#{ that's definitely only the reason he's not answering this. uh huh. yep. ( >:3 lie )

[abstractreign]

Would you love Eanas if he were a worm? ( → unknown inquirer )

He wordlessly rereads — and keeps rereading — the question for a bit.

"...The better question is: would he love me if I were one?"

[nat-20s]

 Part 8 of the wonderful! Au: the boys answer some questions! Up to you to decide if they actually clarify anything!

(also on AO3)

~*~

Martin: Hey everyone! I know what some of you are thinking right now: it's not Tuesday, why is this episode in my feed? I know significantly more of you are thinking: I don't consistently keep up with podcast releases, how much free time do you think I have, buddy? To answer your queries: this is a bonus episode! We're answering listener questions to clear the air and/or have fun. Also, I don't know, around 20 to 40 minutes a week, as that is the average amount of time per episode? Maybe during your commute? My husband's omnipotence has been gone for five years, we just have to guess at that sort of thing now.

Jon: For legal reasons, that last statement was a joke. In fact, to cover all of our bases, we do not guarantee that any of our responses are genuine.

Martin: Just because we say we'll answer things doesn't mean we'll answer truthfully. Though, honestly, I think we might make it more enjoyable if we do tell the truth. Like, I don't necessarily have a fun lie prepared for our first question from konspiracyking97: "What's their fuckin deal anyway?"

Jon: Is this referring to the oblique references  we've made about being from a parallel reality and only ending up here as a consequence of ending one apocalypse and potentially starting another or the general premise of the show?

Martin: Oh, it's gotta be general premise, yeah?

Jon: In that case, I'm Jon, the other voice you're hearing is Martin, we're married, and we talk about things that are..nice? Good? Usually generally but occasionally rather specifically pleasant.

Martin: That pretty much covers it. It's not a complicated show. Uhh, next question comes from Shane: are either or both of you aliens? Nope!

Jon: Well..

Martin: No. We are 100% human people from Earth, we are under no definition extraterrestrial.

Jon: Eh..

Martin: Okay, first off, I know the tone of that 'eh' and "not fully human" is not synonymous with alien, so even if 100% is being a bit generous, we're still from the same planet as our listeners.

Jon:..

Jon: But. We sort of aren't though. Technically speaking.

Martin: No no no no no. I don't care if it's parallel, Earth is Earth is Earth, regardless of whatever nonsense metaphysics might be occurring.

Jon: So what you're saying is that if you got sucked through a portal and landed on an Earth where dinosaurs were still the predominant species, you wouldn't consider yourself to be an alien?

Martin: Nope!

Jon: I'm certain that they would consider you an alien. All of their mammals are probably shrew sized.

Martin: Sounds like a them problem.

Jon: Sounds like a-?! You know what, no, this will be an off the record debate, for now, I suppose I concede that the two Earths and our physiologies are similar enough that we might, maybe, not count as aliens.

Martin: Thank you. Anyway, our next question is from anonymous, and asks, "Is all of this an ARG?"

Jon: A whomst?

Martin: Alternate reality game. It's a method of storytelling that's interactive with audience, and usually has, I dunno, a certain suspension of disbelief to it where it pretends to be something actually happening in the real world until a dramatic reveal. A lot times it was used as a marketing gimmick, but others have done it just for fun. I can show you some examples after the show?

Jon: So it's in essence a more involved creepypasta?

Martin, delighted: Aw, babe, I'm never going to have a handle on what pop culture you are and aren't aware of, huh?

Jon: We were born within a year of each other, and I've told you that I was a deeply morbid teenager, you should probably be able to intuit some of things, love.

Martin: This coming from a man who has yet to see "It's a Wonderful Life", but has seen every film in the "Banjo Cannibals" franchise, including the Easter special. Jesus doesn't exist in the Banjo Cannibals universe, why does it have an Easter special?

Jon: The movies are rather shoddily translated from Russian, so I'm fairly certain the Easter component of that special was invented wholesale in the English version.

Martin: You say that like it answers more questions than it raises.

Jon: Yes, because it does. Oh, and to answer anonymous's question, no, this isn't an ARG. From my understanding of it, if it were, it'd be a poorly constructed one, as there's no real game element to any of this.

Martin: Hmm. Well, sometimes the game component is just trying to figure out what's going on with the story, or if there's any deeper content, and people are definitely doing that with this show.

Jon: That's not by design though. It's more a side effect of us having poor brain to mouth filters, I'd say.

Martin: Harsh, but fair. Oh, this next one is from Zac, no K, who asks, "Are you two actually even married?"

Jon, flat: We are, but it's under false names because this whole thing is an elaborate insurance scam.

Jon, incredulous: Yes, obviously, we're married. What did you hear in this podcast that would make you wonder otherwise, and how do we rectify it?

Martin: Clearly we need to up our quota for how "disgustingly in love" and "horrifically sappy" we are per episode. Which segues nicely into the next question from Gwen, "What's your favourite wonderful thing you've brought so far?" My answer: my husband. He's kind of my favourite in most things, you know?

Jon: Boooooo

Martin: Why, what's your favourite thing?

[Jon reluctantly sighs]

Jon, indulgent: being married.

Martin: A: serves you right for trying to pretend you're the less horrifically sappy and romantic one even though earlier today someone put a love note in the lunch they packed for me-

Jon:- Lies and slander! I have never, in my life, done that, even once.

Martin: Oh, sure, not even once. And you definitely don't reserve the lilac sticky notes specifically for my lunches because you know I like the colour. 

Jon: I..I don't.. you're rather ruining my image here.

[Martin snorts]

Martin: Can't have the audience think that you are, on occasion, an incredibly doting husband-

Jon: -A title I would argue we both share-

Martin: - which is obviously why, even with it being your favourite thing you've brought, being married to me is just a small wonder-

Jon, audibly rolling his eyes: As I already explained-

[A Pause}

Jon: Actually, you're right-

Martin: Wait-

Jon:- I really should have brought it as a larger wonder-

Martin: Wait-

Jon: though I should warn you, I think I'd have far too much material for just one little segment-

Martin: No no no no no-

Jon:- In fact, I think I might have too much material for just one little episode-

Martin: Joo-oon-

Jon: I might have to do a whole series! Where would I even start? I mean I could talk about how every day I get to watch the early morning sun highlight your curls when I get up first, or hear you quietly humming and shuffling around the kitchen when you do, or I could talk about how the lunch notes only started in the first place as retaliation to the notes you would leave on the mirror for me to find, or how every time I get to see you at ease in a way that you aren't with anyone else, it takes my breath away, or I could talk about how cute I find the lines between your eyebrows that you only get when you're thinking something petty, but you know it's petty so you don't want to say anything-

Martin: Okay, okay, Christ, I give !up I surrender, and will cease my teasing on this particular topic.

Jon, probably making the :3 face: You don't have to stop. I mean, I could also discuss how very, very attractive I find your voice when it takes on a teasi-mmph!

[There's a pleased hum, then a pause.]

[The audio quality is slightly changed, as if the recording has been stopped and then started later]

Martin, giddy: Uh, heh, anyway, Eric asked what the least favourite thing we've brought was, and because of Jon's attempt to embarrass me live-

Jon, overlapping: It's definitely not live-

Martin:- on air, I'm gonna say it's my husband.

[Jon scoffs]

Jon : If the past few minutes are any sort of indication, I'm going to go ahead and saying that you are lying.

Martin, sighing contentedly: Maybe a bit, but how was I supposed to resist when your indigance gives you that adorable little nose scrunch? In reality, my least favourite thing was probably, um, mini golf? Which, I still don't think is inherently bad, definitely superior to regular golf, but when it's the only thing a next door two year old wants to do with you, the charm begins to wear off a bit.

Jon: Wow. A rather scathing review of a toddler.

Martin: Not so much a scathing review of a toddler as it's a scathing review of minigolf's inability to keep its appeal after the third time in the same week.

Jon: Mmm, the sound effects rather quickly go from part of the atmosphere to part of the irritation, don't they?

Martin: So what's your least favorite thing we've covered here?

Jon: Oh, love, I'm not going to pretend to have nearly enough memory of what we've covered so far to have a least favorite.

Martin: Really? Nothing that you regret or rescind?

Jon: Well, regret, certainly. It was one of the weeks where you went first, and your second item was mutual aid funds, and what they can do for marginalized communities, and I had to follow it with fucking Slapchop.

Martin, poorly suppressing laughter: In your defence, Slapchop, or whatever offbrand we have, is pretty useful, especially when either your scar or my arthritis is acting up.

Jon: I'm still not convinced you didn't somehow see my notes for the recording and decided you get revenge for the first year that we knew each other.

Martin, no longer suppressing his laughter: Yep, you got me! This marriage wasn't an act of insurance fraud, but it was a near decade long con to humiliate you on a podcast that about twenty people listen to. I'll draft up the divorce papers immediately, and then we can finally go our separate ways. 

Jon: I'm glad you've at last admitted it. Such a weight off of my shoulders. Goodbye forever then.

Martin: Right.

Jon: Right.

[A beat.]

[There's a pfft from one of them, before both dissolve into giggles that lasts a good 30 seconds.]

Martin, slightly out of breath: I can't believe we're the kind of people that talk this much about speciality kitchen gadgets.

Jon: Sorry about that.

Martin: God, don't apologize. I'm, like, deliriously happy with our varying degrees of useful cooking ware filled life. If you had told 25 year old me that one day he'd be debating the merits of getting a tortilla press with his husband, he'd have wept, I tell you.

Jon: Funny, if you told 25 year old me the same thing, he would've said "You don't know the future,piss off" and then quietly have a bit of a panic at 3 am that night.

Martin: I bet you were insufferable in your mid-twenties.

Jon: First of all, who isn't, secondly, I was fresh out of Oxford, and third, I was insufferable in my late twenties, as you can attest to, and I'm insufferable now, as you can further attest to, so extrapolation would indicate that, yes, I was insufferable back then.

Martin: Probably a different kind of insufferable, though.

Jon: There are different kinds?

Martin: Of course! You used to be "prick boss" insufferable and now you're "smug in a way that I can't admit I find hot or it will go straight to your head" insufferable.

Jon, in the aforementioned smug tone: Oh, really?

Martin: See, see! Straight to your head.

Jon: Well straight is probably the wrong descriptor-

Martin: Oof, 4 out of 10 joke, babe.

Jon: That would be a far more convincing rating if you weren't grinning right now.

Martin: It's a genuine review, I'm just well known to be a sucker.

Jon: You and me both, darling.

Martin: Okay, if you're pulling out darling, you're clearly in too giddy of a mood to be focused on recording. Last question, from Jess, "You two mentioned meeting at work, but how did you actually end up together?" That's easy, Jon pulled me out of a hell dimension and then we went on the lam together to Scotland.

Jon: If that's not the way to tell a cute boy you like him, I don't know what is.

Martin: All right, that wraps up this bonus episode, and as the old saying goes, hiding from murderers in a cottage is more conducive to romance than suggesting you gouge out your eyes together.

Jon, cut off: Hey-!

[abnormallynice]

Confession By Proxy

Read it on AO3

Collab with the wonderful @kirbychan234​ to make a prequel fic/comic for the First Date Comic I made a whiiile ago because everyone was curious why exactly Neku was so beaten up. I did the pretty pictures and they did the amazing words and stuff! ;D

Go give KirbyChan some love on tumblr and AO3 for writing the fic portion and making me squee with their writing >:3

Neku sighs as he drops his bag to the side, the door to his apartment sliding shut on its own. It’s late, he’s tired and sore and way too lazy to worry about unpacking right now. He’ll do it tomorrow. Or maybe never. Whichever one comes first.

Instead, he goes over to his closet and starts to remove his scarf and coat. Once those are deposited on the floor as well (he’ll hang them up later, he swears), Neku reaches to close the door. 

“Have fun?”

The voice makes Neku jump and fall into his still open closet. “JESUS-!” Very unmanly, and he can hear laughter behind him that makes his blood boil. 

Joshua looks as smug as ever when Neku turns around to glare at him. “Close,” he replies airily. “But not quite~” And he shrugs, like he didn’t just scare the living daylights out of him.

“For fuck’s sake-” Neku groans as he sits up. “Text. Doorbell. Knocking. PICK ONE. Seriously, that’s all you’d have to do.” 

Neku cuts himself off when he feels a familiar jolt of pain in his arm. He grabs it without thinking and feels a warm wetness, and when he pulls his hand away, his fingers are tinged with blood. “...Shit.” 

He doesn’t even see Joshua move, but suddenly he’s there, kneeling down beside him, and with a surprisingly gentle touch on his wounded arm. Neku feels his breath catch in his throat as Joshua looks over the bloodstain with calculating eyes. “What is-?”

The gentle hand is smacked away. Joshua’s pity is neither wanted nor needed. “Nothing,” Neku says while quickly getting to his feet. “It’s nothing.” 

“That doesn’t-”

Neku doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else before quickly darting off. He runs into the bathroom and locks the door. He can hear Joshua sigh exasperatedly but he hardly cares. There’s a way more pressing issue right now. He already aches all over; he does not need this. 

There’s a soft knock at the door. Oh so he does know how to knock. “What are you hiding, Neku?” Joshua asks easily. 

“I said nothing!” Neku yells back. “Just leave! Poof away, magic genie!”

He can practically feel Joshua rolling his eyes, but Neku ignores it. What he can’t ignore, however, is the sudden chill running down his spine. This sensation...it’s familiar, he’s definitely felt it before, almost like-

Noise?

And then the sensation is gone as quickly as it appeared. In its place stands Joshua, inside the bathroom, having come from nowhere and looking none too impressed. Neku freezes, not only from surprise, but also because Joshua can see the stitches in his arm now. “Don’t DO that! Can’t a guy have some damn privacy? Go away!”

Joshua has clearly had enough. Neku can barely blink before Josh was in his personal space once more, grabbing his face and looking him over. Neku squirms, but Josh holds strong, appraising the bruise on his jaw and the bandage on his right eyebrow.

“Mm.” Josh hums and eventually lets Neku go. “Face is fine. Although it looks like one of the stitches on your arm came loose.”

“Huh?” Neku looks down to his arm. Well. That explains the blood. “Oh. Shit. Uh, I should really go to a hospital-”

Joshua puts a finger over Neku’s mouth, smiling pleasantly like usual. “No need for that, dear~”

Neku feels himself blushing, and he hates it, because he knows Josh isn’t taking this seriously. And he’s got that tone again, like Joshua knows something he doesn’t. Then again, what else is new? “Shut up,” he grumps. “I don’t need you revealing another improbable mystery that is Joshua Kiryu. Leave me alone.”

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Joshua doesn’t listen and instead gently takes Neku’s arm in his hands. “Now now, let’s take a look. I’ll be but a minute, and I’ll even do it free of charge.”

“That’s a lie.”

“No lies this time~” Neku resists the urge to groan. This time, he says. Ugh. “Won’t you tell me what happened though? I didn’t expect you to come home all beaten up.” 

He really doesn’t want to. But Neku gets the feeling Josh won’t let it go until he does. So…

The room is quiet when Neku finishes, the only sound is the small rustling of Joshua rebandaging Neku’s arm. They moved into Neku’s living room while he explained what happened, Neku sitting on the couch and Joshua sitting on the nearby coffee table. It’s hard to tell what Josh is thinking; nevermind that Neku can barely see his face from where he’s sitting. It still annoys him, because more than likely, he’s smirking that smug smirk of his. 

“The fine line between bravery and suicide,” Joshura starts, and yep, that smirk is there. Neku knew it, and it annoys him even more. “You sure know how to tightrope across it, don’t you, Neku?” His tone betrays sweetness, laced with sarcasm instead. It makes Neku grit his teeth. “What would you have done?” He snaps, and then immediately regrets his question. Knowing Joshua, he’d probably take a video or something. 

Besides, no matter what Joshua, or anyone for that matter, thought, Neku doesn’t regret his decision. He doesn’t want to imagine what kind of injuries a six-year-old girl would get with an impact like that. “Ugh, nevermind. It’s just a scrape anyway, it’s not a big deal.” 

Joshua raises a brow at him. “Oh? “Just a scrape”?” He doesn’t look impressed, and Neku’s eye twitches at his tone. “One that needed twelve stitches?” Okay so maybe it’s a little more than that, but whatever. “Be grateful your little falling act only bumped it instead of tore it open even more. This’ll last much longer since, well, I bound it this time~” 

Neku rolls his eyes. “My savior. Yay.” 

The chuckle that follows makes Neku nervous. He jolts when he feels arms lean on his legs. Joshua is very close now, staring up at him from between his knees, resting on his haunches and leaning his arms on Neku’s thighs. Neku has to fight hard not to blush. “So snappy,” he says with another laugh. “Is the child still grumpy about the argument we had before he left?”

There’s that tone again. Neku’s embarrassment dies down quickly, and he sighs. “Would you stop? I don’t have the energy.” And he’s not lying, but he also really just doesn’t want to talk about this right now, not when Josh is being such an asshole about it. 

But...now that he gets a better look at Joshua, it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to be an asshole...at least not right now. He actually looks curious, like he’s actually bothered by the fact that Neku could still be upset. Which is stupid, because Neku knows better than to think Josh could be bothered by anything. 

Other than, you know, attempting to kiss him and then having him disappear for five years. But that’s neither here nor there. 

“I...was,” Neku finally replies honestly. “...But I get the reasons why you couldn’t come along.”

Joshua’s smile is, for once, soft. He leans his cheek on his arm (which is still on Neku’s leg what the fuck Josh). “Is not having me under your constant supervision that upsetting? Would putting a leash on me satisfy?” 

Neku tries to ignore that mental image and huffs. Well excuse him for being paranoid about his friend disappearing again for another five years. Really, Joshua has nobody to blame but himself for that. “Oh please,” he replies. “As if I could ever control you. I’d never want to, and even if I ever tried, I know I can’t. I just wanted…”

He trails off, looks anywhere but at Joshua. “I just...wanted my friend to come with us on a trip, that’s all.” And Neku curses his heart rate for speeding up at the word “friend”. “I don’t know why I got so upset that you couldn’t go. Of course you couldn’t have gone, I know that, but…” 

Joshua cuts him off with another laugh. “Aw. I’m touched, Neku,” he says, amused.

Neku is frozen. What a time to remember what Shiki said, now, with Joshua so damn close to him. And with his heart rate betraying him even more, feeling like it’s about to explode out of his chest. Joshua is so close, Neku wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear the damn thing. 

If he does, Joshua doesn’t comment on it. He’s still far too close though. “Maybe it’s better that I didn’t go, seeing how you ended up,” he says lightly. “It seems like it was far too exciting a trip for my tastes-”

“Why do you keep touching me?” Neku interrupts him, unable to look at him, and wanting to get his rapidly beating heart to calm the fuck down, Jesus Christ. 

“Hm?” Joshua’s smirk turns playful. “What’s wrong? Afraid I’ll bite, dea-?”

“STOP.” 

Neku’s voice even surprises himself. But thankfully it does the trick; Joshua stops his tease and is now looking more serious than Neku has ever seen him. He sits back a bit, gives Neku a little more breathing room, but doesn’t stop looking at him. Keeps silent as if waiting for Neku to continue.

He swallows, nervous, and leans his arms on his legs where Josh just was. “Just...just stop dancing around my questions. For once, just give me a straight answer.”

Joshua keeps quiet, and Neku bites his lip, staring at the floor. “Why do you keep touching me so casually? Why only me? Why…” He sighs. “Why does my heart break every time you do?”

He grabs onto Joshua’s sleeve, still refusing to make eye contact. “Why did you come back? Why did you leave? Did our friendship mean nothing to you? Am I nothing to you?” With every word, Neku feels himself start to get choked up more and more, and it shocks him. Why is this just coming out now? 

Finally, Neku finds the courage to lift his head, and meets Joshua’s gaze.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Neku freezes. ‘Wh-what? Why did I say that? I meant *like*!’ His throat refuses to work anymore, and now there’s no way he can save this. He clutches Joshua’s sleeve tighter. ‘No! I fucked up! Don’t leave me…!’

“I don’t know.” 

Neku lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Joshua’s voice betrays no emotion; it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking. “You make me feel at ease. I think I might have some yearning, but then again, I’m probably not the best judge.”

He’s so matter-of-fact that it throws Neku for a complete loop. “Huh?” 

“I’m answering your questions, Neku,” Joshua replies patiently. “As honestly as I am able.” Neku’s heart jumps in his throat when Joshua takes his hand delicately. “I came back because I wanted to understand. I left because I didn’t understand. And no, you’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had. I’m not sure what you are, but “nothing” is far from it.” 

Then Joshua takes Neku’s other hand, looking so damn gentle. Neku isn’t sure how he’s even breathing at this point. He’s pretty sure his heart is about to pop out of his chest at any second. “And finally, I might have still left. I don’t know. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to.” 

It takes a moment for Neku’s voice to work again. “Uh…” he finally manages to get out. “Wow. I’m...surprised that actually worked.”

As if the past few minutes didn’t happen, that smirk was back on Joshua’s face. “Better take advantage of my honesty while you still can~” he says, and presses Neku’s hand to his cheek teasingly. 

And shit, that’s actually really cute? Neku flushes horribly and sputters, a little miffed that Josh rendered him speechless far too many times in the short hour or so he’s been here. “Um - uh - what - what’s your social media password?”

Without missing a beat, Joshua replies, “dr0p_d3ad_g0rg30s.”

How the hell did he do that with his mouth??? “Did you let me win at Tin Pin Online?”

“Yes, but only the first time.”

“How old are you for real?”

Joshua laughs. “Old enough~” 

And just like that, honesty hour is gone. “That’s cheating!” Neku huffs. 

Even if Josh doesn’t bother with a response, that’s fine. There are other things Neku wants to say anyway. “Um so, one more question?” 

“Alright.”

Neku bites the inside of his cheek, hesitates. “Do you...wanna date?”

Joshua hums, looks to be in deep thought, though his smile softens quite a bit. “Sure,” he replies. “I’ll go steady with you, Neku.” 

Holy shit. Neku can’t believe this is actually happening. Internally, he’s screaming. On the outside, however, all he can do is clear his throat. “Dope.” 

Okay that was lame as hell. But he can’t take it back now. 

“My turn.” 

Neku snaps to sudden attention. “What?”

“I have questions too,” Joshua adds. “I believe it’s my turn, if you’re done~” 

Uh-oh. Neku doesn’t like that look in Joshua’s eye. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to believe that the worst has already passed. “Uh...okay, sure.” 

“When are you going to stop asking dumb questions and kiss me?”

Neku’s internal screaming, which had calmed down in the last few seconds, suddenly shoots right back up even louder than before. It takes an absurd amount of self-control to not shriek like a giddy school girl asking out her crush. Instead, Neku manages to take a deep breath, cough, and finally answer. “I was getting to it, smartass.” 

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Valentine’s Day Surprise - Harry Styles Mini Series (Part 5)

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 

**

It was the morning of Valentine’s Day and sunlight made it’s way through the curtains and into the bedroom. Arms were wrapped around you and you could feel content breathing against your neck. You smiled realizing where you were and knowing it wasn’t a dream. You gently and as quietly as you can turn around so you’re facing your boyfriend. 

He was still sleeping so you contemplated on your next move. You didn’t know if you rather lay next to him and enjoy a lazy morning or go into the kitchen and make a special breakfast. You ended up deciding on the best of both worlds, staying there for a few more minutes before going downstairs. 

“Whatever you’re doing, stop,” Harry mumbled. 

“Excuse me?” You giggled, looking down at him. 

“You’re overthinking something,” he said, pulling you closer to him. 

“How do you know that?” You laughed. 

“Because I just do,” he said. “Now, what are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing huge,” you said. “Just whether I should stay here or go cook up some breakfast.” 

“Here, definitely stay here,” he smirked. 

“Why? You were sleeping, plus you still have your eyes closed,” you said. “I know I look a hot mess in the mornings, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” 

“You don’t,” he said. “You might smell a bit, but you look beautiful.”

“Fuck you,” you groaned hitting with a pillow. 

“Heeey!” He whined. 

“What?” You said innocently. 

“Oh it’s on now,” he smirked, tickling your sides. 

“Harry! Stop!” You whined trying to move out of his reach. 

“You started it,” he pointed out. 

“You told me I smelled,” you pointed out. 

“Well... I mean,” he shrugged. 

Rolling your eyes, you decked him with a another pillow. 

“Oomf,” he groaned. 

You giggled jumping up out of the bed and running out of the room. 

“So, that’s how it’s going to be huh?” He laughed chasing after you. 

You let out a screech as you run through the house, but low and behold you he wraps his arms around you, tickling your sides. 

“Why are you naked?” You laughed. 

“I believe the real question is why aren’t you naked,” he smirked kissing your cheek. 

“Because I get cold,” you answered. “Duh.” 

“I’ll keep you warm,” he whispered against your neck. 

"Oh, is that right?” You asked. 

“I’ll be more than happy to show you,” he said. 

“Lead the way,” you smirked. 

**

A few hours later, you and Harry were sitting out in the backyard enjoying your Valentine’s Day brunch. Yes, it involved the cheesy heart shaped pancakes, or at least the attempt at them. There was a ton of fruit and your other favorites. Harry made mimosa’s that you two sipped on well after you finished eating. 

There was a swing out in backyard the two of you were cuddled up. His hand ran up and down your legs as you laid your head on his shoulder. He smiled kissing your head. 

“You know, it’s strange to think this time last year, we hadn’t even spoken to one another in years and now here are together,” you said. “I can’t believe how much as changed for us in the last few months.” 

“I know,” he smiled. “I wish I would have reached out to you sooner. Then we could have had more moments like this.” 

“Yeah, but now this just means we get to make up for lost time,” you smiled. “Oh, wait. Your presents.” 

Before Harry could protest, you had already gotten up to head inside. Harry followed you and was surprised to see you standing there with a red and pink gift bag. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes, “We’ve always gotten each other Valentines. Well.. except during the time we weren't really talking... but that doesn't count,” you said. 

He laughed taking the bag from you and opening it up. First he took out the teddy bear and he quickly laughed, wrapping his arms around you. 

“I love this,” he laughed. “Where did you find it?” 

“A shop round my house,” you giggled. “I couldn’t resist when I saw it.” 

“Thank you,” he smiled kissing your head.

“There’s more,” you said. 

He took out his favorite candies and the tiny bag holding the bracelets you had gotten. He put the other items down as he opened up the drawstring bag to reveal the beaded bracelets. He smiled when he noticed your and his first initial with a + sign in between. 

“I added that little touch,” you smiled. “We have matching ones... just like when we were younger.” 

“I love you,” he smiled pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“I love you, too,” you smiled widely. 

**

After spending the rest of the day in bed, watching movies, and just spending sometime together. It was time for Harry’s plan to be activated. You got out of the shower to a large box waiting for you on the bed. Harry was getting ready in the guest room and let you get ready in his room. You walked over and saw a note on the box. 

“Just a little something I thought you might like. Feel free to wear it tonight. Love, H.” 

