears from sight.

Cas heads for the kitchen. Maybe he can clear his head there and come up with a plan. Or maybe he can get drunk enough not to care about all the bad decisions that led him here.

* * *

Castiel turns at the sound of his name.

He spins around in place, searching the faces in the gym for one he recognizes.

“Cas, you made it!”

Castiel stumbles as Charlie’s arms wrap around him. “I didn’t think you’d come,” she says as she steps away, a broad grin stretching across her face.

“I live in the next school district over. I’m sure people traveled farther than that.”

“Yeah, but,” Charlie says awkwardly, “I know high school wasn’t the best time for you.”

Castiel’s mouth twitches. “Only the last few months of senior year. The rest went well enough.” He scans the gym before meeting Charlie’s knowing gaze. 

Charlie winks at him. It’s not like she couldn’t put the pieces together herself. Most of their points of conversation revolve around a shared high school experience, so naturally Dean comes up once or twice (or a dozen times) during their sporadic get togethers.

It was even nice, sometimes, since Charlie is the only person from his teenage years he sees anymore. 

“I know what you’re talking about,” Charlie says with a shudder. “I got bangs for senior year. Bangs.”

Castiel smiles weakly. “You could have made worse decisions.”

"If we’re going to talk about how dumb we were as teenagers, then I’m going to need another drink,” Charlie says as they make their way to the makeshift bar. “Don’t worry,” she says in an undertone, “He’s not here yet.”

“He’s coming?”

Charlie throws him a look. “Dude, he’s the newest hire in the English department. There’s no way he got out of attending his own reunion.”

Castiel absentmindedly nods along as he looks around. There’s a slideshow projecting onto a far wall, showing candid shots from ten years ago. About fifty people mill around the gym, chatting in little groups, nobody Castiel recognizes. More than a few people huddle over their own on their phones, ignoring everyone else.

He asks, “Is this typically what happens at these things?”

“How should I know?” Charlie says as they get in line. “This is my first reunion too.”

Castiel turns to her. “You didn’t go to our five year?”

Charlie wrinkles her nose. “I was kind of in hot water for hacking into NORAD so I laid low in Norway until everything died down.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Why would a tech consultant for Roman Enterprises hack into NORAD?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Charlie shoots back.

Castiel has no retort prepared, so he steps up to trade his ticket for a glass of cheap wine. “How is Dorothy doing?”

“She’s good. Away at a meteorology conference, but those’re the hazards of dating a nerd.” Charlie exhales a long-suffering sigh, watching with mild interest as the bartender pours out Castiel’s glass.

Castiel snorts. “I wouldn’t know.”

Charlie elbows him playfully in the side. “’Course you don’t. You always liked them dumber, didn’t you?”

“Dean wasn’t dumb.”

Charlie cackles as she hands over her own ticket to the bartender. “I didn’t say anyone’s name.”

* * *

Cas turns at the sound of his name. 

“Dean?” he answers.

Tessa’s kitchen is only slightly quieter than the living room, but not much. There are fewer people here, though, which leaves Cas some breathing room. 

Dean strides up to him, a red cup of something in his hand and a grin on his face. Party-goer Dean doesn’t look any different than Student Dean, clad in worn jeans and his favorite Led Zeppelin short sleeved shirt. “Hey, man. I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Of course,” Cas says, clutching his own drink tightly. “You invited me.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, his gaze skittering away, “this isn’t your usual scene, though.”

“I can try new things.” Cas takes a sip of his punch and makes a face at the overwhelmingly sweet taste. “It is our senior year, so I thought it might be time.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean says with a laugh, “as long as it got you out of the library.”

Cas’s frown deepens. “What’s wrong with the library?”

“Nothing,” Dean says, eyes widening. He raises his free hand, palm out, in a gesture of no-harm. “It’s just not the sort of place you’d go for a good time, you know what I mean?”

Cas’s eyes narrow. “I’ve had plenty of good times in the library.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Not the kind I was talking about, Cas.”

Cas hasn’t ever gotten blown in the book stacks of the library like some pornography had indicated was possible, but he won’t call his time spent there a total waste. He says, “If it hadn’t been for our enjoyable tutoring sessions in the library, I wouldn’t be here.”

Dean beams at him. “Yeah, I’m kind of sorry they’re over, but I guess our grades don’t matter any more.”

“What?” Cas blinks at him. “Our grades matter.”

“Dude, it’s April.”

“Colleges can still rescind acceptance letters.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Come on, you nerd,” he grabs Cas by the hand. “We can’t block the line to the booze or Tessa'll murder me.”

Cas lets himself get led back out into the living room, a bemused expression on his face. The music and the chatter of a dozen different conversations hit him like a palpable slap to the face.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks loudly, as he throws back the rest of his cup of punch. It is much more tolerable in larger, quicker doses.

Dean glances around before leaning closer so Cas could hear him. “Whatever you want.”

Cas shivers as Dean’s breath ghosts over his ear and down his neck.

“We got the dancers, the stoners, the wallflowers,” Dean points each out, “the horndogs...”

Cas tears his gaze away from Charlie and Gilda, entwined on the couch. “Where do you fall?”

“Me?” Dean asks, surprised. He holds up his drink, a smile playing around his lips. “It’s a little early to tell. This is only my third one. Speaking of,” he takes Cas’s drink and drains it, “We should get you another one. You’re barely caught up to me.”

Cas dumbly takes his cup back. If he refills this cup, his lips might touch the same surface Dean’s had. The ghost of a kiss.

It was a technique old Hollywood films used to indicate romantic attraction, since kissing on-screen was heavily restricted. Characters would share cigarettes, food, and drinks instead of touching, especially if the relationship was taboo and wouldn’t pass the censors.

Cas stares up at Dean, uncomprehending.

“Come on, man,” Dean says as he nudges Cas back towards the kitchen. “Before all the good booze is gone.”

* * *

Castiel chokes on his drink.

Charlie gives him a few hard whacks on the back, giggling under her breath. “I know Dean’s hot and all, but that doesn’t mean you have to do a spit take when you see him.”

“I was surprised,” Castiel says defensively as he desperately tries to regain his composure.

“Uh huh.” Charlie smirks, eyebrows waggling. “Want me to call him over? I don’t think he’s spotted us yet.”

Castiel swallows down the rising tide of panic in the back of his throat. For God’s sake, he’s nearly thirty years old. He can’t go to pieces over Dean Winchester, not again. 

It’s just been a while. He hasn’t had a boyfriend in several years. All his friends, Charlie included, are taken or aromantic, and lately Castiel’s been feeling like the odd bachelor out.

Dean probably isn’t all Castiel has been building up in his head. It’s been ten years, after all. Dean must have changed.

Castiel certainly has. He’s no longer the loner who filled his life with facts and grades instead of friends. Well, he still has school, but at least this time around he’s the one grading tests instead of being graded.

But it’s Dean. The one who got away - or ran away, in Dean’s case.

Charlie waves and calls Dean’s name, and, before Castiel can wrap his head around what’s happening, Dean is in front of them, in all his glory. Ten years older, but no less handsome. He still has those barely-there freckles splattered across his cheeks.

“So how’ve you been?” Dean asks Charlie.

“Can’t complain.” Charlie shakes her head. “I got a new haircut.”

“The bob suits you, Red,” Dean says, grinning as he reaches out to ruffle it.

Charlie dodges, one finger in his face in warning. “You touch it and you die, Handmaiden. It doesn’t look this natural naturally.”

“Fair,” Dean says, hands in the air.

Castiel watches them both, a sinking feeling in his gut. He’s been here before, watching from the sidelines as Dean joked and teased his friends. In the same room but also miles away.

He shouldn’t have expected any different.

Ten years, and nothing has changed.

But then Charlie punches Dean in the arm, throwing a significant look at Castiel, and Castiel’s mood sinks lower. He doesn’t need Charlie to make Dean pay attention to him; that wasn’t the point of coming here tonight.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says quietly.

Castiel clears his throat. “Hello, Dean.”

Onto Part II

Pastel Mafia

@quagmireisadora finished Chapter 2 - FINALLY! TT ^ TT

CHAPTER 1: A ROUGH DAY

CHAPTER 2: WHEN THE GOING GETS ROUGH

Kibum sighed as he entered his apartment. Leaning against the door as he took off his shoes. He glanced at the microwave clock he could see from where he stood: 2:18 am. He's got maybe three hours before he has to get up for his part-time job at Albert's, a fancy bakery in the upper east side, at the opposite end of town. He would love nothing better than to sleep in tomorrow, but Albert's paid the best out of all his part-time jobs, and he got tips. 

Right now, he needed all the tips and extra hours he can get. His last roommate had bailed on him, leaving him with an entire two-bedroom apartment to pay. He had begged his landlord to let him pay for his half of the apartment and will get him the rest later.

Kibum remembered the call from St. John's collection department, he still owed them a portion of last month's installment. His fist clenched at the embarrassment of admitting to a total stranger he didn't even have five dollars to his name. His last one disappeared when he lost his wallet.

Kibum trudged to the tiny kitchen and pulled out the leftover Chinese from his bag, thankful that the shift manager had let him take home whatever portions were left. He popped the take out carton into the microwave and looked around his apartment, with its peeling paint and cold air - he had barely turned on the heater since winter began. He was sleeping with thick clothes on, the thermostat just above '5' at the dial. 

Kibum's eyes landed on the syllabus stuck to the fridge. The tears exhaustion couldn't squeeze from him poured at the thought that he will have to stop school. 

 God, he was tired. 

 So tired - but life didn't care. 

 Kibum wiped his cheeks. Squaring his shoulders as he pulled the warmed up Chinese and dug in. No use in indulging his tears. He didn't have enough food to drown his feelings.

  - O -  

 "Carlos Amarillo at 57, was confirmed to have passed away by his son, Gian Amarillo today. No details were given to what caused the business tycoon's sudden death. Amarillo, who was the head of the Amarillo Group conglomerate, was a noted businessman and humanitarian in the area -," Jinki tuned out the late night news, lips tightening at the praises. 

 "What a bunch of hypocrites," Taemin sneered at the TV. "Not a month ago, they wanted Amarillo's head for Hawthorne Bridge!"

 "Had they pushed a little further, they would've found proof of involvement," Minho interjected. 

 "They would have gotten paid off or threatened," Jinki said, reviewing the report on the shipment of electronics that arrived yesterday. "Or found their contact dead."

 "True," Minho agreed, swirling the scotch he had been nursing since the news started. "What do you think Junior will do?"

 Jinki leaned back, loosening his tie. He'd never worked with Gian before. All he knew about the new head of the Amarillo was that he was in the business, and he was ambitious.

 "I heard Gian was banished from the main family for running that side deal with Salazar," Jinki said, referring to a semi-prominent Mexican cartel. "So, I'm not sure if he's going to declare war or be open for business."

 "My money is on declaring war," Taemin said, slurping an oyster. "If he wants to gain the respect of his father's men, he'll be doing just that. I mean, you did when you took over the business."

 "Yeah, but Gian has a hater with his father's numero uno," Minho said, leaning over Taemin's oyster bucket to reach for the charcuterie board. "Rumor has it Vincenzo Benotti might be the old Amarillo's love child."

 "Really?" Jinki asked Minho. "I've never heard of this."

 "I'm not surprised," Minho shrugged before popping a cracker piled with pate and cheese into his mouth. "It's parlour game rumours; some drunken Amarillo lackey may have blabbed over drinks or said out of spite. You know how it is."

 Jinki turned to his computer and pulled up the file on Carlos Amarillo. Under the 'Known Associates' directory, was a picture of Vincenzo. The man had black hair and brown eyes. Just like Amarillo Sr. Being Italian that didn't mean anything. But something about the slant of the man's jaw reminded Jinki of Carlos. 

 "Minho, investigate Vincenzo," Jinki ordered. "I want to know everything. What town his ancestors were from to the brand of their favourite red wine."

 Jinki wasn't sure if he was seeing things, but it was worth investigating. Lovechild or not, Vincenzo might be vying for the top seat. Gian Amarillo could need some help with ensuring his position in the organization. His deal with Carlos Amarillo may not be as dead as he thought it was. On life support, but it looked like it could be revived. 

 He just needed to convince either Vincenzo or Gian that he would make a good ally despite the little fiasco last week. What're a few bullets between business partners? In their world, it was practically considered a nicety. 

 "By the way," Jinki suddenly remembered his pet project. "What do we have on the guy who saved my ass last week?"

- O -

 Albert's was, as usual, teeming with yuppies, grabbing their trendy breakfast before heading off to work. Kibum rang up orders as fast as he could, but his mind still on the unpaid bills he needed to take care of. Kibum glanced down the line, trying to determine how much longer the rush was going to last. With detachment, he noted the quality of apparel Albert's clientele sported and envied the financial security, all of them exuded. 

 "A croissant and a large of your medium roast, please," a woman with flawless makeup and Gucci bag said, barely looking him in the face as she pulled out a Valentino wallet. Kibum punched the order in; $15.08 for Anna. A breakfast for Anna was Kibum's meal budget for 3-days, courtesy of his employee rate at the Dong Fan Chinese restaurant.

 "An espresso please and the fruit and protein box," man in gleaming Rolex and Balenciaga briefcase ordered. His suit was probably Italian, ranging around $5,000.00 to $8,000.00, depending on the make—the leather briefcase around $2,000.00. The Rolex was at least $3,000.00. The guy's entire ensemble would have more than paid off his grandmother's hospital bill. 

 Sir, would you mind pawning me your Rolex so that I can get the hospital off my back? Kibum silently asked the yuppie who didn't bother leaving a tip. 

 "The yogurt parfait and medium-light roast, please," a red-head regular asked. The diamond engagement ring on her finger was so big; it was at least 2 carats with a platinum band encrusted with tiny diamonds. Kibum's entire year of schooling was sitting on that woman's ring finger. 

 Would you mind lending me your ring so I can enroll? Kibum asked the woman in his head as he flashed his practiced smile when she dropped a toonie in the tip jar. I would like to make more of my life than bussing tables and waiting on people. Please. 

 The next customer was dressed in a simple navy blue pinstripe suit. One could say the man didn't belong in the "fashionable" line. Working at Albert's for the past three years had taught Kibum how to size people at a glance. Gauging where they belong in the socio-economic ladder had become his weird expertise. Though the outfit was simple, borderline plain, the perfect fit of the shoulders and elegant drop of the knife-edge crease of the pants said tailored. The understated silver - most likely platinum - watch and leather loafers screamed old money.  

 "The blueberry muffin and a tall medium roast, please," the man said, handing Kibum a fifty dollar bill. 

 Kibum barely stopped an eye-roll. C'mon, dude, it's barely 8 am. Have a little sense, and don't drop a bill so large so early in the morning. "Sir, do you have a smaller bill?"

 "No change?" the man asked an eyebrow raised. 

 "Unfortunately," Kibum said with a fake apologetic smile. 

 "Keep the change then."

 "Sir, your total is $12.30," Kibum exclaimed. 

 "I don't have a smaller bill," the man said as he placed the bill on the counter and walked away.

 "Sir -," Kibum called out, but the next customer stepped in front of him. 

 Kibum punched the payment on auto-pilot and dropped the change in the tip jar, almost feeling nauseous. That was hella over the top, and somehow assholish in its extravagance. But he was thankful for the extra cash he was going to get. 

 After his shift at Albert's, Kibum rushed to the bus stop for his afternoon shift at Dong Fan. The bus was pulling away from the curb when he arrived. Kibum gritted his teeth against the frustration surging through him. He was going to be late for his shift and that meant income loss. 

 Kibum took a deep breath to stifle the string of curses rising from his chest. He took out his phone to call the restaurant but noticed he had an email from St. John's. He was tempted to ignore it but tapped on the icon anyways. 

 Kibum blinked at the message. He scrolled up again to check the sender. Yeah, there it was, St. Johns Hospital. But something was wrong because the email contained a receipt for the amount he owed the hospital.

 Confused, Kibum clicked on the phone number in the signature, brow furrowing as the call went through. After being transferred to accounting he asked about the status of his account. 

 "Your account is up to date."

 "Excuse me?"

 "Your balance was paid for in full yesterday."

 "By whom?" Kibum asked still in disbelief, afraid to believe. "I didn't make the payment," Kibum said. "No one else would make the payment."

 "Payment came in electronically from Jjinggu LLC," the agent answered. "It could be one of those angel-sponsors."

 "What's an angel-sponsor?"

 "They're anonymous individuals or organizations who will settle random accounts as part of their charity work."

 "And you don't know their names at all?"

 "No, I'm sorry. Payors are not required to identify themselves."

 "Ok... but you're sure, they made the payment against my account?"

 "Yes, sir," Kibum heard the operator's smile. "I'm one hundred percent sure, Mr. Kim." 

 "OK," Kibum whispered. "Thanks."

 "Was there anything else I can help you with?"

 "No, that's it."

 Kibum disconnected the call, reeling from the relief. Tears pricked his eyes as the weight of the debt lifted off of his chest. Kibum cupped his hands over his phone, holding it against his forehead. 

 "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," Kibum chanted in whispers, collapsing on the bus stop bench, trying to contain the tremors running through his body. Glad for a very long time he was alone. 

Rainboots

Summary: "First, there was never any proof that was even me, and secondly, I have a hatchback, Virgil, obviously any hypothetical opossums in cages would be stored in the back rather than on my leather seats." 

"I was literally sitting beside you when Remus asked you to help and you said yes-" --- It's pouring when they leave the movies, Remus does his best to get them all banned from the theatre, Virgil's ride canceled on him, and only three of them are wearing rain boots.

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Gen

Characters: Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sleep | Remy Sanders

Tags: Friendship, Teenagers, Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, Remus' brand of humor, Anxiety, Angst, very small angst where Virgil is having negative thoughts, But Nothing Too Bad

Words: 3410

Read on AO3!

---

As the end credits rolled and the lights of the theater brightened to allow guests to leave, the sudden lack of theatrical music revealed another sound.

"Is that rain?" Virgil asked, leaning forward in his seat to look at the others.

Remus was already out of his seat and hurriedly making his way...up? the theatre steps, rather than heading for the exit. Roman didn't appear to be paying attention at all, seemingly trying to reach down the back of his shirt for something while Logan checked his phone for missed notifications. Janus gave Virgil a dry look. "No, that's not rain at all. It totally sounded like that before the movie started."

As if punctuating his words, a rumble of thunder shook the building.

Patton hopped to his feet and dug around in his drawstring bag for a bit before emerging with a collapsible, lime-green umbrella clasped in his hand. "I hope everyone came prepared! I wouldn't want the weather to dampen the mood!"

Virgil completely missed the pun, because he, in fact, did not come prepared and was already dreading getting his clothes soaked. Janus at least remarked, "I'm not sharing my umbrella."

"Nor am I," Logan agreed, standing up as he put his phone away. "I told everyone in the group text earlier today to bring adequate rain gear, so no one is going to be able to use the excuse that they 'didn't know'."

Virgil sighed as he stood with the others and they began shimmying down the aisle towards the stairs. "Yeah, well, I kinda ducked out of the group text after Remus started threatening spoilers for the movie."

Speaking of. "HEY! Hey, guys, look!"

Virgil already felt a wave of mortification sweeping over him as not only their group but everyone else still in the theatre turned towards the projection booth at the top of the stairs. Remus was using his hands to make shadow puppets of dicks in front of the light coming from the projector.

"Oh my god," Virgil choked out, suddenly wishing the ground would swallow him up. Janus and Logan both wore unimpressed looks as Patton chuckled nervously and called back up to Remus. "Hey kiddo, maybe come back down? We don't want the movie theatre employees to ban you again."

"Patton, stop acting like we know him!" Virgil hissed. "Everyone's looking at us!"

"Normally I'd relish the attention," Roman spoke up as he finally stood, still shifting his shirt and jacket in an odd fashion, "but I have to agree with the Dark Knight on this one, padre. I'd rather we all not get banned because of my brother."

"Glad to see the everlasting, unbreakable bond of blood between brothers is still as strong as ever," Janus said.

Logan pushed his glasses up on his nose, raising an eyebrow at the tamer twin. "Roman, what are you doing?"

Roman's reply was cut off as Remus made a mad, cackling dash back down the stairs through the last of the people leaving the theatre as employees appeared from behind the projection booth door.

"We should leave quickly," Logan said. He was checking his phone again. "I'm getting flash flood warnings for our area."

Virgil groaned. "As if Remy's driving wasn't bad enough."

They all shared a wince. No one carpooled with Virgil twice after riding with Remy in the driver seat.

The remaining five - since Remus was no longer in sight - began making their way down the stairs. Roman lagged behind after every few steps, still tugging at his shirt behind his back. After reaching the bottom and glancing back to see the twin still struggling on the stairs halfway up, Patton finally asked, "Do you need help, bud?"

Roman huffed frustratedly. "Remus kept putting candy down the back of my shirt during the movie. I got the Twizzlers out, but I'm pretty sure he also dropped some Reese's Pieces down my collar. I think they're stuck to my back from sitting between me and the seat cushion."

"Oh, so that's what he was doing," Janus said. "I was wondering why he was moving around so much."

"Aw, what a waste of candy," Patton pouted.

"Dude, just go in the bathroom and take your shirt off to check," Virgil said.

"Yes, please do that," Janus agreed, eyeing Roman warily all of a sudden. "If you're going to be riding in my car there will be no melted candy left behind in the seats."

Roman sighed but finally stopped pulling at his shirt and jacket to follow them the rest of the way out. As they neared the bathrooms, Logan asked, "Why didn't you just stop him from doing it?"

The twin scoffed. "Uh, have you met my brother? It's Remus, you can't tell him to do anything, and it would've been exactly what he wanted: me making a scene in a dark theater. Besides, I got some revenge by shoving SourPatch Kids down his shirt, too." The last bit was said with a bit of pride.

Janus groaned dramatically as Roman left them outside the bathrooms. "Great, two people littering candy in my car." He sighed as he made his way to the benches against the wall opposite of the bathrooms and sat down, pulling his yellow, faux snake skin-patterned backpack into his lap and opening it.

Patton took a seat beside Janus and Virgil sat on Patton's other side, slouching down with his hands shoved in his pockets. Virgil said, "I know for a fact that you helped Remus smuggle possums into the guys gym at school two months ago using your car to back up to the back entrance. Yet you're worried about a few pieces of candy?"

Janus rolled his eyes as he pulled off his left shoe. "First, there was never any proof that was even me, and secondly, I have a hatchback, Virgil, obviously any hypothetical opossums in cages would be stored in the back rather than on my leather seats."

"I was literally sitting beside you when Remus asked you to help and you said yes-" Virgil started to argue, but Patton cut him off quickly, desperate to avoid the argument that was sure to start. "Janus, you brought rainboots, too?"

The teen in question had pulled two shiny yellow rainboots out of his backpack and already had one on. "Of course I did. My regular shoes are too nice to get wet. Plus, these keep water from getting on the cuff of my pants."

Logan was looking at the garishly yellow backpack somewhat dubiously. "How did you even fit those in there? You snuck in all the drinks in that bag."

"Please, I'm a very efficient packer. Carrying five bottles of soda in just because you all are too cheap to buy from the concession here was child's play, even with my boots."

"I wore my boots, too!" Patton excitedly stuck his feet out, proudly showing off his cat-patterned rainboots. "Why didn't you wear yours in? They're so cute!"

"What if it hadn't rained?" Janus asked as he packed away the shoes he'd originally been wearing, now sporting his yellow rainboots. "I would've looked like a fool."

Logan said, "There was a ninety percent chance of rain."

"Still didn't want to risk it."

"Risk what?" Roman interrupted, finally leaving the bathroom.

Virgil stood up, looking at his phone. "Janus ruining his hypothetical reputation."

The hoodie-clad teen missed the impressive glare Janus shot his way. "Excuse you-"

"Guys, where's Remus?" Roman once again interrupted (to the relief of Patton and Logan).

"I think he's outside," Logan said, pulling out his collapsible, navy blue umbrella. "He's probably waiting on us."

He was right. Sort of. Outside the rain was pouring down hard enough that a mist was being swept under the overhang of the theatre by the wind. The parking lot was visibly flooded with only a few cars left in sight. They found Remus using a sharpie to draw on one of the encased movie posters placed outside the building. "You guys are slower than corpses. I've already drawn on Shia LaBeouf's movie poster over there and remade it into a masterpiece. Want to see?"

Everyone was thankfully saved from answering by Virgil's strangled noise of frustration. "Guys, I have a problem."

As Patton held a hand out for the sharpie (which Remus turned over with only a slight pout), he asked, "What's wrong, kiddo?"

"Remy just said he can't pick me up. He thinks the tread on his tires wouldn't stand up against this much rain and he's worried we'd hydroplane."

Well, what Remy actually said was this:

Sleepy bastard: hey V, sorry but I can't pick u up tonite. it's raining 2 hard *sad face emoji*

Virgil: seriously? how am I supposed to get home?

Sleepy bastard: gee, idk, ask ur friends? call an uber? hey, I'll even pay for it bc this is kinda my fault

Virgil: what

Sleepy bastard: I keep forgetting 2 go get new tires and I'm afraid the tread wouldn't get any good traction with it raining this bad. can you imagine getting out in this like that, with MY driving? *horrified face emoji* one of ur friends is some rich kid, right? i bet he can afford tires, probably the BEST tires *several dollar sign emojis*

Virgil: oh my god

Virgil: youre my cousin and youre literally leaving me out in the cold

Sleepy bastard: gee, babe, it's almost like that driver's test u refuse 2 take might actually be worth taking now, huh?

Sleepy bastard: ok srry that was a low blow. but rlly i think u should try 2 get a ride with ur friend. not kidding about my tires being shit. college is sucking my bank account dry and i don't want 2 add a car repair bill, or worse, a hospital bill

Virgil: ...fine

Sleepy bastard: cool cool, I'll leave the lights on for u. lmk if u decide to spend the night at a friends house instead

Virgil almost would've laughed at that if he wasn't currently wondering how he was going to get home, because spending the night at one of his friends' houses, unexpected and uninvited? Yeah, right, like he'd do that. He needed at least two days' notice in order to psych himself up into talking to anyone else's parents, let alone inviting himself to their house unexpectedly.

Thankfully, he didn't have any reservations about asking his friends for a ride. "I need a ride. Can I go with one of you guys?"

The rest of the group shared a glance. Janus spoke up. "Well, technically I was driving everyone home... Roman and Remus were dropped off and Logan rode with me here from school since we had a debate team meeting after school. Patton had a GSA club meeting after school so he rode with me, too. My car only holds five people."

Virgil felt the first stirrings of panic winding up in his chest - he's such an inconvenience, if only he could make himself take the stupid driving test without freezing up - only for the fear to die as Remus suddenly scoffed. "Of course you can fit more than five people in that fancy car of yours, Dee, you're just not trying hard enough."

"Remus, you're not riding on the roof of the car again. We saw what happened last time," Logan said in a somewhat exasperated tone.

Patton paled. "Again?"

Roman waved off the cat-loving teen, unfazed. "Trust me, you didn't miss much. They were going so fast I didn't even get a good video out of it."

Patton made a choking noise, looking increasingly more worried. "Guys-"

Remus giggled, slapping a hand down on Patton's shoulder. "Don't worry, Dad, I was so pumped full of adrenaline I didn't even feel anything when I landed."

"You're going to give him a stroke," Virgil muttered, eyeing the increasingly paler Patton warily.

"The point is..." Remus cut in, "if the back cargo space is good enough for my opossum friends, then it's good enough for me. Problem solved."

"Hypothetical opossum friends," Janus hurriedly corrected. "But sure, we can try it."

"Cool, great, quick question though-" Roman said, staring out at the flooding parking lot. "Why the hell did you park so far away?"

All eyes turned to squint out through the virtual monsoon that was coming down. At the farthest end of the darkened lot sat golden Chevy Bolt, illuminated by the weak beam of a parking lot light pole.

"So people wouldn't park near me and risk scratching my car, obviously," Janus said, completely unbothered by the fact that his car was at least a good fifty yards away. "Unlike some people, I brought an umbrella and appropriate footwear. I can just pull back around and pick you all up so you don't drip in my car."

Completely disregarding his words, Remus suddenly shouted, "First loser to the car gets shotgun!", before taking off headlong into the pouring rain. Not to be outdone by his brother, Roman cursed before running after him, yelling, "NOT FAIR!"

The remaining four watched with varying reactions of dismay, amusement, and confusion.

"...Wouldn't the loser be the last one to the car? And I thought Remus was going to ride in the back...?" Logan asked.

Janus hummed. "He is. I'm pretty sure he just wanted to get wet."

Virgil once again regretted his life choices, looking down at his worn-out converses and tattered jeans. "This is gonna suck so bad. I'm going to be soaked the second I step out there."

"I don't know," Patton said with a smile, still watching Remus and Roman chase each other in the rain. "It looks kinda fun to me."

"Oh, please," Janus started, shooting a wide-eyed look at Patton, "don't tell me you're actually thinking about-"

The glasses-wearing teen shot Janus a bright smile. "Pleeeeease?"

The blonde teen stared hard at Patton, trying to resist. After a few moments, Janus finally crumbled with a put-out sigh and roll of his mismatched eyes. "Fine, go for it. Seems like everyone is out to ruin my car's interior tonight, you might as well join in."

With a gasp of delight, Patton leaped forward and put his arms around the shorter teen, exclaiming, "Thanks, Janus!"

Looking a bit like an indignant cat that didn't want to be held, Janus awkwardly patted his back. "Sure. Whatever."

Virgil was snickering to himself at the look on Janus' face, only to be startled out of it by Patton shoving his collapsible umbrella into his hands. "Here, Virge, you can have my umbrella since I won't be using it now!"

Then the cat-loving teen was laughing as he dashed out into the rain, ignoring Logan's call of, "Be careful!"

The last three friends watched as the others gleefully ran about the parking lot. Roman reached the car before his brother, but Remus just jumped on his twins' back and held on, making Roman shriek indignantly and stagger as he tried to adjust to the new weight. Patton was finding the deepest puddles of the parking lot and jumping in each one with giant splashes, his laughter echoing across the parking lot even in the rain.

Janus sighed once again and pulled out his umbrella. "Well, I suppose it was about time I had my car detailed anyways."

As Logan opened his own navy umbrella, he said, "I suggest we walk at a slower pace than the others to the car. Not only could we slip if we ran, but running in the rain causes you to get even wetter than if you walk because more droplets are hitting you as you increase speed."

Virgil hummed, taking note for the next time he had to go between classes when it was raining and opened the bright green umbrella Patton had lent to him. It popped open to reveal two eyes and a mouth resembling a frog's face on the green fabric. Cute, he thought to himself (but didn't dare say out loud; he had an aesthetic to maintain). Mumbling, he shot a "thanksforlettingmeridewithyou" in Janus' direction.

The blonde teen's mismatched eyes lit up and he grinned. "What was that, Virgil? I don't think I heard you. Speak up a little bit."

The hoodie-clad teen huffed. "You heard me, I'm not saying it again."

"Hm, rude."

All three of them stepped out into the downpour and began making their way through the flooded areas of the parking lot. Virgil's shoes were soaked in virtually seconds, but at least his hair and eyeshadow was dry. Patton had nearly made it to the car at this point as Remus chased Roman around the vehicle, going in circles while shouting at each other.

Janus twirled the keys in his hand but made no move to unlock the doors until he was standing at the driver's side door. Patton moved to get in the door behind the driver's seat. He was soaked to the bone and grinning as Virgil came to stand next to him and shared the umbrella with him (even though it wouldn't do much good at that point). Roman, thinking Janus was about to unlock the door, stopped running to stand and wait at the passenger seat door. "HA! I call shotgun."

Stopping turned out to be a mistake. Remus, still thoroughly engrossed in the chase, tackled his brother right into the wet asphalt with a triumphant cry. Logan deftly stepped in to take Roman's former spot and it was only then that Janus unlocked the car.

Everyone sans Roman and Remus quickly piled into the luxury hatchback that no high schooler had any right to be driving. As Janus cranked up the heat to full blast, a soaking wet Roman swung open the door to the backseat and dove into the last open spot behind Logan, grumbling. "Seriously, Remus, why? You just succeeded in getting us both completely wet. This jacket is probably ruined now, thanks to you."

Remus, who was already crawling into the cargo space behind the back seats via the back hatch, blew a raspberry. "Just get it dry-cleaned, you baby. Besides, some of us like getting wet, if you know what I mean." The comment was collectively ignored.

"I can already tell there's going to be scuff marks from the pavement," Roman said as he examined the fabric. "I hope those Sour Patch Kids I put down your shirt melted to your clothes when you got us both wet."

"Oh, I already ate those."

There were more than a few disgusted faces in the car at that particular statement. Roman looked horrified. "That's so disgusting- How are we even related?"

A question everyone had heard numerous times...

"The car isn't moving till everyone is wearing their seatbelt," Janus stated, sternly eyeing the backseat passengers in the rearview mirror. He and Logan were both already buckled.

Virgil scooted over a bit for Patton, who had taken the middle seat between Virgil and Roman, to reach his buckle. "But Remus doesn't have a seatbelt."

"Remus doesn't count," Janus said.

"Yeah, emo," Remus leaned forward to poke Virgil in the neck. "God herself couldn't kill me."