You smiled opening the box and saw the most beautiful dress if you have seen at least in person. It was a little different than what you normally purchase for yourself, but you were looking forward to putting it on. You laid it out on the bed and of course, you needed shoes to pair it with. You did bring a few pairs of shoes, so hopefully you had a pair that looked okay with the dress. 

But before you worried about that, you went back into the bathroom to finish up your hair and makeup. Working from home, you hardly ever put on makeup and even if you did, it was only a little bit. But you really did like the moments you could go all out with your hair and makeup. 

Once you were done with that, you walked over to your suitcase taking out the shoes you had brought with you. Luckily, you had one pair that looked decent enough with the dress. You slipped the dress on and it surprisingly it fit perfectly, you were always nervous about getting clothes from other people because women’s clothing always fits differently based on brand and style from some reason, so it can be pain. 

Anyway, you waited until you had the shoes on before looking at yourself in the mirror. Your lips turned into this wide smile because you felt absolutely beautiful. Not that you didn’t think you weren’t beautiful before, but this was one of those moments where you saw yourself as a different type of beautiful. 

“Y/N, I’m heading down to make sure the driver’s on his way, you almost ready?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a bit,” you smiled. 

You waited until you heard his footsteps leave and walk down the stairs before you opened the door to follow him. He was on the phone with his back turned to you as you made your way down. Before you got to the bottom, you cleared your throat. 

He turned around, phone still at his ear and his eyes went wide. He quickly ended the call and walked towards you. 

“You look... wow,” he whispered. 

“Good wow or bad wow?” you laughed. 

“Both,” he laughed. 

You cocked your head to the side, “What?” 

“Good because you look amazing, bad because you look amazing and I don’t exactly want to leave the house,” he laughed taking your hand as you walk down the stairs. 

“Did we just have a Titanic moment?” You giggled. 

“A small one,” he laughed. “Care to reenact the drawing and car scene later?” 

“Oh, I already plans for later,” you smirked. 

“Do you now?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yep,” you said. “Now, let’s go before we’re late.” 

“Why did I make reservations again?” He groaned. 

“Because you love me and want to take me out to a big fancy dinner,” you smirked. 

“Right, right,” he laughed. “The driver’s here anyway.” 

“No getting drunk,” you said. 

“I don’t get drunk,” he scoffed. 

“I’m sure one phone call to Jeff can debunk that statement of yours,” you added. 

“You’re one to talk about getting drunk,” he said. 

“That was one time! and it was your fault, might I add,” you said. 

“How was I supposed to know they were my Mum’s wine coolers and not juice,” he said. 

“We were fifteen,” you said. 

“I was naive,” he said. 

“And the lie detector determine that was lie,” you joked. 

“Oh whatever! You were the one who kept drinking them, even after we figured it out,” he said. 

“They were refreshing, okay,” you said. 

He laughed kissing your head as the two of you got inside the car. 

**

The restaurant was located on a hill overlooking the ocean. You were worried about it being packed with other couples for the holiday, but surprisingly it wasn't too bad. Harry placed his hand on your lower back as the two of you followed the hostess to your table. It was in the very back of the restaurant, in the corner facing the window with an ocean view. 

“Wow, this place it gorgeous,” you smiled. 

“And the food is good, too,” he said. “Definitely worth it.” 

“How expensive are we talking?” You winced. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. 

You give him a look, but he grabbed your hand, “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Okay, okay,” you said, squeezing his hand. 

After a few minutes, you both order and sip on your drinks. 

“Oh, I forgot to thank you for the dress,” you smiled. “I love it.” 

“You’re welcome,” he smiled. 

“I feel bad now though. You did all this and I only got you a teddy bear and cheesy bracelets,” you said. 

“Don’t be,” he said. “The dress was just something extra. And I love my gifts.” 

When you were finished with your meal, you and Harry decided to take a walk on the beach while you waited for your driver to pick you up. Harry carried your shoes in one hand and held your hand with his other one. You smiled wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

“It’s so beautiful here,” you said. “Even at night.” 

“Yeah, it is,” he nodded. “But it’s not home.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” you smiled. 

“Speaking of home,” he said. “I have something I want to ask you.” 

“Oh boy, what it is?” You asked. 

“Well, I started thinking... about us,” he said. 

“And?” You asked. 

“Would you... would you maybe want to uh... move in together when I go back home?” He asked. 

“Really?” You asked. “You don’t think that’s too soon for us?” 

“We’ve known each other our whole lives... I know we’ve only been in a relationship for a few months, but I love you and you love me. I’m ready for this, if you are. You don’t have to give me an answer right now-” he said. 

You wrapped your arms around him and pressed your lips against his. “My answer is yes,” you whispered. “It’s always going to be yes with you.” 

He smiled widely pressing his lips against yours again as the waves crashed at your feet. 

**

You weren’t sure if it was the drinks at dinner finally kicking in or the thought of moving in together, but as soon as you and Harry were back at the house you were practically attached at the hip. Your arms were wrapped around him as he walked you back through the house and he kicked the door shut. 

“Hm, bedroom?” you mumbled against his lips. 

“Eventually, but I’ve got one more surprise for you,” he said. 

“Ugh, fine,” you groaned removing yourself from him. 

He kissed your pouted lips before putting his hands over your eyes, “No peeking,” he said. 

“Remember, you just asked to move in together, surely you’re not wanting to kill me already,” you joked. 

“Eh, not yet,” he smirked. 

Harry helped lead you through the house and out into the backyard. The first thing you noticed was the soft sound of music playing in the background. 

“Okay, open your eyes, love,” he whispered in your ear. 

You weren't sure what you were opening your eyes to, but it was not anything compared to what you saw when you did. Red and white lights were strung along the backyard. Candles and roses were floating inside of the pool. There was a large cabana placed right into of a makeshift projector screen ready to play your favorite movie. There were blankets, snacks, and drinks all set up and ready to be eaten. 

“You did this?” You smiled, looking over at him. 

“I had help,” he smiled. “Do you like it?” 

“I love it,” you smiled. “This is amazing and I can’t believe you this. When did you do this?” 

“My help came while we were at dinner,” he smiled. 

“Wow, I can’t believe you pulled this off,” you said. 

“Hey, not sure if that’s an insult or complement,” he laughed. 

“The latter,” you smiled. “We should probably go change. I don’t think wearing fancy dinner wear is suitable for this level of luxury.” 

Both you and Harry changed, him in a pair of jogger pants and a hoodie, while you put on one of his hoodies over the lingerie you had on underneath your dress. Once changed, you both cuddled up in the blankets while snacking and watching the movie. 

At the halfway mark, your mind had left the movie and was only focusing on your boyfriend who laid next to you. You wrapped your arm around his waist as you cuddled closer to him. You placed your leg on top of his and started kissing his neck. 

“What are you doing?” he laughed. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” You smirked turning to straddle him. 

“Don’t you want to finish the movie?” He asked. 

“I’ve seen it a hundred times. I know how it ends,” you said. 

“Well, when you put it that way,” he shrugged leaning up to kiss you. 

Your fingers found their way to his hair as the two of you kissed. His hands ran up along your legs as he deepened the kiss. Soon, you tugged on his hoodie, signaling him to take it off. He tossed it to the side and you smiled running your hands over his chest and shoulders. 

“Now, off with yours,” he smirked. “It’s only fair.” 

“Go ahead,” you said sitting back a bit. 

His hands quickly found their way to the bottom of the hoodie, pulling it over your head. You counted in your head how long it took for him to realize what you were wearing underneath. You only managed to get to about one and half before he uttered a fuck under his breath. 

“What was that?” you smirked. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he mumbled against your lips. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you giggled. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, indeed,” he laughed. 

And that remained true for the rest of the night. 

**

THE END! Hopefully you enjoyed it!

Don’t forget to send in any ideas or what you want to see happen for my AU series Sunflower! I hope to have the next part of that updated in the next few days. :)

[crowsnests]

taste of certainty - part three

Fandom: The Arcana  Pairing: Julian Devorak x OC Apprentice (Syran Elkas) Tags: friends to lovers; modern times au; friend group dynamic; slow burn; pining; really just Julian being Julian and Syran being Oblivious Words: 7453 Warnings: mention of anxiety, migraines, insomnia, alcohol

part 1 2 3 4 5

playlist

I see the walls that are torn and bent The tug of war in the now, not yet Holding back what they can contain Can you tell me why I feel this way?

- trust; half-alive

III. sweet hurricane

Wednesdays are chill enough workdays, usually. It’s when Miss Eirsdottir has the least meetings, so Syran gets to calmly sit at her desk, processing new proposals and arranging schedules.

Not this Wednesday, though.

Miss Eirsdottir has Syran basically assist Varya in running all sorts of errands: moving from one side to the building to the other, carrying boxes of products for her to review, making sure the interns get the right coffees for the guests in the meetings, rushing to bring important folders to the PR office, assisting in said meetings. Varya is nice and helps Syran feel more at ease with the amount of workload, but it’s still quite stressful.

Syran forgot the days close to the launch of a new product could get so hectic. Her recurring migraine starts to make itself heard.

In the midst of it all, she gets a moment to catch her breath, during her lunch break. She goes and sits outside, despite the cold, on a bench in the courtyard inside the building. As she unfurls her lunchbox – a chicken sandwich, a carrot, and a bunch of blueberries – Asra and Pasha join her at the bench.

“Well, you look like shit,” Asra says, not even bothering with formalities as he sits down and opens his ricebox. A spiced scent trails out from it.

“Thanks, feel like it, too,” Syran answers, then bites into her carrot. Her head is pounding with pain and the nausea that comes with it doesn’t make her food look all that appealing, but she’s used to it at this point. She vaguely explains the reason for her exhaustion, her two friends nodding in understanding.

“Yeah, this week is tough, huh?” Pasha looks concerned as she takes out her lunch from her bag. A clear box with pasta in it and some orange juice.

“Yeah, pre-release is hell up in management,” Syran sighs.

“Well, at least you get to have fun next weekend! It’s gonna be a blast.” Pasha winks.

Syran looks at her confused, blinks a couple times, her brain slowly moving its gears together.

Asra looks at her pointedly, mouthing something.

Syran can’t decipher it, but a light goes on in her brain nonetheless.

“Oh shit, it’s your birthday! Yeah! Can’t wait for that!”

“You and Nadi always know how to throw a good party, I’m excited,” Asra smiles, bright eyes wrinkled up in joy. He does love partying.

Pasha laughs, then goes on to describe how she’s planned this carefully, how the theme is Vintage Masquerade, or something, and how she can’t wait to see everyone’s costumes. Asra engages with her eagerly, giving advice for decorations and getting excited over the food.

There and then, Syran realises two things.

One: she has no fucking clue what to wear to something like that.

Two: she’s supposed to see Ilya today and get Pasha a present.

As if summoned, her phone goes off. Ilya’s name on the screen makes her insides squirm but she opens the text trying not to arouse suspicion.

dr. hulian - 13:12 Do you think Pasha would like this?

Attached to the message, there’s a picture of a– well, a skull, looking pretty real and being held by what’s clearly Ilya’s hand. Syran finds it a little eerie, but she can’t hold her smile back.

To: dr. hulian - 13:13 Mmmh, maybe if you decorated it a bit?

She starts eating her sandwich, itching to get a reply, but acts as if it’s nothing. She gets back into the conversation with Pasha and Asra, trying to get distracted. Asra is now suggesting he could give tarot readings to the guests for a little bit during the party, Pasha seems elated at the idea.

Then, Syran’s phone vibrates again.

from: dr. hulian - 13:16 - You mean like this? - His name is Ferdinand, by the way

This time, the skull has a thin golden scarf with an intricate flower pattern tied all around, complete with a fancy bow on top. It’s ridiculous and endearing at the same time. Syran tries to stifle a laugh.

To: dr. hulian - 13:18 - hell yeah, ferdinand looks perfect in that, love it - where did he get that, looks extremely fashionable

from: dr. hulian - 13:18 - We stole it from nadia’s bag while she went to the bathroom. I suspect mere seconds before we get punished for our crime. - oh no, she found us

Syran laughs again, this time she can’t hide it as she types a reply.

To: dr. hulian - 13:19 - Just blame it on Ferdinand! i’m sure she’ll understand

“–kay, what’s going on, Syran?”

“Huh?” She blinks up at the two pairs of eyes scrutinising her.

“Who’re you texting?” Asra looks smug, ready to pounce.

“Looks like a pretty nice convo you’re having there.” Pasha adds, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hand.

Syran scrambles for a reply. There’s no way in hell she’s going to be honest with them on this, not today.

Or ever, probably.

“Just– Ran. She was showing me her dogs, back at home,” She smiles at the end, desperately hoping to sell the lie.

Pasha lights up at the word dogs, but Asra doesn’t seem convinced.

“Really? She never mentioned dogs to me,” He narrows his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, she has two mixed breeds and– and a parrot.”

I mean, it’s not as much of a lie as a past truth. Ran used to have two dogs and a parrot in her old home. Now it’s just one of the dogs, who’s gotten pretty old, too.

“That’s cute! Can I see?” Pasha eagerly leans over to glance at Syran’s phone, now sitting face up on the table.

“Uh– I– I guess–” just as Syran tries to make something up, the phone goes off again, this time with a call. Ilya’s name flashes on the display for everyone to see.

Syran just stares at it, startled.

“Well, aren’t you going to answer?” Asra suggests, teasingly.

Syran chuckles nervously, then reaches for the phone.

“Hello?”

From the other side there’s noises and two distinct voices arguing, albeit muffled. None of them talking to her.

“H– hello?” she tries again, this time genuinely confused.

“–ust for a second! Don’t get mad at me, come on–”

“–you should know better than to steal from me, Ilya,”

“Come on, Nadi– ust a joke!”

“–going to have a better excuse– this was a gift!”

Asra and Pasha lean closer to try and hear what’s going on, but Syran swats them away.

“Must be a butt dial or something,” she mutters, just as Ilya keeps talking and exclaims an apology.

Pasha rolls her eyes. “Is it my brother?”

As Nadia seems to reprimand Ilya more, Syran nods, looking confused enough for her friends to frown with her.

“– an excuse to talk!” Ilya’s exclamation gets Syran's attention.

“You’re a lost cause, Devorak,” This time Nadia’s voice is a little more clear.

“I know,” Ilya says.

When they go silent Syran tries again.

“Uhhh, hello?”

More noises. Something scrambling by the mic.

“Oh, shi– goddamn– hello? Syran? That you?”

“Yep,” She deadpans, avoiding Pasha and Asra’s eyes, “In the flesh.”

“Uh– did you– did you call me?”

“I believe you called me, Ilya,” she arches an eyebrow.

On the other side of the table, Pasha is making a kissy face and hugging herself, then mouths the word smooch. Next to her, Asra snickers. Syran rolls her eyes and turns on her seat, her back facing them.

“Ah. Right. Well, that was– not intentional. I was– discussing, with Nadia, you see.” Ilya utters, embarrassed.

“I figured,” Syran laughs, “Pretty important discussion, it seems.”

“Uh– did you hear much of that?”

Syran could barely understand, really. “Nope, mostly that Nadia’s mad about your theft.” She smiles.

“Yes, indeed. But Ferdinand and I will be okay,” He laughs, clearly more relaxed. “We fought hard and we lost our treasure, but we came out of it unscathed.”

“That’s not true–” Nadia chimes in from somewhere next to him.

Syran can’t help but laugh louder at Ilya’s theatrics this time, “Well, I’m glad you’re alive, at least.”

She is also glad that her friends can’t see her face right now, because it would be so, so, incriminating.

“So, uh, well,” Ilya continues, “Since we’re here, I was– I was wondering if you’re still on for later? For the– uh– secret mission?” Syran smirks at the way he whispers it, not subtle at all.

Suddenly aware not only of the pair of devils behind her, but also of the fact her and Ilya’s mission involves a surprise for one of them, Syran tries to not give herself away. She also probably needs to close the call, before she makes things worse for herself.

“Yep, yep, sure.” She says, quickly. “No worries.”

“Oh, great, so I’ll come–” Ilya starts.

“Yeah, work’s definitely busy today!”

“Uhm, okay, so– does that mean–”

“No, it’s fine!” Syran exclaims, trying her best to act convincingly. “Well, good luck with your– things!”

“Okay, bu–”

Syran hangs up before Ilya can finish.

“Wow,” Asra says from behind her.

Syran breathes in and takes a moment to turn back towards them, then hides her face in her sandwich.

“You two were straight-up flirting,” Pasha says, smile on her face.

Syran talks with a bite of sandwich in her mouth. “Do you even know what flirting entails? Because that was not it. That was a normal conversation. If that was flirting, then I’d be flirting with all of you. All the time. That’s not flirting.”

Cool, now she's talking way too much.

“Ah, the sweet taste of denial,” Asra sighs, dramatic and starry-eyed.

“Seriously, you guys are delusional.” Syran gives one last bite to her sandwich. “That was just an accidental dial, nothing more.”

“Yes, but why, oh, why, I wonder, was it to you? Were you so high up in his recent contacts?” Pasha squints at her, sly.

“You’re reaching. We all have a groupchat together, it could have been for any reason. You know how clumsy Ilya can be.” Syran shrugs, praying that they’ll let her live. Seriously, she does not deserve this torture. “Why are you guys so obsessed with this anyway?”

Pasha and Asra exchange a look, then they both lean back, in sync.

“Okay,” Asra states. He narrows his eyes and crosses his fingers on the table like he's a renowned detective, or something. “Let’s assume you’re right.”

“Which I am–”

“Did you mind, though?”

“What?”

“Did you mind that Ilya butt-dialed you?”

“What sort of question is that?” Syran widens her eyes, taken aback. Really, why are they so stubborn.

“Just answer, perp!” Pasha points a finger at her. Now it really feels like Syran is in an interrogation room.

“I have nothing to answer, because that is a stupid question.” She closes her lunch box with finality, looking straight into Pasha’s eyes.

“Admit it!” Asra slams a hand on the table, “You enjoy talking to him!”

Syran groans, exasperated, “Of course I do, he’s my friend! It would be mean if I didn't!”

Pasha and Asra smile at each other, “We got her, chief.” Pasha says.

“You got nothing,” Syran glares at them, “I’m going back to work.”

She gets up and gathers her things, ignoring the chorus of booos coming from her friends.

God, she loves them to bits, but they can be so annoying at times.

🂱

Somehow, she manages to slither away from the others and get back home safe.

After having sent Ilya a few explanatory texts and having agreed to meet at a cafe nearby, she finally takes a look in the mirror.

She really does look tired. Without distractions around her, the migraine is harder to ignore. She takes a relief pill and washes her ruined makeup, her face feeling cleaner. The heaviness of the day is starting to take a toll on her, she can feel it in her muscles.

When she checks the time, she realises that she’s going to be late if she doesn’t hurry up.

Quickly, she reapplies her makeup as best as she can, then throws on some clean and more comfortable clothes.

Persephone meows at her from the foot of her bed; it’s almost as if she’s smirking at her, knowing more than she lets on.

“Oh, not you too,” Syran pleads.

🂱

When she arrives at the cafe, Ilya is waiting by the entrance, casually leaning on the wall behind him. She takes a moment to look at him while he’s distracted by his phone, all perfectly styled auburn hair and dark clothes. She hates how good he looks.

(She doesn’t hate it, really, but she’ll die before she admits it.)

When he meets her eyes, a big smile sparks on his face.

“Hey,” she waves. “Hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Hey,” he echoes, “Not at all.”

“Shall we?”

“Ah, yes, uh– should we get some coffee to go, first, since I owe you that?” He smirks, but then his eyes glance down to the side straight away. “That’s if– if you want, of course.”

“Sounds great!” Syran nods, delighted at the thought of a hot beverage in her hands.

The cafe is cozy and warm, most of the tables are filled with people chatting or working on their laptops.

As they wait in line, Ilya and Syran talk a little about their days, how Ilya’s research is driving him insane, how Syran’s boss gave her a hundred errands until late.

“Yikes, that must be tiring,” Ilya says, concerned, as they wait for their drinks.

Ilya has ordered a black coffee with a splash of milk, Syran has opted for a matcha latte. She likes coffee, but on days like this it makes her a little too jittery.

“Yeah, I mean, no more tiring than any other job. Plus, I learn a lot. Miss Eirsdottir is tough, but she’s brilliant.” Syran finds herself fiddling with her hands. “Hopefully one day I get to do more of the parts that I really love, though.”

Ilya smiles down at her, handing her the drink. There’s a glint in his eyes that makes Syran feel light. “I’m sure you will.”

Finding a present for Pasha isn’t as easy as they thought. They scurry through shops, trying things, looking at clothes, bags, books, videogames, jewelry, vinyl records– they contemplate wine at some point but realise Nadia would like that more. Then they go back to books, but nothing seems right.

Syran would lie if she said she isn’t having fun, though. Despite some moments where she really wishes she could hide her blush, she and Ilya fall into a rhythm made of jokes, laughter, chatter, and comfortable silences.

It’s nice. Really nice. It's. You know. Friendship.

Eventually, they walk by a window that’s displaying a various array of scarfs, ranging in colours and materials.

Syran does a double-take and spots a muted orange one that makes her think of Pasha immediately.

“That one!” She exclaims pointing at the glass.

“Huh?” Ilya seems taken aback, interrupted in the middle of his story on how he once got his hand stuck in a vending machine.

“Look at that scarf, isn’t it perfect for Pasha?”

Ilya squints at the glass, trying to figure out what Syran is pointing at. “The orange one?”

“Yep! It looks so pretty!” Syran turns to him, beaming, “We should go see it!”

Ilya nods, smiling back.

The scarf turns out to be even better than they thought. It’s made of soft and light cotton, with a delicate golden pattern woven on the edges. Ilya seems elated, saying that she will love it, right? Will she love it, Syran? I think she will.

Syran smiles at his excitement, glad to see him happy about the choice. The clerk wraps it up in a beautiful gift box, eagerly explaining how the cotton is of a refined but durable quality, it makes for perfect everyday use, but also works really well for more elegant events. Ilya listens intently, as if he’s trying to remember all of it to then tell Pasha.

Ilya has a big smile plastered on his face as they exit the shop, then he turns to Syran and hugs her, all-encompassing. She’s startled, but she gingerly hugs him back.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” He mutters in her hair.

She really really hopes he can’t hear how loud her heart is beating this time.

It’s not a crush.

Is it?

When he pulls back, they’re both a little flustered. “Ehm– I mean, yeah. Thank you.”

Syran is still trying to regain herself from the sudden hug, but something in Ilya’s tone makes her wonder.

“Can I ask you something?”

Ilya seems a little surprised by the question, but nods nonetheless. “Sure.”

“Why were you so worried about this? Besides the regular stuff you told me, like. What are you really worried about?” More than out of curiosity, Syran is asking because she can sense that there’s still something bothering Ilya.

He blinks, eyes wide. Then he looks down, as if caught in the act.

“Well– I– to be honest, it’s been a little tough lately, and the work at the university isn’t helping. So I haven’t been able to be there for Pasha as much as I’d like.” He sighs, but Syran gives him time, sensing that’s not the whole story.

He looks at her, visibly worried now. “And. Well. Pasha and I have– not always been close. Our parents divorced when we were fairly young and we took different paths after I graduated high school. I left, wanting to get away from it all, and she stayed. I made mistakes, resented her for it. We argued a lot, eventually had a big fight, and– didn’t talk for a while after that. It didn’t feel good, but I was reckless and hurt and too prideful.”

He looks so sad Syran can’t help but reach out to hold one of his gloved hands. Then, he smiles, although a little bitterly. Syran thinks she sees tears in her eyes. Her heart drops to her stomach.

Ilya continues, “I mean, we fixed things in the past years and now that we live in the same town it’s great, but– I still feel like there’s an unspoken distance. I fucked up so many times before–” He cuts himself off, like it pains him to go on. “So– yeah, I just want us to get close again– I feel like I need to make it up to her, somehow.”

He blinks the tears away, chuckling nervously. “God, you must think I’m an idiot.”

“What– no!” Syran’s chest is tight. She never imagined Ilya had all of this inside. She knew there was some sort of situation between the two of them, but Pasha never liked talking about it much.

“I–I think you’re very thoughtful. And mature for wanting to own up to things. It’s heartwarming to see how much you care,” She continues under his cautious stare. “Look– I don’t know, maybe it’s not my place, but I don’t think you need to make anything up to her. You’re a wonderful brother and person. Look at how much thought you’re putting into this! Whatever happened, I am– I’m sure she knows how much you love her. I can see how happy she is to have you back in her life, too – well, in between all the bickering.”

Ilya laughs at her last words and she joins, happy to see him smiling again.

Then, her gaze softens. “I think you will be just fine. You are trying really hard, you should give yourself a break.”

Ilya smiles, gentle. Then, he seems more relieved. “Thank you. You’re– uh. Quite good at pep talks.”

She winks, “I know.” She can’t help but squeeze his hand a little. He squeezes back. Syran feels a little dazed and her chest feels a little tight, her and Ilya exchanging a soft gaze.

She’s so fucking gone, it’s no use ignoring it.

It might just be a crush.

Then, Ilya’s eyes widen, and he gasps. “You still need a present!”

“Oh, yeah,” Syran realises, waking up from her thoughts, “We don’t have to get it right now, though, I can always–”

“Nope, you helped me, now it’s your turn! Let’s go!”

He drags her through more streets like he’s a kid on a mission, it makes Syran laugh. They stop at various shops, once again searching for something perfect.

She can’t deny it, though, there’s a newfound feeling between them, maybe one of strengthened trust. They’re both laughing more, feeling more comfortable with each other than before.

Finally, a small antique shop catches Ilya’s eye. Syran walks back to look at the window with him.

It’s filled with various objects, old pocket watches, silver paraphernalia, old vases and pots, ragged dolls. Ilya seems enthralled by an old model ship, perched precariously on a small shelf.

“My grandma used to have one like that in her house,” He smiles, fondly. “I demanded to play with it whenever we visited, but she always told me it was too delicate to even look at, let alone touch.” He laughs. “I’d get all whiny then, but I get it now.” He turns to Syran, almost a little sorrowful.

“Some things are just too delicate to be reckless with.”

Syran blinks at him, ignoring the blood rushing to her ears. She turns to look at the ship again.

“I don’t know,” she says, “It looks pretty sturdy to me. It might not be ruined, but now it’s sitting in a dusty display.” She turns to him and shrugs. “Isn’t it better to enjoy things while they last, instead of holding back? ”

She’s not sure they’re talking about the ship anymore– Ilya’s gaze on her makes her breath hitch in her throat.

She turns to the window again, flustered. As she stares intently, she realises that there is a little jewelry display on the bottom. In the midst of overly ornate rings and delicate pendants, she notices what looks like a brooch.

“Hey, what do you think of that?” She points at it, hoping that Ilya will see it amongst all the things.

He leans over her shoulder– too close to her, it takes all her might not to wince, ignoring the butterflies eating at her stomach. “Which one?”

“The– uh– the little brooch with the flowers?” She looks closer. It seems like real dried flowers encased in resin. They’re small and of a pale yellow, with a few crimson ones, on a white background. A delicate pattern made of golden metal frames it.