Virgil gave a full-body shudder at the poke - Remus' fingers were freezing - and leaned forward to get away from the offending hand. "I swear to god, Rem, if you keep that up-"

Patton paused in trying to wipe away at the water obscuring his glasses and turned in his seat, squinting. "Now kiddos, play nice-"

Roman snorted. "I don't think my brother even knows how to 'play nice'."

Remus jabbed freezing fingers into Roman's unprotected neck in gleeful retaliation.

Tuning out the less mature back seat passengers and setting the windshield wipers at full blast, Janus shifted into drive and began to slowly pull out of the nearly empty parking lot. Logan studied him out of the corner of his eye for a few moments before saying, "I would think you'd be more upset at the amount of water we tracked into your car, Remus and Roman especially."

Janus shot Logan a mischievous grin as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Oh, I'm sure I'll find a way to collect on this favor with each of you at a later date."

"Of course you would," Logan sighed, already dreading the implications.

The blonde teen simply snickered, finally pulling out onto the road to begin the ordeal of dropping everyone off at their respective homes.

The body’s out of coffin

Police officer: day fifty five, we found a guy that said that he can talk with dead people and know what is happening with them and their body's, he gonna be interrogated and then gonna show us an example of what he can do.

sound of door opening

???: And you can be sure that i can! Not just To me, but with all of you! Hehehe.

The officer turn and find the guy he was talking About. Not much tall, blond with slightly long curls, using a blue jacket, Brown eyes and with a arrogant smile at your face.

Police offcer: yeah, yeah, not like i belive on it anyways.

The officer gets up.

Police officer: Can i help you?

???: ya'know, your boss is calling you for the show time.

Police officer: yeah, sure, i'm going.

???: wait the master here big boy!

He runs close to the police officer and started to observe him, in more details. Tall, with a black skin, blue eyes, black hair and a little muscular.

???: ya'know... i liked you, you look pretty serious and with a good style! What's your name handsome?

Police officer: urgh... please, stop calling me like this, it's embarassing.

The little guy roll his eyes

???: yeah, ok hehe. But anyway, can you answer my question?

Police officer: It's Nile. And you?

???: Nice name, the name is Ramiro, but my friends call me Ram.

Nile: Nice to meet you i guess.

Ram: Same.

The two keep walking to a room with a door made of wood, when they got in nobody was there and the only thing inside this room were one sofa, two armchairs and a table with a little sound box.

Nile: huh? No one is here.

Ram: I know.

Nile: you sure we should be here? Like, isn't it in another room?  the boss is not late with things like that.

Ram: He said to meet us here soon but i wanted to see what this guy said before he gets in here.

Nile: wait... What?! You don't even-

Ram: Yes, yes i know “i don't have permission to call you here and i shouldn't do nothing becuse the case is already in the autorities hand and blah blah blah...”. But i really bored so i don't want to stay quiet and play death like a dog, if i here i gonna help.

Nile: Ok then...

Ram: ...

Ram start to prepare the little soundbox wille Nile is sitting down on the sofa. The room is with a tense climate, then Ram just stop, putting the object he was holding on the table and start looking rigth on Nile's direction making the officer more tense.

Nile: Is... everything ok?

Ram: really?

Nile: What?

Ram: I am just disobeing YOUR boss breaking the rules and you just gonna sit there and do it with me?

Nile: And what you expected? “oh no! Don't do that my sensei will be mad at you it will be a catastrophe!” Like... he will just be a little mad at you and i really can't do absolutly nothing.

Ram: Oh really? Ok then. Move i wanna sit to.

He gives play in the sound box and a masculine voice start to talk.

Tyler: My name is Tyler, i... guess i was thirty two before this. Everything happend after my grandfather death, my family is rich but i were looking for something i really could call “precious” and i already knew what it was He has a really precious ruby, he buyed it for more than sixty hundred dollars on England. He died more than a month ago and i has two options leave the ruby on his velory or take the ruby to me. I thinked “I'm not dumb, of course i gonna stay with it. He's already dead,   won't miss it" But... i didn't realized, that this was the dumb option. Some days later i started to have dreams of my grandfather in front of me crying while his body were rotten and he was imploring to put the ruby on his coffin: “Please, son, this is really precious to me! It don't just remind me my good past, it remind me my family,  all of you and the good times we had! I want to remind this forever, please don't take it away from me.” It lasted a week, and  the day came. We were celebrating my cousin birthday and i was in a room taking a time to myself. Then he got in. I thought it was just a legend to scare kids, but there was him. The skin with a color that make it looks he were rotten, the black hair with a little blue tone, gloves, with a cape and the blue eyes. The legend, Spy Spirit. 

Spy S.: So... you are the grandson of mister ■■■■■■? 

Tyler: Y-yes? Who- how- what are you?!

Spy S.: You problably already know, he telled you anyway, right?

Tyler: Yes but... arent a legend? You not suppose to exist or even be here-

Spy S.: Yes, i must be here.

Tyler: What? Why exacly?

Spy S.: sigh I want to say this just once, don't make me repeat it for your own good.

He aprocimate and pushed me on the wall then got a knife and put it close of my stomach.

Spy S.: Where is that ruby?

Tyler: I-i...

He pressionate the knife a little 

Spy S.: Answer me!

Tyler: T-there! On the desk inside the little box!

He were quiet for a little and pushed the knife inside of my stomach. I squirmed in pain right away.

Spy S.: Why don't  you putted it on your grandfather coffin?

Tyler: pant i... pant this is... cough cough

He grabbed my hair and pulled back near the wall.

Spy S.: What is it? It's hurting? Ooooh you haven't seen nothing 

He show me a needle and started to sew my mouth.

Tyler: Please! Stop! this hurts!

Spy S.: oh? Is it? Just that? Why don't you feeled this pain on your grandfather face or body when he was inploring for the ruby he wanted?

Tyler: He was already dead! He can't feel any pain! 

Spy S.: But feelings hurt to! He don't agreed with this! And that is what he’s feeling right now! 

He cutted my eyelid with one hit.

Tyler: No... please! I am so sorry!

Spy S.: Apologizes don't really do much now.

He smiled and putted the knife on my neck.

Spy S.: What is wrong for you now? Why don't you smile like you did when you stole it? 

Tyler: I... pant i didn't pant please! cough 

Spy S.: I'm sorry.

Tyler: wha-

Spy S.: I can't let you go now, i know what you will do already, “Spy Spirit is real! He almost killed me! I gonna give one million for who bring him to me to make a museum and got millions for that"

Tyler: i never-

Spy S.: Yes you will. Sorry again mister ■■■■■■ he can't and don't will be accepted.

He cutted out my neck and i... My snif my body do not stay on the coffin becuse this is his territory. Even my grandfather don't accept me anymore. I'm done, sorry, i can't give more details.

click

Ram and Nile: ...

Ram: that was... so cool!

Nile: wut?

Ram: dude! We are just starting a adventure with literally a legend! Spy Spirit... He must be famous somewhere! Let's go find... it?

Nile is staring at Ram, with a confuse expression. 

Ram: Oh yeah... i forgot you where one of the “normal people” you don't belive it of course-

Nile: Are you insane?!

Ram: huh?

Nile: We just sit there with no expectecions and a Dead guy just said something to this box! And you acting totally normal?!

Ram: Uuh... yes? I do it a lot of times so... wait- You belive me?

Nile: huh- well duh? I am the resposable for his case i just got it yesterday!

Ram: you... uh... want a coffe or a cup of tea to calm down?

Nile: I'm starting to think you read minds. Yeah i want.

The two get out the room... and talk about their case, the body’s out of coffins.

title: a-haunting we will (absolutely fucking not) go

pairings: lamp and background demus/receit/dukeceit

summary: virgil got a job at a haunted house, and he invites his boyfriends to come check it out. 

warnings: sympathetic remus and deceit, sass, a bit of swearing, pretty much panic attacks, haunted houses, hospitals are mentioned two or three times but it’s just the theme of the other part of the house, screaming, caps at the very end for a sentence, being an asshole, arguing, insults, making out is mentioned, a few kisses, contortionism, mention of blood/gore, creepy dolls, like three mild sex jokes, crying, and possibly something else

a/n: i swear this is fluff okay,,,,,,,,, anyway this is from @hiddendreamer67‘s october prompt list, which i will..... hopefully be following for the rest of the month. today’s word is “fear.” well, the first word is fear, and i’m going in order so sh

a/n 2: all fics for this list will be under the tag “#october 2019 fics”

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“I know Virge said it wasn’t that scary, but…” Patton trailed off, wringing his hands in anxiety as the three teenagers stared up at the looming figure of Gloomy Valley Haunted Hause. “I dunno, guys… This seems pretty spooky.”

With a grand flourish, Roman swept his boyfriend’s hands into his own. “Patton, darling, there’s nothing to fear so long as I, the dashing Roman Knight, am here to protect you!”

“Roman--” Logan tried to scold, but he was immediately cut off again by Roman.

“Hush, stardust! We must forge ahead towards victory!” Then, softer, he said, “And Virgil really wanted us to come visit. He says he’s got a pretty sweet costume.”

The argument--if it could even be called such--was won over as soon as Logan gave a fond eye roll. The three boyfriends made their way into the front lobby and were immediately met with the sight of Roman’s twin brother making out with his significant other.

“Ew, Remus, god, you can’t even keep it in your pants for your job?!” Roman screeched and covered his eyes.

There was a soft chuckle and some shuffling as Remus presumably slid off of DC’s lap to fix his scary makeup. “I’m on break, idiot. Plus, none of the managers ever come out to check if Dee’s actually doing the front desk job, so we can do literally whatever we want.”

Roman made a face but uncovered his eyes when he felt Logan’s hand on his shoulder. DC hadn’t even bothered to clean up the black lipstick that had been smudged around their face, but they’d moved to their perch behind the desk. They smiled innocently at Roman and said, “Welcome to Gloomy Valley Haunted House--the best haunted house in all of Blooming Valley. We offer discounts to threesomes; would you like that?”

Patton made a harsh choking sound, and Logan went bright red, but Roman simply glared daggers at his brother’s partner. “Oh, you’re very funny, DC. Have you thought of taking up being a comedian, or are you just going to live your life as a joke?”

“Are you going to become a bird? Your eyeliner is big enough for you to fly away!”

“Take it back, you son of a bi--”

“Oh my god,” Logan cut in with an exasperated sigh. “Will you two children please shut the hell up?”

DC scowled but turned back to the desk computer. “Would you like tickets for Haunted Hospital or Alice in Frightland?”

“Um, whichever one Virgil does,” Roman answered.

“Do I look like your boyfriend’s keeper?” DC snarked with an aggressive eye roll.

“Ugh, fine. Remus, do you know?”

Remus snapped his compact closed and nodded. His makeup, now in its full glory,  made him look like a possessed doll. “Yeah. He’s on the Alice side with me.”

“That one, then.”

“Three tickets for the Alice in Frightland tour,” DC said in their fakest customer service voice. “The tour starts in a half-hour. Your total is thirty dollars.”

Logan quirked an eyebrow. “It says that the tickets are only five dollars per person.”

“Yeah, and I charge a one-hundred percent idiot fee. Fork it over, Camazotz.”

“That wasn’t even a clever insult,” Logan muttered as he handed over three fives and a handful of change.

After they received their tickets, the trio sat down on the loveseat pushed into the corner of the room. Logan and Roman sat next to each other, and Patton huddled into Logan’s lap. It didn’t mind Roman that Logan was picked over him because he knew that Patton was looking to distract himself from his worry by making out, and Roman still hadn’t figured out if he even liked making out. Plus, he was completely content to curl into Logan’s side and occasionally receive a peck from either one of his boyfriends.

They were eventually called into one of the starting rooms and got a briefing on what would generally be inside. Roman appreciated that. He’d know what to look out for in case he needed to get ahold of Patton before he got too spooked.

It was pretty mild for quite a few rooms if Roman was being honest. Patton had only really been scared once, and that was because the “White Rabbit” was rather gory and creepy looking. All in all, it wasn’t that bad. 

The room that Remus worked in was about five or six rooms in, and it was… something. There were four human-sized dolls around the room, generally sitting in piles of toys or at a little tea table. All of them were completely still except for their eyes, which followed the group around wherever they went. Needless to say, it was unnerving as fuck.

They picked their way through the room slowly, carefully avoiding any misplaced toys that could be a tripping hazard; although, Logan seemed to be the only one truly worried about that. Patton was clinging on to Roman’s shirt for dear life as he glared at the actors. Roman might have found that endearing if he, too, wasn’t scared out of his mind. The room was honest to god terrifying, and Roman had already decided that he wasn’t returning to the haunted house based on the past thirty seconds alone.

But they were so close to the door--it was just a few tantalizing steps away! They were almost there, and then they would be free of this pediophobic nightmare forever.

Roman was just about to reassure his lovely, darling boyfriend that they would be okay when an actor dropped down from a hidden compartment in the ceiling and dangled right in front of them by a rope tied around their foot. The three teenagers screamed and scrabbled to grip each other in terror. The actor’s face looked extremely cracked and broken, and the leg that they weren’t being suspended from dangled lifelessly backward. Black, soulless eyes stared at them.

“Stay here and play with us,” it suddenly cooed, reaching out to grab them.

That kicked them into high gear, and they sprinted through the rest of the haunted house like madmen. They didn’t stop until they were back in the lobby, where they fell in a heap on the floor. Roman was crying, and so was Patton, and Logan seemed to have gone completely nonverbal. A family in the corner of the lobby eyed them suspiciously, but none of them cared. They were terrified. Rightfully so, Roman might add.

After a few minutes, they had all calmed down enough to move to some chairs to wait for Virgil. They were all a bit disappointed that they’d missed him in the haunted house, but the sadness was far outweighed by happiness to be out of there.

“Hey, guys!” Virgil called from behind them, and they turned to find the actor who had scared them. They stared in awe/horror for a few moments before Virgil said, “Guys?”

“Dude, what the fuck,” Roman finally exhaled.

“What? I work at a haunted house, and I’m a gymnast. What did you expect?”

It took a few tries, but Logan managed to sputter out, “You said that this h-haunted house w-was q-q-quote-unquote ‘lame.’”

“Yeah, and it is.” Virgil rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I mean, our side is way better than the hospital--that one fucking sucks--but… it’s nothing special.”

“That is such bullshit,” Patton muttered. “I’m never taking your word for what is or isn’t scary ever again.”

“Aw, Patty, baby. Won’t you give me a kiss?” Virgil teased as he twisted himself into a bridge and scuttled towards his boyfriends.

DC’s shouts of “Will you four please get the fuck out” were barely heard over Roman screaming, “BEGONE, FOUL DEMON!”

How to lose $1 million and risk it all again

When Abbas Dayekh was 18 several years aged, he walked confidently to the reception of Sussex Location, London Enterprise University’s primary campus, and asked: “Where can I enrol?” Safety advised him he would have to wait a several years. Dayekh was in the wrong spot. He was in search of Regent’s University London, exactly where his parents experienced sent him to check a BA (Hons) in Worldwide Enterprise with French. Dayekh, ethnically Lebanese, is from Nigeria, the grandson of the textiles’ industrialist. He was sent to the united kingdom to achieve knowledge, then return and insert benefit inside the loved ones business.

Dayekh, CEO and founder of OyaNow, an application-primarily based shipping and delivery service in Nigeria, chuckles within the memory. It’s not the first time he has taken a detour in his life, and it possibly was one of many additional pleasant – and less expensive - events. With no doubt, one of the most tricky was having to notify his mom he experienced shed all her price savings – about $600,000 – that she invested in him to put in place a Beirut branch of distinctive Parisian couture model CLVII in 2012. “It absolutely was a buddy’s store. The purchasers are certainly top quality; elite footballers and these kinds of. It’s obtained a particular image.

“I ran CLVII notion capital for about a year, and afterwards the Syrian civil war escalated. Bombs started heading off in Beirut. The Saudis and Emirati holidaymakers – my buyers – they went household and didn’t return. I used to be trapped with a great deal of expensive couture and no funds”

I ran CLVII for around a year, and afterwards the Syrian civil war escalated. Bombs started off going off in Beirut. The Saudis and Emirati travellers – my prospects – they went residence and didn’t come back. I was stuck which has a large amount of pricey couture and no dollars. Involving my mom’s price savings, a buddy’s financial commitment of about $two hundred,000 and the money I’d expended in that two-year period, I’d managed to lose $one million.

‘Not a tech dude’

While Dayekh, from Kano in Nigeria’s northern province, felt upset that he’d Enable down his mom, his initial – and biggest – entrepreneurial flop did nothing at all to dampen his enthusiasm for the entrepreneurial route and his zeal to triumph. In actual fact, he reflects that it spurred him on to at some point found OyaNow, an application-primarily based logistics enterprise aiding enterprises to achieve Nigeria’s progressively related populace of just about 200 million by trustworthy and rapidly previous-mile shipping and delivery.

This Regardless of the simple fact Dayekh promises to generally be “by no means a tech man”. He laughs: “I'm able to’t code.” Dayekh has gained the Persons’s Decision Award while in the George Bernard Shaw Unreasonable Individual category at this calendar year’s Serious Innovation Awards (RIA) in recognition of his dogged perseverance to succeed Even with there becoming no fantastic rationale that he should really.

When he had The theory for OyaNow, he was pretty much broke, acquiring returned from Shanghai the place for 9 months he had been performing being an outsourcing broker for just a number of Nigerian clientele he’d managed to secure. “They had been tiny contracts and Therefore the Fee was little,” he claims. “I had return to Abuja for being with my mom and determine what I had been gonna do with my life. I barely experienced any revenue, but I nonetheless realized I used to be about to do my own factor.”

It transpired to him that buyer self esteem in Nigeria was zero. “There was no rely on in the market in Nigeria and not Considerably purchaser treatment possibly. I thought of the accomplishment of foods shipping expert services in Europe and The us like Deliveroo and Uber Eats. Nigeria is probably one of many final nations around the world on this planet with such a big inhabitants that remains so underdeveloped. I observed that hole as a huge possibility.”

But who was about to buy the coders? And to the bikes? In fact – this was Africa, not Europe. Banks don’t give financial loans to people with no property. Dayekh was fortuitous to have a network of Intercontinental experts and traders he cultivated from having long gone to one of the better boarding schools in the world in Switzerland. A friend came by with a few seed income Which paid out for creating the app and the main motorbikes.

Ideal time, right solution, proper place

“I realized This may be a really diverse proposition from Deliveroo and Uber Eats. For 1, we would want to supply total pastoral care to our riders – whom we contact Entrepreneurs – mainly because they could be coming from all around the country. We would have to give them a destination to Are living. They would be the brand. I needed to be sure that I did all the things I could to empower them for being entirely engaged in OyaNow and assist the manufacturer to accomplish its key performance indicators of reliability, usefulness and high quality of assistance usually.

“My uncles felt I were born which has a silver spoon in my mouth Which I'd volume to nothing exterior the relatives small business. I'd a burning desire to establish them Improper and clearly show the entire world I could allow it to be by myself”

OyaNow is definitely an abbreviation of the phrase indicating “we've been coming” in Nigerian slang English. It really is widely recognized throughout ethnic teams and tribes and was a great match with the operating product and to the cultural context. It soft released in Abuja, in advance of launching in Kano after which Lagos.

Starting up off to be a foods shipping service about 3 many years ago, OyaNow obtained an sudden fillip within the Covid-19 pandemic which noticed desire for its very last-mile supply provider go with the roof. Now, it delivers Pretty much anything at all that may be shipped and OyaNow has business associations with lots of factories across the country.

The organization now has about eighty five bikes and vans as well as other vehicles, microinvestors which is eyeing the subsequent stage of enlargement in other nations in Africa, but Dayekh can’t say too a great deal more at this time. The serial innovator also has enterprise passions in medical marijuana and hemp in Malawi by way of a Swiss-based startup called House Africa. Previously this yr, Malawi legalised the expanding, promoting and exporting of cannabis for professional medical use.

“Winning this award – the George Bernard Shaw Unreasonable Individual Award – I love it! It pleases me in excess of if I had been to generally be manufactured President of America! It appears that evidently I do new points on a regular basis. But, the truth is, there is a pattern. Africa is often a tough area to know if You aren't from listed here. Western organizations see likely during the economies here but are nervous to generate a transfer due to perception of danger and a lack of certainty.

I've realised that I may be that bridge that inbound links Africa With all the West. It is a fairly distinctive situation to be in and I am just getting started.”

six tips about entrepreneurship from OyaNow founder Abbas Dayekh

Being an entrepreneur seriously isn’t straightforward. You require conviction and dedication. It’s probably a cliche but You can not succeed devoid of it. It’s a lonely highway. You may get dangers. You will upset the established order, and people don’t like that. Men and women like it any time you fall short. Personally, when I turn into devoted to a thing, no one can cease me.

The most important enterprise lesson I've discovered was the four Ps: value, products, promotion and spot. They're the key elements for achievement. OyaNow delivers all 4 together beautifully.

Failure is Studying and almost nothing to become ashamed of. Be honest with your self about what went Mistaken and go forward, striving not to generate precisely the same mistakes once more.

Entrepreneurship can be difficult on your own mental health and fitness. You can find every day considerations about cashflow, and regardless of whether you'll have enough funds to pay your charges; to pay your employees. Even now, I put up with panic assaults. It might be very difficult to repeatedly need to project a façade of strength for your personnel, buyers and the market when deep down you don’t know wherever your following tranche of cash will originate from to maintain heading. Be sincere with oneself about whether or not you can handle this strain.

Any time you expand, empower your personnel. They can be your small business. They will be the distinction between accomplishment and failure ultimately. Be humble as a pacesetter and hear your staff. Apologise for the mistakes. They must invest in into your eyesight. Empower them to co-create that eyesight mainly because it evolves.

Use a disproportionate number of Gals in the management staff. Females tend to be a lot less self-centred and aggressive. Coming from the patriarchal household business enterprise dominated by warring factions, I wish to be surrounded by Girls, who often carry balance and direct for your greater great rather then individual acquire.

The Real Innovation Awards is undoubtedly an once-a-year ceremony celebrating business innovation all over the world, hosted via the London Business Faculty’s Institute of Innovation and Entrepreneurship (IIE). To determine this year’s celebration occurring on ten December 2020 and hear insights on ‘Innovating in Adversity’ sign up below.

The Stepford Game: Part 1

(This story features brainwashing, mind control, stepfordization, and unintentional reality warping)

Carrie wandered through the mall, trailing after her friends as they talked excitedly to one another. She was of average height for a 20 year old college student, albeit a bit plain looking. She kept her blonde hair in a pixie cut, and wore the bare minimum when it came to makeup. She didn’t even paint her nails or do anything with them beyond clipping them when they got long. Even her clothes were unremarkable. Just jean shorts, flip flops, and a red crop top. Carrie stuck her hands in her pockets and sighed. Normally she enjoyed mall crawling with the girls, and it was spring break too! But she just felt so listless and bored. Nothing could really excite her. Even her last few dates with her boyfriend, Kent, had ended with her going home early and wondering if she should just end the relationship. But out of the corner of her eye, Carrie saw something that did interest her, at least a little bit. There was a new store, or at least one that she had never seen there before. It looked like an old hobby shop, with dusty windows and old toys and games in the display. Little toy cars and train sets that seemed to be from the 1950s, all made of painted wood and metal. Probably lead paints, she realized with a wrinkle of her nose. Still, the store had caught her attention. All of the other hobby shops and toy stores in the mall had been closed down and replaced by tech stores years ago, so it was an odd duck out. And it seemed to be empty.

“Carrie? Why are you lagging?” Vivian asked. She was Carrie’s best friend, ever since they were little kids. If Carrie was unremarkable and plain, Vivian was anything but. She had ivory skin, with heavy black and red makeup that never seemed to leave her face. Her straight black hair hung down to her shoulders, and she was always wearing black leather and lace. Silver studs dotted her chin, cheeks, and nose, and she had large black gauges in her ears. She wore a black band shirt, which advertized one of the endless list of heavy metal bands she listened to, and which showed off her sleeve tattoos. She had ripped jeans and combat boots to complete the edgy look. And of course, she always looked dour and grumpy. “Huh? O-oh, I was just… Looking at something,” Carrie mumbled. The other girls turned around and joined her, looking the store up and down, with varying reactions. “What is this place?” Linh asked innocently. “Who cares? I gotta head to the apple store and get a new phone!” Mariah complained. Linh and Mariah were Carrie’s other closest friends. Linh was tall, asian, and had long black hair that reached all the way to the bottom of her back. She was wearing an oversized purple t-shirt that hung off of one shoulder and a pair of black and white gym shorts, as well as a pair of glasses with thin wire frames. Mariah was the shortest of the bunch. She was black, and wore her hair in bright, multi colored dreadlocks. The most athletic of the group, she wore a blue basketball jersey and a pair of mesh shorts, as well as some worn out sneakers. “Can we look inside first?” Carrie begged. She wasn’t totally sure why she wanted to check it out, but it… Well, it called to her. “Please?” “I’m with Carrie. It could be fun!” Linh agreed. “I don’t really care one way or the other,” Vivian said with a shrug. “...Alright, fine!” Mariah agreed. “But we’re going to the apple store after! I promised Mark I’d text him tonight when I need a ride home.” “I told you, my mom could give you a ride if you needed,” Linh offered. “Sure, she’s got work early tomorrow morning, but I could probably convince her if we really need to.” Carrie felt a pang of sadness when Linh mentioned her mother. Linh’s mom was always busy with work, ever since her dad had left them. As a result, Linh was just about always at home alone, or spending her time at their houses, but Carrie knew that she missed being able to spend time with her mom. But as much as she’d like, there wasn’t really anything Carrie could do to change that. “Let’s go inside then,” Carrie said, trying to shift over to the less serious topic. She walked into the store, and the other three followed after her. The inside of the shop was just as musty as the outside, and it seemed as though nobody had shopped there in years, if not decades. In fact, the only person inside, aside from themselves, was an old man behind the counter, keeping watch over an old metal cash register. “Talk about old,” Mariah said, wrinkling her nose. “I dunno,” Carrie said. “I think all this old vintage stuff is kinda cool.” “I was talking about the guy,” Mariah snorted. She looked down her nose at an old train set from the 1930s and rolled her eyes. “So what do you sell here?” Linh asked the owner. He was a short, stocky, warm old man, with thick rimmed glasses and a forest green sweater vest. “Oh, old toys and games, mostly,” he explained with a friendly chuckle. “I don’t get too many customers, but whenever I do, they always manage to find something to enjoy.” “I somehow doubt that,” Mariah snarked. If her remark offended the old man, he certainly didn’t show it. He just kept on smiling fondly, as though he were talking to his grandchildren. “I have to agree with Mariah,” Vivian said, speaking up for the first time since they had entered the store. “I haven’t met anyone, our age or younger, who has even a passing interest in a game that doesn’t involve a CPU.” “Ah, people can surprise you!” the man claimed. “Why, just last month, I had a little boy come in with his mother. Just like you say, he wasn’t interested in anything other than his fortnights or call of battlefield, but then he found this little wooden car, over on that wall. The second he laid eyes on it, he couldn’t think of anything else. He begged his mother to buy it for him, and then he ran right on past the game store down the way, because he couldn’t wait to get home and play with the car.” “Suuuure he did,” Mariah muttered under her breath. She gave up on even pretending to be interested in the store’s contents, and so she stayed by the front entrance and leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “I can believe it,” Carrie said, smiling at the old man. “There are still people who like this old vintage stuff. Collectors, you know? They’ve gotta start somewhere.” “I guess…” Vivian agreed, tentatively. Linh, however, seemed to be fully on Carrie’s side. While Linh and Vivian looked at a few old toy soldiers, Carrie wandered off, towards the back of the store, where there was an array of board games stacked in a pyramid. At the very top of the pile was one with a name she didn’t recognize at all. Even the brand on the box, the people who made it, didn’t ring any bells. Milton Bradley they were not. But the cover of the box is what caught her attention, as well as an odd name, which clashed with the date that it was made. “The Stepford Game?” she asked nobody in particular. Wasn’t that story from the 1970s? But the game, from it’s production date to the scene on the cover, dated the game to the early 1950s, roughly twenty years earlier than that horror film her cousin showed her. But the box seemed so interesting, so unique. It had an idyllic image on the cover, showing a group of six housewives chatting on a patio. They were all different races, which seemed surprising, given the era. But they also looked so happy. Genuinely happy, too, not that fakey happiness that old advertisements always involved. Carrie didn’t even have to think twice about it. She was going to buy the board game. Like the old man said in his story about the little boy, she was transfixed. She knew that it was now or never, somehow. If she walked out of the store without it, she would never find this piece of history ever again, no matter how hard she searched. She picked the box up and hugged it close to her chest as she raced back to the counter. “I’ll take this, please!” Carrie said with an eager smile as she set the box down on the glass countertop. “Huh? Really?” Vivian asked, looking up from a pack of baseball cards that the man had been showing to her and Linh. “Oh, cool! I haven’t played a board game in ages!” Linh said. “We can play it back at my house tonight!” Carrie nodded enthusiastically, happy that her friend was down with trying it out. “C’mon, Viv, play it with us?” Carrie asked. It didn’t take much encouragement. If it made Carrie happy, Vivian was willing to do just about anything, no matter how hokey. Vivian gave the box one last suspicious look, but then she sighed and relented. “Alright, I’m in. It’s gonna be weird, but whatever. Weird is my middle name.” What she didn’t admit was that the image of the happy housewives on the cover seemed almost… interesting? She didn’t have the faintest clue as to why, but Vivian had a hard time avoiding looking at them, no matter how many times she forced her gaze away. “That’s the spirit!” Carrie said. “So, um, how much do I owe you, sir?” she asked the man. “For that one? Just $5.” “Wait, really? Even Monopoly costs, like, $20, and that’s new. This has to be worth more than that, right?” Carrie asked, shocked at how cheap the offer was. “Everything here goes for the original sale price, dear,” the old man said with a smile. “And in 1952, that board game was $5, so $5 it is.” “Alright, awesome!” Carrie said as she handed the man a five dollar bill. “Seriously, mister, thank you so much!” “Thank you, my dear! Have a swell time!” “Believe me, dude, we will!” Linh said with a laugh as she threw her arms around Vivian and Carrie’s shoulders. Carrie picked the box up and hugged it close to her chest again as the three headed to the exit, where Mariah joined them. “You’re forcing me to play that dumbass game with you, aren’t you?” she asked, dreading the answer that she knew was coming. “Yes, yes we are,” Carrie insisted with a bright and cheery smile. She had a wonderful feeling about this game. She hadn’t been this excited in a long, long time. ********************* “Mom! We’re home!” Linh said as the four girls climbed out of Vivian’s black Tesla. Her mother was sitting on the front porch, typing away on a laptop. “Mhm. There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry. But try to be quiet tonight, okay? It might be my day off, but I still have to review these case notes, and I don’t need any distractions,” Linh’s mother said coldly. “Right. Sorry, mom. We’ll try not to cause too much noise,” Linh said, looking a bit crestfallen for a moment, before she put a smile back on her face and led the others inside. They headed straight up to Linh’s bedroom, on the top floor of the house. She was the only one of the group who lived at home year round, since she lived close to their college, and so her room looked, well, lived in. The bed wasn’t made, and there was a pile of dirty clothes in the corner, which Linh shoved into a closet to deal with later. Meanwhile, Carrie set the board game box down on the white carpet, in the center of the room. Vivian sat to her right, Linh sat to her left, and Mariah sat across from her. Carrie opened the box and set the top off to the side, then pulled out the game board. It was set up to look like an idyllic 1950s suburban neighborhood, with white picket fences and green hedges separating rows of identical houses. The starting point was the local grocery store, and the ending point seemed to be a lively barbecue in someone’s backyard, attended by the whole neighborhood. There was also a small speaker set into the center of the board, though it didn’t seem to have any buttons connected to it. Carrie grabbed the rulebook and started skimming through it, reading aloud for everyone to hear while they all picked out a character piece to represent themselves. The tiny plastic figures were all identical, being little housewives with poofy skirts and beehive hairdos, but they were set apart by their colors. Vivian grabbed the black piece, while Linh grabbed the purple one, and Mariah grabbed the blue one. Vivian picked out the red piece for Carrie, knowing that it was her favorite color. “The Stepford Game. Two to eight players. Roll the dice, yada yada, pick up cards from the appropriate piles… Always read the card out loud… Event spaces, chore spaces, reality spaces, and wardrobe spaces… Fail a chore challenge, get a punishment… First to reach the barbecue wins, but the game doesn’t end until everyone arrives. Sounds simple enough, yeah?” “Yep. So who goes first?” Vivian asked. She still couldn’t believe that they were actually playing this thing. The things she did to make Carrie happy… “It says that we have to roll for turn order,” Carrie explained, after finding the appropriate rule. Carrie got a six, Linh got a five, Vivian a three, and Mariah a two. “Okay, so I go first!” Carrie said with an eager grin. She was hoping that she’d be the first one to get a turn. Carrie shook the dice in her hands and then rolled them along the carpet. She got a four, and so she picked up the little red housewife piece and moved it to the fourth spot, which was marked as a wardrobe space. After double checking the rules to make sure she was supposed to do so, Carrie took the top card off of the wardrobe deck and looked it over. The card had a drawing of a woman’s hand, with long, perfectly manicured nails, which were being lovingly painted. There was also text on the card, which Carrie read for the group. “Fresh Coat of Paint. You spent the afternoon taking care of your precious little digits, and now you’ve got a lovely manicure and a new coat of paint to go with it! Keep good care of those nails, dearie!” A second after she finished reading the card, the speaker in the center of the board played a happy jingle, and Carrie felt a little tingle on the tips of her fingers. When she set the card down, she noticed something peculiar. Her nails, which had been cut short and unpainted just a second ago, were now long, perfectly manicured, and colored cherry red. Her eyes went wide with shock, but she played it off as if nothing odd had happened, and set the card aside, then folded her hands in her lap. Nobody else seemed to notice the sudden change, but she had to wonder… What kind of game had she bought, exactly? “Alright, my turn!” Linh said as she snatched up the dice and tossed them again. A three. “One, two, three… Reality space? What’s that mean?” Linh asked once her game piece landed on the tile. “You’ve gotta draw a reality card,” Carrie said, reading from the rule list. “Here you go.” She picked the top card from that deck and handed it to Linh, who began to read it aloud. “Like Mother, Like Daughter: Being a housewife runs in the family. You grew up with a mother who is the spitting image of a 1950s sitcom housewife, and you’ve always wanted to be just like her when you grew up.” Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, and everything was swamped in a strange darkness. The hair on the backs of the girls’ necks stood on end, before the lights flickered back on and everything went back to normal. “Well of course I want to be just like my mom!” Linh said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s always been my role model!” Suddenly, a voice called out from the other room, and then Linh’s mother poked her head in to see how the girls were doing. “Are you girls having fun?” she asked in a voice as sweet as apple pie. Her hair was freshly permed from a trip to the salon that morning, and she was wearing a bright red shirtdress, with a ballooning skirt pushed out by several petticoats, and a white apron tied around her waist. In her hands, she held a tray of chocolate chip cookies. “I baked you some treats, in case you were hungry!” “Thanks mom! You’re the best!” Linh gushed as she took the plate off of her mother’s hands and set it down on her bed. The four young adults all began munching on the cookies with blissful smiles on their faces. Linh’s mom really was the perfect housewife! No wonder she wanted to get married and become a homemaker herself. It was all she ever talked about! Carrie was so happy that her friend had such a caring, doting mother. Even Vivian and Mariah liked Linh’s mom, even though she was so old fashioned. “Your turn, Vivian!” Linh said, handing her the dice. Vivian tossed the dice onto the carpet, and came up with a six. She moved her little black housewife piece six spaces, and ended up on a wardrobe space. Following what Carrie had done earlier, she grabbed the top card off of the pile and looked at it suspiciously. The card had a drawing of a cartoon housewife on it, with natural red hair tied back in a high ponytail. “Dye Job: You spent a day at the salon, and now you’ve got a brand new style. Being a redhead suits you, doesn’t it?” The little speaker on the center of the board played a jaunty little jingle, and all the girls watched Vivian with wide eyes, surprised by what they saw. A wave of light orange-red color swept across Vivian’s hair, from the top of her head down to her shoulders, until her jet black hair was gone, and she looked just like a natural redhead. Even her eyebrows changed color to match! And once that was done, a black ribbon seemed to appear out of thin air, and tied itself around her hair, pulling the bright red locks up into a ponytail, identical to the one on the card. “Uh… Did everyone else just see that?” Mariah asked, unable to break eye contact. It was just too bizarre. “I think she looks nice! You make a cute redhead, Viv!” Linh said with a giggle. “Yeah!” Carrie agreed enthusiastically. “It really suits you.” “No, seriously! Her hair just changed color!” Mariah exclaimed, pointing at Vivian, who was blushing a bit. “Well, yeah, it did. But it’s cute!” Linh giggled. “Maybe it’s a magic board game?” Carrie proposed. The idea had been swimming around in her head since her turn, when her nails had transformed. She took a deep breath and held up her hands for everyone to see. “My nails changed too, after I drew my card. See? They were normal before, but now they’re manicured, just like the card said,” Carrie explained. Vivian looked a bit relieved, seeing that she wasn’t the only one who had been affected. “Magic?” Mariah asked, baffled. “You think you bought a magic board game?” “Do you have a better idea?” Vivian asked. For her, the idea of a magic board game wasn’t absurd at all. She was Wiccan, and so magic was perfectly normal in her mind. “Old games like these, someone might have cursed it or something.” “So we’re playing a cursed board game, and you’re all just… Fine with that?” “Well… If you find a magic board game, why not?” Carrie asked. “It’s like something out of a movie!” “I guess…” Mariah said. Still, she wasn’t sure this was the best idea. “But if this game goes all Jumanji on us, I’m out.” “My only question is why nothing happened to Linh,” Vivian said, looking at their unaffected friend. “Carrie’s nails were painted, and my hair changed color, but Linh’s card just said a fact about her life. Right now, that’s the weird part.” “Well, it is a reality card, so maybe it knows something about the players, and is saying it?” Linh offered as an explanation. It made about as much sense as anything else. “But seriously, though, Vivian’s hair is SO. CUTE. I love it, Viv!” “Um… thanks, I think?” Vivian said. She could feel the change as it occurred, the tingle that swept across her whole body, wherever she had hair. But she wasn’t upset by the transformation, for some reason. Logically, she could just dye it black again if she really wanted to. And really, it just didn’t bother her. “My turn, then,” Mariah said as she grabbed the dice and rolled, scared of what might happen. With any luck, she’d get a reality space like Linh, and she’s just get a card that talked about how she nearly flunked her statistics course. But no, she got a one, and groaned in frustration. She moved the blue housewife forward one space, onto a wardrobe tile. Vivian handed her a card, which Mariah read out in a worried tone, cursing her poor luck. “A Gift From The Hubby. Your husband bought you a pretty new dress, and it would be terribly rude not to try it on for your date night!” Again, there was a cartoon housewife on the card, though this one looked more like Mariah, with long dreadlocks and dark brown skin. She was wearing a fancy, low cut evening dress, made of a seafoam green satin, with a full skirt and a sheer silver shawl. Once again, the speaker on the board played its jingle, but this time the effect was much more pronounced. Mariah’s clothing vanished in the blink of an eye, but she was only nude for a split second before the outfit from the card had entered the real world and wormed its way onto Mariah’s body. “What just happened?!” Mariah asked, alarmed. Carrie and Vivian were both similarly shocked, but Linh just smiled and patted Mariah on the lap. “What a gorgeous dress! It looks just like the one my mom wears when she goes out to dinner with daddy!” “Yeah, b-but what happened to my jersey?!” Mariah exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Girls, seriously, this game, i-it’s not normal! Just look at what it did to me! What it did to Vivian’s hair!” “I don’t really mind my hair…” Vivian mumbled, missing the point entirely. “Mariah, calm down, okay?” Carrie pleaded, placing her hand over Mariah’s. “I’m sure this’ll all go back to normal once the game is over, okay? That’s what the rules say, at least.” “Really? You’re sure?” Mariah asked, still very uneasy, and not at all comfortable wearing the fancy vintage dress. She sat down slowly, her petticoats rustling as she awkwardly sat down cross legged on the floor. Her skirt flounced upwards, and ruffly petticoats poked out from beneath it’s hem. Clearly, she wasn’t used to sitting down in dresses. “Yeah, I’m sure. Like I said… The rules say this is all temporary,” Carrie lied. She couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