Ilya gasps, “That looks wonderful! It might go well with the scarf too!”

Syran agrees, although she hadn’t thought of that. She swallows, then suggests they head into the store.

As she talks to the owner, Ilya looks around the shop, curiously admiring the various displays. The brooch is even more beautiful up close, and the shopkeeper explains to her how this is special and one of a kind. Promises that she will give Syran a good price for it. She thanks the woman, and asks if she can wrap it as a gift.

“No problem, dear,” The lady says, reaching for a little red satin bag. As she fills it with some cotton to shield the brooch, she glances up at Ilya, who’s now looking at a small display of old books.

“Those ones are almost all first editions, you know,” she tells him.

“Oh– really?” Ilya turns, eyes filled with wonder. “They seem well preserved!”

“Of course,” The lady nods, delicately putting the brooch inside the bag, “I only get the best quality things.”

Ilya laughs, then moves onto another window. The lady slowly ties the bag with a textured ribbon, “Your boyfriend’s got a good eye,” she whispers.

Syran’s eyes widen, and she starts to stutter. “Oh– n– he’s not– we’re not together– he’s not my boyfriend.” She matches the shopkeeper’s tone, hoping that Ilya hasn’t heard them. Luckily, he seems too enthralled by the various objects to notice.

The lady throws another look at Ilya, then raises an eyebrow with a sly smile. “Are you sure?”

Syran doesn’t know how to answer for a second. Then she nods, slowly. “Yeah, uh. I am.”

When they leave the shop, Syran sighs in relief. Partly, because she’s got a present she’s really happy with. And also because she’s out of the shopkeeper's enquiring gaze.

“Happy?” Ilya asks her, smiling.

Syran looks up at him, startled. “Ye–yes! Very! I really hope she’ll like it.”

“Oh, she will,” he reassures her.

As they make their way back, Ilya starts wondering about what to wear at the party.

“I mean, I love her, but what sort of theme is Vintage Masquerade? Like, couldn’t she pick something simple? I don’t know, casual party attire?”

Syran laughs, although she agrees. She has no idea what to wear either.

“I mean, you kind of got it easy, you could throw on some slacks, a shirt, and some suspenders or something. Or a vest. Those are vintage.” She shrugs. She doesn’t know much about this stuff, really, but she does like dressing up. That is, when the theme is clear and easy.

“I guess– not even sure I have a vest, though,” Ilya ponders.

“Well, hey, you’re going to have to ditch your bomber jacket anyway.”

He gasps, fake offended. “Excuse me, this is my piece of resistance! Keeps me warm and looks amazing!”

Syran laughs it off, “Sure, but– still doesn’t quite hit the mark, does it?”

Ilya huffs like a pouting child. It’s endearing. “Whatever, I’ll figure something out, I guess.” Then he turns back to Syran.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are you gonna wear?”

Oh. With all the business of the day, she had forgotten to look for clothes or even think about it. Again.

“Uhmm–” She thinks back to her wardrobe. Mentally scans through her more formal things.

“Dunno– I guess I have a lilac dress I could wear? It’s kind of vintage? It’s the best I can do, honestly.” She huffs a small laugh, but the more she thinks about it the more she thinks the dress will be fine.

It’s made of a light and flowy material, with a high neck that closes with a few small buttons, leaving a drop–like window on the chest. It’s a delicate dress, but the knee-length skirt and cut are vintage-inspired, at least.

“That sounds nice,” Ilya hums. “Now we just gotta find some masks to go with it,” he sighs.

“Oh, well, we have about a week for that, at least.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ilya frowns as if he’s trying to think where he could possibly find a mask.

“Although I think Pasha said there will be an array of masks to choose from at the party? Nadia knew a place or something, I think it’s to prevent people from showing up without one,” Syran realises with a smile, thinking of Pasha’s resolve and Nadia’s attention to details.

“Well, one less thing to worry about then,” Ilya sighs. “Although I hope to find one that works with my look. I’m a man of fashion, after all.”

“You could always make one,” Syran cackles, playfully hitting his arm. “And you didn’t know what to wear until I told you!”

He laughs back, teasing. “Hey, doesn’t mean I can’t dress at all!”

Syran’s smile only gets wider. It stays like that even after they’ve parted ways.

🂱

Syran doesn’t know how she got roped into this.

It all started with Asra and Nadia inviting her out for a few drinks– sure, it’s a Friday night, what’s a cocktail going to do?

So she got ready, wore one of her favourite outfits just as an incentive to feel more like going out, and met Asra at their usual place.

Except, when she arrived at the Raven, Asra and Nadia weren’t the only ones sitting at the table. A familiar head filled with auburn hair was sitting next to them, too.

Syran joined them, all smiles and greetings, and then dived immediately for the bar– anything to escape Asra’s knowing smile, Nadia’s attentive eyes, and Ilya’s annoyingly pretty face.

The bar isn’t too crowded, but thankfully still enough for her to blend with the people around her. She leans at the counter, waiting for a familiar face to greet her. Tonight Joon is working, which makes her smile. Since she and Asra have been coming here, he’s quickly become friends with them. She orders and idly chats with Joon as he makes her drink.

“Getting the usual?” A deep voice startles her.

Oh, she really can’t escape this shit.

She looks up at Ilya, who’s smirking at her. She does feel more relaxed around him now, but there are still moments like this, where he sneaks up on her and all of her blood rushes to her cheeks. To add insult to injury, Syran’s eyes can’t help but trail to Ilya’s outfit. He’s wearing a sleek black turtleneck that fits him like a glove. She doesn’t know if she hates this more or the shirts with the unbuttoned tops.

She turns back towards the bar, “Yep. Oaxaca old-fashioned all the way, baby.”

She taps her fingers on the wood and leans a little forward to look behind the counter, where Joon is just about to hand her the glass.

She grabs it with a smile, carefully taking the first sip. “Ah– you’re the best, Joon. Thank you.”

“Anytime, dear,” Joon winks at her. She loves him, honestly, and not only because he’s nice and handsome. He genuinely makes her laugh and has helped her more than a few times when unpleasant patrons have bothered her.

“Well, good, because I’ll definitely be back for another one,” she smirks and winks back.

Joon laughs, then turns to Ilya, “what can I get you?”

When Syran looks up at Ilya as she takes another sip from her glass, she notices the weird expression on his face. He’s almost frowning at Joon, but she brushes it down to his bushy eyebrows. He can unintentionally look like he’s glaring at people, when the light is right.

Then, he turns to Syran with a sly smile, “You know, I’ve never had an Oaxaca old-fashioned.”

She swallows, then puts the glass down, “You should! The ones Joon makes are god-tier.” Syran suggests excitedly.

Ilya seems to ponder on it for a second, “Mhh– but what if I don’t like it?”

Ilya’s never struck Syran for the indecisive type. But then again, maybe he just really wants to get a good drink right now. He seems to come to a realisation, just then.

“Ah– what if I tried yours?” He asks, genuine, but with a weird glint in his eyes. Syran did not expect the question, it leaves her a little dumbfounded.

“S–sure, why not–” She hands him the glass, and he grabs it, eagerly.

“Thank you,” Ilya proceeds to take a small sip from the glass, and Syran can’t help but notice that’s almost where she drank from, his lips dangerously close to the subtle stain of her lipstick.

Syran throws a glance at Joon, who’s patiently waiting for them. He shoots her a questioning look, raising an eyebrow. She just kinda shrugs.

Ilya puts the glass back on the counter, “That’s actually really really good.” He looks at it like he’s surprised.

“Told ya’,” Syran smirks.

When they get back to their table, equal drinks in their hands, Nadia and Asra are animatedly engaged in conversation. They kinda stop when Syran and Ilya arrive, turning to them with coy smiles.

Asra notices the drink in Ilya’s hand and then gasps, “Wow, she convinced you? She’s been trying to get me to drink that since forever.”

Syran rolls her eyes, “I gave up, you clearly only like extremely sweet shit–”

“And happily so,” Asra mocks her, then turns to Ilya again. “You actually like it?”

Ilya nods as if he doesn’t see what the fuss is all about, “Yeah, it’s really good.”

“It’s not as bad as you make it to be, Asra,” Nadia chimes in.

Ilya shrugs, then takes another sip. Syran can’t help but smile proudly at Asra, like she’s won an ongoing battle between the two of them.

“Well, it’s good to see you both have clearly similar tastes,” Asra says, before carefully drinking from the straw in his tall glass, filled with a bright pink cocktail. Both Ilya and Syran widen their eyes.

“Ah– guess so,” Ilya chuckles.

“Yeah,” Syran mutters, glaring at Asra. “Anyway, you guys noticed how they changed the backlight of the sign behind the bar? I actually like it better now,” Syran starts, trying to sway the conversation.

Maybe it’s not as graceful as she’d like, but it works. They all start talking about the bar and its decor, how they’ve always loved this place; time passes by and soon they’re all a little flushed and tipsy, except Nadia, who’s the designated driver for the night.

Then, at one point, Asra’s eyes trail behind Syran, and they widen in shock.

“Oh shit,” He says, crouching down as if to hide behind his drink. Nadia puts a hand on Asra’s back, concerned.

“What?” Both Syran and Ilya turn towards where Asra looked, trying to figure out what happened.

“Don’t look, you idiots!” Asra whispers, angry. “Valerius is here! Shit!”

Syran then realises, “Oh, fuck, really? I thought he didn’t come here anymore!”

“Yeah, well, he’s by the counter. Shit, fuck!”

“Who’s– uh– who’s Valerius?” Ilya asks, clearly confused.

“Asra’s awful ex,” Nadia explains, “he was an asshole and we all hate him, viciously.” She’s got fire in her eyes, and Syran knows she is mirroring it herself.

“He fucking– he cheated on me and then said it was my fault. It was– it was fucking awful.” Asra looks like he’s about to cry. Syran wants to reach for him and hug him. She knows Asra’s wound is still fresh and knows how hard it was for him to move on from the hurt.

Ilya sneers, “That’s disgusting.”

“Damn right,” Nadia adds, glaring towards where Valerius is.

“Hey, it’s okay, we can leave if you want,” Syran reaches out for Asra’s hand, trying to reassure him.

He shakes his head, sneaking another glance, “Then he will have won. Again.”

“No, he will not,” Nadia declares, “If he says anything we’ll beat the shit out of him. Fuck, even Joon will be on our side on this.”

“Nadia’s right,” Ilya adds, “Plus, I’ve dabbled in bar brawling before.”

It makes the table laugh, if a little, but it lightens the mood. It doesn’t last long, though.

“Shit– is that? Is that Lucio? Are you fucking kidding me?” Asra says, now even angrier than before.

“Oh, hell no–” Nadia goes to get up, but Asra holds her down.

“Nadi no, I just– I don’t want to see them.”

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Nadia asks. Asra nods, gingerly.

“That’s cool, Asra, we can go–” Syran starts.

“Not all at once, though–” He says, resolute. “I don’t want to draw attention.”

There’s a joke Syran could make there about how Asra doesn’t exactly blend in the crowd, with his flashy fashion and white hair, but she knows that wouldn’t make him laugh right now– clearly, all he wants to do is disappear.

“How about this,” Nadia says, turning towards Syran and Ilya, hand still on Asra’s back, “I’ll take him home and you guys enjoy the rest of your drinks. You’ve barely started these glasses, while we’re almost done. You call me when you’re finished and I’ll come back to pick you up, okay?”

“Nadi, you don’t have to–” Ilya starts, but she waves a hand to interrupt him.

“It’s no problem, really,” she smiles kindly, “You guys just enjoy the night, yeah?”

Syran looks at Asra, now clearly on the verge of tears. Whether they’re from hurt or anger, she can’t tell. Probably a mix of both. But he knows what she’s about to say nonetheless.

“Don’t worry, S,– I’ll be okay, yeah? I asked you to come out, it’s just fair that you enjoy your time. Seriously.”

Syran nods, resigned, knowing how stubborn Asra can get. “Okay but–”

“I’ll call you later, promise.”

“Promise,” Syran retaliates. A concerned frown doesn’t leave her face, even as Asra and Nadia carefully slip out the table, then towards the end of the counter, well hidden from Valerius’ attention. Syran spots Nadia talking to Joon, probably asking him to let them out through the back.

And just like that, Syran is left at the table alone with Ilya, both of them in awkward silence, staring at their drinks. Finally, Ilya speaks.

“I’ve never– I’ve never seen Asra like that.”

Syran looks at him, notices the worry in his features as he twirls the glass in his hands.

“Yeah, he tries to hide his feelings, when he can, the idiot,” she smiles bitterly; stars know how many times she’s tried to tell Asra that bottling it all up doesn’t help anyone.

“I can understand that,” Ilya looks up at her. “I hate to pry but– who’s–”

“Lucio? The guy Valerius cheated with. Also, Nadia’s ex of like–” She tries to do mental math. “Four? Years ago?”

“Yikes,” Ilya just says, taking a big sip of his drink.

“Yep– it’s– a lot.” Syran sighs, “We thought he was going to be out of our life after Nadia broke up with his ass, but– guess not.”

She inhales, exhausted only at the thought of all that happened in the past. Things were definitely messier than now. She takes another swig of her drink.

“Well–” Ilya smiles, putting his glass down, “what if we did something about that?”

The glint in his eyes is mischievous, and Syran raises an eyebrow from behind her drink.

“What do you have in mind?”

🂱

Pranks have never been something Syran thought about. Never felt the need to fill someone’s shoes with toothpaste, or hide a fake spider in the bathroom, or whatever it is that the kids do these days. She always felt bad for those people in prank videos that get visibly hurt.

But this– she didn’t mind this one bit.

She and Ilya are running out of the bar, lungs filled with laughter, as Lucio and Valerius’ screams fade behind them. They run long enough until their legs give up, and even then, they find it in themselves to keep laughing.

“Jesus– their face– priceless!” Syran heaves out.

“I told you–” Ilya adds, big smile not leaving his face, eyes all crinkled up and blush on his cheeks. “Cranberry juice always works–”

They haven’t done anything that spectacular, really, but Syran will realise this later, when the adrenaline has rushed out of her. Right now, spilling juice on those two idiots’ white clothes and making Lucio trip on his ass was enough to make her night.

“Didn’t expect you to punch Valerius, though,” Ilya grins at her, as if impressed.

Yeah, and that too.

“Me neither– I don’t condone violence, but–” Syran finally feels her breath coming back to her, “–but, god, he deserved it.”

“Sure did–” Ilya laughs with her, adjusting his coat.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, all smiles and excitement, rush of electricity that Syran hadn’t felt in a while. Not like this.

“Well–” Ilya starts, “Maybe we should– uh. Go?”

“Yeah– I could call an uber?” Syran suggests.

“Actually, I was more thinking, like– I can walk you home, maybe?” He seems almost scared to ask for a second, but then his features relax. “Honestly, I feel bad calling Nadia now and it might be good to shake the alcohol off.” He looks up at the clear sky. “It’s a nice night, anyway.”

He’s right. It’s hard to see stars from the city, but the moon is bright and beautiful.

Syran doesn’t quite know what to say, though she agrees with not bothering Nadia. She is probably busy taking care of Asra right now, and that reassures her a lot. But Syran’s house is a good thirty minutes walk away, not to mention that Ilya would have to walk back through the city for more than that.

“I– I don’t know. It’s a long way for you– and it’s late–”

“Syran, I assure you that I’ll be fine, I like walking.” He chuckles, “If anything, I know you will punch whoever gets in our way.”

Syran laughs, although a little flustered under Ilya’s endeared stare. “Yeah, I’m basically a pro wrestler now.”

They end up chatting along the way, although the cold winter wind catches up on them, but they don’t mind that much. They’re too distracted by their conversation to think about that.

Getting to know each other like this, casually, with no pressure, without inhibitions, has become natural to them. They get to talk about things that they never addressed, make jokes that seem so dumb and niche they are surprised when the other laughs.

Ilya was the last one to join their group of friends, so she can imagine he felt a little distant from everyone else at first. But it’s been over a year now, and the group feels really solid, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together with harmony.

Still, Syran always felt like her and Ilya never really got to talk much like this, just the two of them. And maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the way Ilya makes her feel at ease, but she doesn’t feel as skittish around him anymore.

Sure, her heart still jumps when he laughs, and any little brush of their arms makes her breath hitch, but– but– there’s not much of an excuse for that, other than she’s clearly got feelings for him.

It is a crush. A heavy one at that.

But she can live with it, she can just enjoy their friendship and not act on them.

They are close to her building when they are laughing at a story Syran is telling, of one time where she and Asra got lost in a park and thought a ghost was haunting them.

“I swear, Asra tried to act all brave, but–” in the middle of the phrase, a strong fit of pain hits the side of her head. She had managed to ignore the creeping migraine until then, but suddenly, it feels like her brain is about to explode. She holds a hand to where the pain is, eyes shut and slightly crouching forward.

“Syran? You okay?” Ilya reaches a hand to her shoulder, tone immediately shifting to heavy concern.

“Yeah– just– I get migraines– sometimes,” she mutters through the pain.

“That’s not good,” Ilya says. “We’re almost to your place, you think you can make it?”

“Ye–yeah– sorry–”

“Why are you apologising? Had I known, I–”

“Don’t want you to worry,” she utters, finally feeling like she can open her eyes a little, “I’m used to it.”

It does nothing to ease Ilya’s concern though. If anything, he seems to worry more, reaching to fully encase Syran in his arm, supporting her as they walk.

“Really, I’ll be okay,” she says.

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when you’re home and feeling better,” He scoffs, his hand rubbing up and down Syran’s arm. “Don’t forget I’m basically a doctor.”

It makes Syran laugh a little, “Right, Doctor Devorak, ready to help.”

“Is that a mocking tone I’m sensing, Miss Elkas?”

“No–” Syran says, teasing, although through the pain, “I wouldn’t dare.”

Ilya laughs, then seems to hold her tighter. “Almost there.”

They finally reach her building, and she gingerly gets out her keys to open the door.

“Thank you,” she turns to say goodbye to him, “Get home safe.”

But he just stares at her. “Didn’t I say I’ll stop worrying until you’re home?”

Syran chuckles, “But I am–”

“Yeah, I meant home home. I’ll take you up–” then he widens his eyes, catching himself. “That’s if– if you’re okay with that, of course.”

Syran thinks about it for a second, but the pain is too strong to argue right now. She just nods and mutters a okay, and goes to let Ilya through before her.

Sometimes things just don’t go as planned, though.

As she’s about to follow behind him, something hits her shoulder, and hard. She turns just in time to see someone running past her, then she loses her balance and hits the floor.

The last thing Syran sees before passing out is Ilya’s hands reaching for her.

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 5 - 2 Truths, 1 Lie, and Many Puns

Author’s Note: Hot off the presses! I typically have these finished a day or two before I post them to give me ample time to edit them, but I've had a busy last few days. I wanted to get this chapter done though so that I can get to the next one, so I powered through it. This is one of the longer ones (page-wise) though it's got a lot of dialogue (which isn't my strong suit).

Finally got them all posted.

Chapter summary: The Quantic kids and Adrien get to know each other.

First | Previous | Next

There is an awkward silence for a second. Those at the couch were not expecting Marinette’s reappearance and are not about to tell her what they had just been discussing.

Claude, ever the actor, is the first to recover, “We were about to get to know each other! All we know is each other’s names and that we all are friends with you! Do you have any ideas on games for that ‘Nette?”

Marinette pauses, thinking, “Um… I guess… Two truths one lie? Or never have I ever? Are those okay?”

“Ooh! I haven’t played those in a while! Okay, we all know how to do those right? We’ll start with two truths one lie, then we can move on to never have I ever. Does anyone have anything to add or that they’re worried about?” The group glances around at each other Allegra shakes her head slightly, but Adrien cautiously raises his hand.

Marinette notices, “Adrien?”

“I’ve never heard of either of those before. What are the rules? How long do they take?”

There is a shocked silence from the group, but Marinette just sighs,”Right, okay. Um, I can explain them. But, um, do you guys want to head to my room first?” With everyone looking at her now, she panics, backtracking, “Not that we have to! Of course! I just, um-”

“Sure thing, ‘Nette.” Allan offers her a calm smile, and everyone nods, standing to follow her into her room.

Marinette goes first, holding the trapdoor open. Adrien is next, plopping down nearby on her case. As the others entered, she grew anxious, she liked her room, but they probably thought it was dumb, so pink and probably very immature looking, they would hate it, they would hate he-

“Ooooooh! I love your room Marinette!” Claude sounds as excited as ever. He and the others are looking around her room. 

“I like it!” Allegra declares. She gestures toward the chaise, “Can I sit here?”

Marinette nods, and Allegra sits on one end of the chaise, Allan sits at the other end, cross-legged.

Felix sits, leaning against the side of the ladder leading to her bed, “It is certainly befitting of you.”

As Marinette sits against the case that Adrien is on she says, “Thanks. I’m glad you guys like it.”

Wheeling her desk chair to move it closer to his friends, Claude says, “Like it? I love it!” As if to emphasize his point, he spins in the chair, throwing his arms in the air.

“So, uh, how do we play these games?”

“We can explain them as we go. We’re starting with two truths and a lie, right?” Marinette pauses, double-checking. 

“Yep!” Claude is slowing now, looking faintly dizzy.

“Okay, so, um, it’s pretty straight-forward. We take turns listing three things. Two truths, one lie, and everyone has to try to guess the lie.”

Adrien nods. “Okay, that makes sense. Who’s going first?”

“I can.” Allegra raises her hand slightly, then pauses, thinking, “Um, let’s see… I play the flute, I have 3 siblings and I do calligraphy.

Claude excitedly opens his mouth to answer, but she raises her hand, cutting him off, “Nope, sorry Claude, but I think Adrien should answer first, then Marinette, then the rest of you. We’ve known each other longer and these are pretty simple starter ones. You’ll all know the answers.”

Claude gives an exaggerated ‘harumph’, but turns to Adrien, who is thinking.

“Umm, I think the lie is… the calligraphy?” 

Without a word, Allegra turns to Marinette, who is considering all of the statements. She knows the first one is undoubtedly true, as for the second and third�� she isn’t as sure. Calligraphy is pretty specific, so that could go either way. Siblings… she knows Claude has three siblings, but Allegra only has two little brothers - at least to her knowledge, so, “Is it the, um, siblings?”

“Yep!” Claude and Allegra say in unison. She turns to him and he shrugs sheepishly, “Sorry ‘llegra. I just got excited.” She rolls her eyes.

“I have only two siblings, little brothers.”

Felix speaks up, “Perhaps to even this out, we should alternate between Adrien and Marinette having turns, and one of the four of us having turns. Otherwise there will be several rounds where many people know the answer.”

“Alright! I can go next.” Adrien thinks, “Okay. I play Ultimate Mecha Strike III, I take fencing, and do fashion design.”

“Fencing.”

“Ulimate Mecha Strike III”

“Fencing?”

“...you don’t do fashion design” Claude is the last to answer, but he seems the most certain of all of them.

Adrien nods, grinning, “Yep! As Mari here will be quick to tell you, I know nothing about designing clothing.”

“He really doesn’t”

If the others thought it odd that the heir to Gabriel Agreste’s company knew nothing about fashion design, they kept it to themselves. After a brief pause, Allan spoke up,”Let’s see… I bake, I have a little sister, and listen to Jagged Stone.”

“Is it the little sister?”

Marinette is pretty certain about Allan’s lie. She knows he has a little sister - she’s seen pictures - and is well aware that Allan is just as big a Jagged fan as Adrien as herself, so that leaves only one option. “I’m pretty sure you don’t bake… right?”

Allan nods, “Mhm. Pretty sure you’re the only baker here, ‘Nette.”

Claude claps his hands together excitedly, “Marinette’s turn!” Everyone turns to her.

“Oh!” Right. It was her turn now. Should she try to stump them? It could be fun to reach out to her more far-fetched interests, and come up with a more complex li- no. She would keep it simple. Her lies didn’t need to be big, only what was necessary. “Um… I knit, I love hamsters, and I’m a terrible runner.” 

It’s part of the game. Why do I feel bad about lying to them? It wasn’t like she was lying for the same reasons as Lila did, but the guilt still burned through her, a familiar feeling from all the excuses she made for her alter-ego.

“I think it’s the last one!” Claude is the first to speak, drawing her back.

“I’m with him.” Allan jerks his thumb at Claude, and Felix nods.

“Same here. I mean, have you seen her when she’s running late? She looks like she’s an aspiring olympian!”

Adrien laughs, “It is impressive.”

Marinette nods, and Claude cheers before turning to Felix, “Felix! Your turn!”

“Alright. I do calligraphy, I have a dog, and I enjoy poetry.”

“You don’t have a dog do you?”

Marinette nods in agreement, Felix does not have a dog- to her knowledge.

“Indeed. However, I do have a cat, his name is Pluto.”

“ Felix , that was so easy .” Claude whined, “You gotta’ challenge him! I’ll go next, because I haven’t gone yet, and I shall be challenging!” 

Allan raised an eyebrow at him, and Claude concedes, “Okay, not that challenging. Here we go! I am a thespian, I have a golden retriever, and I do origami.”

This was easy - for Marinette at least-  Adrien, on the other hand, “Uhh, definitely not the first one… the origami?” He didn’t seem certain.

“Nope! I lamentably lack a pupper pal in my life. It’s tragic .”

Allan and Felix both give him a look. The latter says, “Claude. You do not have space for a dog. Not only that, but your father is allergic.”

“But it’s so ruff without a doggo in my life.”

After the proper groans and eyerolls from most of the group, Claude shouted, “Speed round! Allegra go!”

“What?”

“List three things, quick go! Then Adrien will guess, you’ll correct him if necessary, then we move on in the same order, going as fast as we can! Speed bonding! Go!”

“Alright, fine. Bullet journaling, I used to do gymnastics, and ballet when I was little.”

“Ballet!”

“Nope, gymnastics, your turn.”

“Um,  I understand Morse code, I speak chinese, and I play the violin.”

“...Morse code?” Allegra is cautious, Allan nods in agreement, and after a moment so does Felix.

Claude on the other hand, confidently declares,”You don’t play the violin!”

“Yep! I do piano.”

“Okay, so it’s my turn now?” Allan speaks,“Well lets see, I’ve got a goldfish, I cook, and I cosplay.”

“Goldfish?”

“Nah, I don’t cosplay, that’s more Claude’s thing, if any of us.” The boy in question grins.

“Okay, um, my turn now?” Marinette thinks, “I have a fear of wasps, I do embroidery, and I love horror movies.”

She seems to have managed to stump most of them, except for Adrien who, after spending a good amount of time with her over the summer, knows the red herring. Claude seems fairly confident, but again waits for the others, who agree on the wasps being the lie.

“I disagree with my friends here, I believe the lie to be the horror movies!” Claude is once again correct and does a victory spin in his chair at Marinette’s nod.

“So, wasps, huh? Get a scare when you were little or sumthin’?”

Marinette hesitates at Allan’s question. What is she supposed to tell him, that her magical earrings make her feel like the wasps are going to eat her? As if . She feels the guilt bubble up again as she lies, “Yeah, uh, something like that.”