The Rising Tide Raises All Ships

I don't understand people who are so ardently against social systems. Like, it's pulling eye-teeth just to have what little we do. I can't tell you how many f*cking time some MAGA cultist attacks food stamps or welfare like it's the worst thing ever but it's like, the ones who abuse it like you say, look like you. They don't look like me. There's always bad actors in any system, but if the majority carries on the way they should, then that system should function regardless. We know it can because it's being executed in real time, all over the world. There's a reason why the happiest places on earth, have the most expansive social welfare systems. Its fine to drive capitalism, no one's telling you not to work hard, but if we expanded those processes, everyone benefits. If everyone contributes a little more to the pool, all of our boats rise with the tide. I mean, seriously, if 2020 has taught us anything, it's that the systems we have in pace right now, don't work. They are easily exploited, easily manipulated, and completely counter intuitive to living life. There is a literal f*cking plague going on and our president is forcing people back to work and kids back to class because the economy. If that don't scream broke and needs fixing, I don't what does.

Free Healthcare means no worries going to the doctor. Paper cut, baby delivery, broken bone, or f*cking cancer, there'd be no stressing over how to pay those ridiculous bills. They wouldn't be ridiculous. I think in Canada an ambulance ride is, like, $230 dollars, average, depending on circumstances. In some places, it's as low as $45 and others, as high as $385. The average here in the States is closer to $1200 f*cking dollars. For just the ambulance. That's not even beginning to address the hospital visit and hope you don't an extended stay. These mother*ckers gave me a bill for close to $50,000 for my two week stay the first time I almost died. Bro, there's no way I am ever going to pay that. The f*ck is you saying? I read an account of someone going to the emergency room in the Philippines and it cost her $15 dollars. To see the doctor. It would have been free but she's not a citizen. More than anything, universal healthcare would force Big Pharma to price their medications appropriately. There would have affordable prescriptions for everyone. When I left my job, I lot my insurance. When I checked prices on my meds, just a single prescription was $400 f*cking dollars for one month's worth. In Canada, that prescription would have been $15. The ill thing? The $400 dollar one was the cheapest I could find stateside. I take five medications for my heart. Uninsured, I'd be dropping close to $3800 a month, on sh*t I need to live. Who the f*ck has a loose $3800 when they have to pay that much in rent every month? Insulin is, like, $300 for 10 days worth here. In Canada, it's f*cking $30. Sh*t's even cheaper in Egypt. Small businesses wouldn't have to worry about employee healthcare or anything like that. If you have more than two employees, the cost you save in insurance coverage is more than enough to offset that tax increase. You'd be able to actually pay a more livable wage, while pocketing more profit at the same time. How is any of this bad? How can you spin this sh*t as a negative?

Free education means a more literate populace. We wouldn't have near as many Anti-Vaxxers and Flat Earthers. Motherf*ckers would understand the science of social distancing and mask wearing during a goddamn pandemic. I wouldn't be so f*cking mad having to dumb myself down just to interact with society. If we follow the Nordic system, you get your four years worth of education, graduate with a proper degree, and get placed into a position immediately out of college to tenure in your focus for the next four years. It's not an internship but a real job. You not only get a degree, but you immediately start earning a living in that field, while accumulating experience. Once you complete your four year employment obligation, you can continue your employment, start the process  over with a new major in mind, or you're free to travel abroad with four years experience and a BA in your pocket. Not only would the populace be more literate, more people would be employed thus stimulating the economy. Those that enter into science and engineering, would have to innovate in their fields for four years, minimum, so you'd have hungry minds creating the future, just like back in the day when “America was great” or whatever. More education, means more jobs, means a stronger economy, means less crime. Again, how is this a bad thing? You wouldn't even have to do away with private college or studying whatever you want. If there wasn't a free program to take advantage of, just pay for your classes. I'm sure there'd still be grants and scholarship and financial aid available for aspiring painters or wannabe film makers, or any number of vanity degrees. F*ck it, man, if you want to go to Harvard just for the clout, you can still totally do that. F*ck, dude, you can do it after getting your free degree even. Graduate school, bro. Motherf*cker can be making six figures paying that stupid, clout chasing, tuition out of pocket because you can afford it with the job you got with that free degree. That's the beauty of the Nordic system; Everyone gets what they want.

That's just the surface of these benefits. I'm not even going to go into what universal income, maternity leave, vacation time, strong unions, and subsidized child care. I'm not even going to touch on how prisons over there are built to rehabilitate, not to humiliate and effectively enslave. For Profit prisons are the modern plantations. Look that sh*t up. I'm not even going to go into detail about the benefits collective legalization for all drugs and how crime plummeted because of it, or how they treat addiction like a mental illness and not a criminal offense, or the way they house their homeless and treat them humanely, while transitioning them into society with counseling, job placement, and social work. All of this, for, maybe, an extra hundred or two a year. That's, what? An extra $30 a month out of your check? Less than $10 a f*cking week? That one trip to Starbucks. That's two Quarter-Pounders. That's nothing. How does that math not work? How do these universal benefits, not jive with everyone? How does this sh*t not make sense to people, when you can see it working the world over? The illest thing in this whole situations is the fact that we, as the US, have absolutely more than enough to implement this system, this type of social democracy which benefits everyone, if we just rearranged our budget. Admittedly, we couldn't just implement the healthcare out the box. I mean, we could, but that would entail getting motherf*ckers who make trillions, like Amazon, Facebook, and Tesla as well as Zuckerberg, Musk, and Bezos, to pay their fair share without circumventing said responsibilities Corporate Welfare is crippling the working American and people are too dumb to even pay attention to it, distracted by buzzwords like “communism” and “immigrant.” So we do the free education thing first. That's only $4 billion a year. I checked. That's pittance compared to the defense budget.

Motherf*ckers wouldn't even need to “tax the rich” or “hold them accountable” if we just cut the defense budget. We can keep pretending that trickle down works and that Wall Street works for us and not corporate gluttons and that Reaganomics works, and whatever else the conservatives want us all to believe. Whatever, right? The US spends $650 billion on defense. That is, quite literally, $400 billion more than the next country, China. The rest of the world, minus the US and China, spends a collective $831 billion. That's an average of less than $50 billion a year, worldwide. F*ck, if you add China back into that, it's still less than $65 billion a year. Did i mention that these are yearly budgets? And these are old numbers. My guy, we can afford to drop a few billion of that defense budget. We can probably skim $50 billion and enrich a lot of people's lives but we don't even need that much. Drop $4 billion off of that gratuitous $650 tril, and you can fund free education for everyone. Following the Nordic system, that means more jobs. That means more taxes. That means a better economy and more revenue to implement the universal health care, which would further lessen the burden of employers and employees, putting even more money back into everyone's pockets, which would grow the economy even more. Happy and secure people, spend more money. The only people this system hurts, are those hurting us with the current system. Are they literally too dumb and/or selfish to let go of a little extra and uplift all of us? How do you argue that math? No one loses but the people forcing you to lose right now, in real time. F*ck, man, 2020 has exposed this entire system and there are still people who will die for a country that won't even give you enough money to be safe during a whole ass plague and I don't understand that at all.

Andante,Andante part 2/?

Summary-Keg King Billy Hargrove becomes infatuated with Mike and Nancy’s cousin who is staying with them over the summer.

Warnings- swearing, mentions of sex, eventual smut

Word Count - 1.6k

A faint knock wakes you from the pile on the floor. You fell asleep during the campaign the night before, not remembering how you got a blanket and pillow.

“Come in!” You sit up and stretch, the stiffness leaving your body a little bit at a time. You notice Holly coming down the stairs and you smile at her.

“Mommy told me to get you up so we can go to the pool.” The heat in the basement starts getting to you so you stand up a little too fast.

“Okay, tell her I’ll be ready in 5 minutes.” You smile, holding up your hand for her to mimic. She runs upstairs and closes the door for you so you can get into your swimsuit. The simple black one piece with cherries catches your eye and you quickly slip it on along with a coverup on top and your flip flops.

The smell of eggs drifts through the air as you make it into the kitchen to see everyone at the table.

“Morning everyone!” After the several mumbles of morning you find a seat next to Mike and you smile at him.

“Hey Mike, where did that blanket and pillow come from?” He looks confused at you first before realizing what you’re talking about.

“Oh, you fell asleep so Dustin wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

“Aw, well today you tell him thank you.”

The hot air and burning sun almost makes you not want to leave the air conditioned car, but of course the pool will feel amazing. Getting there, you feel a few eyes staring.

“Don’t worry, it’s probably because you’re a newish face.” Karen rubs the strap of you coverup and you smile at her. Once Karen finds her friends and Holly finds hers as well you decide to find a seat and lounge for a little while listening to your Walkman play Madonna.

“Looking good (y/n)” A deep recognizable voice says, making you look above your sunglasses.

“Whatever Billy” He winks before going on his stand, which just so happens to be next to your seat. A nap consumes you, ignoring his smirks and winks.

Once you wake up you pause your music, deciding to get a snack from concessions.

“Aunt Karen where’s my wallet?”

“Oh it’s right in this bag hun.” She says, not even looking at you. You turn your head to see who she’s staring at before realizing it’s Billy. With rolled eyes, you grab your wallet and head to concessions.

“Hi ma’am, what may I get for you?”

“Hi can I get a Pepsi-cola and Twizzlers?”

“I’m sorry, we only have Coke products. I can get you a slushee instead?”

“That works, I’m not drinking that gross ‘new’ coke.” The girl smiles at you in agreement before adding up your total.

“That’ll be 3 dollars.” Before you can hand her your card, someone throws three dollars on the table from behind you.

“I can pay for my own stuff.” When turning around, you realize it’s that same curly headed boy.

“A pretty lady shouldn’t have to pay for her candy.” With rolled eyes you give him his money back and hand the girl your card again.

“I’m sorry, we only take cash.” She looks empathetic as you deal with the boy behind you.

“Fine Hargrove you can pay, but I’ll pay you back.” The space between you two is almost nonexistent as he smirks.

“I know a way...” he looks down at your lips before biting his own.

“Calm down, I’m not blowing you off.” And on that note you take your candy and slushee and leave to relax back in your seat. Relief washes over you as a female lifeguard takes Billy’s place on the stand as you drink your frozen drink. Talking heads starts playing in your ears and you bob your head along, the lyrics silently leaving your lips.

After finishing the slushee, you throw it away and take your sunglasses off while wincing from the bright sun. You dive into the cool water, reaching the surface to push the hair out of your face before swimming around on your back.

“A show already? It’s not even my shift yet.” The voice of Billy brings you out of the daydreaming in your head and makes you sit up straight while still floating.

“Who said the show was for you?” The smirk and lip bite almost makes you blush as his eyes rake down to the water, trying to see underneath while you keep yourself afloat.

“Sweetheart who else would it be for?” Just when he finishes his sentence there’s a familiar mop of brunette coming up behind him.

“Ayy (Y/n/n), The party said you’d be here today so I thought I’d come hang out after my shift!” Your eyes go back to the piercing blue ones annoyed with Steve’s entrance and you smirk.

“Hey Harrington, hope you got your trunks on because I need someone to teach me some new swimming techniques.”

“You know I could teach you if you’d like. I know all the styles. Freestyle, butterfly...breaststroke.” He glances at your chest before winking, making Steve audibly gag.

“Dude she obviously is trying to get rid of you, leave her alone.”

“Oh what is she your girl Harrington?” Billy stands tall against Steve, trying to intimidate him.

“N-no, but she’s my friend and she asked for my help not yours.” Before Billy can answer with a snarky remark, the whistle blows indicating it’s his shift.

“This isn’t over Harrington.” Billy walks away before seeing a kid running and blowing his whistle.

“Oh my god thank you for saving me Steve!” He scratches the back of his neck while his cheeks tint the tiniest bit pink.

“Oh yeah, it’s nothing. Now where’s your stuff?”

“Next to big head himself” you roll your eyes before Steve jogs to put his shirt and small bag down next to yours and jumping in. He swims up to you and throws you across the pool making you giggle uncontrollably.

“Oh you are so dead Harrington.”

“Hey (y/n), it was nice to hang out today with you.” He smiles at you from the side of the pool, his feet moving in the water while he has his towel around his neck.

“It really was. I missed this.” You smile brightly at him while you lay your head on his lap, your body floating in front of you.

“I missed you...”

“Ditto”

Ditto. That’s all you could muster up the courage to say. Ditto. No ‘hey I missed you too’ no ‘I wish I never left’ just ditto. You stare up at the sky as the sun starts to set. Aunt Karen and Holly left three hours ago to make dinner and Steve is your ride home. No kids were there since it was late and the only other people were a few teenagers and the guards, making this moment between to friends pretty beautiful. Steve’s hand softly plays with the wet strands of your hair while you’re mesmerized but the beautiful stars starting to come out.

“Hey Harrington! The pool closes now. Pack up and get out of here!” Billy ruins the perfect moment with his annoyed barks.

“Hey Billy! Take that umbrella and shove it up your ass!” You yell back, getting a high five from Steve while he helps you out of the pool.

“You know Cherry, you sure got a mouth. It’s kinda hot.” You stare Billy in the eyes and fake gag, flipping him off while you grab your towel to and bag to go clean up.

“I’m gonna go get dressed and I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” Steve nods and goes to start the car to get the AC going for you.

“Need help (y/n)?” You get startled when you turn around to see Billy so close to you in the dressing room.

“Billy this is the girls’ dressing room get the fuck out.” You try to push him with all your strength but he doesn’t budge.

“Only if you let me take you on a date.” You contemplate how terrible one date could possibly be.

“Only one? Just one date?” He confirms for you and you sigh.

“Fine but I don’t kiss on the first date so I sure as hell don’t fuck. Now get out.” He kisses your cheek before winking and getting out of your hair. You strip from your wet swimsuit with a huff and throw on your sundress and underwear, wanting to leave the pool as fast as possible. Steve smiles from the driver side and it makes your face warm up. After finally getting in the car the quest to go home commences.

“Hey do you actually wanna spend the night? We can call Mrs. Wheeler at my house that way you won’t have to worry about waking anyone up.”

“Y-yeah sure that sounds fun.” He pokes your cheek making you both laugh as he pulls up to his house.

“Okay she said it’s fine.” You explain, walking into Steve’s room to see him holding some basketball shorts and a T-shirt.

“Thought you’d want some clean clothes.” A smile comes to your face as you thank him and take the clothes to the bathrooms

“You know, I missed when we would have sleepovers and sneak into the kitchen for snacks.” He says through the bathroom door as you slip the shorts on.

“Yeah, or when we would prank Jonathan.” You both giggle while you’re muffled by the shirt going over your head. You grab your clothes and open the door, smiling.

“Alright (y/n/n), let’s go to bed.”

A/n-hey y’all! I suffer from constant writers blocks so I’m sooo sorry it took literally months for a second part, I’ll try to update faster!!

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@supermassiveblackhope

Happiness Overload Chapter Forty

Never mind all that bullshit, here's where the REAL story begins:

So as we all know, Conrad and Velvet are assholes who should never be trusted. Unless it's trusting them to be untrustworthy, and in that case, yeah! They're super fucking trustworthy! We also know that the police aren't to be trusted. Never have been, never will. But me, being an idiot, thought that those two double-crossing snakes were in some kind of danger, and thinking (again, like a fucking moron) that some no-good cops would save them.

No, instead, I got punched in the face, then I found myself on the run from them, with gunfire out in the streets. Man, this city's really gone to shit. I didn't wanna believe it, but ain't no denyin' it now.

So that's where we're at. Any questions? No? Good. So, anyway...

I was still being chased when I turned the corner and ran into an alleyway and tried to hide behind a dumpster. I sat down and tried to catch my breath.

“Damn...asthma...”

Me, a total dumbass, forgot to take my inhaler with me when I left Conrad's little hideout.

“Shit. Maybe I should go back there?”

I peeked out from behind the dumpster to see cops still running by. None of them bothered to check the alleyway where I was at.

“Ha! Those pigs are total idiots!”

I then coughed and wheezed. Oh yeah. The breathing thing.

“Well, well, well. If it isn't ol' K-Rog,” came a baritone (not sure if that's the right description, but what I'm getting at is that it was deep) voice. What I saw in front of me was this tall man with a baseball cap and a sinister smile. In other words, stranger danger.

“I don't know how you know me, but I should inform you that the police are currently after me, so if you try any funny business, they'll probably shoot you too.”

“This is a lovely alleyway,” he responded. Or didn't respond? It sure didn't sound like a reply.

“Yeah, yeah, that's what a predator would say.”

“You'll soon get to know me,” he lunged at me, but I jumped out of the way and ran out from the dumpster. My lungs were still on fire. Now, logic would dictate that I would be safe, but no. Mr. Predator Man grabbed me by the back of my shirt just as I started to run and lifted me up.

“Hey! Let me go!”

He ran out into the streets, and I tried to struggle free, but damn, he had a tight grip.

Anyway, although I was quite the fighter, I don't always end up a winner. After like an hour, I ended up in some spooky warehouse building. Man, I really didn't like the way things were going.

“Name's Marco, kiddo.”

“And I give a fuck why?”

“Oh, you will. Mm...yes. My head is clear today. Just like the skies. You cannot see them because we're indoors, but trust me. It's beautiful.”

“Yeah, well maybe I prefer the indoors, anyway.”

“Let's cut to the chase, buddy: I want you to join my hacktivist group, Lilypad.”

I gasped.

“I heard of you guys! I thought your group was so cool!”

He laughed.

“So you'll join? I didn't think it would be that easy.”

“Yeah, over my cold, dead, body. I liked you guys back when I was like 10 and just learning to DDoS. You guys are cringe now, though. Like, what do you even do?”

He looked taken aback.

“Our goal is to make the world a better place for frogkind and we need your help. The Flashbulb, an organization that we're sure Conrad has told you all about, is threatening to cause the extinction of amphibians everywhere, but with you --”

“Pass.”

“What?”

“Look, sure, I'm a hacker, but you and I are totally different. I only hack to do noble things, like order figurines online without having to pay any money. I can't get behind your cause.”

Dude looked floored.

“In the end, I won't force you, but I think you should get all the facts, first. Besides, there are no places to run. Even if you manage to leave this place, I have connections all around the city. Now...”

He pressed a button on a small remote and the doors to the warehouse opened up. His mistake, since as soon as they started opening up, I bolted for it.

“...I should have considered this would happen,” I could hear him say. Too little, too late, my not-friend.

Outside, I found myself at a dock, but that didn't matter much to me. I ran up some stairs and once I saw the main road, I knew how to get to my parent's place from here.

Now I'm on the run from not only the cops, but also a creeper.

The whole way home, I checked behind me to see if I was being chased. Even when I couldn't see any signs of a pursuer, I continued running, only stopping probably, like, a thousand times to catch my breath.

As sad as it may have been to admit, my parents weren't the best people. I hadn't seen them in, I don't know, weeks? Months? A year? Well, I had to cut my losses eventually and just try to seek refuge somewhere. So when I went up the stairs and knocked on the door to the apartment, of course this is what my mom said to me:

“Kelly Roger? Is that you? Oh my god! I missed you so much! We've been worried sick about you! I remember filing a missing persons report on you over a year ago, but nothing ever came of it! Please, come in! Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, yeah. You guys have Wi-Fi?” I barged into the apartment, went into the room that was once my bedroom and grabbed a spare laptop and an old backpack.

My dad appeared in frame and shook his head. “We're terrible sorry, money's been tight. We've been struggling just to pay rent.”

How shocking. I couldn't believe what I heard.

“Well, it was nice seeing you guys. No Wi-Fi, no stay.”

I walked back down the stairs and my mom called for me. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“Somewhere with Wi-Fi,” I replied, my words bitter and filled with sorrow.

Yes, sometimes families aren't the best, and sometimes, you just had to go your own way, and that is just what I did.

“Can you believe that, Polo?!”

“Polo.”

“I know, right?!”

“Polo.”

“Now what are we going to do? Kelly Roger was integral to our...” I lost my train of thought due to having another thought. Of me. In another time. “Oh yeah. I was already succeeded once.”

I began laughing.

“Now why do I need the world when I've already got the city under my thumb?”

I laughed harder. My sister was right there, probably not very amused.

“Oh, Polo, dear sister. Don't worry. We will get you a girlfrog yet. Girlfrog? Frogfriend? Let's settle on girlfriend for now. It's simple and easy to remember.”

“Polo!”

“Yes. Gay frogs are the future.”

Kelly Roger not being a part of our little family put a dent in things, but it was not the end of the world. That wouldn't come for at least another three years. For the time being, I would need to continue building my empire.

“Come, sister. We must see how our gay siblings are doing back at the base.”

Hand in hand, Polo and I took to our froggy destination.

Bitter didn't even cut it; I was sipping on some strong coffee.

No, I wasn't where I wanted to be. Neither in life, nor physically. Where I was was some overrated coffee shop where Wi-Fi was for “customers only”. Like, who did they think they were? This was a public utility. People should have rioted, but instead they all just ordered their overpriced coffee.

Then there was me: hypocrite of the year. No complaints, just ordered the darkest roast they had and ordered that dark roast black. As I stared into the cup, I reflected on my situation.

No friends, no home, no trust. Enemies around every corner. Cops scavenging for my scent, their pocket lined by whoever it was they worked for. Conrad would have said some light bulb people, but me? I knew corruption when I smelled it. There was work at play that delusional snake couldn't even imagine.

...But I could, because I was the best at digging up dirt.

I looked up and noticed a security camera in the corner of the ceiling. I lowered my cap (well, I found it on the ground in an alleyway on the way to the coffee shop. For all I knew, it could have belonged to that Markov guy or whatever his name was, but it was mine now) so the camera couldn't catch my face.

I stared back at my laptop and tried to plan out my next line of attack. My stomach growled, which wasn't good, but not much I could do about that. I needed money. Not just to eat, but to survive in this dog-eat-dogshit world. Luckily, I found a five dollar bill on my way to the coffee shop, but now that was gone, used up to pay for this bitter reminder of my situation.

What I need is a job. It's probably not that hard to fake a social security card.

There was one time when I just got out of high school when I worked a job. Papa Dad's Pizza or something like that. Don't mean to brag or nothin', but I was too good for those losers. So, of course, the manager conspired to get rid of me. One day, he gave me a call to break the news:

“Kelly Roger, why aren't you at work?”

“Sorry, boss, but an emergency situation came up and I had to stay home.”

“You should have called in!”

“Yeah, but the new Fire Emblem game just came out and it's taken up all my attention.”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah, crazy, right? Apparently they added a gay romance option and I've been trying to pursue Byleth, but dude's hard to woo!”

“You're not at work 'cause of some VIDEO GAME?”

“It be like that sometimes, boss.”

“You're fired!”

The call ended without me able to plead my case. All I could do was go back to tending to royal pretty boys. Real tragic gamer moment.

Ah, but that was then. I've grown since then. I wasn't about to let something like 'being fired' stop me from working. I knew my worth and I knew I was worth more than some shitty pizza joint.

All it took was seconds, and I found a place. I went ahead and sent them an email:

Dear assholes,

Your computer repair shop looks dope as fuck, but you really ought to hire someone who knows their shits. I just defaced your website and put porn on the front page. Now, if you hire me, I can remove it, and keep your site secure so shit like that doesn't happen. Attached is my resume. There's nothing on it because I think my skills speak for themselves.

Sincerely,

K.R.

If I just gave out my name, that'd be self-incriminating. Only a complete moron would do that. Too many wandering eyes out there to do something so moronic. Initials, on the other hand? That could mean anything. Smarts right there.

Within minutes, I got my reply:

Dear KR,

Thank you for applying to RAM It In, your one-stop shop for all your computer repair needs. After reviewing your resume, we have decided to move on with other applicants at this time. Furthermore, we are not currently looking for a web designer. We wish you the best in your future endeavors and invite you to apply again once you've had more experience.

'Experience'? Really? As if someone like me needed 'experience'. Didn't they know who I was? I've got a whole-ass reputation.

My stomach growled once again.

Fine. Maybe I know my worth, but I also gotta eat. Sometimes, you gotta degrade yourself just to get by.

I stood up from my seat and went up to the front counter.

“Hey, you're gonna give me a job.”

“Uh, that's not really how that works,” the barista informed me, some acne ridden brunette teenager.

I felt bad for that poor kid. Probably 16, first job, didn't know how cutthroat the world could truly be. So naive. I was a teenager once. Just a couple years ago, in fact. But I've grown since then.

“Listen, Karen,” I set the record straight. It wasn't like I knew her name, but I had to sound authoritative. “Get your manager out here and we'll talk turkey. Or tofurkey, if that's how things roll around here.”

“I think you would be the Karen in this situation...”

“Manager. Now.”

She scurried off into the back. After a solid thirty seconds, the manager appeared. Some guy with one of those hipster-beards and hipster-glasses and that 'realer than thou' attitude. I wasn't about to learn that guy's name.

“Hey, boss man. You're gonna give me a job.”

“Yeah...” he didn't sound so pleased with me. Was I going to have to step up my assertiveness? “...That's not really how any of that works. See, first you fill out an application online, then maybe I'll call you for an interview, and then maybe after the interview, you might get the job.”

“Yeah, screw all those unnecessary steps. I already know how to make coffee. You just press some buttons and shit.”

“You also have to have good customer service skills.”

“Oh, yeah. Totally. I can do that no problem. Here, want me to prove it?”

There was some soccer mom walking by. I stopped her.

“Hey asshole, you want some coffee? Of course you do, you junkie!”

“Excuse me?” With her Pomeranian-type haircut, I could tell she would be a formidable foe. One of those types whose bark was not only worse than her bite, but a bite in of itself. Sure enough, she turned to the manager who was surely about to hire me.

“This young man...ma'am? This young...hooligan is harassing me! If you don't remove them from the store, I'm gonna sue!”

The manager raised an eyebrow. Probably the more obscure eyebrow of the two he had.

“Yeah, I'll have to ask you to leave. We can't be having you causing a scene.”

“Fine!” I huffed. “What's this place called, anyway?” I squinted my eyes. Their sign was so hard to read. Pretty sure I needed a new prescription. “Starbutts? Yeah, I never liked your shitty coffee, anyway! I'm off to bigger and better things.”

I stormed off, picking up my laptop and backpack on the way out. If it wasn't obvious, I was too good for that place, anyway. That establishment wouldn't survive long without the likes of me in their ranks. If anything, they needed me, not the other way around. But it was too late for them. They made their beds.