“Felix go! Remember, this is a speed round!”

“Hmm. Okay, I know the meaning of many common flowers, I prefer nonfiction books, and I am an only child.”

“The flowers?” At Adrien’s incorrect response, Felix gives a small smile. 

“Actually, I prefer fiction books.”

“Aaaaaand now it’s my turn! Okay! I have two brothers, I am the youngest and I know the passwords of two other people’s phones in this room.”

For whatever reason, Allegra groans at that. Adrien seems to miss that, as he says,”the passwords?”

“Nope! I have two sisters, and one brother.”

The game continues for a few more rounds, Adrien and Marinette can’t help but notice that Claude gets every one right. Finally, Adrien caves,”Claude, how are you so good at this?”

Claude smiles mischievously,”I have become very good at reading people. Facial expressions are a good thing to be familiar with - especially when you can’t speak.” at Adrien’s confused look he adds, “I act, but I also do a lot of miming.”

Eventually, the game ends when Adrien says,“I have never told a bad pun, I can speak Japanese, and I’m a morning person.

“Adrien.” Marinette said flatly, “You’re only supposed to tell one lie.”

“I did.”

“I believe him Mari. There is no such thing as a bad pun!”

Marinette shakes her head, “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“We’ll just have to prove it to her then! Guys, I’m putting the game on hold, Adrien and I must do a pun-off! Dad jokes are acceptable as well.”

“I like the sound of that!”

Other than Adrien and Claude, only Allan seems to be enjoying this. The other three are rolling their eyes and groaning in preparation for what’s about to happen.

“The new clock was the tock of the town.”

“What do you call a fish with no eyes? A fsh!”

“Lumber companies have many board meetings!”

“Shepards are sheepish people who don’t like staff meetings!”

“What do you call someone with no body and no nose? Nobody knows!”

“Hey, do you know why a nose can’t be 12 inches long

“No, I do not. Why can’t a nose be 12 inches long?”

“Because then it would be a foot!”

“Of course! Hey, I decided to sell my vacuum cleaner - it was just gathering dust.”

“What do you call an elephant that doesn’t matter? An irrelephant.”

“What do you call a pampered cow? Spoiled milk!”

“The first carpenter to sail around the world took his screw with him.”

“A comedian stopped at a fabric store on his way to a gig - he was looking for new material!”

“If I had a nickel for every bread pun, I'd have a pun per nickel.”

“Some puns are so corny they hurt your ear.”

“Seven days without a pun makes one weak.”

“Wanna’ hear a joke about paper? Nevermind - it’s tearable.”

Claude holds up a broken pencil from Marinette’s desk, “Hey, Adrien, want to borrow a pencil?” He glances at it,”Nevermind, it’s pointless.”

This is the last straw. Marinette starts laughing, at first she tries to cover it up, but is unsuccessful - her glee overtaking her. Adrien looks over to her in surprise, then his face softens and he laughs with her.

Allegra smiles,”Felix, I think we’re the only ones here with a normal sense of humor.”

“Indeed”

Claude looks delighted, in between his own laughter he throws his arms in the air and proclaims, “I have won the pun-off!”

Marinette’s laughter eventually dies down, but a trace of a smile remains on her face as she asks, “Okay, what’s next? Do we want to continue ‘Two Truths One Lie’, or do we want to move on to ‘Never Have I Ever’? Or, um, if you guys wanted to do something else…?”

“‘Never Have I Ever’ works for me!”

“Alright.” Marinette turns to Adrien, “So, um, there’s a few ways to play this one? It can vary depending on who you ask? But I don’t know what rules you guys play by…?”

“I do not recall when I last played this game, however, considering our purpose is to get to know each other, we could simply move in a circle and list things we have never  done before.”

“And then! If you have done it we can hear your cool story!” Claude excitedly adds onto Felix’s suggestion. “I’ll start! Never have I ever… been outside of France.”

“Really?”

“Yep! Never left!”

“Well it looks like you’re the only one Claude…” Allegra comments, “I’ve been to England.”

“As have I.” Felix adds.

“I’ve got family in Canada.” Allan looks to Adrien and Marinette, “What about you two?”

“Uh, I’ve been to China a few times? For, um, family.”

“I’ve had photoshoots and fashion shows in other countries before, but Father has me there for work, so I never really get a chance to look around or explore.” he shrugs, “But I can typically see some landmarks, so it’s not all bad.”

“That sucks dude,” Allan looks at Adrien sympathetically, “Your Pops should really lighten up on ya’.” It’s such a Nino thing to say, Adrien and Marinette share a look that the others can’t quite decipher.

“Allegra, your turn!” Claude startles them out of their thoughts.

“Why me?”

“Because you were first in the last game, and we should probably follow the same order.” he shrugs.

“Right. Me then. Okay, never have I ever… had a cat.” 

Marinette and Claude raise their hands in agreement. He pouts dramatically though, mumbling something about allergies. Adrien looks down at his overshirt in an annoyed manner, and Marinette hears something that sounds like ‘lag’.

“Uh, we live in a bakery, so pets are kind of a no go…”

“Obviously I have Pluto.” Felix hold up his phone, displaying an all black cat with green eyes.

“We had one when I was little.” Allan says, “I’ve only got some blurry memories.”

“Uhh, same here! It wasn’t very well behaved though… it also got into our cheese a lot .” Adrien says the last part as though directing it at someone in particular, the others were confused, as was Marinette. She wondered if Adrien was still mad at the cat about the whole cheese-stealing thing. In the time the two had really known each other, Adrien always seemed to have Camembert on him. Maybe it was a habit he formed to protect it from the cat. Strange, but whatever, she wouldn’t judge.

“Uh, anyways! Is it my turn?” At the others’ confirmations Adrien nodded, thinking, “Okay, so never have I ever been to an amusement park.”

“Really?!” Claude seems horrified, “Even our resident grump has been to an amusement park!” Felix rolls his eyes at the moniker.

“I take it I’m the only one then?”

“I’ve been to one, though not for a while because of-” Marinette cuts herself off, because again, she can’t just say ‘because I’m Ladybug’, adding a (hopefully) nonchalant shrug she continues, “it’s just been a while.”

The others are seemingly too distracted to question her slip-up, Allan questions Adrien first,”So why not? Ya’ not like heights or sumthin’?”

“Father says that I must maintain ‘a prestigious image’ at all times, and that amusement parks and their attractions ‘do not allow for me to adhere to such a standard’.”

“I don’t think I like your father…” Allegra has the same face she did when she saw Marinette’s bruise, and Marinette still hasn’t figured out what it means, having only seen it twice now. Is it bad? It looks bad, it probably means Marinette messed up, though she isn’t sure how she managed it this time around.

“It’s fine, I’m pretty used to it anyways-” he is cut off by Allan.

“That really doesn’t make it any better…”

Adrien laughs dryly,”You sound like Ni-” he cuts off abruptly, glancing at Marinette who has stiffened almost imperceptibly, he puts an arm on her shoulder gently, trying to draw her back. “-one of my other friends.” He says the last word like he isn’t sure of it.

The whole interaction was short, honestly rather quick, but certainly didn’t go unnoticed by the other four. They cataloged it in the back of their minds, they may discuss this later. They tried to keep track of things that seemed to upset Marinette. While they may not know quite what happened, they still didn’t want to upset her and did their best to avoid things they thought might… remind her of whatever it was.

The game moved on and they made it through several rounds before Claude says,”Never have I ever met Ladybug!”

Adrien immediately lights up, “I have! She’s so cool!” No one notices Marinette’s light blush at this. She’s heard Adrien rave about her alter-ego before, but compliments will always fluster her.

“So have I, or at least I’ve seen ‘er in person.” Allan’s comment surprises Marinette. “Happened to be around near the end of an attack.”

When did that happen? Did she honestly miss one of her few fri- one of the few people she knew at an akuma attack? She was supposed to protect them, not miss them! What kind of a hero was she?

“Lucky! I’ve never seen her except on the news and stuff.” Allegra interjects, and Felix nods in agreement.

“Same here.” Marinette shakes herself out her self-critiquing. At her comment Adrien looks confused. 

“Yeah you have!” Now Marinette is confused… what? He continues,”Remember when A- Timebreaker? When there were two Ladybugs and two akumas?”

Oh. Huh, she’d forgotten that Marinette and Ladybug had both been spotted together before. Thank you Adrien for that, it could be handy for protecting her identity in the future.

“Oh… yeah, I forgot about that.”

“How do you forget meeting Ladybug? ” Claude seems appalled.

“Well, we didn’t really meet. Also, um, I like Chat Noir better.” It was only natural, he was the better hero after all. Paris only favored Ladybug for her ability to clean up the damage.

Adrien’s face lit up even more, but he didn’t add anything.

Claude nodded, satisfied, “True, he’s pretty cool.”

The group continued to discuss (or gush in some cases) the two main heroes. Suddenly, Adrien’s phone beeped, and after glancing at it, he sighed. Marinette knew that face.

“Sorry guys, I have to go. Father is having me practice extra piano for a musical competition that’s in April.”

Allegra frowned at this, her face seeming to begin to stray towards that expression, though her voice betrays nothing as she asks, “Concours d'arts musicaux?”

“That’s the one.”

“I hope to participate too. I wish you the best of luck.”

“You too!” Adrien leaves and everyone settles back into their spots.

“So what should we do now?” Claude is spinning in the chair again.

“Homework.” Felix and Allan speak in unison, and Claude groans dramatically, but nevertheless plops down on the floor to begin work. After an hour or two, Felix glances at his watch.

“It may be best if we head to our own homes now. It is rather late and we would not want to intrude.”

Allan frowned, “It’s not that la-” he glanced at the time,”Nevermind, we should be going.”

Marinette nods and helps them pack up their stuff. As they head outside, her parents stop them.

“Oh, Marinette, are your friends going home?” her Maman asks as she finishes ringing up a customer. At her daughter’s nod, the woman says, “Wait one moment dears.” She heads into the back.

She emerges with four bags presumably filled with various pastries. “For you.” She distributes the bags to Marinette’s new friends, “ Thank you.”

“Ma’am, this isn’t necessary, at least allow us to pay.” Allegra is the first to recover from the surprise, but Sabine isn’t having any of it.

“No payment is necessary. Especially for you four, and any friends of our daughter.”

“... Uh, well thank you.” Claude and the rest give various thanks to the woman, who shakes her head again.

“No. Thank you. ” She turns and goes back to tending to customers. Marinette walks the rest of them out, and they say their final goodbyes as they head in their respective directions.

Marinette headed back to her room and lays down on her bed. She and Tikki talk for a little bit, but Marinette is exhausted mentally - today was quite the day - and she wants a moment to just think. After about 10 minutes she’s about to get up when her phone goes off. Glancing at it she sighs.

  Akuma Alert:

Type 1

Eiffel Tower

More information and updates available.

  “Tikki, spots on!”

---

Author’s Note: For anyone that's wondering, "Concours d'arts musicaux" is French for "Competition of Musical Arts" (according to Google Traslate, I don't know French).Some of the puns probably make more sense for an American setting, forgive me.Next chapter we've got our first akuma attack - at least the first one that we actually see. It's pretty clear how Marinette has been dealing with (and how she was affected by) the whole incident, but how is Ladybug doing? That should be the focus of the next chapter (hopefully).

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[geekygoddesss]

Broken Codes (Part 3)

Summary: (Y/n) had a crush on Michael, but for her luck, her best friend did too.

Pairing: Ashton Irwin/Reader/Michael Clifford

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: Love triangle!, curse words, Crystal (just if you don’t like her, be aware she will be here a lot and I don’t dislike her so, if you hate on her you can just not read)

“Okay, Alright, my turn” I said, catching my breath as I stopped the constant giggles coming out of me.

A bottle of vodka was resting in my hand half empty, the music playing softly in the background that made no sense with the ambient in the room and the sudden company I just found myself for the night, that was the perfect recipe to cure on the night that was looking death to me from moment it stated, because oddly enough, I was having fun right now and it might have something to do with the fact that I’m completely wasted and making no sense, I was having way more fun than I anticipated and I appreciate that.

I am so drunk. This is perfect.

After a good hour and a half of drinking and giving some more embarrassing explanations about my non existent and totally platonic love life to a stranger and not getting a story back from him,  everything have lead both of us to this exact moment, a moment where we were facing each other straight while sitting in sofa of that colorful and ridiculous room and in the middle of the most stupid game any drunk person could possibly do. Play 21 question.

It was dumb to do, but really it was the only drunk game we could play with only two people. It was not that bad as long as I neither of us said too much, but we were drunk as hell, even if we said something relevant, I doubt we would remember something the next morning.

I start. “Uh… when was the first time-“

“Lame” he interrupted, giggling as he took the bottle from me and took a long shot out of it, it’s been a while since he finished his own bottle.

You would think he isn’t drunk but it would be an utter lie, he was almost as wasted as I was, he was just better at pretending. We were so fucking drunk.

“Let me finish!“ I yell, way too loudly as I lean forward and snatch the bottle away “first time you kissed another guy”

He frowns, I break into laughing for absolutely no reason. Before he does even try to give me an answer he is raising his hand in question and saying “You say like I’ve done it more than once”

I raise my eyebrows. “So you have?!” I exclaimed, once again breaking to laugh out the blue.

“How do you even know if I did it a first time?” He asks, laughing too, finding my giggling contagious.

I just shrug, give him my best and drunk smile and leaning more into that comfy sofa. “Wild guess” I say, resting my chin on top of my hand “So?” I ask, still waiting for my answer.

For a second I thought he would not answer to me, that I might have stepped into some kind of danger zone and this question was far too personal (which it was)l, he was looking like he was considering it but at the same time I saw that doubting look in his eyes, afraid that he might be jeopardizing his night by telling a personal story to a stranger, but on a fair note, I have already spilled more personal stuff than I should have and I barely even know his name.

If anything, he kind of has to do it. This is 21 question, you don’t cheat on 21 questions.

“Okay” He finally said like a total confession “I did it once!” he said, a bunch of giggles coming out of him right after that. He looked a little embarrassed, but he managed to cover it up really well.

“Oh my god!” I yelled, laughing so hard that I fell on my side and drowned down my laughter in a bunch of giggles “Please tell” I insisted, scooting myself a little closer and waiting to hear the story.  

He sighed, shook his head as he really thought about it and started talking “It was dumb, I didn’t even-I’m not-“ he tried explaining moving his hand as he explained himself, I nodded, I understood what he meant, I let him continue “I lost a bet, I was very drunk, I don’t know shit about football and my amazing friends dared me to made out with Luke” He confessed, just letting it all out once and for all.

You could never leave a question hanging at 21 questions.

“Luke?!” I yelled, even more, I don’t know the guy but it was a true shock. “You mean, blondie tall boy?” I asked, just to get myself a mental picture.

“Yep” he said, stealing my bottle again and taking another shot.

This was a million dollar story, really. I mean, I didn’t know Luke personally but just by a simple and passenger look and a couple of time talking to him (very shortly) I can conclude, he’s a dreamboat, I bet he probably had a million girls waiting in line to get him.

“Score!” I said, totally joking as I winked at him “Good pick” I teased, nudging his shoulder in a mock.

I might be stepping into some danger zone right now, I had no idea if he was into guys or not but I can see he is not, he blushes, shakes his head as he laughs at my teasing and nudges me back.

“Shut up” he says, laughing a little as he sat up straight “my turn” he announced, now turning this into some serious mood.

Like if this game could turn serious in any way.  

“Oh no” I say, totally fake worrying about the situation.

He smiled, passed the bottle back to me and said in a sizzling tone “Since you like to ask about first times” he teased, raising his eyebrows up and down.

“No! You can’t copy my questions, that’s cheating” I exclaim, almost outraged.

“I won’t and also, I’m a gentleman so” He explained, thinking about it for a second and finally asking “when was your first time?”

I frowned. I could go ahead and say I was offended for that question, but I couldn’t be, also, I could probably say I feel a little… underwhelmed, for a person as extroverted as him I was honestly expecting his question to be something to remember and totally random, but it wasn’t.

Answering that question also felt very personal, I am not sure if I wanted to answer, but I had to.

“That’s so not gentle like” I argued, drinking more of my bottle and raising my eyebrows up “Change it? It’s a little boring”

He smiled, shook his head once and said “Nope, there’s only one rule in this game, respect it” he shrugged and looked directly at me “So when?”

If I had a choice I would rather not to answer to that, because this is one of the things that for some reason made me feel embarrassed, even when it could have been worse. There has not been a lot of times when I’ve said this out loud and honestly doing it in front of a stranger felt weird.

“I was 20” I confess, taking a very long drink.

For the first time in a long while, I feel my throat burning at the alcohol running inside of my body.

“No, I don’t believe you”  Ashton said, there was a frown on his face and a surprised look that went with it.

I shrugged, not really having anything to say about it, that is the exact age I lost my virginity and I was not going to even try to make it seem like a lie and change my answer, this was the whole truth. 50% of the population in Georgia happen to lose their virginity in high school years, I am not part of that group and being honest, I don’t think anyone expected me to be one of them. Once you’re the odd one, you would always be the odd one.

I don’t know why this is so surprising to him though, he takes a second to think about my answer, looks away and then turns to me with a surprised face and said “20?!”

I nodded “Yep”

He sighed taking a couple seconds to really look at me “Aren’t you 22?” he asked me.

I smile, rolling my eyes in the process. “Don’t remind me” I scoff, taking my last drink, it hasn’t been long since I lost my virginity and I do not need anyone to remind me how inexperienced I am, trust me, I know and I do not care.

Well, I care a little bit, but he doesn’t need to know that. If you want to be cool, you have to act cool.

“Wow” He said, grabbing the bottle from my hands and taking a long drink.

And he hasn’t stop staring at me side-eyed as he drank and left the bottle on the coffee table, it was making me fairly uncomfortable.

“What?” I asked, raising my brows a little bit.

His lips are pressed together, he looks away “I don’t know” he said, laying his back on the couch now and making himself comfortable “it’s kind of hard to believe if I’m honest”

I am frowning now, but not in anger or any harsh feeling, I am a little confused at the moment, I don’t exactly know what part of my story is hard to believe.

“How so?” I ask, imitating his moves and laying back on that sofa.

he shrugs “I don’t know, It's kind of a late age to have your first time” he says, explaining himself a little better “and I mean- if I’m honest, you’re not bad so yeah, it’s surprising at least for me”

Now I am just twice as confused. I blink once, twice and thrice, letting the seconds pass as I wait for him to specify a little bit on what he was saying because I was not completely getting. My brain had a really hard time functioning right now.

“Huh?” I say in total confusion.

“Oh for fucks sake” he says, almost as if he was losing his patience very quickly “what I mean is that, even when you’re not my type, you have a nice looking… surface” he explains himself, wearing a serious look on his face.

I can’t help to laugh at that, that was something odd to hear “Surface?” I ask, covering my mouth with one hand to stop some giggles from coming out.

“I don’t know how else to put it” He says, giggling as well as shakes his head.

I blush. Well, that was nice to hear.

“Well, Thanks I guess” I smile awkwardly as I look at him up and down  “You have a nice surface too” I tease.

“Shut up” he says, nudging at me softly “So who was the lucky guy?”

This game just kept getting more and more personal as it keeps going and I don’t know if I care or not. He was definitely cheating on this game right now, he had one question and now this was the second one, It did not matter if one leads to another, rules are rules, rules are sacred. I will let this one pass though, not only because for the first time tonight, he was seeming to less tense but because I was feeling generous and I was going to let him have it.

“Oh you know- just this guy” I say awkwardly, not giving it as much importance “We dated for a couple weeks and had it go his way” I add shyly, not helping but blush as I look down “he liked rushing things a little too much”

This is the second (maybe third) time I have told this story out loud to someone and this feels just as awkward as the previous two times.

His eyebrows a little bit, in sign that he was in fact, listening. “Oh really?” he asked. I nodded “Well, first times are never good, that’s a fact” he said, giggling awkwardly and reaching back for the bottle.

He takes a long sip out of it, one that makes me think that might finally get him just as wasted as I was (or was on my way to be), I would say I’m done drinking but I am not really there yet, I feel drunk but there’s still too much on my mind, I need to go farther, It’s a bad idea but it is what I have and what I will do.

I take the bottle back from him, taking the very last sip I could from it and swallowing down the last few drops. We’re going to need another one.

“How was your first time?” I ask, leaving the glass bottle aside and shifting my position in the sofa.

I didn’t think this would be as much of a big deal of a question, at first it seemed totally innocent and not as important, but there was something in his face that told me I might have gone a bit far with this question.

His smile faded, his eyes stopped having that relaxed and friendly look to then and now there was some tension on him, one that I was afraid could end our night in a weird way.

He looked at me with a serious look, his lips pressed together in a thin line and a harsh look on him. I could sense what his answer might be.

“With my ex” he confessed, looking at shortly before looking away “my last ex, we dated for a good while” he explained, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

“Really? Wow” I mumbled, showing some kind of interest, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, I was fine with it.

“I mean” he says, elaborating a little “We’ve been on that on and off deal for so long, all the way back in high school we were at this party and then we went into a haunted house, it wasn’t really haunted but it was alone” he raised one hand as he explained “we did it”

I didn’t want to do too many questions, but I also didn’t want to do little questions, so all that comes out of my mouth is a quiet “On a haunted house” He nodded “I guess the ghosts in there had one hell of a show” I said, giving him a little smile.

He smiled just a little. “Oh I bet” he said, chuckling at my joke and looking away.

Something about him definitely changes after mentioning his ex-girlfriend, I can see in his eyes how much he actually miss her and I can’t help but feel for him and his destiny, because for as much as I know, things have not turned out well for him either.

He looks at his hands distantly, spinning the rings on his fingers in need for a distraction, the thought of her was too strong in his mind and as much as I could tell, once she was in there, taking the image off his mind was not as easy.

“forget about her” I tell him, trying to be somehow helpful and get the night going.

He sighed, I knew it was not that easy but if he could do it just for a second, maybe an hour, it would make a difference, even if it was just a small one, maybe he would feel better if he just forgot.

He looked at me for a short second, clicked his tongue and preceded to get up from the sofa. “I try” he confessed, leading himself to the mini bar “This game is getting old” he announced, opening up the fridge and pulling out a brand new bottle.

I don’t know what that was but I was up for it. Right now, more alcohol was still welcomed into my system.

“Is it?” I asked, smiling a little bit as he walked up to me, unscrewing the bottle and taking a sip.

He made a face at the taste, I must be pretty strong. Good.

“Kind of” he said, passing the bottle up to me” to close it up on a good note though” he continued, taking a sit on his previous spot and looking over at me. “How did you meet Crystal?”

I smile. I really liked that question, I loved it for so many reasons, not only because Crystal is easily the best person I have ever met in my life, but also because that is such a good memory I keep in my heart. I would never forget that day and I did not mind telling this story to a stranger, it’s a beautiful story with a happy ending and I was glad to be telling this one out loud any time.

“Huh, that goes way back” I said smiling as I take a sip from the new liquor “well it’s an interesting story, she moved to the apartment next to mine when I was 14 and I remember she was just starting her modeling thing I think, it was just taking off” I start my story, not going into much detail but telling him the most important stuff “I ran into her doing this photo shoot in the building  and it was really awkward because she was covered in paint and well, you know…” I explained, signaling my boob area as a short explanation.

Yes, Crystal was topless, covered with paint from head to toe and in the middle of the hallway of my building, posing for who knows who and gaining experience at this filed. It was very awkward. I remember looking away from the scene the second I realized what was before my eyes, I also remember her ‘sorry’s repeating over and over as I walked away, you could say that was our very first interaction, my mom didn’t believe my story and I had a short trauma, but it got better at the end of the day.

I proceed.  “...so I was weird out and then, uh, that night she noticed her window was just next to mine so she got on the fire escape and knock on my window and apologized” I explain shortly (I also remember the small heart attack I almost had from seeing someone on my window) “I told her it was fine by me and I noticed, she had a Maine shirt” I say with a proud smile as I keep going “The Maine it’s my favorite band”

His look turns interested at the moment he realized, that was the first time we made a real connection, that was the first time I established a real conversation with my best friend.

“We started talking about them, then passed on to movies, Books, somehow we ended up talking about boys, we talked for hours” I chuckled at the memory, not going much into detailed “so that’s how we meet” I wrap my story up with just a shrug.

The rest is history and it keeps writing itself, until today the only thing that pulls us apart from each other its college, but other than that, we are pretty much inseparable, I love her, hopefully, she loves me as much too, we were friends to be very end. No matter the circumstances, she won my heart like no one ever did.

“that’s nice” Ashton said, a small smile suiting his face at the end of my story.

“Yeah” I nod, passing on the bottle to him “At first my parents really disliked me being friends with someone so much older than me but they got around and now we’ve been friends for nearly ten years” I said, just adding that up as a fact “she’s my best friend”

He stays quiet for a long minute, lets the climax of the story and the silence sink between up for a short time as he drinks with total intention to get drunk faster but still without making this any awkward, if anything, this felt like a needed silence. One to reflect our thoughts.

“You look happy when you talk about her” he says, passing on the bottle to me and encouraging me to do the same.

“She makes me happy and I hope she feels the same, Honestly, she’s got me through tough things” I explained, repeating his previous actions and taking a long drink out of that stuff. I scrunch up my face at the feeling but I don’t let it overpower through me, I just drink a little more through it and let it go. “even now” I keep explaining, putting the bottle down “you know how my situation is, but even with that, I don’t think I could ever leave her or I don’t know…” I confess thinking about it “Break up with her”

He nods in understanding, taking the bottle for himself and raising it up “Cheers to that” he says, before taking up another long drink and settling it down. He was really going for it now, last time was just pure practice.  

I just wish to know what the hell we are putting in our bodies, because this stuff it’s magic, it is working wonders on us. One more hour, only half a bottle down and I don’t think we could be drunker, we have reached our ultimate goal and we would make something out of it.

I don’t know how I got to this point, honestly, by know, things have started to look a little blurry and my mind was just playing me around however it wanted, I could be having delusions right now and I bet I would not be able to notice the difference between that and real life, I am completely wasted, this is the best thing that has happened to me in a very long time.

I was laughing at my own none sense, swirling my body to the horrible music playing in the background and totally making a fool of myself, but I didn’t care, I was having fun and apparently he was too, he was laughing and cheering at me as I did my little dumb “lap” dance and let myself go. The real party was here and whoever thought otherwise could go and take a hike.

Who is Michael? Who is Crystal? Who is dating who?

Right now there’s only me, Ashton Something and my amazing dance moves, the rest of the world could shut down now.

I move my hair widely at the sudden change of some 90’s song, I bent down my knees in a non-sexy and totally fake teasing dance and I dance my way to him.

He just laughs at me and keeps drinking as I bent down in front of him and I try guessing the words to the song in the background.

This is totally not me and I am beyond drunk. I guess this is what happens with you are heartbroken and drunk out of your mind, you just go out of your comfort zone whether you want it or not.