Speaking of bed making, I had no idea what I was going to do in terms of sleeping arrangements. Although the sun hadn't even come down yet, I was feeling pretty exhausted, so I found the nearest alleyway (a common occurrence by now) and dug through a dumpster. Inside was a large cardboard box. I folded it up and got inside.

If Solid Snake could do it, I should have no problem.

My eyes grew heavy. Real amazing how under the right conditions, the human body could sleep through anything.

As luck would have it, rain poured down.

Man, work was so boring. Lemme tell you, I just stare at a screen all day. There's not even ever anything good on. Now, saying all that, people probably would have gotten the wrong idea. So lemme set the record straight: life is peachy. Why wouldn't it be? I've had a great job, I was hired on to a company with great benefits, and all I had to do was spy on people.

What? You ask? You've heard all that before? No, that can't be right. First off, that redhead named Velvet was as good as dead. Besides, my hair is a normal brunette. I take my job seriously and I'm loyal to my company. She's got nothin' on me.

What? You've heard all that before, too? No, that can't be right, I'm--

“Celia V, are you lost in thought again?”

“HEY! FUCK YOU! I WAS NARRATING!”

Never mind that just now. That was just my boss. You know, head of the ETNA Corporation. Yeah, like I really needed to keep that a secret. Get real. We're, like, hidden behind seven layers of security, and just like Dante's Inferno, I'm on the sixth layer.

“Are you paying attention? Your observation on the one known as 'Kelly Roger' is vital.”

“Yeah, yeah. It's just so boring. I don't get why I'm doing this. Why not Conrad? Or Velvet? Or even the one that got away? What was their name again? Brawny? Yeah, lemme observe a roll of paper towels.”

“I have my reasons for my orders.”

I puffed my cheeks.

“Sure you do, but all's I'm saying is this kid's a loser. If you're that concerned, couldn't you just get a cop or a Prinny to kill them?”

“If you really must know, I have reason to believe that Kelly Roger poses no threat. However, I still wish to keep a close eye on them. Conrad must have had a reason to recruit Kelly Roger.”

“Hey doc, has it ever occurred to you that Conrad's an idiot, too?”

“Yes. Most are of low intelligence when compared to one such as I.”

“Not what I meant. I just mean, maybe there wasn't a very good reason. Maybe Conrad just figured three's company.”

I stroked my chin. I didn't have a beard or nothin', just thought that's what all the cool people did when they were in the middle of deep thought.

“Actually, now that you mention it, yeah. You may have a point, there. That's why you're the boss, huh?”

Yes...maybe there was some master plan that we didn't know about. Something that had gone under our noses the whole time. Maybe, just maybe, Kelly Roger was the key to it all.

When I woke up, the sun was shining and my clothes were damp and stuck to my skin, making me itch everywhere.

I did get a pretty nice rest, though. Maybe sleeping outside ain't so bad.

That's when I began to panic. It rained. That wasn't very cash money!

Just to be on the safe side, I checked my backpack. The outside was soaked, but inside, my laptop was still dry. What a relief.

Another relief was that I made it through an entire night without being mugged, robbed, beat up, or worse. Wasn't sure what could be worse, but another encounter with that Macaroni (that was his name, wasn't it?) man didn't sound pleasant.

“Now, my next course of action, should be...” I got up. I needed some plan. Just because a badass like me could survive a night in the streets didn't mean it would be a good idea to run into everything blind. Food, water, shelter. Basic human needs. If I was a basic human. “Nah, I'm no normie. What I need is my body pillow! How am I supposed to sleep without my waifu, in pillow form, to hug?”

Yes. All who were cultured knew the importance of having a husbando and/or waifu. Someone to hold. Someone two-dimensional. Without someone like that, well...the world would be cold.

When I last saw my waifu, who at the time, was the great and esteemed Palutena, she was locked away underground in the bunker. While I originally had no intention of ever going back there, some things were just too important. Not only did I leave my waifu, but also hard drives filled with hundreds of anime series and a handful of hentai, too. Those things were too precious to leave behind.

But didn't the base get raided, or something?

There my mind went, going straight to the negatives. Bad mind!

Maybe my room's still intact, at the very least. If it is, maybe I could go back, and sleep there. I would have a shelter and –

Spoilers: that didn't happen. When I got to the university, there was a large crowd. After shoving past everyone, seeing the yellow tape, I fell to the ground.

“My...waifu...”

Indeed, the university had all been reduced to rubble.

I looked around. There were cops. That was no good. They could have recognized me (and my brilliance, let's be honest here). I needed to bounce.

As I made my way through the crowd, I thought I was in the clear. That was, until some lady with a brown pony tail stopped me. She wore both a police uniform as well as a fake mustache. Very suspicious.

“Hey! You there!”

Shit. Okay, Kelly Roger. Act like a Normie. Be cool.

“Did you attend this school?”

“What's it to you?” I groaned.

“Just answer the question.” She tapped a baton against her hand. I gulped.

“Yeah.”

“What was your major?”

“Hentai studies.”

“BITCH, WHAT THE FUCK? THAT'S NOT A REAL MAJOR!”

I flinched and stood back.

“Ugh. What's it to you, anyway?”

“If you don't answer truthfully, I will make your life a living hell, you got that?”

“Hey, look over there! Someone's existing while poor!”

“Huh?” She turned around. That was my cue. I bolted.

Damn, I can't believe that worked. I really am a genius, aren't I?

Hate to admit it, but Kelly Roger was good. To think they could really fool me with something like that. They were definitely hiding something, and now that I met Kelly Roger in person, I knew why Dr. Etna sent me to spy on them.

“Back to HQ I go. This just got interesting.”

Pretty sure I lost track of that police lady. Good. I peeked out from the corner of the building I hid behind, just in case.

No sign of her.

Now, I would have let out a sigh of relief, if my breathing wasn't all out of whack. What I needed was an inhaler.

“Or...some...plushies...”

Could I even do that? Could I hack my way into ordering plushies online without having to pay? The answer would have been a resounding yes, but there was one problem: what address would I have sent it to?

I shook my head. After a good while, my breathing got normal again. Long while, but normal breathing, nonetheless.

That lady was not normal. That much was obvious. My best guess was that she wasn't any old police officer. Not that any of the police officers were good, they were all under the control of something. Between that lady, the corrupt cops, and that strange frog guy, there was something going on in my city, and I wouldn't let it persist. It was time to step up, and if no one else was going to uncover the truth, then I would.

Besides, maybe I'd be paid lots of money for my detective work.

“You there!” At first I thought the fake cop lady had found me. No, instead it was some grubby looking man in tattered clothing. What a relief. “Gimme all your money! I've got a knife!”

Gimme a break. I'm not interested in being mugged right now.

“Oh, sure. Lemme just get it out of my backpack.” I should be careful, if he sees my laptop, he could steal it and bring it to a pawn shop or something and get cash from it. My laptop's worth way more than whatever they'd give him at a fuckin' pawn shop!

After I pulled out just what he needed, I got up.

“Lookie here, I got a knife, too!” Ah, my trusty knife. Not to brag or anything, but my knife was much prettier and much sharper. Longer, too. So glad I didn't leave it at the bunker. “Now, what you got on you?”

“Uhh...I got a phone.”

“Give it here,” I grunted. “No funny business, either.”

He brought a phone out of his pocket and handed it over.

“Good, good. Now run, before I make a rare steak outta you!”

He ran for it, dropping his knife on the ground. His was just some flimsy pocket knife. I took that too, for good measure. Once he was out of sight, I blinked.

“Wow. I can't believe that actually worked.”

Now that I had a cell phone (even if, as it would turn out, it was one of those pay-as-you-go phones), I was ready to take on whatever sinister forces lurked under the surface.

in honor of last night having been my last ever shift dishwashing at the same restaurant i’ve been at for the past four years here’s an absurdly long list of random chaotic moments that literally no one asked for that i’ve been compiling since day one:

bj, with a half full gallon of orange juice: this expired two months ago. *pours down drain* that was a long time ago

sam: YOU! I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU!! *carries on normally with no explanation* bj: smack that! that too! smack those vegetables! punch that burger in the nose! chop that bun! bob: no, flick the bun. you have to flick it. 

*bad and boujee playing* bj: walks into kitchen, singing bj: you better know when to hold em, know when to fold em, know when to walk away, know when to run bj: walks out of kitchen, still singing

me: hey can you put the wet floor sign out for me dylan: sure dylan: *slips while putting the sign out* me:

sam: get this- i haven’t smoked pot in like three days and my brain is ready to roll! yeah!

joe: ha! oldest trick in the book i just started writing 

dude @bar: ten percent of people are over 6'1" other dude: what about 6'2"  dude 1: what? no. ten percent of people are OVER 6'1" - so that includes 6'2" dude 2: idk I know a lot of tall guys. taller than me dude 1: what? i’m saying- just- ten percent of everyone in the whole world- you know how many people there are in the world? 7 billion– dude 2: i thought it was six billion  dude 1: no, 7 billion- ten percent of 7 billion—

joe, digging through the trash: i’m just gonna peruse through here,, aaaaannnd….. nope not here me: what’re u looking for Joe: …..a book

didi: is eating a pistachio  katherine: is that sour cream

sam: some dirty whorebag wants two pickles 

joe: sam she am. that’s right. dr seuss wrote a book about her 

katherine: oh my goddd this song is always on i’m so tired of it joe: is it? i don’t think i’ve heard it before carolyn: eh it’s all just one long brazilian song to me

katherine: look at my straw i put it in the pencil sharpener 

sam: i’m on crack cocaine. you heard it here

sam, aggressively putting silverware in the tray: just the way the cookie crumbles me: yeah? sam, fake crying: yes

adele: if you’re ready- sam: what if I’m not bob: too bad. she only cares if she’s ready

something: *breaks* sam: time for the mop. and by mop i mean… this thing *holds up dustpan*

mike: you should go on junior master chef…. and only make fries 

sam, quietly as she speedwalks by me: panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic

sam, beginning of the night: my goal is to make at least forty bucks tonight. hopefully sixty sam, later that night: i’ve made five dollars

sam, pouring a drink into the trash right next to the sink: you know, im not sure why i poured that in the trash. i’ve had a very off day

katherine, after accidentally spraying salsa on herself: i just sprayed salsa all over myself bj: i feel like that too sometimes. i love salsa so much

sam: can you imagine if i did like hardcore drugs how messed up i would be- i’m messed up soberly

someone: what’re you supposed to feed twenty kids  kerry: pizza bj: vodka 

sam: will you let bob know there’s gonna be seven in the snug bj: seven in the snug? that’s my band name. we’re really good

edson: *spins cover on counter and stares at it for solid thirty seconds before putting his finger down to stop it* edson: good. 

sam: what should i draw bj: you should draw casey, hanging from a cliff, with a pterodactyl flying towards them who is on fire, but, seems optimistic about it 

bj: life is too short for low fat cheese. remember that. 

sam, beginning of night, in a really good mood: guess what i’m drunk and high right now  sam, later that night: i was just pouring a beer and i dropped it. like my hand just let go of it sam, end of night: i’m never doing this again 

joe: you know who didn’t clock out yet?? i have two thumbs! joe: ……wait joe: you know who has two thumbs and hasn’t clocked out yet?? this guy!! me: there ya go buddy

bob: i’ve slept fifteen hours in the past four days me: that’s not good bob: yeah

edson: look edson: *holds out hand with top spinning in his palm* *giggles*

sam: i cannot wait for this day to be over  me: it’s barely started  sam: i took a shot before i got here. i have more in my car

bob: hi sam sam: hi bob  didi: hi sam sam: fuck off

joe: her? oh yeah her name is sarah whitaker  katherine: oh i think i know her joe: that’s funny because i just made that up. i’m willing to bet money that she’s nineteen tho me: why joe: bc i overheard her say that she’s nineteen

joe: i’m gonna send you a video but you can’t watch it now it’s needs full attention with headphones and the lights off 

bj: if you lose your hand, don’t replace it with a fork. that would be a bad choice. i know it’s probably the cheapest option, right up there with stick, but just spend the money. 

bj, on a different day: i think if you were to get your hands cut off, getting them replaced with plates would be a very bad idea. you can dig. and you can toss. but that’s about it. no playing the saxophone.  

colby: *doesn’t show up to work* bj: maybe i should leave him a message of just me crying 

katherine: i think an old man just asked me to live with him

sam: wait *pulls celery strings out of her mouth* that just came out of my throat

bob: i’m such a grump tonight. i’m in a good mood i’m just so grumpy.  bob: maybe i’m not in a good mood…

bj, after sending christa downstairs to get liquor for the bar: i put a live cobra down there too so… if she comes back with it dead in her hands…. she’s a champ. and that’s that. 

bj: i had a dog today did you have a dog? me: no bj: oh. well. 

dylan, holding phone camera at joe: hey joe can you pull ur shirt down joe, pulling the collar of his shirt halfway down his chest: yeah like this? dylan, taking picture: yeah thanks 

bj: HI-YAH carley: you’re a ninja!! bj: yes. don’t be alarmed. i only use my powers for good. 

bj, with one bottle in each hand, pouring water in the sink, mimicking cow milking motions: it’s like a cow. mooooooeeeeeeuuuuuhhhhhhgggg aaaaaauuuuuueuejhshhsii. that’s what cows sound like right?

bj: we have a dog, and we’re getting chickens. i’m not really sure why were getting chickens. do i consider myself a farmer? not really. 

bj: we should make a youtube channel of just me saying really random things to you and you not responding to me whatsoever me: mhmm

nancy: I’m sleeping

sam: *pours drink out on counter next to sink* sam: wHAT the FuCK was that!? why did i do that?? i’ve lost it! i’ve hit rock bottom!!

sam: *bends over* ughhhhhhhhhhhhh *straightens up* ok i’m fine

bj: yum! that’s how i rate the soup. two yums up!! *laughs for like a full minute*

sam: i got my motorcycle license over the weekend and now all everyone’s saying to me is “no don’t get a motorcycle they’re so dangerous” like shut the fuck up if i die i die it’s my choice 

bj: i think if i were to be turned into some kind of commercial type of food, if i got turned into a nugget, i think i’d be indignant. i’ve lived my whole life and now i’m a nugget??? “oh i was a great roasted-“ i was a nugget. i was eaten with fries out of a box with a small soda. 

bj: hello everybody. i have arrived. please remain calm.  bob: *screams*

radio: the fastest lawn mower in the world goes up to 150 miles per hour! bob: …….why??

sam: i just meowed in scotty’s face and he was completely unfazed by it. like a full on Meow. 

bob: lemme just touch these live wires with my wet hands  bj: bob has gone offline

katherine: i totally forgot to put their order in for i don’t even know how long me: ……..i’m sure it’ll be fine katherine: i mean, nothing matters, right? right. nothing matters. 

bj: hey did you guys hear that kate: yeah what was that bj: oh i was just yelling……….. about the soup kate: me: katherine: bj: i’ll try to keep it down next time

bob: you sleep a lot when you’re old. it’s just practice for death. getting ready for The Big Sleep. let’s see how do i wanna go out? on my back?? nah not for me. on my front babey! 

didi: hi sam sam: SHUT UP didi, quieter: okay…… sam: i love you  didi: no bj: so you’re a grownup now. that’s means you have to do grown up things, like, pay for dinner and stuff? me: uh huh bj: it’s all downhill from here 

bj: pon pon the van poco. right? me: mhmm bj: probably. i mean. i’m no doctor, but

random woman @ bar: we are the matrix. We. Are. The Matrix. 

bj, to the tune of frosty the snowman: clunkity clunk clunk clunkity clunk clunk look at all this stuff. clunkity clunk clunk clunkity clunk clunk making casey’s job tough! pretty good right?? i just made it up 

bj: *walks into kitchen* YES! that’s all i have to say. that’s it. BOBS killing it. DIDIS killing it. casey MURDERED it. you’re welcome. *walks out of kitchen* bj: today is the second day in a row my dog has eaten my lunch. yesterday and then today. it’s my own fault really bob: well you know what they say about men who like floppy french fries. *doesn’t elaborate*

sam: there’s a toy baby in my section. like just a toy baby taking up a seat in my section. what do i do like do i move the bitch? do i leave her there??

bob, talking to himself: if you get sick tomorrow, just remember. it’s your own fault for eating food off the floor. 

bob, to katherine: no, you don’t have to mop the carpet

bj: cheeeesy. 

laura: if i get through tonight without a heart attack it’ll be incredible. if i do have a heart attack tho just let me go

caldo: *unintelligible yelling* SELLING my BODY for SEX *more unintelligible yelling*

bob: my fathers brother sent all his kids to australia. i guess he figured at least one of them would make it

caldo: i don’t trust people who go out to eat tuna fish

bob: can you make some more guacamole soon we’re running low laura: pulls five (5) avocados from her pockets 

bob: he looks like jesus. well. he looks like what white people think jesus looked like

sam: yeah. Please. eat some more mother Fucking crackers. 