I sing to the silly song, crawl my way up to the sofa again and let myself fall on his lap, laying my head on top of legs and resting down the rest of my body on that empty sofa. This was fun, way too fun.

“My face is so close to your dick” I said, breaking into a fit of laughs in just a couple seconds, I could feel little tears coming through my eyes as I giggled and giggled. Rolling over myself and now snuggling myself into his lap, this was getting weird.

He shook his head at me, small giggles coming out of his mouth too as he helped me up and said  “You’re so funny tonight”

My mouth broke in a big smile. “I know!” I exclaim loudly and raised both hands in the air “I’m drunk!”

“You really are!” he laughed more, staring up at me to see what my next move would be.

I don’t know what he expects me to do, but I just go with the flow. My original plan was apparently, go over the other side of the sofa and jump on it, because I remember thinking how soft it actually looked like and how bouncy it could be, but just as I went to crawl over him and into the other side, I tripped, fell over him like an idiot and started giggling like crazy.

I was just on fire.

“Oops” I said, trying to sit up by myself, but not getting up all the way. This was totally weird.

I found myself staring at his face way too close and somehow uncomfortably hard, he was not looking back at me, he was just waiting for me to get off from his body, but I don’t do that. My body bends forward, I am suddenly pressing my breaking into his personal space and whispering in his ear “I bet you’d like me closer than that, would you?”

I am a total failure at being sexy, if someone asked me, I was never good at it. I don’t consider myself the ugliest being in the world but I am definitely not the prettiest, my body isn’t the best and I am clumsy, I am so clumsy, I could trip any day, any time, at any moment. I was just that kind of person.

I know I might look ridiculous, but the fact that neither of us are on our best state it’s definitely helping the case, at least I had an excuse.

He turns to me, raises an eyebrow and chuckles “You are a pervert, I feel corrupted” he says, helping me get to the other side gently and sitting me down right next to him.

Maybe this was his way of giving me a time out, I don’t blame him, I am quite annoying sometimes.

“I’m sorry, you just-” I try to say, now realizing, I am dragging my words, I am talking like a drunk person and I am not completely okay with that. He looks up at me waiting for me to finish that line “you have a nice face, that’s all” I say, lifting my index finger and touching his cheek  “it’s inspiring”

He smiles, laughs at my state and pulls his face off my finger, grabbing my hand in the process and holding it down before I decided to do it again. I pout, trying to do the same with my other side but he stops me, also pinning down my opposite hand and keeping them there.

“Speaking of,” he says, turning to me “There’s something in your face, silly”

I feel myself frowning. I swear, if I was just a little more drunk (if possible) I would be crying right now. I hated to have things smeared on my face. “What?” I say in confusion.

“Yeah, right there” he said, touching my chin with his hand, letting go of mine.

I touch my face, here, there, everywhere, trying to find the weird feeling but not figuring out. “Where? Here?” I said, wiping off my chin but also my cheek, then my forehead and back to my chin.

“Uh Huh” he said nodding, looking at me with close attention.

“Is it gone?” I ask, rubbing my chin once again.

He just shakes his head and mumbles a clear “Nope” as he shrugs a little bit.

I groan loudly and very annoyed. I grabbed part of the fabric of my lended dress, wiped a little bit with it under my chin and then turned to him “What about now?” I ask now, turning my face to the sides just a little bit almost like if I was modeling it.

He chuckles, but still, he shakes his head no. “Uh Uh” he says, gives me one deep sigh and says “Here, let me”

I don’t see that coming at all, I don’t know if it is because of the alcohol in my system or because of my current numb state or maybe because this is just madness, but I don’t see this coming.

The moment his hand falls on the center on my chin, the moment there is some familiar but yet weird sensation coming to me, because he lets his lips find his way to mine and he is kissing me. Deep and slow, he is kissing me. Mayday.

Holy shit, Michael’s friend is kissing me. Holy crap I am kissing a celebrity. What the hell.

I follow his lead though, because even when I am totally expecting him to sooner realize what he’s doing and snap out of it, he doesn’t, he just keeps kissing me and takes it even farther, I just can’t seem to get out of my shock.

I am so amazed by this that I can barely process any kind of words that can come off my mouth. That is just why the second his lips take a bit of distance from mine, I am taking a big breathe in and forcing myself to woman up, because I am the first one to say something after this happened.

“Your room or mine?” It’s all I can get out of my lips.

Again, I expect him to just realize he is hooking up with the wrong person and leave me, but instead, he looks into my eyes and gives me a drunk smile. He had others plans now.

“Mine” he says in a pure and raspy voice and with that, he just leans forward and attacks my lips with a hungry and needy kiss. Oddly enough I was here for it and did absolutely nothing to stop him. I was enjoying it.

There is no other way to put it, really, but he had sex, we had a lot of sex and I am almost completely sure it is the best sex I have had in my whole life. I might have been drunk and not in my five senses, but I sure know this was just the best thing that could have happen to my night, not only it was unexpected, but it was good, just the right thing I wanted to have and make me forget about the world. That’s the word, it made forget, because in that hour and a half of pure passion, the only thing that existed in the room was him and I. Nothing else.

Kiss after kiss, Touch after touch and a couple of orgasm later, I never really noticed when I fell asleep on that stranger’s bed, the only thing that I last remembered were his lips on my neck and his sensual voice whispering things that made me wish for more. It was such a good night.

It feels like time passed in just a snap, because right after that everything was just like a black curtain that flash forwarded me to this moment, the second I was waking up from my deep sleep, probably triggered by the small bits of light leaking through the curtain and the smell of something burning in the room.

He was sitting right beside of me at the side of the bed, there’s a cigarette on his hand and smoke coming out of his lips, his face had no expression, his eyes are lost, staring at nothing but I could see there is a million things going through his mind, neither of them good things.

I stir on the bed, unintentionally making myself noticeable, I was naked under the sheets and there was some sudden looseness going through every muscle of my body, I was feeling like myself but better, and totally starting to come through my hungover.

I notice he notices I am awake, but he chooses to not pay any kind of attention to me and lets me wake up at my pace. I sit on the bed, I was totally about to say something but he doesn’t let me, his voice comes at the same time as mine and they collide, with the slight difference that, I shut and he doesn’t.

“I think you should go” It’s what he says, turning just a little so I know he is talking to me and then goes back to ignore me, just like he did at the start of the night.

I wish I could fight that or try to make this any different, but I can’t because I can feel I am not wanted here, he wanted to be alone and not have any sort of company beside him. This was just sex and nothing else, it meant nothing. He didn’t need to say it out loud in order for me to understand, I am just a stranger in his bed and I am nothing. We are nothing.

Just like that, I move over from his bed and make myself be gone. No more words or discussions, I just gathered all my stuff and removed myself from that place, after all, we were nothing but strangers, after this, I could only get out of that place and go back to my pitiful life and on his side, he could go back to his glamorous life and fight for his own relationship, if there was even one at this point. I wish I was stronger with this kind of stuff, because even when I went into this knowing this meant absolutely nothing, there was still some emptiness in my soul that had the need for something else, just… something.

But who am I kidding, anyways?. I am and always will be, nothing.

[shadows-twilight]

RWBY Volume 6, Chapter 2

My various thoughts and opinions on Chapter 2 of RWBY Volume 6, "Uncovered"

SPOILERS BELOW:

Wow, they didn't waste any time showing us that Cinder was alive, did they? I must say, the opening shot of her in the water was gorgeous enough that, were it not for the sake of spoilers, I would have said that it should have been in the opening.

So, the only thing keeping people out of this super secret and super important vault that contains one of the most powerful artifacts known to man...is a very thin wall of rock? By a beach that anyone can just wander onto? At the base of a school that houses this world's equivalent to superheroes? Great security, Oz, really knocked that one out of the park.

Hmm, some random woman dressed exactly like the mysterious hooded woman from the opening has approached Cinder out of concern. Well surely she will decide to take Cinder home and nurse her back to health, an act of kindness that will surely touch Cinder's heart and put her onto the path of redemptiohaHaHAHAHAHAHAHA, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I tried, I couldn't do it. Nah, Cinder totes kills her and steals her clothes.

Ahh, I see the exposition house gets one last hurrah before we depart it completely. For some reason, the sitting around and talking doesn't seem as bad here. Probably because they're not just sitting around, but actually doing stuff while they're conversing, like wandering around and packing, making the conversation seem a little more natural.

So, did Yang not tell anyone who the Spring Maiden was? Considering the reaction she and the others have had to Ozpin's secrets, I can't help but feel that this will come back to bite her in the end.

So, the Lantern has the power to answer three questions, that are specified to not be wishes. I guess this means that the Relics won't just be mere MacGuffin's, but interesting allegories themselves. Now I find myself far more curious about the other three.

Despite Maria's comment, I have a feeling she is far from defenseless. Also, apparently Calavera means 'skull'. I did not know that, but I guess that's what I get for being a monolingual dumbass. I wonder if that's a hint towards her character allusion, because as it stands I haven't the first clue.

Ok Ozpin, I'm sure you have some explanation for not telling them about the Relic, but surely someone as old and experienced as you is familiar with the concept of a "Lie of Omission". You know, I get that this scene is supposed to frame Ozpin as the bad guy for keeping his secrets, but to be honest I can't help but sympathize with him. On one hand, I can't really sit here and blame Team RWBY and Qrow for their reactions, it always sucks to hear that someone doesn't trust you, but then you look at it from Ozpin's point of view. He's been fighting this war for countless years, and over those year's he's probably gone through dozens of Team RWBY's, STRQ's, Glynda's, and so on, and over those years, it makes sense to say that he's seen plenty of his allies turn against him. It makes complete sense to me that it would weigh on him, and create no short of trust issues, regardless of his overall optimism towards humanity. Despite the harshness of his actions, I can't help but feel that they're justified...

...Ooooooor at least that's what I would be thinking, had it not been for everything that happens afterward. As much as I feel that Ozpin isn't really a bad guy, and that everything I said before is true, his intense insistence to keep the Relic from Team RWBY and preventing them from using it, as well as Oscar's comment about what he's hiding, definitely screams that there's more to it than he's letting on. Oscar and everyone freaking out about it and throwing that trust to the wind was more or less reasonable. So there's an actual entity in the Relic, and her name is Jinn? Wow, they weren't even trying to be subtle about this one, were they. Are you sure you just have to say her name? You don't have to, I don't know, give it a rub, or anything?

Holy crap, the Genie allegory is the lady from the statue at Haven and- woah...um...wow...uh...what's the general age range of this show's audience, because I think some of the younger viewers might have just received one hell of a sexual awakening. Rule 34 is certainly going to have a field day with that one.

"Ten Thooouuusand years will give you such a crick in the neck." Oh don't look at me that way, you know and every crack video maker in the FNDM was thinking it too.

And back to Cinder. I must say, the 'Wanted' bulletin intrigues me. Did the public at large really know who they were before? Like, I know the White Fang was blamed for the Fall of Beacon, but was Cinder's crew named as well? Feels almost weird having our shadow villains being named so publicly.

You know, that symbol reminds me, I still haven't played the new Spider-Man game yet. Might have to pick that up next paycheck...

You know, outside of Maria, these character allusions are getting simpler. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, Genie, and now we have Little Miss Muffet. Seriously, she's even eating...well, I mean it could be curds, I don't know, might be yogurt or something, but still, seemingly dairy-based gooey stuff. Paired with the spider emblem, it's hard to miss.

So, is there any connection between this Malachite and the Malachite twins that worked for Junior? Ooh, it seems Cinder's battle with Raven shook her up pretty badly. I wonder what it was about a guy simply coming in that freaked her out, though.

Ooh, so Hazel and company's looking for Team RWBY/JNPR too? I wonder if dealing with him will be part of Team JNPR's arc.

Ooh, so even without prompting, Madame Jinn is already exposing more of Ozpin's lies, with Oz's attitude about it winning him zero favors. I mean, not even Qrow seems to be on his side right now, and I always thought he'd drank the kool-aid a long time ago.

Seeing WBY turn there weapons on Qrow, though. Oof.

So, this might be an awkward time to bring this up, but is anyone else curious as to why Maria doesn't seem to have more of a reaction to what's going on around her. I mean, they've been discussing Relic's, Lionheart, and a little boy possessed by a thousands of year old spirit right in front of her, and she doesn't seem even the slightest bit of fazed. Hell, even when they summon the frikkin' genie from the lamp, she simply seems almost as astounded as everyone else. How in the know is this woman?

You know, Oz, any sympathy I might have had for you just vanished with that reaction. I mean, I know we're pretty much reading your diary in front of the class here, but that was downright violent, and at Ruby no less

. Heh, I can already see the shippers having fun with which names the girls are calling out (checks the RWBY tag) Yep, they most certainly are.

Huh. All this time I thought Salem was the Wicked Witch of the West. Turns out she was Rapunzel. Looks like we know who the blonde from the opening is, at least. On a side note, someone  pointed out to me that "The Girl in the Tower" was one of the fairy tales that Pyrrha mentioned in Volume 3, alongside "The Two Brothers" and "The Four Maiden's". If this is the kind of stuff those fairy tales are, I can't wait to find out what "The Shallow Sea" is all about. Ahh yes, how could I forget the noble Rooster Teeth tradition of "cram as many cliffhangers as we can into these serialized bitches". Sigh, whelp, guess we'll find out the story next week.

[lilietsblog]

GHOST TRICK: THE BIG FINALE

so I finished the game yesterday all on my lonesome without internet

why yes I am perfectly fine and not emotionally compromised in the slightest

enjoy my screaming

IT'S GHOST TRICKING TIME which is to say it's ghost tricking time without internet so I'm doing this in wordpad tumblr really needs an 'import rtf' function >_>

SO from what I remember, when last we left off I was about to try to figure out how the fuck a knitted cap and a helmet are going to help me stop a bullet LET'S DIVE RIGHT BACK INTO THIS FOLKS

I still love how Sissel just ignores the dog's little 'WHATS A HOSTAGE O NO' instead of digging into explaining it

oh thank god the game DOES remember ive read this text before

...oh, I forgot how I did this the last time O WELL

all right, so I remember swiveling the lamp and dropping the hard hat, then when the knitted cap is over here I can swap it with the book and get it on the hook but how did I get the knitted cap over here

aha, he looked away for a moment, the helmet part is done what the fuck do i do now

AHA okay, so now i very quickly cart the ladder back and forth, I think I remember this

fuck, he noticed me, okay don't swivel the lamp while he's watching, swivel it while he's still looking away

I gotta note the 'I don't know why you're wearing my face' part HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

fuck, nope, I can't swivel the lamp back at that moment because he notices it clattering and turns right around FUCK OKAY LET'S TRY TO DO IT WITH THE LAMP THERE

ugh, if only I could do shit during the cutscene while he rolls away >_>

OK I SHOULD HAVE HAD MORE TRUST IN MISSILE HE IS GREAT AND A VERY GOOD DOG AND CAN AIM FOR SPLIT SECOND TIMING OF A BULLET BEING IN THE AIR OKAY

haha, and the knitted hat still hit Cabanela with enough velocity to knock him over I love this and I particularly love his dramatic leg up in the air he doesn't evne know what's happening he just aims to be the most dramatic possible at all times and it's really helping us out <3

'i love knitted hats... so warm, and most of all, so SOFT' <3 <3 <3

god Missile is so good this is pain IS THE DAWN DEADLINE A LIE MAYBE DID RAY JUST SAY THAT TO GET SISSEL'S BUTT MOVING I DON'T KNOW

oh yeah Cabanela's still got broken bones all over I kind of forgot about that

oh ok, looks less like broken and more like just really fucking bruised, becuase in that movement he's put pressure on all limb bones and nothing bent out of shape, so that's good

lmao and Cabanela's just like 'BUT IF I WAS KILLED IN THAT EXPLOSION THE SITUATION WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER' I I don't think it would necessarily work out that way, considering how much difficulty our protagonist was having saving just the professor :x

oh hey we've got our next source of information! should be quite a wellspring if Sissel remembers everything he should ask

yeeep Cabanela you FUCKED UP

oh, the gun :x

HON IM PRETTY SURE THE FIRST PART IS MORE IMPORTANT THE PART WHERE YOU TRIED TO SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF HIM CORNERED RATS BITE THIS IS COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY YOUR FAULT, ALL OF IT

aha, those cases, okay

and Cabanela was doing the thing because of Jowd that makes sense -_- kind of

yep, that one little snag kind of puts a question mark on the whole thing alright, that almost makes sense? kind of? makes Cabanela kind of a selfish butt doing this for his own obsession rather than for personally Jowd but makes sense

ok, the bringing him to justice minister to buy time thing actually does make a lot of sense it wasn't A LOT of time that he bought but it was just enough and that's what counts

oh hey, this guy used to have the job that the blue fake stole? (and yeah sounds like blue guys are just foreigners -_- bc they couldnt find spies that didnt stand out visually or anything)

hum not a scratch, huh regenerating dead body, okay

oh come ON Sissel don't be surprised now that part was obvious from the moment he said the corpse disappeared the meteorite's radiation, okay, quite interesting :D

"it was like a meteorite had struck me on the head" so, has that been a cause of death today yet, because if it hasn't, this looks like foreshadowing -_-

hum, so the gun would have been loaded because he controlled Kamila, which she then wouldn't have a clear memory of makes sense

HI LYNNE JUST IN TIME

arrest her to keep her safe, that actually makes perfect sense IF ONLY IT HAD WORKED LMAO no wonder pigeon guy roasted him for that in the deleted timeline XD

"while he was at it" <3 <3 <3

awwww pigeon guy was friends with him too <3

hee right on top of his striped jumpsuit honestly he looked less escaped-from-prison-ish in the paint-splattered robe thing XD

a present, huh?

awww see Sissel you don't feel lonely and that's what counts

ALRIGHT THEN :D LET'S FUCKING GO :D AND, UH, DO SOMETHING, I GUESS I love how out of proportion Sissel's powers are rewind time, talk to dead people... and move small objects a little

so, uh, Sissel, are you sure there's answers for YOU over there or did you just get into habit of telling this to yourself to feel better

okay well how the fuck did Jowd infiltrate a fucking SUBMARINE like, I just want to know the physics of how this happened?

omfg the bullet had a radio transmitter well, I have a newfound respect for Cabanela, I gotta admit like I already respected him but I just figured he shot the guy out of a desperate 'can't do anything else might as well try this' urge to do SOMETHING but nope he had a plan (which would have worked even with him dead)

wow, and he actually gave the thing to Jowd beforehand n i c e

wow, okay, that's stealthy

aha, and he can totally leave his body and wander around freely I think that was already confirmed but it's nice to know for even surer

wow, okay, what the fuck re: that thing reaching up from below that definitely looked like... something else for a moment there 0.0

aand okay the meteorite is possible to extract from his body I wonder if evil!Sissel actually knew that... or if that actually did anything to him :D

okay, what the FUCK and how many more people are dead now

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW MISSILE IS HERE TOOOOOOOO

the phone is ringing, how convenient :D

ooohkay this is tricky

so, why the fuck were there baseball and basketball balls hanging in nets under the ceiling on a submarine ... ... you know what I don't want to know

wait, Kamila can't hear him? oh, right, over the phone ghosts communicate by close range telepathy

aaand this makes the FIFTH time Lynne's dead tonight! or is it sixth? did i lose track somewhere?

AWWWW THIS SCENE IS LIKE AN OVERDOSE OF CUTE

'i wonder what happened THIS TIME' yep lmao

no actually 'i dont remember what happened after that' sounds like evil!Sissel to me, personally

but do you know what this wheel does Sissel are you sure turning it is a good idea

"I just sort of blacked out, the next thing I knew, I was dead" <3 <3 <3

"now it's all making even less sense than before" AND THAT'S SAYING *SOMETHING*

but actually okay yea this does kind of sound like an explosion that killed Lynne and knocked Kamila out

aaand nope I was absolutely correct )=

can this guy only puppet one body at a time? couldn't he have just possessed Lynne and had her slit her own throat or shoot herself or hang herself or something? that sounds a lot more productive than having a little girl fight her I mean, even if he only can puppet one body at a time, puppetting Lynne would have been a lot more productive overall, is there a reason he can't?...

or does he just love to do things in the most convoluted and roundabout manner typical to villains everywhere -_-

"nobody ever calls the dead" ARGUABLE a number of phone calls has been made this night specifically for the purpose of putting our!Sissel on the line

aand okay :D looks like the blue assholes saved Lynne just in time, sort of ...for a certain definition of 'saved'

so anyway this guy said something like 'you cannot possibly comprehend my suffering' so it would be funny if he was just a random dumbass that a bad thing hapened to one (1) time, which granted also killed him, but all the misery since then has been of his own making and he's put every single person involved in the events through worse just over the course of tonight, and simply has no sense of scale, perspective or proportion I think that would be great if the story went there XD EDITOR'S NOTE IN RETROSPECT: the story didn't go there and that was not fucking okay (it's dead women in the fridge again!)

and Sissel can't understand revenge as a concept SOUL TWINSIES WITH ME OR WHAT

lmao Lynne is starting to get touchy about how many times she's needed rescue lately XD

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE WHY CAN'T I REACH FOR ANYTHING YET also, interesting to note that in the 4 minutes ago past, neither Lynne nor Kamila have a core looks like Sissel's interaction with this realm is limited after all, and not only by phones there's v interesting existential fuckery going on here, of the exact sort I ABSOLUTELY LOVE

oh THERE we go 'nobody ever calls the dead' ARGUABLE again and I love Lynne's signature instant-snap-into-hands-over-head animation + pose Good Reflexes

ALRIGHT, FIDDLING WITH RANDOM SHIT WITHOUT KNOWING WHAT IT MIGHT DO TIME ...and that sure worked fast

hum, a random mechanic, alright

oh hon that's a, um, what's the opposite of exaggeration I know this word in Russian >_> over...littlification? that 'restless ghosts onboard' THAT'S ONE WAY TO PUT THAT

lmao that was one odd fate change

alright, found the temsik fragment capsule, I see yay unexpectedly strong wastebucket lids (seriously, that's a whole freaking basketball, there's a reason the nets worked like that lmao)

alright, just watching the cutscene for now, that's fair this guy sure looks like he's going to abandon his entire crew and blow up the sub or something

"farewell, sir" WELL THAT DID NOT SOUND QUITE RIGHT

alright, and we're left in the capsule rather than the fragment which apparently did not have a core of its own for some reason

OMFG THERE'S A LITTLE RAT IN THE TORPEDO ARE WE GOING TO HAVE A RUBE GOLDBERG MACHINE INVOLVING A SMALL RODENT AGAIN BECAUSE THOSE ARE THE BEST KIND BUT ALSO THIS IS NOT HOW TORPEDOS WORK BUT ALSO HI RAT!!!

yeah exactly thanks Sissel! how the FUCK did it get here also I love that the characters DO pay attention to the wellbeing of innocent rats in this game <3

well, you COULD just try to get it to blow up earlier, in the water you'd be stuck but you'd be heroes, or something well, Lynne would go back to her body, Sissel would be stuck :D oh, and the rat would die, that's the bad news

YEAH LET'S SAVE THE RATTIE FIRST if this time the rat is going to be in the way rather than helping, well, I REALLY DO RESPECT THAT LET'S SAVE THE RAT

alright, after some trial and error I DID manage to get both weights in the same position (mostly by luck) and throw off the rat NOW TO SAFETY

alright, this looks promising OKAY IT ALSO LOOKS LIKE KAMILA AND LYNNE MIGHT BE SAFE FROM EVIL!SISSEL NOW THAT'S GOOD NEWS

yusss caring about rats ftw <3

that's what missiles do, huh they're unstoppable i dont know who it is i hear there but Missile is great yes

well, whatever this is, our!Sissel just turned it on maybe it's pumps to remove water!... not that they'll do much against an unplugged breach but

aha, okay, won't move for long

this movement through a machine's gears feels like the purest expression of the game's premise since the junkyard tricks at the very beginning <3

the way Kamila's speech kinda fades in from white? that worries me

...eeeyup

god but I love this game's animation. this little one of Lynne hoisting Kamila up on her back? it feels, like, PERFECTLY balanced with their weights and Lynne's strength and everything <3 <3 <3

oh my god Lynne why couldn't you just... be able to swim not that it would help much with Kamila unconscious but

oh my god Lynne is literally right here why do I still have trouble moving around freely???

oh, found it!

wow, she's climbing one-handed while carrying Kamila, that's some serious upper body strength <3

W E L P

YEP THAT'S SOME SERIOUS STRENGTH THAT SHE DIDNT JUST FUCKING FALL NOR DROP KAMILA

yeeep okay WOW

ARE YOU BOTH GOING TO DIE NOW OR WHAT okay, no, just fall, and not even in the water that's good news

LYNNE THIS IS NOT A POSE YOU WANT TO BE IN RIGHT NOW unless you're actually holding yourself against that shit in the background with your left hand and I just can't see it I guess

...nope, she was holding her chin LYNNE NO

MISSILE HURRAY

okay, the fan thing makes sense

now to swap around a bunch of broken pipes so they don't get in lynne's way, got it

FOR FUCK'S SAKE I REALLY DON'T SEE A WINNING COMBO HERE

aand I fucking lost but at least I got Sissel in position -_-

alright, now with one pipe turned off it actually works out easily it just... took me really long to realize I'd need Sissel for this one -_-

Lynne honey but have you considered: you have no fucking clue what's behind that door although presumably submarine has only been breached in one place and it's this room?

holy shit with the hook Sissel managed to hoist the combined weight of Lynne and Kamila now THAT's a nifty trick

SISSEL FOR FUCK'S SAKE SHE CAN'T MUSTER LEVERAGE FOR THIS BECAUSE SHE HAS TO HOLD HERSELF AND KAMILA UP AND SHE'S TIRED SHE CAN ASK FOR HELP EXCLUSIVELY IN SWAHILI SWEARS AND IT'D STILL BE A WAY THAT YOU HAVE TO PUT UP WITH

aww, someone's saving us!!!

someone who commented on unstoppable missiles earlier, perhaps?

right, the truth... that's still relevant. while on a sinking submarine. yep

haha sinking submaries i have just been playing oxenfree haha

oh wow that's an improvised mechanism made out of garbage sticking in a close range telekinetic field nifty shit

oh oh okay that explains absolutely nothing evil!Sissel is not evil now, or what?

lmao this is getting more confusing, but like... in a very satisfying way <3

evil!Sissel still seems to have SOME amount of powers, at least, though possibly not the manipulating humans ones? but this amount of telekinesis is still incredible

so okay our Sissel's name possibly IS Sissel, but this dude's isn't I'm more confused than ever before I doubt there are three of them, so...

ahh, Lynne making Kamila more comfortable <3 <3 <3 and again, animation is fucking excellent. just, the timing of everything? it's better than 90% of all 3D animation I've ever seen in games

power and time, okay, got it so the dawn deadline IS real, just not for him wait, possibly not for Sissel and Missile, either?

I see he still fell in his signature ridiculous pose it's less funny now, overall

ah, okay, so the time effect is different too it seems to have been the same for Sissel and Missile though? is this a personality powers deal?