bj: i feel like i gave birth to the eggplant stacks tonight. and honestly? if my child looked like that? i’d be proud. proud to have an eggplant child

bj: alright everybody let’s get the fuf out of here!! i said fuf not f- it’s safe. f u f starts and ends with soft letters no one gets hurt. any word that starts with a soft letter and ends with a hard letter is bad news… i feel like every time i come in here i annoy you guys. casey’s one dumbass comment away from killing me. “hey so what are your thoughts on grass?” “that’s it” *mimics shooting a gun*

ilia: -and the dogs gonna get diabetes- katherine, indignantly: i cleaned it really well!

mickey: i’ll tell you one thing. crack is good. 

sam: some lady just rolled up to the bar, no bra, nipples beamin through the shirt- LETS GET IT!!!!

caldo: *speed walks into kitchen and shotguns a beer over the trash* ok i’m back. i should not have smoked this morning

dom: little kid just picked up a knife and went “oh cool i can stab someone” me, katherine, and sam in unison: good dom: yeah the dad took it away 

sam: my friend was like “why is your go to dance move just to snap” and i was like “i don’t know, i’m white” *shrugs*

bj: someone just asked me if i’m having fun. am i having fun? i don’t know if i’m having fun. there are certainly other things i’d rather be doing right now, but i don’t know if i can definitively say that i’m Not having fun. 

bj: some jobs require Only a ladle bj, thirty seconds later, after walking away and coming back: sometimes, also a funnel

bj, @ laura who’s eating cornbread: you cornbread eating chef!!!  laura: bj: laura: bj: i’m just saying facts in a weird way. you know like you’re in trouble. 

sam: *war cry* *spits out gum* *walks away*

bj: what kind of smoothie? Soup Smoothie!!

katherine: so this woman ordered some hot water so i gave it to her and her husband says you know what that’s for right and i’m like ….to drink? and he says nope! and doesn’t explain so i’m just like ………..okay! and walk away bc i don’t even want to know 

bj: there’s no shame in it! A Grown Man Can Bathe In Yogurt!!!

bj, leaning down very close to to-go box: i love you

bob: anyone want a drink? brian: whatever’s your strongest bob: milk it is

guy at bar: sUE HIM?!?!??? oh i’d sue him yeah

sam: who orders something extra cold?? like, you need to Die now thanks. 

sam: do you dare me to drink this buffalo sauce me: yes laura, walking by: snort it

sam: one more day. just one more day laura: of what sam: waking up

bob: *is trying to explain easter to jewish laura* laura: wait so he died… then he came back to life?? then he died Again??? bob: he died. then he came back just to tell people he was alive. then he said SEE YA and ascended to heaven

sam: i HATE margaritas. i don’t know why i just made myself one. 

bob: wow. i have this overpowering urge to just go home. 

bj, putting back a slotted spoon: this is a bad choice for dressing. a bad choice. 

me: *catches a plate about to fall* bj: woah! smooth moves!! spider-man? maybe. 

danny: so you know how at my other job everyone calls me daddy?

sam: *dumps out two full wine glasses* i fucked up. tell no one. 

me: remember when we used to be able to leave early? bob: no. i think we imagined it. 

danny: i didn’t realize we served DICK here -a few min later- danny: sorry i just got out of work and i’m all fired up

sam: my moms drunk and she won’t go home

bob: hey wasn’t that slang for mari- bj: cocaine. 

bj: *kicks kitchen door open* YEE-HAW!!!!

danny: sorry casey  me: what for  danny: for having to deal with me me: yeah *shrugs* danny: they should pay you more me: yeah

didi: i kill you ilia: do it now didi: no ilia: do it i wanna die

danny, about a burger: we’ve got ourselves a squirter!!

sam: is that a chicken patty  sydney: it’s my dog

sam, on my last night with her: lets get casey TRASHED tonight

sam: are you gonna go dancing in new york didi: yes laura: whore it up

would you have me, would you want me?

Part I

Part II

Cas chokes on his drink. 

Spluttering, he gasps for breath, his face reddening with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” Dean says, his eyes laughing. “I guess this batch is stronger than the last one.” He gently guides Cas away from the punch bowl, towards an unoccupied corner of the kitchen. “Here,” he says, swapping out their cups. “I only got Jack and Coke in mine.”

“Are you sure?”

Dean sniffs the punch skeptically before taking a small sip. “Yeah, my standards are not high. Jesus Christ, they must’ve poured the whole bottle in there.”

Cas hides his own smile behind the rim of Dean’s cup.

“So, Cas,” Dean starts, “What’s up?”

“What’s up?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “It’s like I hardly see you now we’re done with Cicero.”

Cas takes a large gulp of his drink. “I didn’t realize you noticed.”

“‘Course I did!” Dean says, mock-outraged. He ignores a loud cheer from the crowd around the doorway at the other end of the room. “Tutoring was the best part of Thursdays.”

“You have double-period Latin and Ms. Abbadon back-to-back on Thursdays,” Cas says shrewdly, as he watches Gordon from Calculus brandish two full bottles of vodka. “There wasn’t much competition, as far our tutoring sessions went.”

“How’d you know that?” Dean asks, baffled.

“You complained of both frequently,” Cas says. Before he can stop himself, Cas tacks on, “I always listen when you tell me things, Dean.”

Dean smiles weakly at him before taking a large gulp of punch. “Hey, do you want to go somewhere quieter? I can barely hear myself think.”

Cas nods and lets Dean pull him out of the kitchen.

“So how’re you really doing?” Dean asks as they settle down on the first steps of the forbidden stairs to the second story of Tessa’s house. “Did your old man come through?”

Cas’s expression hardens. “He won’t be able to make it to graduation. I received his response in the mail a few weeks ago.”

Dean studies him, and Cas tries not to fidget under his gaze. “Let me guess, you’ve been skulking in the library ever since, your nose buried in a book.”

Cas bristles. “I do not skulk.”

“Dude, you so do,” Dean says, laughing. “With the face, and the eyes - trust me, you’ve sent freshmen running for the hills and you don’t even know it.”

Cas hunches in on himself. “I haven’t been in… the best of moods lately.”

“No shit,” Dean says as he reaches out and claps Cas on the shoulder. “At least you’ll have Gabriel?”

“Small consolation.”

Dean bumps up against Cas reassuringly. “Come on, he’ll make enough noise for at least four relatives.”

Cas just shakes his head.

“At least you’ll be leaving all this behind,” Dean says, his face darkening. “You’ll be able to start new and shit.”

Cas turns to him, puzzled. “I’m barely going out of state. And it’s only for four years - less, if I can graduate early.”

“Uh huh,” Dean says, not looking convinced in the slightest. He swirls the terrible punch around in its cup before taking a large gulp.

* * *

Castiel swallows nervously.

“It’s good to see you,” he tells Dean.

“Same here,” Dean says. He glances at Charlie. “You know Charlie?”

“Cas teaches Latin and French at Carver Preparatory Academy,” Charlie pipes up. At Dean’s blank look, she explains, “A few years ago, Roman donated a bunch of tech to his alma mater. Yours truly was sent in to coordinate from Roman’s side of things, and Cas here drew the short straw at the high school.”

“I also chair the robotics club,” Castiel clarifies.

“You’re at Carver?” Dean asks, eyes widening. “Teaching those douche nozzles that stole Peppy the Pigeon?”

Castiel makes a face. “Those students were reprimanded and suspended. It was not an… authorized thievery.”

Dean snorts.

“And it’s not like your students’ hands are entirely clean either,” Castiel adds reproachfully. “Didn’t they sneak pot brownies into our bake sale for senior prom?”

“So what if they did?” Dean crosses his arms across his chest. “As far as I’m concerned, they got more bang for their buck. You can’t get a pot brownie for three dollars just anywhere.”

“The faculty bought them too! We were in the middle of midterms!”

Dean smirks. “Extra fun midterms, then.”

Castiel throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know why I even bother,” he says as he spins on his heel. “I need another drink.”

Dean hasn’t changed. Not one bit.

He gets halfway to the makeshift bar before Charlie waylays him. “Dude,” she says, her eyes huge.

“What?” Castiel jerks his arm to throw off her grip and makes as if to step past her.

“That was a disaster.”

“You’re telling me,” Castiel says sourly.

“Why’d you attack him like that?”

“He started it,” Castiel says, eyes flashing.

Charlie throws him a deeply skeptical look. “Are you really incapable of being in the same room for five minutes?”

Castiel sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Most likely.”

“At least nobody threw food,” Charlie says before perking up. “Although that last food fight was epic.”

“He started that one too.”

“You could’ve walked away, literal egg on your face or no,” Charlie says, the corner of her mouth twitching.

Castiel shakes his head. “I’ve never been able to walk away from Dean Winchester. You know that.”

“Sure,” Charlie says easily, “but he doesn’t.”

* * *

Cas swallows nervously. 

“I’ll come back for the holidays,” he offers boldly, the alcohol shoring up his resolve. He isn’t sure Dean would even care, but he needs to say something.

In the beginning, Dean needed help with Latin, so Cas was assigned as his tutor. After a rocky start - Dean kept ditching Cas for reasons unknown - Cas followed him to his car and refused to get left behind again. With Dean in the driver's seat, they picked up Sam at his middle school and drove him to soccer practice.

Cas tutored Dean right there on the bleachers overlooking the scrimmage game.

When it rained, Sam came with them to the library - as happy as a pig in shit, as Dean often said while ruffling Sam’s hair.

To celebrate their last tutoring session a month ago, Dean took Cas to the movies. A film had just opened about two demon hunting brothers. The trailer showed them saying a Latin exorcism, so it totally counted, according to Dean.

Dean and Cas are friends. Probably.

But Dean has a lot of friends. Cas has observed them across the cafeteria, over the pages of too many books to name. They make Dean laugh, far more than he ever has with Cas. They understand his jokes without explanations. Dean doesn’t meet their eyes for only a moment before ducking away.

After a small eternity, Dean speaks. “I’m glad you’re here, Cas.”

Warmth blooms bright in Cas’s chest. “Me too.” He fiddles with his cup before taking a reassuring swallow of liquid courage. “Why did you invite me?”

“I dunno.” Dean stares down at the drink between his hands. “Thought it would be nice.”

“Really?” Cas asks, his voice dripping with skepticism.

Dean screws up his face. “You seemed stuck in this funk, man. And you weren’t getting out of it on your own, so, I guess, I thought it was time to bring in the big guns.”

“A party?”

Dean grins. “Nothing like alcohol and bad decisions to loosen you up.”

Cas chuckles under his breath. “I almost didn’t come.”

“I figured it was a long shot. Why did you?”

Cas swallows down more of his drink. “You asked me to.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean drifts off, brow furrowed.

“You’ve asked me for exactly four things over the past year,” Cas says seriously, ticking them off on his fingers, “One, to let you drive Sam to soccer practice while we were supposed to have tutoring; two, to borrow my flash cards, which I was going to give you anyway; three, to go to the movies with you; and four, to come to Tessa’s house tonight. That’s it.”

Dean knocks back his cup, his eyes dark. “I guess I thought I was more of a drag for you these past few months.”

Cas’s mouth falls open in surprise. “A drag on what, my vibrant social life?”

Dean shrugs, staring out at the empty hallway. “You have this mysterious loner vibe going on. I didn’t think you wanted anyone to mess with that.”

Cas squints at him. “I have a vibe?”

“At first I thought you just thought you were better than the rest of us,” Dean continues as Cas’s heart sinks into the floor. “But I know better now.”

Cas tips back his drink, draining it. He croaks, “You do?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth lifts into a half-smile. “Yeah, I do, Cas.”

* * *

Castiel’s stomach flips at the sound of his name.

Dean catches up with him right outside of the gym, calling again,  “Hey, Cas, wait!”

Castiel turns, dread curling in his gut. But he can’t flee - he still has some pride left. “What?”

“I think we need a do-over,” Dean says seriously.

Castiel bites back the, What gave you that idea? on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he says, as evenly as he can, “I think so.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck, wrongfooted in a way Castiel has never seen on him before. “Look, we’re not our students, obviously.”

“Or else I would know what ‘yeet’ meant,” Castiel says wryly.

“Mood,” Dean deadpans, before his face breaks out into a smile as Castiel squints at him, uncomprehending. “I heard down the grapevine you went into teaching a few years ago. Good for you, putting those tutoring skills to better use.”

“It seemed a logical choice.” He eyes Dean, biting his lip as he tries to convey his next thought without offending him. “But I was surprised to hear you went into teaching too.”

Dean snorts. “You and everybody else.”

“Why did you?”

Dean shrugs. “I had this teacher in community college, Missouri Moseley - she said it would be a good fit for me. She convinced me to transfer to a four-year university and get certified.”

Curious, Castiel asks, “Why did she say it was a good fit?” before he thinks better of it, and adds quickly, “Not that I think she’s wrong.”

“’Course you don’t,” Dean says with a lopsided grin. “She said I would come to the role from a position of empathy. That I would be able to reach the troubled kids who need the most help.” He averts his gaze, muttering, “Fancy words for saying I have a soft spot for the outcasts and loners, I guess.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“No?” Dean’s brow furrows as he takes in Castiel’s stony expression. “I told you my dad was never around. Not one teacher noticed,” he says, gesturing around them. “Our guidance counselor was a waste of space. I only went to community college to set a good example for Sammy.”

“Yes, but,” Castiel protests, “you were popular. You weren’t an outcast.”

“But you were,” Dean said, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Castiel grimaces. “I know that.”

“There you go.” Dean crosses his arms across his chest, satisfied.

But, Castiel is far from satisfied. He hasn’t been satisfied for ten years. “I don’t understand you,” Castiel grinds out, frustrated. “You’re saying you went into teaching to help kids like me?”

Dean’s confidence cracks the tiniest fraction. “Yeah?”

Castiel lets out a dark laugh. “I suppose you have changed.”

“I mean, it’s been ten years…” Dean drifts off.

Castiel could use another drink. Or five. He rubs a tired hand down his face.

“Look,” Dean says, “I know I was an ass to you in senior year.”

“Only the last few months,” Castiel says sharply. “For the vast majority of that year, you were my friend.”

* * *

Cas’s stomach flips at the sound of his name.

Cheeks flaming, Cas sneaks a peek at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

Nobody called him ‘Cas’ before Dean. Teachers and classmates always used ‘Castiel.’ His relatives, his mother, all called him by his given name.

But Dean - Dean would sooner spend his valuable lunch money on the cafeteria salad than ever call him ‘Castiel.’ From day one, he claimed ‘Cas’ as his.

“I don’t mean to shut everyone out,” Cas says, the words spilling out of him before he can dwell too deeply on them. “I just don’t know how to let them in.”

“It’s not easy,” Dean says frankly. He tips back his cup of punch.

“You don’t seem to have the same difficulty,” Cas says in a low voice, trying not to sound accusatory.

Dean shrugs, his eyes troubled. “It’s all relative, I guess.”

Cas leans forward, resting one elbow on his knees as his other hand dangles uselessly at his side, clutching his mostly-empty cup. “I probably should have done more.”

“If you’re happy kicking it solo, who am I to tell you how to live your life?” Dean asks, and Cas cranes his neck to see him relaxing back, sprawling out so his arms take up the whole width of the stairs.

“But maybe I could have been happier if I had more friends.”

Dean shakes his head. “No way to know that for sure.”

“Really?”

Dean licks his lips. “I mean, I got a lot of people who like to listen to me run my mouth and make stupid jokes. I don’t have a lot of people who would put up with my idiot little brother for a twenty-minute car ride every week.”

“Sam’s not an idiot,” Cas says automatically.

Dean grins. “There we go.”

“I’m sure you have more than you think,” Cas says quietly.

“Leo would rather strip and sing the Macarena in front of the student body than spend one minute with Sam, and don’t get me started on Bela or Gordon,” Dean says derisively. “Look, ‘m pretty sure I got one dude who’s up for it, and I’m looking at him.”

Cas ducks his head, staring hard at the piece of carpet between his feet.

“You’re a good friend, Cas,” Dean’s voice says to his back. “If you want to fuck off after college and live like a hermit in the Rockies, be my guest. But it doesn’t have to be that way. It’s not your fault nobody else sees how awesome you are.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I told you, I’ll probably return after college. My family is here.”

“Fat lot of good they’ve been doing for you lately,” Dean snorts.

Cas turns to look at him. “I think I’ve managed fine on my own.”

“Yeah, but you deserve better than ‘fine.’” Dean sits up, his eyes dark and intense. “You deserve the goddamn world, man.”

Cas stares at him, his eyes wide.

“Fuck it,” Dean mutters before pressing their lips together.

Onto Part III