I love that Missile is perfectly comfortable with weird shit because as a dog, that's about the amount of understanding he has of his everyday surroundings, too <3

oh, hum so the moment this guy actually 'died' is the moment that blue guy took out the fragment?

wipe out everybody, huh

okay, so the shooting is as we knew, kind of

the first shot missed the mark, huh? quite curious, quite curious stray bullets are known to be deadly :D

alright, so that's a conversation that mostly confirmed what we already knew we have a new ally though, sort of

aand Lynne's empathy saves the day -_- like I said earlier, this guy's feelings aren't like... unique or anything, he just sucks at theory of mind

Kamila!!! so hey kiddo this guy in front of you is the guy who killed your mom

anyway, I'm still pretty sure Sissel hadn't yet introduced himself to you when you started calling him "Sissy" so there's that lead

and Kamila makes herself comfortable <3 I love this Little Lady so much <3

AWWWW THE RADIO THING <3 <3 <3

'and what about a torpedo' WHAT ABOUT A TORPEDO LYNNE THIS SOUNDS EXTREMELY UNSAFE

KAMILA ARE YOU KIDDING ME YOU'RE TOUGH AS FUCK

OMG IT'S A GRAPE SERVING MACHINE I LOVE THE LUXURIOUS FUCK THIS WAS MADE FOR

alright, torpedo room, that works

swap  the switches to get them unstuck!!!

so I'm going to guess everyone there died, too, and Sissel's going to have to prevent that, too that makes perfect sense

that 'understand exactly how he feels' thing our!Sissel and evil!Sissel are really fucking different in this particular respect :D

awww and the girls convince the doggo <3 <3 <3

so, does Kamila know about the dawn deadline for all ghosts, or

oh thank god I didn't need to control that hop this game really has a policy of not having a permaloss option <3

Yomiel, huh so that's his name

alright, and 'Sissel' is an alias ...I'm just going to keep using it for the protag, just to make things slightly less confusing

ah, so this guy had access to national secrets, and that's how he did the singer thing

and he was proven innocent offscreen <3 <3 <3 stylish

stylish animation, nice

didn't help anybody? did you ever try? because our!Sissel sure figured that shit out quickly

welp, the blue guys are assholes but then, they were also kind of dealing with an asshole I can imagine why they didn't think he was reliable to deal with :x

awww, I like the leaflet guy so much <3 <3 <3

I love how Jowd's like 'well, I'm dead, are you happy now' and Sissel's like 'so anyway about that' FUCK death not tonight, not when Sissel's here <3 <3 <3

alright, and this guy's a robot that still doesn't quite he's pretty human-like >_> I am not a fan of the blue guy in charge is all I'm saying also lmao I nicknamed this one 'iron man dracula' i didn't mean it that way but

ah, remote-controlled, alright that 'farewell' was odd then

'your country's use of technology is just plain off' I LOVE THIS

could there have been two pieces of meteorite in this guy's body? okay, nope still!

OH WOW FOUR MINUTES BEFORE HIS DEATH THAT'S THAT'S ACTUALLY EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED FROM THE VERY BEGINNING EVEN THOUGH I THOUGHT THIS BODY BELONGED TO THE WRONG 'WHOM' THIS IS SOMEWHAT MORE AMBITIOUS THAN PLANNED BUT

...okay, no, his 'death' would actually be before the control room was launched, not all those years ago STILL THIS IS THE -EXACT- THING

alright anyway this is plenty of buildup WHO THE FUCK IS OUR PROTAGONIST it's funny how so far absolutely 0 of what we've seen has pointed to that I have plenty of odd thoughts in my mind ofc 'that guy from another point of time' being the prime one as a homestuck, the possibility of there being multiple ghosts of the same person doesn't faze me in the slightest in fact it seems like an intuitive conclusion BUT THEIR PERSONALITY SURE IS DIFFERENT

anyway, :D :D :D

Final Chapter

...aha! so it counted ten years ago after all! dang :D

aha, I see that mascot thing I see baby Lynne!!!

I note how for someone threatening to shoot the kid, Yomiel's gun sure is pointing in the wrong direction AND he's holding out the kid to the side, not between himself and Jowd SOMEONE sucks at hostage taking lmao

a kitty, huh

and then a meteorite, okay

I note the lamp

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww Yomiel is thinking 'so maybe I'll die in another way and all this will have not happened, that's a better outcome anyway' isn't he god his faces are Sissel faces and look this game knows EXACTLY what it's doing with its visuals exactly one facial exression of Yomiel's has not matched Sissel's I doubt it's because of lazy artists

alright, so a good plan would be swapping the mascot and the lamp

but seriously, WOW Yomiel sucks at taking hostages this game's animation is always stellar and brilliant, there's NO fucking coincidence there he was absolutely not willing in any way to put baby Lynne in actual danger, even if he pretended he did and it worked on Jowd

anyway how the fuck do we get to the lamp

'we can talk about all this later' ARGUABLE TBH the entire, like, THING is going to change oh man is everyone going to go back to their bodies 10 years ago with their new memories because that's fucking hardcore was Kamila even BORN yet

augh I DONT KNOW I CANT REACH I THINK I CANT REACH ANYTHING WHAT DO I DO MISSILE IS IN THE SWEET POTATO ON THE FOUNTAIN SISSEL IS IN THE NOZZLE BUT NOT THE CENTRAL ONE AND CANT REACH THE CENTRAL ONE WHAT DO I DO

okay sounds like I missed my chance let's try that again

ghhhh okay I think I have figured this sequence out even though I have to rewind again 1) rock the basket 2) jump into nozzle to launch the potato 3) Sissel jumps into the potato and then from the potato to the central nozzle 4) Missile jumps into the potato 5) launch the potato x2

okay, Mino fell into the fountain, not that I know how this can help because AGAIN, Missile can't reach Mino from the lantern :x and Sissel can't do absolutely fucking anything

annd the finale is a cutscene alas

alright, let's try that again...

hum we didn't get a FATE CHANGE registered after dropping Mino might this mean we have to do something right in the process?

AW YEAH THAT DEFINITELY JUST HAPPENED LMAO

are we going to kill everyone by dropping Mino on them instead XD

trick time, huh Sissel still can't reach anywhere Missile can swap two identical lanterns, not that this does anything he can talk to Sissel, for what THAT's worth

aha, the lantern dropped, Missile can move around now, that's good

Sissel still can't do shit though

well, that's the detective's LEG, not... anything else or anything

oh man, yeah... YOUNG JOWD IS A DUMBASS man, even Yomiel isn't aiming at him anymore, he's like 'hey dude are you okay' so the theory that Sissel is alternate!Yomiel is really gaining steam in my head not that it wasn't the primary one all along but

AW FUCK YEAH MISSILE THE BULLET CATCHING BADASS DOGGO!!!

anyway sweet potato?

BOO YAH um or not

OR YES ACTUALLY THAT WORKS

OH MY FUCKING GOD YEP THE LAMPPOST FUCKING MINO

awwwwww and finally the trauma of remembering your death is brought up!!!! Sissel cares <3 <3 <3 (and Yomiel doesn't at the moment NOT THAT I CAN'T UNDERSTAND THAT IN CONTEXT) (then again I'd understand it if Sissel didn't either but he's the purest being in existence so)

awwww Yomiel is finally going to contribute!!!

omfg lmao "Make it spray as if your life depended on it!" "Uh, I'm dead though" Yomiel is winning ALL the sensitivity awards tonight <3 <3 <3

I I think that Yomiel hasn't done anything yet oh, okay, we're still winning time

holy FUCK Yomiel that was definitely a thing you just did

dear Young Jowd, Yomiel is the one who saved her. Not gods

awwww and he gave baby Lynne a detective's badge <3 <3 <3 he's so good with children <3

so, can Yomiel be alive please :x ALRIGHT, HE IS THAT WORKS

THE KITTY DID THE METEORITE KILL THE KITTY

wait wait wait is is Sissel the kitty is that why he has no idea how guns work or anything else like that that that is truly fucking incredible f y'all's i AND I GUESS IT FITS WITH HIM AND MISSILE JUST GOING AROUND SAVING PEOPLE TOGETHER LIKE A BADASS DUO AND IT FITS WITH HIM GETTING KILLED BY LYNNE'S FIRST SHOT ON ACCIDENT I HONESTLY CONSIDERED A RAT OPTION FOR LIKE A SPLIT SECOND THERE

OMG OMG OMG OMG YE S AND HIS NAME REALLY IS SISSEL

god jesus fucking christ this this fucking game i just im howling this this definitely is a thing that just happened it owned me so hard im so fucking owned right now

yep hes the cat he's Yomiel's cat

aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwww there's a good reason he had identity confusion in all this they WERE confusable as one being for a while

'her' huh?

oh man wow THIS particular part of the story sucks

so Sissel was a girl's name all along? okay

but also, FUCK no wonder he went bonkers specifically about being unable to die

'his powers couldnt help anybody' more like they couldn't help ONE SPECIFIC PERSON

so that bag is a kitty carrier huh and Lynne's miss accidentally killed the kitty

LMAO THE PART WHERE WE ALL THOUGHT LYNNE HAD KILLED THE PROTAG WASN'T WRONG

I DAMN FUCKING REMEMBER THAT CAT JUST FOR YALLS I I ABSOLUTELY REMEMBERED THERE WAS A CAT THERE I JUST NEVER LINKED IT TO ANYTHING I JUST THOUGHT IT WAS A VERY PRETTY RANDOM STRAY

anyway Yomiel that's what you get for playing with guns they're deadly weapons and result in death you're fucking welcome

so anyway who the fuck is Ray

but anyway kitty Sissel saved everyone...

okay but hold on hold on hold on I didn't quite get the implications about the fiancee the first time around WHAT THE FUCK CAPCOM i was just recently thinking how fucked up it was that I remembered the last name of Polly Jenkins, just because of how much her brief story shook me

and uh I think is that also the implication here because that's not fucking okay

anyway so did Yomiel die as the result of that or nay bc that looked fucking deadly if not instantaneously so

god but this ffucking game

this fucking... game

oh Missile I'm pretty sure YOU are going to see HIM alright lmao wasn't Jowd taking him home

but also damn the original events of these ten years, as remembered by - a dog and a cat - Detective Jowd and Kamila (but not Alma, who never was brought back to life directly) - Lynne - Cabanela - the medical examiner - the minister of justice AND NO-ONE ELSE ...wait, no ALSO THE GUY FROM THE FUCKING PARK ...yep that's a thing we're doing

so another important thing is that the rock star kid is going to be okay and the curry guy, too nothing bad happened to them in this timeline, right?

ALRIGHT HI RAY WHAT/WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU

(right now my bet's on 'a rat')

oh, Sissel also killed two people tonight, that happened

lmao and in this version of evens Missile died in the presence of Temsik

omfg and Ray is alternate!Missile this is fucking amazing <3

lmao his ghost aged and lost its powers?

also the dawn deadline was a lie he just wanted to get Sissel's butt moving I FUCKING KNEW IT

I love how Sissel's just "I DID WHAT" even though he's been doing that all evening this time around too

yup doggie's a fucking liar the only real time limit is the lifetime they would have had if they were alive huh damn

but seriously I called that before I started this section of the liveblog even if I think I never actually made that post 'what are the odds Ray is a fucking liar' I don't think I ever wrote that I kept getting distracted but yep I fucking called this

THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART GOD I AM ;U; THIS DOGGO

anyway one participant of the events who definitely wasn't born yet 10 years ago is indeed Missile 0.0 how's that... gonna work...

but I do love that just... the justice minister, of all people, is also going to be in possession of those 10 years

OH MY FUCKING GOD LYNNE IS ABOUT TO HAVE A FUCKING HEART ATTACK I KNOW THERE'S NO GUN BUT JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

KAMILA WHAT THE FUCK DON'T FUCKING DO THAT THAT'S ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING

aawwwwwww IT WORKED THIS TIME AROUND

'nice to meet you' OH BOY OH BOY I GET HOW IT WORKS NOW I THINK ...uh, I'm not sure how Lynne knew to flee from the junkyard then, but either way it looks like they're only getting back their memories at the PRESENT and that's why Kamila didn't fUCKING KNOW AND REMEMBER WHAT THE FUCK WAS WRONG WITH DOING THAT JUST NOW

LMAO SOMETHING'S GOING TO EXPLODE TONIGHT

oh, nevermind, it's not that yet :D but it really does sound like it's going to :D right... about... dawn? :D

aww Jowd actually carries toy badges with him everywhere <3 <3 <3 'child handling tools'

still a kitten, huh yeah, that whole Temsik thing :D

aww, and here's her, all alive and everything

SO BIG MEMORYSPLOSION PLEASE

(at dawn) (it's fucking coming that's my headcanon and you can't beat it) (a bunch of people are going to become really fucking traumatized tonight)

hey!!! Missile!!! Cabanela brought him, huh

so, what's up with Yomiel, anyway

COME ON SISSEL MAKE NICE WITH MISSILE HE CAN'T CLIMB UP THERE

that guy's imitating Cabanela lmao

Memry <3 <3 <3

very best customer, huh

AWWW ITS THIS GUY HI GUY YOU'RE OKAY NOW WITHOUT YOMIEL TO RUIN EVERYTHING YOU'RE JUST FINE

hah, and these two

.............................................yup. they died

'the indescretions of a minister perhaps?' I LOVE THIS FUCKING LADY I LOVE HER I LOVE HER

ah, these two what deal is it this time

the little rock sinter guy!!! yeah!!!!

hi medical examiner guy <3 guess you're not doing medicine after all huh

HI LEAFLET PARK GUY YOU ARE STILL CUTE

HI BAILEY

oh man oh man Yomiel :D hey are talking about Yomiel :D

SHOW ME HIS FIANCEE YOU COWARDS

lmao he's the painter this time even the robe sits the same

SO SHOW ME

OH YEAH OH YEAH HE REMEMBERS THATS THE PICTURE OF THE FUCKING CAT AND NO MISTAKE ABOUT IT

YUP YUP THIS IS IT lmao that crane i sure do remember it well it murdered two people tonight <3 <3 <3 kitty <3 <3 <3

aw yeah! in that picture with Missile!!!

[v-writings]

The difficulties of knowledge Part 3 of The troubles of miscommunication

Word Count: 8K+ Pairing: Peter Parker x Female Reader Summary: You’re happy to know something so important about Peter’s life, but learning to deal with being aware of him being in danger might be a lot harder than you thought. Rating: T Warnings: None. A/N: This does not cover the entire movie, as a matter of fact it covers like, 20 minutes of it. I would like to eventually write the entire movie as part of the universe of this fic though so if you like how it’s going, don’t hesitate to let me know ♥

You love what Peter does for the city and the people when he’s out as Spider-Man, you really do— but the truth is that it’s pretty hard for you to not feel incredibly worried now that you know it’s him who’s out doing superhero stuff. You know that every time he does that he’s in danger, no matter how good at what he does he is. Hell, only yesterday he could’ve easily died during the bank robbery.

You talked about this morning on your way to school and he promised to do his best to reassure you and communicate with you to tell you he’s doing okay whenever he’s out, but even then you can’t stop the unsettling feeling that makes its home in the pit of your stomach—a feeling that refuses to leave until you know that Peter is safe in his home, or in your arms.

Still, you know that it’s only natural to worry, and you know that as time passes you’ll start to get less and less worried about him and you’ll trust his skills more than you do now… or maybe not.

Your phone vibrates while you’re in the middle of your English class, and you stealthily take it out of your pocket to see what the text says.

I can’t wait to see you in gym class

You bite the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from smiling, and type a quick response while pretending to read the text on your desk.

Ditto 🕷💗

You block your phone and put it in your pocket again, but when you feel it vibrate several times after that you simply resist the urge to grin and continue reading your textbook like nothing happened.

😮 😮 😮 😮 😮               😮 😮 😮 😮 😮 😮 😮 😮 😮 😮 😮 😮 😮 😮 😮 😮     I feel like you’re LAUGHING AT ME

“Parker, no phones during class. Thank you.” The teacher calls out, giving him a sardonic smile before continuing with what he was just saying— but Peter simply can’t concentrate.

Thankfully, that is not really a problem for him because he has no troubles with this subject, so he can simply look forward and act like he’s paying attention when in reality what he’s doing is think about you.

Peter is almost counting the seconds until he gets to see you in Gym class, because today is one of the days in the week when, besides that class, he only shares lunch with you.

He hates days like these.

When he enters the gym with Ned by his side, he sees you’re already sitting down on the bleachers and by the looks of it, you seem like you’re about to fall asleep. You don’t even register him sitting down next to you until he greets you, and even then you only manage to give him a sleepy smile and a quick kiss on the lips before closing your eyes again. As the other students sit down as well, Peter pulls you closer and you rest your head on his shoulder, not saying anything else. He feels incredibly guilty, because he knows this is happening because of last night.

“I’m sorry about earlier this morning. I should’ve let you sleep.” He apologizes in a whisper, looking sideways at you.

“It’s okay.” You shrug him off. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” You accommodate your head on his shoulder a little better, and he just lets you be without saying anything else.

Once the Captain America video is done, Peter shakes you softly, but you just groan and bury your face on his neck.

“Come on, we have to start.” He whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“I hate this class.” Peter feels the vibration that the sound of your voice creates against his skin, and it makes the hairs of his arms stand up. “I’m not doing anything today.” You finally move away from him and drag yourself down, but coach Wilson stops you both before you can get anywhere.

“[L/N], ropes. Parker, mats. And you better stay away from each other from the rest of the class or I will send you to the principal’s office for inappropriate behavior.” You simply stare at him with your mouth open in disbelief, as if what he just said is completely unjustified.

“What? Why?” You ask, lifting up your arms dramatically. Peter doesn’t say a word because he knows he’ll only make it worse, given the fact that you both know very well why the coach is telling you this. He just stares at you with a blank face without saying anything— staying silent long enough for it to become really awkward. You don’t seem to care, though, and you continue looking at him questioningly like he has no reason to make sure you two aren’t close to each other during this class.

Since the last time you managed to let him pair you up with Peter you ended up kissing him every time you did a sit up, Peter knows for a fact that he’ll never trust either of you again.

“Ropes.” He deadpans, and you let out an exaggerated sigh before turning around and doing as told. You turn around to look at Peter with a forlorn expression, and he just smiles and mouths “see you later” before making his way towards the mats with Ned in tow.

“I’m gonna die. I can’t do it. I’ll die.” You groan, face down on the floor. “Actually, I would rather die than do this.” You add, almost as an afterthought.

“[L/N], for the love of God, climb the rope.” Coach Wilson tells you, and even though you aren’t seeing him you know he just rolled his eyes at you. He does it all the time.

“I would love to, it just so happens that I’m physically unable to.” You answer, lifting up only your head to look at him. “What if I die, huh? What if I have a heart attack from the strain of trying to do something I’m unable to and then you get fired because of it?” You lift your eyebrows at him and he just stares at you without any emotion in his face, while simultaneously looking like he’s so done with you he’d jump out the window if he could, just so he doesn’t have to keep talking to you.

“I definitely don’t care enough to deal with this.” He shakes his head and turns around, leaving you lying there feeling victorious.

“Check and mate.” You whisper to yourself, turning around to lie on your back. You cross your legs and place your hands on your stomach, closing your eyes and getting ready to take a nap for the rest of the class. Coach Wilson cares so very little about anything that has got to do with you that he’ll pass you all anyway, because if he didn’t it would mean he’d have to deal with more work later.

You don’t normally get to sleep during Gym class because of the noise, but given the fact that you’ve been awake since five in the morning it actually doesn’t take you too long to start drifting away. Yesterday you found out that your lovely, sweet boyfriend is actually Spider-Man, and Peter spent the night at your place after you had a long talk about it. Afterwards you had to wake him up so no one would find out about what you did, but that meant that afterwards you were unable to fall asleep again. So, you came to school having barely slept, and even though at first you didn’t really feel it, now it’s hitting you pretty hard.

“Peter knows Spider-Man!” You were so close to falling asleep, but Ned’s familiar voice pulled you out from your daze rather violently. Your eyes open wide and you sit up, turning your head around until you find him and Peter.

What the actual fuck did he just do?

“No, I don’t. No. I— I  mean—” Peter stutters, and you just manage to stare at him and Ned with wide eyes.

Oh no. He’s nervous and embarrassed.

That’s it. You’re killing Ned.

“They’re friends. Yeah, like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends.” Flash interrupts him, and you wish he was just a few inches closer so you’d be able to kick him in the shin and pretend it was an accident.

“I’ve met him, yeah. A couple times.” Peter says, and you know he’s making it really hard for anyone to believe what he’s saying. He’s definitely not the best liar in the world; he’s not a good liar, period.

“Oh my God, is that true?” One of your classmates asks you, mouth open in surprise.

“Uh… yep.” You manage to say, trying to think of a way to get out of answering if someone asks a question. If you say something different to what Peter says, people will call him a liar until you graduate.

And then in your 10 year high school reunion they will still call him a liar.

“Through the Stark internship.” He nods, and you curse under your breath and how obvious it is that he’s not telling the truth. “Yeah, well, I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“Well, that’s awesome. Hey, you know what? Maybe you should invite him to Liz’s party. Right?”

Oh, shit.

It’s no secret that a lot of people believe that the Stark internship is a lie that Peter tried to use to become more popular— and while it is a lie, they are completely wrong on the reasoning behind it. In the end even if Peter had wanted to use it to become more popular it completely backfired, because Flash made sure 95% of the student body were certain that he was lying, and now he teases Peter about it relentlessly.

You really want to punch him in the face for it.

“Yeah, I’m having people over tonight. You’re more than welcome to come.” Liz clarifies— being an absolute sweetheart, as usual.

“Having a party?” Peter asks, and all of a sudden you’re filled with an incontrollable urge to choke Ned for putting Peter in this situation.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be dope. You should totally invite your personal friend Spider-Man.”

“It’s okay.” Liz cuts in. “[Y/N] knows about it already and I assumed he’d go with her if he wanted to but I know Peter’s way too busy with parties anyway, so…”

“Come on. He’ll be there. Right, Parker?” Flash challenges, and you struggle with the decision of who you want to punch first: him, or Ned.

Him, probably.

The bell rings, and you get up as inconspicuously as possible and make your way towards Peter and Ned, trying to count to ten so you don’t strangle the latter as soon as he’s within arms’ reach.

“What the hell?” You ask Ned through gritted teeth, trying to keep a smile on your face as to not draw unwanted attention to you three.

“Did you not hear what Liz said?” Ned’s excitement shows that he’s ready to completely ignore your anger over what he’s just done— as usual.

“I was actually on the verge of falling asleep, thank you very much. At last until you screamed that Peter knew Spider-Man. What the hell were you thinking?”

“Liz said that she likes Spider-Man.” Peter explains, scratching the back of his neck self-consciously. Your eyebrows nearly rise to your hairline, and you look at Ned incredulously.

“And you’re trying to set them up? You do realize that Spider-Man has a girlfriend already, don’t you?” Peter laughs but covers it up with a cough, and you glare at him. He mumbles “I love you” and you melt, becoming unable to do anything but smile softly at him in response.

The question was rhetorical, but Ned answers anyway.

“God, are you two telepathically connected or something that you think the same? No. I’m not trying to set anyone up. Can’t you see what’s happening? If we go to that party and Spider-Man shows up and he’s all like ‘what’s up, I’m their friend’ we’ll be made for life. No more teasing, no more anything. We’ll be like, royalty.” You just stare at him and then at Peter, because he cannot be thinking about using Peter to become more popular.

“Ned, I don’t think—” Peter begins, and you know he thinks the same thing you do.

This is not a good idea.

“Flash will never tease you again.” Peter, who was previously looking down at his feet, immediately lifts his head up and you see a spark something in his eyes— and then his expression becomes almost hopeful.

“I—” He’s still doubtful, but you know that the possibility of finally shutting Flash up awakened something inside of him. “[Y/N]? What do you think?”

Well, fuck. If he’s asking you what you think you know it’s because he’s considering it, and knowing that he’s considering because of how much he wants Flash’s constant teasing to stop makes you unable to tell him that he shouldn’t do it.

“It’s your choice, babe. In the end, you do know Spider-Man pretty well, don’t you?”

We’re outside

Peter’s phone buzzes almost immediately after he hits send, most likely because you were already waiting for his message.

On my way down

A minute later Peter sees you opening the door of your building, and as soon as you see him your face lights up with a wide grin. You look beautiful in your outfit and it does take his breath away, but that smile… he can’t compare the feeling he gets in the pit of his stomach when you smile at him with anything else.

Knowing that you smile at him because you’re happy to see him, because you love him— that’s simply the best feeling in the world.

“You’re just two seconds away from drooling, it’s adorable.” May suddenly says, pulling him out from his thoughts. He makes eye contact with her through the rearview mirror, and he can see the slightly pronounced laughter lines in her eyes.

“I’m not going to— hi.” He greets you when you open the door, scooting over to the side to make more room for you.

“Hi.” You greet back, pecking his lips quickly before closing the car door. “Hi, May.”

“Hi sweetie. You look beautiful.” She says with a smile, turning around for a moment. “You both look very good.”

“Aw, thank you.” You say, looking down at your clothes while smiling bashfully. “You do look really nice, as usual.” You add in a whisper, moving your hand until it finds Peter’s and your fingers interlock together.

He doesn’t answer not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t. He’s just grinning at you like the lovesick puppy he is, and the fact that you’re holding his hand only makes it worse— or better, depending on the way you look at it.

You always know how to leave him speechless.

“Let’s go get Ned, then.” May says, starting the car. “Seatbelts on, please.”

“Bye May!” You say, waving at her as she drives away. “Well, that definitely wasn’t awkward as hell.” You say sarcastically, shaking your head to try and get rid of the memory of what just happened inside that car.

“I know it’s really hard, trying to fit in with all the changes your body’s going through. It’s flowering now, and when you have a girlfriend you love…”

No. You’re just never going to think about Peter’s aunt talking about Peter’s body going through changes ever again.

The inside of Liz’s house is filled with people, and you look around and wave at a few of your friends who are scattered around.

“Okay, we’re gonna have Spider-Man swing in, say you guys are tight, ask [Y/N] to tell you hi for him, and then I get a fist bump or one of those half bro hugs.” Peter looks extremely nervous, and you hold his hand and give him a reassuring squeeze.

“I can’t believe you guys are at this lame party.” Michelle suddenly says, appearing out of nowhere. Well, probably not out of nowhere, but you didn’t notice her until just now.

“But you’re here too.” Ned retorts, frowning in confusion.

“Am I?” Michelle asks cryptically, and you snort before shaking your head at her.

She’s a delight.

“Oh my gosh, hey guys. Cool hat, Ned. [Y/N], you look great.” Liz says, walking up to you with a bright smile. You smile back in response, but Ned and Peter just stay silent. “I’m so happy you guys came. There’s pizza and drinks. Help yourself.”

“Thanks Liz.” You smile, and squeeze Peter’s hand rather tightly to get him to say something instead of just standing there in awkward silence.

“What a great party.” He blurts out, and you smile and nod in agreement.

“Thanks.” Liz says with a grin, and just then you hear something breaking and Liz’s expression turns into worry. “Oh— I— my parents will kill me if anything’s broken. I gotta—”

“Go ahead.” You say, and Peter nods in agreement with a small smile.

“Have fun.” She says right before leaving, and once she’s gone, you turn to Peter expectantly.

Earlier today when you were getting ready, Peter called you and you had a talk about him not being sure about appearing as Spider-Man at Liz’s party, and while you told him that it was his choice to do whatever he felt comfortable with, you also told him that the best thing he could do was to be himself, always.

“Come on Peter, Spider it up.” Ned whispers, looking at Peter with eyebrows raised in excitement. Peter looks at you, and you give him a reassuring smile and rub the back of his hand with your thumb to let him know you support whatever he decides to do.

“No, no, no, no. I can’t—  I cannot do this. Spider-Man is not a party trick, okay? Look, I’m just gonna… be myself.” You smile and kiss his cheek right after he says it, because you’re really proud of him for making that decision in the end.

“Peter, no one wants that.” Ned retorts, staring at him like he just said the stupidest thing ever.

“Dude.”

“Excuse me?” You and Peter both talk at the same time, but he’s nowhere near as offended as you are by what Ned just said. “How dare—”

“You’re biased because you’re in love with him, your opinion doesn’t count.” He dismisses you, and your mouth opens in disbelief.

“Are you serious? I— what— you—” You scoff and turn to Peter instead, grabbing his face in your hands and squishing his cheeks. “You.” You press a kiss to his puckered lips. “Are.” Another. “Perfect.” And another one. He giggles adorably at that, and you press one last kiss just because you can.

“You are an asshole.” You say through gritted teeth, jabbing a finger at Ned’s chest. Peter grabs your hand again, but you don’t get too far before hearing the voice of the Devil Himself— also known as Flash Thompson.

“Penis Parker, what’s up?!” He yells through a microphone, and Peter’s hand squeezes yours almost instantly. You know he didn’t do it on purpose, it’s because he tensed up at that fucking nickname. “So, where’s your pal Spider-Man? Let me guess, in Canada with [Y/N]’s higher standards?” People laugh at that and his hold on his hand becomes tighter, but this time you’re squeezing him back just as tightly.

You’re going to kill Flash.

“That’s not Spider-Man, that’s just Ned in a red shirt.” People continue laughing, and your anger continues to rise at the speed of light.

“Come on, let’s go.” Ned says, pushing you both forward to get you out of there. Wise choice, considering that it seemed like both you and Peter were rooted at your spots— albeit for different reasons. Flash says something else neither of you pays attention to as you leave, and you search for a place less crowded outside the house.

“I’m going to do it.” Peter suddenly says once you three are somewhat alone, and you stare at him with a frown until you realize what he means.

“Peter, you don’t have to.” You say, pulling him towards you and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Yes!” Ned shrieks happily, looking like he’s just been told the best news of his entire life. “This is going to be amazing. Just do as we planned.”

“I know I don’t have to.” Peter says, ignoring Ned. “But I’m just… I’m so tired of Flash teasing us and maybe if I do this he’ll finally leave us alone. Can you imagine?” His hopeful look is all you need to simply nod in agreement to this, because even though Flash does tease you too, it’s nothing compared to what Ned and Peter have been going through for the past years.

Flash’s teasing when it comes to you boils down to him basically telling you that you could do better than dating Peter and being Ned’s friend— but when it comes to them it’s way, way worse.

“Okay, we’ll wait for you inside.” You say, kissing Peter on the lips before pulling away. He nods and smiles, and you let out a breath while hoping that this doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass.

“This is the best day ever!” Ned whisper-shrieks, doing a little victory dance.

“Come on Ned, let’s go.” You grab him by the wrist and pull him with you while he’s still dancing, waving at Peter and leaving him alone to sort himself out.

“How long do you think he’s going to take?” Ned asks once you’re inside while you scroll through your Twitter feed, looking out the windows to try and see if he can find Peter.

“Dunno.” You shrug your shoulders. “A few minutes, I guess.”

As it turns out, more than a few minutes pass and now you’re past the point when you think Peter simply decided against appearing as Spider-Man because he’d be back as himself already if that were the case, and he’s not.

“Where the hell is he?” You ask Ned, biting your thumb nail nervously. “It’s been way too long.”

“I’ll call him.” Ned says, pulling his phone out. A couple seconds later he rolls his eyes and sighs, and you know he went to voicemail. “Where are you? We’re waiting for you, dude. Call me back.”

More time passes, and there’s still no sign of Peter. By this point, you’ve got no more thumb nail to bite on, and now you’re biting your lip.

“Fuck, I’m freaking out. I mean, I have a feeling that he’s out somewhere doing stuff but also what if something happened to him?” You say this while texting him to please tell you if he’s okay ASAP, and wait for a reply anxiously. Ned pulls his phone out and tries calling him again.

“Voicemail again.” He complains out loud. “Peter, where are you? The hat’s not working. This is not cool. Also, [Y/N] seems to be on the verge of a breakdown because she’s worried about you. Can you get here already?”

Peter feels like shit.

No, scratch that. He feels like less than shit. He really wants to know why Tony is now treating him like he’s some useless child when just months ago he himself found him and took him to Germany to fight for him, why he made him feel like he considered him something resembling an equal when it now seems like that’s not the case at all.

What did he want from him if it wasn’t to include him in his team from now on? What was the point of taking him to Germany if he didn’t really think Peter could handle serious stuff?

During the middle of his reverie, Peter’s eyes catch a distinct purple glow, and he quickly realizes that it seems to be part of the weapons those guys were selling earlier. He confirms it on closer inspection, but before he can really see what’s up with it his phone rings.

Ned’s calling him, again.

“Hey man, what’s up? I’m on my way back.”

“Actually, I was calling to say maybe you shouldn’t come. Listen.”

“When I say Penis, you say Parker! Penis—”

“Parker!”

“Penis—”

“Parker!”

“Sorry Peter, I guess we’re still losers.” Ned says in a resigned tone, sighing in defeat.

“SHUT UP, YOU LITTLE—” That’s your voice, Peter has no doubts about it.

“What was that?” Peter asks, straightening his back and focusing on listening what’s being said beneath the sound of the music of the party.

“Oh god, I have to go. I think [Y/N]’s going to punch Fla--”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH OR I’LL MAKE YOU REGRET IT, TRASH THOMPSON! MARK MY GODDAMN WOR--” The line suddenly goes silent, and Peter just stares at the background image of his phone —a picture of you and him kissing on the lips a couple months ago— for a moment, before a laugh escapes his mouth and then he shakes his head, smiling at the thought of you screaming at Flash because he was teasing him.

It feels really good when you’re protective of him.

He opens his conversation with you on his phone, and seeing the messages you sent asking him to tell you if he was okay both make his chest feel warm and soft, and like it’s being crushed under an immense pressure; that part is probably the guilt of not replying to you sooner. He starts typing faster than usual, almost feeling as if he doesn’t say this right in this very instant it’ll somehow physically hurt him.

I’m so sorry I made you worry and for not replying I’m okay I love you with all my heart

Peter waits for a message in response, but instead your smiling face appears on screen, signaling he has an incoming call from you. He looks around to see if it’s safe to remove his mask, and once he confirms that there’s no one around that can see him he takes it off and presses the green button.

“Hi, I’m sorry.” He says, looking at the ground.

“Hi, it’s okay. I love you too. Are you really okay?”  He smiles at the question, and something in his chest feels a little lighter just because he’s talking with you.

“Yeah, yeah. I just— I heard you screaming at Flash and Ned said you were worried and I felt like I really needed to say it.” There’s a prolonged silence on the other side, and he looks at his phone thinking that maybe the call ended without him realizing it—but it didn’t. It’s still going. “[Y/N]?”

“Peter, Jesus. You’re so cute I can’t take it. I love you so, so much.”

“Yeah, well…” He sits down and starts tracing random patterns on the ground. “Did you leave the party? I can’t hear any sounds.”

“Umm…” You’re avoiding his question, which makes him roll his eyes because it means you did something you’re not too proud of. “Yeah… we kinda had to.”

“What happened?  I only heard part of what you said.”

“Ugh. Yeah.” You take a deep breath and then let it out, and Peter knows he’s in for a story. “Okay so everything was fine, right? Well, okay, as fine as it could be because Ned is glaring at me because he thinks everything went to shit but anyway—”

“Everything did go to shit!” He hears Ned scream in the background, and then he hears a muffled ‘shut up’ like you pressed your phone against your chest so he wouldn’t listen.

“Anyway, Flash had been a little shit since you left asking me why I was dating you and saying that you were a loser, you know, the usual stuff. And at this point I’m super stressed because I’d realized you left and I’m wondering if you’re alright and my patience is like, gone. It ceased to exist. And then he starts with the Penis Parker stuff and I’m just ready to knock his goddamn teeth out, so I tell him ‘talk shit, get hit. Shut the fuck up or else’ but of course he doesn’t listen, he made it worse. And now he’s making people join in and I’m stressed and pissed and I want to call you to see if you’re okay and Flash is fucking looking at me while he says Penis Parker and I’m this close to losing it completely, I just need him to say one more thing… and then he does and then everything else is a blur.” Peter hears some shuffling and muffled words, but when he’s about to ask what happened he’s interrupted by Ned’s voice.

“What actually happened was that— Jesus Christ, let go of me— Betty was holding her back but she’s so small that she couldn’t do a lot, and Michelle was like ‘yeah [Y/N] defend your man’s honor! Screw gender roles!’ and Liz was like ‘oh my God please don’t break anything’ and Flash was literally screaming and running away from her and it was the most amazing thing ever.”

“Give me that! Ned for fuck’s— Peter? Wait, are you laughing?” He is, because the entire situation is ridiculous and great and he really wishes he’d been there to see it. Although, had he been there maybe it wouldn’t have escalated to that because he would’ve been able to calm you down, but still. It would’ve been great to see it.

“I’m sorry—” He apologizes, trying to regain his breath. “It’s just— I had a bit of a rough night and this really helped me. Thank you. I love you.”

“Wait a sec.” You say, and suddenly he hears a very muffled ‘walk ahead’ said by you followed by a ‘seriously? Okay, fine’ said by Ned. “Peter?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Do you wanna talk? Like, in person? Look, I’m home alone tonight and if you want to you can—”

“Yes, I do.” He quickly answers, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I told May I was going to stay over at Ned’s anyway. Where are you right now? I’ll meet you and we’ll go together.”

“Umm… I think there’s a park like two blocks away? I don’t know the address so I’ll look it up and then I’ll text you, okay? We’ll wait for you there.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there. Love you.”

“Love you too, bye.”

“Do you want something to drink? I think I should make you a tea to help you relax.” You say as soon as you lock the door, leaving the keys on a bowl and turning the lights on.

“Sure, thank you.” Peter says, and you realize he’s acting a little off. You actually noticed it already while you were coming here, because he didn’t talk much besides answering the things you asked.

“Okay, uh… you can sit on the couch if you want, I’ll be there in a sec.” He just nods and turns around to walk towards it, but you catch his wrist and stop him from doing so. You pull him just a little towards you— only enough for him to decide if he wants to get closer or not. He walks back towards you and rests his forehead against yours, and you stare at his eyes for a long moment before breaking the silence.

“There’s a lot going on in here tonight, isn’t it?” You ask in a whisper, rubbing slow, small circles on his temple. He closes his eyes and nods, rubbing your nose with his own softly before his mouth finds yours.

The kiss is really gentle and sweet, and you lower your hand from his face so you can wrap your arms around his waist. He wraps his own around your neck, and you deepen the kiss a little while trying to not ruin the tender atmosphere that’s been built around you both. Peter lets out the softest whines every once in a while, but other than that and separating to take a breath for a moment in between kisses you don’t stop until several minutes have passed. You can’t know how many, but when you pull away Peter is breathless and his cheeks are flushed deep red, making him look like he just ran 100 meters in 10 seconds.

“Come here, I’ll make you that tea.” You say, pulling him with you into the kitchen by the hand. As you busy yourself preparing the cups for the both of you, Peter sits on the counter and observes you silently, fiddling with his hands on his lap.

While you wait for the water to boil, you walk up to Peter and place yourself between his legs, trapping him in place with your hands on either side of his thighs. He doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, because he leans forward and rests his chin on your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you. You return the hug, rubbing soothing circles on his back while you wait for him to talk first.

“I’m not sure that Mr. Stark likes me after all.” He finally says, and there’s something that resembles resignation in his tone that makes your protective side overcome you completely.

“Why do you think that?” You ask, as calmly as you can. It’ll be counterproductive to start insulting Tony Stark if you want Peter to talk to you about this as honestly as possible.

The kettle whistles before he can answer your question, and you pull away from him only enough to extend your arm and turn the stove off. Resuming your previous position, you repeat your question.

“Because—” He sighs. “You know how I told you that this empty suit rescued me after I fell into the water?” You nod and he sighs again, which can’t be a good sign. “Well, after that he sort of, called or something and he was talking to me through it, and he was saying things like… like he didn’t think I was good enough to get those guys.” He pulls back only enough to look at you, and his in his expression you can see clear confusion. “But he is the one who came to find me because he needed my help in Germany. And today he told me that if Captain America had wanted to he could’ve easily won the fight with me but… but why would he take me there if I didn’t— if I wasn’t—”

“What, baby?”

“Why did he take me to fight by his side against Captain America if he doesn’t think I can do this? What changed after Berlin?” His lost expression breaks your heart, and you wish you’d had the answer he wants to hear— something that would make everything better and it would make him stop feeling bad about himself.

Sadly, you don’t, because you have no fucking clue what was going through that old man’s mind when he took Peter with him without telling May and put him in danger. And now he’s responsible for making Peter feel like he’s not adequate for what he wants to do, while simultaneously being the reason behind’s Peter need to do things like that. After Berlin, he simply cannot settle for doing only small stuff— he craves something bigger.

If you ever get the chance, you will punch Tony Stark in the face.

“Look, baby…” You measure your words carefully, because the last thing you want is to make him feel even worse. “I’ve told you before that I think you need to be careful, and especially when it comes to these people because it seems like they are not playing around.” He nods and looks at you attentively, almost like he wants to memorize every word you say. “But also… look. Tony Stark doesn’t know you, okay? You’ve spent what, 6 hours in total in his presence?” His face tells you it’s probably less than that. “He may think he knows you, but he doesn’t. And I know you respect him, but maybe… maybe don’t take his opinion of you that seriously, okay? He knows little to nothing about you and who you are.”

Peter doesn’t say anything at first— he just stares at you for a while, seemingly pondering what you just said to him. It’s only after you feel like an eternity has passed that he finally nods in response, chewing on his lip like he does whenever he’s thinking deeply about something.

“I get what you’re saying, but it’s just—” He laughs, but there’s no humor behind it— there’s only bitterness. “It’s really shitty to know for a fact that Tony Stark thinks you’re useless, you know?” His eyes glaze over and he quickly looks away with his jaw set in frustration. You cup his cheek and move his head towards you again, making him look at you.

“I doubt he thinks that or else he wouldn’t have taken you to Germany, but I get what you’re saying. He’s being an asshole about this.” You press a soft kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Peter’s mouth seems to chase yours for a second until he opens his eyes again. “Let’s drink that tea now, okay?” He smiles at you and even though it’s small, this one seems much more genuine than any other he gave you earlier.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s do that.”

Usually, the steady rising and falling movements of your chest when you’re asleep are a guarantee that Peter will fall asleep too, but even with your arms around him and his ear pressed right above your heart it’s still not enough. Any other day it would be more than enough, but today it isn’t.

He has too much going on in his mind to be able to fall asleep.

Still, there’s something that naturally relaxes him whenever you’re together like this; maybe it’s your heartbeat, or the fact that he smells your scent every time he inhales, or your arms around him making him feel safe and protected.

Maybe it’s all of that, or maybe it’s even more.

The truth is that being like this also helps him focus, and that means that he can’t stop thinking about what happened earlier today with Mr. Stark. He understand what you mean about maybe not taking whatever he thinks about him too seriously, because it’s true that he doesn’t know Peter or who he is, but he also is probably the only person who can get him to be part of something bigger, and he has to make sure Mr. Stark knows Peter is ready for the real stuff. He thinks he proved himself in Berlin, but if Mr. Stark needs more proof, he’ll give it to him.

Maybe it’s even because he doesn’t truly know Peter that he thinks he’s not capable of handling a situation like this one— but Peter knows he can do this, and the missing piece of alien tech currently sitting on the floor of your living room is the best place to start working on his plan to prove himself.

Going back to school on Mondays is always the worst, but today you actually have a reason why you wanted to be here as soon as possible. Peter complained the whole weekend about not having what he needed to properly analyze that piece of alien high-tech he found after the mishap with those criminals while you were at the party, and he’s finally going to be able to check it out properly with Ned.

Are you busy right now? Me and Ned are going to the lab to run some tests on the thing if you wanna come and check it out with us

You’re on the library when you get Peter’s message, and as much as you want to ditch what you’re doing and join them, you can’t.

I can’t 😭 I’m tutoring today Keep me updated? Will do Love you 😘 Love you too

You put the phone in your backpack to make sure you don’t get distracted if Peter starts sending you messages, and then spend the next hour helping two freshman with Algebra. By the time you’re done and waving them goodbye, you pull your phone out only to discover that you have seven unread messages from Ned and one missed call from Peter.

“Oh, fuck, what happened?” You mumble to yourself, opening the messages and reading as fast as you can.

OHMY GOD THE WILDEST THING JUST HAPPENED YOU WON’T BELIEVE IT PETER SAYS I SHOULDNT SNED IT OVER TEXT JUST IN CASE SO I WONT BUT YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE IT OH GOD WE’RE AT PETER’S COME BY THE MOMENT YOU’RE FREE Also Peter said to tell you that we’re okay and you shouldn’t worry because nothing bad happened and that he loves you 🙄 g r o s s

You laugh at the last part, but also speed up your walking because now you want to know what the hell happened for Ned to be so excited. It has to have something to do with the thing Peter found the other night, but you can’t possibly know what, exactly.

You send Peter a quick text while you’re on the elevator of his building, telling him that you’re almost there, and when you get out of it on his floor you see his head poking out of the door of his apartment.

“Come! Quickly!” He whisper-screams, sprinting towards you and grabbing you by the hand after kissing you so fast your lips barely felt it.

“What’s going on?” You ask when he closes the door, following him to his bedroom. Ned’s inside holding what looks like Peter’s web shooters, but they’re projecting some sort of hologram of something you’re not able to make out yet.

“Okay so, remember the guys who were selling the weapons the other night?” You nod and sit down on his chair, leaving your backpack by your feet. “Well, before we could go to the lab we saw them, inside the school.”

“What?!” You shriek, body lurching forward as you grip the armrests of the chair so tightly that some of your nails actually pierce the fabric. “Do they know it was you? Do they know you’re Spider-Man?” You say the last part so lowly you wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t hear it at all, even with his enhanced hearing.

“No, no, babe, it’s okay. They don’t know anything.” You let out a breath and Peter grabs your face before kissing you softly, and you immediately feel better.

“Okay, and then what?” You ask, sitting back on the chair again while Peter sits on the bed.

“And then Peter went woosh--” Ned interrupts, imitating what Peter does to use his web-shooters with his own hand. “And shot a little spider to one of the guy’s feet and now we’re tracking them.” Ned looks like he’s having the time of his life, but you feel like in the last five minutes you aged ten years.

“That’s basically it, I’ll explain it better later.” Peter says dismissively, and you simply nod because this was an emotional rollercoaster and for now you feel better knowing only the bare minimum about this.

“So, where are they now?” You ask, leaning forward to see the hologram a little better.

“They passed Staten Island a little while before you got here.” Ned says, completely focused on the movement of the image. “You want a Dorito?” Without looking away he offers you the bag, and you shrug your shoulders before taking one.

“Where do you think they’re going?” You ask, rolling the chair forward until you can prop your feet up and rest them on Peter’s lap.

“Dunno.” He says, eating the last Dorito from the bag. “But it doesn’t look like they’re stopping anytime soon.”

He’s spot on—and you try and make yourselves busy while you wait for something else besides these guys driving around to happen.

At one point you and Ned decide to continue rebuilding the Death Star, while Peter fiddles with his other web shooter.

“Leaving Jersey.” Ned reports monotonously, as he’s been doing for the past hour every fifteen minutes or so. You stopped paying attention a while back, because it got boring pretty quickly.

You spend a while longer building the Death Star but that also bores you both, and you end up lying on your back on top of Peter’s carpet staring at the ceiling.

“Can I try the mask on?” Ned asks, and Peter just throws it at him. “This is so cool.” He says, moving his head around to try and take everything in. “Do you wanna try it on too?” He asks you, but you shake your head.

“I already did, the other night.” Ned shrugs his shoulders and starts looking at his own hands, looking like he’s high and seeing things that aren’t there.

You and Peter start throwing a tennis ball at each other, but like everything else you’ve been doing for what it seems like a goddamn eternity, you get bored of that as well.

“This is the worst.” You complain, leaning back on Peter’s desk chair.

“Are they still going?” Peter asks, walking across the ceiling of the room. Even though you’ve seen him do that before you think it’ll never cease to amaze you— except for right now because you’ve basically stopped caring about everything.

“Yep.” Ned confirms, throwing himself back on Peter’s bed.

“God.” You groan, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“Are you okay?” You nod in response at his question, but when you look up again you find him right in front of your face, staring at you with a little frown. You realize that if you sit up straight your mouths will get aligned perfectly, and an involuntary smile takes over your face at the thought of an upside-down kiss. “What?” He asks, smiling too just because you’re doing it.

You grab the sides of his face and he gasps, blushing deep red when he realizes what you want to do. You roll the chair forward until you’re so close that the tips of your noses touch each other’s chins, and Peter grabs your wrists gently— almost like he wants to make sure you won’t let go of him.

Maybe it’s not the most appropriate time to kiss him because Ned is literally two feet away from you, but you care about that a lot less than you probably should when you close the distance between your lips and kiss him like you’re completely alone. Peter’s grip on your wrist tightens just a little when he opens up his mouth and you deepen the kiss, but before you can really get into it a beeping sound startles you both and you pull away immediately.

Ned sits up and you move your head to the side to see what’s happening. Peter’s web-shooter is doing something— most likely related to the guys being tracked.

“They stopped.” Ned announces, and Peter turns around immediately.

“Maryland?”

“What’s there?” Ned asks.

“I don’t know. Evil lair?” You snort and shake your head at how ridiculous that sounds, but then you realize that while they probably don’t call it that, they most likely just arrived to the place where they do their business.

“They have a lair?”

“Dude, a gang with alien guns run by a guy with wings? Yeah, they have a lair.” Well, when he puts it like that you can see how it would make sense, but you still wouldn’t call it that. Something like base of operations sounds a lot more reasonable than evil lair.

“Badass.” Ned compliments. “But how are you gonna get there if it’s like, 300 miles away?”

The three of you automatically look towards Peter’s wall, where a poster you all know very well has been hanging for quite a while now.

“It’s not too far from D.C.” Peter says; and just like that, a solution is found.

The Academic Decathlon.

Tagged: @5-seconds-of-magcon-sausage; @andreuskystuff; @angel-starbeam; @animexchocolate; @argentinemango;  @bluebears315; @blumarvel; @burrbbery; @callmecowchop; @cassiestars; @corruptedlungsandblackwings; @cracraforfandoms; @deanskitten; @dragon-chica; @enthusiastic-french-toast; @eurydicerr; @fangeekkk; @friceaurelia07;  @girlofallthefandoms; @headvsheartz; @holycow75; @hrkanje; @humansyes-humanityno; @iamplaugedwithlies; @irelandlover21; @justwantablog; @kaidad; @keepcalmandeatsomefood; @kierieriersten;  @laura888b; @leavingtonight-1967; @lightningheart; @lordevoldemcrt; @mariam1692; @marvelousmimi; @masqueradingstray; @meandmystrangehabits; @miubebe;  @official-morgan-m-steele;  @pascalpedro​; @pato-el-cerdito; @pederol​; @peggsycarter​; @peteparke; @philipshaaayyyy; @poptartcalum​; @purelittleblueberry; @queeengeeek​; @realistically-optimistic-18​; ; @ringsawakened​; @sarcasticdorkk​; @sassy-stilinski​; @shadyenthusiastchaos​; @stephie-senpai; @strangerconstellations​;  @supernovares​; @thecatcherinthepie​;  @tol-sam;  @ucchan71​; @unsailedships​; @venaripythonissam​; @whatwoulddaisyjohnsondo​; 

[thelastspeecher]

Stan-at-Home - Chapter 5: Responsibility; Recovery

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6 Chapter 7   AO3

It’s finally here!  The next chapter of “Stan-at-Home”, my fic that takes place in an AU where Stan is a stay-at-home dad.  And as I was writing this chapter, I decided that, even with these super-long chapters, I can’t tell the story I want to tell in just six of them.  So as of right now, this fic will have seven chapters.  We’ll see if I write too much and I increase it to eight.  Anyways, in this chapter, Ford gets high, there are multiple surprise visits, and brain surgery has side effects.  Enjoy.

               “Ugh.”  Ford groaned without realizing what he was groaning about.  He was in a room, somewhere.  His surroundings were blurry, so he didn’t have his glasses on.  

               And…I’m not wearing underwear. Ford groaned again.  What happened?  Where am I?  There was rustling to his left.  He winced as someone carefully slid something onto his face.  The room became clear.  My glasses.  Okay then.  

               “Howdy there, sleepin’ beauty,” a voice said quietly.  Ford turned his head carefully.  He frowned at the woman sitting by his bed.  She looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her.  “Stan actually just left to go pick up the kids.” She cocked her head.  “Everything all right, Stanford?  Doc said the surgery went well.”

               “Angie!” Ford burst out suddenly.  Angie jumped, startled.  

               “What?” she asked.

               “Nothing, I just- I remembered who you were,” Ford mumbled.  Angie raised an eyebrow in amusement.

               “Ya forgot me, huh?  At least ya figured it out.”  She leaned forward and adjusted one of Ford’s pillows.  The paperback novel that was sitting on her lap slid off.  “Oh, shoot,” she said in a good-natured tone, picking the book up again.  Ford looked at it with interest.

               “Is that a Star Trek novel?”

               “Hmm?  Oh, yes,” Angie replied.  

               “I didn’t take you for a Trekkie,” Ford remarked.  Angie chuckled.

               “Don’t think ya can call me that.  I only ever seen a few episodes of the show.  Mostly just read the books.”

               “Why?”

               “My older brother, Harper, he works in movie special effects.  I like them sci-fi things, mostly ‘cause of the biological implications of ‘em.  But I can’t watch a good old-fashioned space shootout without hearin’ Harper’s voice in the back of my mind, blabbin’ on and on ‘bout how they did it.”

               “He works in Hollywood?” Ford asked, surprised.  

               “Yep.”

               “Did he help with anything I might have seen?”

               “Oh, definitely,” Angie said, grinning.  “Ya ever heard of Indiana Jones?”

               “No.  There’s no possible way that your older brother worked on Raiders of the Lost Ark,” Ford said immediately.

               “He did.  His name’s in the credits.  Harper pointed it out to me.”

               “But that’s- your brother worked on a Spielberg film?”

               “Yep.  Got headhunted to work on the next one, too.”

               “Holy-”  Ford shook his head.  “That’s incredible.  Why did Fiddleford never tell me?”  The lighthearted smile on Angie’s face slipped away.  “…I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

               “No, it’s- it’s fine, Stanford,” Angie said in a falsely cheery voice. She bit her lip and looked down at her lap, carefully smoothing the fabric of her purple skirt.  Ford rubbed his eyes.  The room was fuzzy again, but this time not in sight.  Rather, it was fuzzy in feeling.  He could have sworn his body was lighter than usual, and a question he’d wanted to ask for two weeks suddenly didn’t seem inappropriate.

               “I’ve been wondering,” Ford said.  “Back when we met with Dr. Carmichael the first time, Stan said something.”  Angie frowned.

               “He was fairly quiet, though.”

               “True.  But when she asked him if he had any sons, he said ‘Not right now’.”  Ford looked at Angie.  “Are you going to have any sons?”

               “Is this yer way of askin’ me if I’m pregnant?” Angie asked.  “‘Cause I ain’t.  Not that it’s really yer business, anyways.”

               “No, I wasn’t talking about right now.  I mean, in the future, will you?”

               “Whether or not I have a son is a bit out of my control,” Angie said.  “I know Stan would like one.  He’s got grand ideas ‘bout baseball and other stereotypical father-son things.  Which is, frankly, ridiculous.  There’s a 50% chance that if we did have a son, he’d be more McGucket than Pines, and wouldn’t be a fan of baseball and grillin’ and whatever dads do with sons in movies.”

               “You’re dancing around the topic,” Ford said.  “I can tell because I do the same thing.”

               “Fine, I suppose I’ll tell ya what Stan ‘n I have planned, even though ya don’t need to know,” Angie said shortly.

               She didn’t need to be rude about it.

               “We’re plannin’ on at least one more kid.  Not fer a couple years, though.  We want the girls to be in kindergarten before they get a lil sibling.  And if that goes well, havin’ a fourth, when the third one is ‘bout two or three.”  Angie idly picked at her nails.  “It’s a couple more kids ‘n I planned on, but Stan loves bein’ a dad so much. And I love havin’ a big fam’ly.” She rolled her eyes.  “And even though the girls were a bit rough on me fer the nine months they lived in me, it wasn’t as bad as I was worried it’d be.”

               “Yes, so, what is it like to be pregnant?” Ford asked.  Angie eyed him.

               “Them drugs are somethin’ else, huh.”

               “I do feel a bit strange,” Ford conceded.  “You didn’t answer my question, though.”  He paused.  “But maybe you did.  If you’re willing to go through it two more times, it can’t be that bad.”

               “Oh, darlin’,” Angie said, shaking her head.  “Spoken like someone who won’t ever have to worry ‘bout bein’ pregnant.  It ain’t no walk in the park.  I mean, I couldn’t exactly take walks in the park when my feet swelled up.”

               “Really.  What else did the pregnancy do to your body?” Ford asked.  Angie looked at him, perplexed.  

               “Stanford, yer my brother-in-law, yes.  But that don’t really give ya authority to know my medical history.”

               “We’re family,” Ford cajoled, the words slurring together.  Angie adjusted his pillows again.  “You can tell me.”

               “I can, but I won’t.  Anyways, seems like yer ‘bout to pass out.  Get yer rest, Stanford.  If yer still curious ‘bout pregnancy when ya wake up, I’ll fetch the books Stan was given by my older brother.”  She stroked his head.  “Sleep well.”

----- 

               “Annnnd…done,” Stan said as he wrapped a hair tie around a clump of dark brown curls.  “You’re all ready to go, kiddo.”  Daisy, who had sat patiently on the floor while Stan braided her hair, jumped up eagerly. She kissed him on the cheek.

               “Thank you, Daddy!”

               “You got it, sweetie,” Stan replied, poking her nose.  Daisy giggled and ran off to play building blocks with Danny and Tate.  Stan leaned back on the couch with a sigh.  “Ford, those pain meds kickin’ in yet?” he asked idly.  There was no response.  “Stanford?”  Stan looked over.  Ford was sitting at the kitchen table, staring intently at a blue sippy cup in front of him.  He reached out a hand to touch the cup, seemingly engrossed by the cartoon characters decorating the sides.  Stan raised an eyebrow.  “Uh, Ford, that’s Danny’s drink, y’know.  If ya want juice, you need to get your own cup.”

               “Mm,” Ford mumbled, not looking away from the cup, which was half-full of apple juice from breakfast.  When Ford didn’t say anything, Stan prompted him.

               “Do you want juice, Ford?”  After a moment, Ford shook his head slowly.  “All right.  If ya do, lemme know.”  The phone rang.  Stan stood up, groaning quietly.  He walked over and picked up the phone.  “This is Stan speakin’.”

               “Stanley, did Stanford ever get ahold of you?” Ma Pines asked abruptly. Stan blinked, startled.

               “Uh, yeah, Mom.  He’s actually gonna be stayin’ with me for a bit.”

               “Okay, good.  He called me to get your number, but never followed up.  And you never called to tell me anything about him, either.  I got worried!”

               “Sorry ‘bout that,” Stan mumbled.  He cleared his throat.  “Actually, uh, I was about to call ya.”

               “Don’t lie to your mother.”

               “No, I really was!” Stan protested.  Danny looked up from her blocks to stare at him.  Stan winced, suddenly realizing how juvenile he had just sounded.

               And in front of my kids and nephew…oops.

               “What would make you suddenly wanna pick up a phone to call me?” Ma Pines demanded.  Stan rubbed the back of his neck and turned away from his daughter’s judgmental gaze.

               “My, um, my wife said I should,” Stan muttered.  

               “Your what?”

               “My wife.  Her- her name’s Angie.”

               “You got married?!  When did that happen?”

               “1978,” Stan replied quietly.  There was a pause.  “Uh, Mom?”

               “You got married four years ago and didn’t tell your mother?!”

               “…Yes, ma’am.”

               “You didn’t invite me!”

               “I didn’t want Pops to see the invitation and come,” Stan said quickly. “So I told Angie that you, uh, you weren’t around.”

               “‘Weren’t around’?  Stanley Pines, did you kill me off?” Ma Pines asked, in a low tone that suggested she was barely keeping her anger under control.

               “…Yeah,” Stan said reluctantly.  “And, uh, also my- my last name isn’t Pines anymore.  I took Angie’s last name,” he added quickly.

               “Huh.”  That last tidbit of information seemed to take Ma Pines by surprise, calming her anger for the moment.  “Well, that’s certainly something.”

               “The reason behind it is…complicated.  But Angie had no clue you were around, or she woulda called you by now.  She- she wanted me to say that.  She even wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget.”

               “Hmm.”

               “I think you’d like her.  Angie’s, uh, her family calls her a firecracker.”

               “She’d have to be, to be able to handle you.”

               “Yeah…”  Stan looked down at his feet.  “There’s one other thing I need to tell ya.”

               “And what would that be?” Ma Pines said cautiously.  Stan winced, well aware of how poorly his mother would take the news.

               “You’ve got two granddaughters,” Stan said.  He fought the urge to go hide in a bomb shelter somewhere.

               “What?!” Ma Pines yelped.

               “Twin girls.  Danica Viola and Daisy Leigh.  They’re about three years old now.  Funny story, actually, Angie was still goin’ to college when she got pregnant, so her kids went to her graduation.  Well, they’re her kids but they’re also mine.  I helped make ‘em,” Stan said.

               Stop, Stan.  You’re rambling.  

               “Danica and Daisy.”

               “Yes.”

               “You waited until my granddaughters were three to tell me about them?!”

               “I-”

               “Your address hasn’t changed since we last spoke, has it?”

               “No, I-”  Stan felt someone tug at his shirt.  He looked down.  “What is it, princess?” he asked Danny.  Danny pointed at the front door, which was wide open.

               “Uncle Ford’s gone,” she said quietly.  Stan’s heart stopped.

               Ford’s gone.  He’s a grown man that had brain surgery two weeks ago and is on a serious pain med high.  Shit shit shit.

               “Uh, Mom, I’m gonna have to call you back,” he said into the mouthpiece, his voice shaking slightly.  “Gotta situation over here.”

               “With twins, there’s always a situation,” Ma Pines said idly.  She hung up the phone.  Stan blindly slammed the phone in the general direction of the hook for a few times before he got it right.  

               “Good eye, Danny,” Stan said.  He fought back his panic and scooped Danny up in his arms.  “Daisy, Tate, come on, we gotta get shoes on!  We’re gonna go on a Ford hunt!”

----- 

               Angie opened the door to the room they set aside for children separated from their parents at the zoo.  Jim, one of the people who worked admissions, walked over to her quickly.

               “I got a page sayin’ I needed to pick someone up?” Angie asked.  Jim nodded.

               “Yeah, uh, this guy’s your brother-in-law, right?” Jim said, pointing to a man sitting on a bench.  Angie sighed.

               “Yes.  That’s him.”

               “So do you wanna take him home or…?”

               “I’ll call my husband in a minute.  Thanks, Jim,” Angie said.  Jim nodded.  Angie walked over to Ford and took a seat next to him.  “Stanford?”  Ford looked at her, a wide grin stretched across his face.

               “Hello, Dr. McGucket!” he said in a very loud voice.  Angie stifled a groan.

               “Did ya take yer meds today?” she asked.  Ford nodded.  “And after ya took yer meds-”

               “I left!” Ford said cheerfully.  He scoffed.  “I don’t need to be nannied by my twin brother.  Especially given that he’s the younger one.”  Feeling something tugging her pants leg, Angie looked down.  She blinked at the goat chewing on her slacks.

               “Stanford, do ya know this goat?” she asked slowly.

               “Yep!  Rented him.”

               “Why?”

               “Well, Apple is clearly not a dog,” Ford started.  “For one thing, he knows about my connections with Bill.  This is excruciatingly obvious.”

               “How do ya know, did Apple tell ya or somethin’?” Angie asked idly.  Ford frowned.

               “No.  I didn’t ask. I should ask.”

               “No, ya should go home.”  Ford shook his head.  “Stanford, ya can’t stay at the zoo all day.  Why did ya come here in the first place?”

               “So that the goat I rented could meet the other goats!” Ford chirped. Angie frowned.

               “What?” she asked.  Ford looked around carefully and then leaned closer to her.

               “I’m here to free the other animals,” he said in an exaggerated whisper. Angie stared at him, perplexed.

               “With…the goat?”

               “The goat is my accomplice.”

               “Uh-huh.  I’m goin’ to call Stan.  He’ll come pick ya up.”  Angie stood up.  Ford tugged at her shirt desperately.

               “Don’t leave me alone with them!” he said.  Angie looked at the people he was pointing toward.  She sighed.

               “They’re ‘bout six years old.  I highly doubt they’ll mug ya and steal the goat, darlin’.”

               “You don’t know!” Ford protested.  Angie groaned.

               “Just stay put while I call Stan!  Then I’ll come and protect ya from the children.”

               “And the goat.”

               “Yes, I will protect you and the goat.”

----- 

               “How did your dog even reach the shelves?” Ford asked.  Now officially a month post-operation, Ford’s pain medication had decreased to a more manageable dosage.  He was relieved to have his mind clear again, even if that meant he had to pick up some responsibilities.  For example, he was keeping an eye on the three children while Stan cleaned up the bathroom.

               “It’s a weird dog,” Stan said with a sigh.

               “Not only did it dig through the bathroom trash, but it somehow knocked over all the shampoo bottles.”

               “Don’t need a play-by-play, Sixer.”

               “I’m just impressed by your dog’s appetite for destruction.”  The doorbell rang.  

               “Ford, get it, would ya?” Stan asked.  

               “On it.”  Ford got up from the couch and opened the door.  He was face-to-face with two men, both of whom had very large noses.  The shorter one squinted at Ford with gray eyes.

               “Yer not Stan,” the stranger said.

               “Uh, no.  May I ask who you are?” Ford asked.  The man opened his mouth, but before he could speak, he was interrupted by a shout.

               “Unclute!” Daisy shrieked happily, running past Ford to grab onto the man’s leg.  The man chuckled.

               “Hey there, munchkin,” he said, crouching down, picking her up, and standing again.  He poked her belly.  “Gosh, yer bigger ‘n bigger each time I see ya.”  Daisy tugged on the man’s dark hair.  

               “We gotta new uncle!” she said exuberantly.  She pointed at Ford.  “He’s our Uncle Ford!”  The man smiled at Ford.

               “Howdy, the name’s Lute, the feller standin’ by me is my older brother, Harper.”

               “So this is the mysterious ‘Ford’,” Harper said.  He pushed his rectangular glasses further up the bridge of his nose.  “Howdy.”

               “Uh, hello.”

               “Who is it?” Stan called.

               “Two men named Lute and Harper!” Ford replied.

               “They’re Angie’s older brothers, let ‘em in,” Stan said.  Ford stood to the side.  The brothers filed in.  Harper made a beeline for Danny, who was building a very complex vehicle with her Legos.

               “Howdy, kidlet,” Harper said gently.  Danny beamed at him and, like her sister, embraced her uncle’s leg. Harper laughed.  “Yer just as clingy as yer ma used to be.”  Danny squeezed her uncle’s leg tighter.  Ford could see the family resemblance between Angie and her brothers.  Not only did all three have the same nose, but they had similar cheekbones, and Harper’s hair was the same color as Angie’s.  

               “So, Ford, I heard ‘bout who ya are,” Lute said.  Ford turned.  Lute had put Daisy down and was now staring at him, his arms crossed.  “Yer relation to Tate, fer one thing.”  At the sound of his name, Tate looked up from his picture book.

               “Uncle Lute?”

               “Oh, hey kidlet.  Didn’t see ya there,” Lute said.  Tate shrugged.  “Don’t worry, you ain’t in trouble.  Yer dad is, though.”

               “Okay,” Tate said, turning his attention back to his book.

               “In my defense-” Ford started.

               “Don’t care,” Lute said abruptly.  “Ya didn’t contact yer college roommate fer so long.  That’s yer own dang fault.  So is not tellin’ his fam’ly what happened to him.”

               “Look, I-”

               “Don’t bother arguin’ with Lute,” Stan said.  He walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him. “Lute’s too dang stubborn to change his mind ‘bout anything.”  Stan smiled at his brothers-in-law.  “Hey, Lute, Harper.  Good to see ya again.”  Lute frowned at Stan.

               “I ain’t happy with ya either, Stan.”

               “Neither of us are,” Harper said.  “Ya lied to our baby sister.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly.

               “Yeah, I know I did a pretty shi- cruddy thing,” Stan said.  “But at least she knows now.”

               “The only reason she knows is ‘cause yer twin brother showed up out of the blue,” Lute pointed out.  “Ya weren’t even plannin’ on tellin’ her!  Is the Pines fam’ly just full of- of dishonorable men?”  

               “…‘Dishonorable men’?” Stan asked.  “Now I’m too amused to be scared of ya, McGucket.”  Lute crossed his arms.

               “What else am I s’posed to call the two of ya?” Lute asked.

               “To be fair, our older brother Shermie is, by all accounts, a decent guy,” Ford put in.  Lute raised an eyebrow.

               “So he must’ve taken up all the decentness when he was born then, huh?” Lute said.  Stan rolled his eyes.

               “Look, I get that you guys are upset,” Stan said.  “But we’re brothers now, right?”

               “Right,” Harper said after a beat.

               “Maybe cut me a bit of slack?  And I guess Ford, too.  He didn’t know about Tate.”

               “He should’ve,” Lute said immediately.

               “I’m not disagreein’ with ya,” Stan said.  

               “Thanks, Stan,” Ford muttered.  There was a clatter from the kitchen.

               “No, Gompers!” Danny said, detaching herself from Harper’s leg.  She padded over to the goat, who was digging through the trash it had just knocked over.  “Bad goat,” she said, patting him on the back.  Lute and Harper stared.

               “The goat’s new,” Lute said idly.

               “Yeah,” Stan said, walking over to the latest mess to pick it up.  He shoved the goat’s head away from him. “Ford rented it when he was on a pain med bender.  Somethin’ about proving Apple’s a chupacabra.  Of course, since Apple’s a dog, not a Mexican demon, nothin’ happened.”  Stan glared at Ford.  “Then Apple and the goat had to go and become friends, so the kids freaked out when Angie and I tried to return it.”

               “Uncle Ford got upset, too,” Daisy said helpfully.  

               “Oh yeah.  We had to buy the darn thing so that the literal children and my adult twin brother wouldn’t cry,” Stan finished.  Ford flushed.

               “Stanley, please.”

               “Hey, Daisy’s the one who brought it up.  You got a problem, talk to her,” Stan said, setting the trashcan upright again.

               “Uh, pain med bender?” Lute said slowly.  

               “Uncle Ford’s brain was broked,” Danny supplied, now hugging Gompers. “Doctors fixed it, but he was a bit funny after.”

               “Stanford, you had brain surgery?” Harper asked.  Ford nodded.

               “Yes.  Nothing too concerning, although it was decreasing my quality of life immensely,” Ford said.  Stan scoffed.

               “‘Nothing too concerning,’ he says,” Stan muttered under his breath.

               “If you’d told us, we would’ve been easier on ya,” Lute said.

               “…Oh,” Ford said, unsure of how to respond.

               “When Uncle Ford ran away, he got ice cream without us!” Daisy said.

               “Well, that’s just rude,” Lute said to his young niece.  

               “Yeah, Ford escaped when I turned my back for two minutes,” Stan explained.  “He bought an ice cream cone, rented a goat, and went to the zoo.”

               “Why would ya bring a goat to the zoo?  Zoo’s already got those,” Harper said, taking a seat on the couch.  Lute joined him.

               “The goat was my accomplice in freeing the animals from the petting zoo,” Ford said.  He let out a small chuckle, remembering the blissful ignorance of his scrambled mind.  “It all made perfect sense at the moment.”

               “It always does,” Harper said sagely.  

               “So how long are you two gonna stay?” Stan asked as he finally finished picking up the scattered pieces of trash.  “Ya have to stay for dinner.  Angie’d be upset if she missed ya.  But if you wanna stay overnight, you’ll have to camp in the living room.  Ford’s got the guestroom.”

               “Oh, no, we were just plannin’ on comin’ down fer a friendly scoldin’ and yellin’ session,” Lute said breezily.  “Don’t want to impose.”

               Apparently the McGuckets have a different definition of “friendly” than I do, if scolding and yelling qualifies. As though he could read Ford’s mind, Lute turned to Ford.

               “Now, this is a friendly session, trust me. If it weren’t, you’d prob’ly be in tears.”

               “After the things I’ve seen, not much can bring me to tears,” Ford remarked.

               “Aside from separating a goat and a dog,” Harper said, raising an eyebrow.

               “In my defense, they had befriended each other.  What sort of monster would break apart such a lovely relationship?” Ford replied.  Lute and Harper both chuckled.  Stan caught Ford’s eye and winked.  Ford knew what Stan would say later.

               “See?  Ya freaked out over Tate and the McGuckets.  But ya didn’t need to.  They’re good people, and even you can be a charmer when ya try to.”  

-----

               Ford handed Tate his backpack.

               “I’ve packed some pictures I took in the field, as a treat,” Ford told his son.  “Not- not the edible kind of treat.  Please don’t eat the pictures.”

               “It’s okay, Dad, I know,” Tate said calmly.  He cocked his head.  “What are they of?”

               “Our, ahem, mutual friend,” Ford said with a wink.  Tate’s eyes widened.

               “Bigfoot?”

               “The one and only.  Well, actually, there is more than one bigfoot.  There are whole societies of them, and Gravity Falls has one in the nearby mountain range.”

               “Wow.  Will you take me there?  Please?” Tate begged.  The doorbell rang.  Ford smiled.

               “If your mother gives me permission to take you next summer, or even sooner, absolutely,” he replied.  Tate beamed.  The doorbell rang again.  “I should get that.  It’s your mother, no doubt.”  Ford walked over and opened the front door.  Jenny McGucket smiled politely.

               “Stanford.  You look well.”

               “I feel better than I did last time we spoke.”

               “Clearly,” Jenny said.  She peered past Ford.  “Tater Tot! You ready to go?”

               “I need to say goodbye to folks first,” Tate said, running out of the living room.  He zipped into the girls’ bedroom, where Stan was helping Danny and Daisy get dressed.

               “Did Tate have a good time?” Jenny asked Ford.  

               “I believe so.  He’s quite the smart boy.”

               “Yes, he is.  I’m awful proud of him,” Jenny said.  “The two of you got along all right?”

               “Yes, we did.  And actually,” Ford said, deciding to be upfront, “I’d like to talk custody with you sometime.”

               “Custody?”

               “When Fiddleford returns, I assume the two of you will maintain primary custody.  But I’d like to have Tate during the summer, at least,” Ford said.  “The lion’s share of my research is done then, and Tate has shown a vested interest in my work.”  Jenny bit her lip.  “What? I thought you’d be happy that I’m trying to be an involved father.”

               “Oh, I am.  It’s just that…I’m not sure if you’re ready for it quite yet.”

               “What do you mean?”

               “You watched him for about a month and a half.  And you had help, from Stan and Angie, who both have more experience in childcare than you do.  On your own, in a different state, for three whole months?  I’m sorry, Stanford, I just don’t think you can handle it right now.”

               “Tate is-”

               “Very well-behaved, particularly for a child of his age.  But he’s still a child.”  Jenny smiled apologetically.  “Maybe we can begin the custody conversation after Fidds comes back.  It’s just- Stanford, were you ever left alone, in charge of the kids, during this entire time? Even for ten minutes?”

               “…No,” Ford conceded.  

               “I’m sorry to hit you with this right now,” Jenny said quietly.  “So soon after your surgery.”

               “It’s been seven weeks; I’m not an invalid anymore,” Ford said, bristling.

               “All right,” Jenny said after a moment, in a decidedly neutral tone.  “Tater Tot, we have to get going!”

               “Coming, Mom!” Tate called, running back to the front door.  “Dad, I need to say goodbye to you, too.”

               “Oh.  Of course.” Ford crouched down for a hug.  He squeezed his son tightly.

               Don’t think about how long it might be before you see him again.  Don’t do it.

               “Goodbye, Tate,” Ford said quietly.

               “Bye, Dad.”  Tate broke off the hug and beamed at him.  “Next summer, we’re gonna go find bigfoot, right?”

               “We’ll see,” Ford said with a weak smile.  

               “Bye, Stan, thank Angie for me, will ya?” Jenny called.

               “Yep!” Stan shouted back.  Jenny and Tate left the house, Tate making a small wave at Ford as he walked away.  Ford closed the door and leaned against it.

               “Damn,” Ford whispered.

               I can’t believe I’ve grown so attached to Tate, given the short amount of time that I’ve known him.  Maybe Fiddleford will be able to convince Jenny about the custody arrangement.  …No, that won’t happen.  Not after what I did.  Ford’s musings were cut short by his nieces rocketing down the hallway, shrieking at the tops of their lungs.

               “Breakfast, breakfast, breakfast!” Danny and Daisy yelled, racing through the living room and into the kitchen like twin tornadoes.  Despite himself, Ford cracked a half-smile at their innocent enthusiasm.  Stan followed his daughters at a more languid pace.  

               “Okay, gremlins,” Stan said, picking up his daughters and putting them in their chairs.  “Breakfast, it is.  Today is Leftover Wednesday.  On the menu, we have leftover hashbrowns, leftover pancakes, fruit, and toast.  What’ll it be?”

               “Corn stuff,” Daisy said promptly.

               “Did I say corn stuff was on the menu?” Stan asked.

               “…No.”

               “It’s Leftover Wednesday,” Stan reminded her.

               “Leftover corn stuff,” Danny suggested.  

               “There’s never any leftover corn stuff.  You monsters eat it like a plague of locusts,” Stan said, exasperated.  

               “What’s that?” Daisy asked.  Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

               “It’s when a bunch of grasshoppers eat all the crops and don’t leave anything behind,” Stan explained.  

               “I’m not a grasshopper!” Daisy protested.  

               “No, you’re pickier than one.  If you two don’t make up your minds soon, I’ll choose for you,” Stan said.

               “Fruit!” Danny yelled.

               “Cakepans!” Daisy shouted.  Stan winced slightly at his daughters’ loud voices, but carried on.

               “Hot or cold?” Stan asked.

               “Cold,” Daisy said.

               “Got it.  An order of fruit and an order of pancakes comin’ up,” Stan said.  Ford, who had been watching the exchange idly, frowned.

               Hmm.  That’s certainly an idea.  

               “Uh, Stan?” Ford said, after Stan had given his daughters their breakfasts.  Stan walked over.

               “Yeah?”

               “Could I- could I babysit the girls sometime?  So that I have more experience in taking care of children.”

               “This is a joke, right?” Stan said.  “Sixer, leave the comedy to the pros.”

               “It’s not a joke.”

               “You really wanna babysit my demon spawn?” Stan asked.  “You’ve been around, you know that the two of ‘em are hel- heck on wheels.”

               “Yes.  I’ve seen the chaos they seem to court, but I’ve also seen the methods you use to calm them down,” Ford said.  “Anyways, isn’t it my responsibility as an uncle to help supervise?”  Stan eyed him.

               “I’ll talk to Angie about it,” Stan said after a moment.  “Right now, go do your physical therapy.”

               “Very well,” Ford said.  

               It’s not much, but given how protective Stan is of his children, it’s a start.  Ford walked into the kitchen and took a seat next to Danny, who beamed at him.  Stan placed a sheet of paper and a comically large pencil in front of Ford.

               “What’s the task for today?” Ford asked, carefully picking up the pencil. He frowned at the tremors in his hand, which were not brought on from caffeine.  Rather, decreased mobility and usage of his dominant hand was one of the surgery’s side effects, along with slurred speech.  At his six week follow-up appointment, Ford had mentioned to Dr. Carmichael that, despite no longer using the pain medication, it seemed like he still was experiencing the medicine’s sedative abilities.  

               “You’ve had this since the operation?” Dr. Carmichael asked.

               “Yes, from the pain medication,” Ford replied. Dr. Carmichael shook her head.

               “No.  These symptoms are from the surgery.”  She took out a piece of paper and began to scribble on it.  “I’ll recommend you to a physical therapist and speech therapist, who will likely give you exercises you can do at home.”  Dr. Carmichael handed the paper to Ford.  “These are temporary, but only if you go through the therapy.”

               “Understood.”

               “You’re doing a drawing today,” Stan replied.

               “What am I drawing?”

               “As many plants as possible,” Stan said.  

               “Daddy!  Gotta go!” Daisy shrieked suddenly, rocking back and forth in her chair.  Stan’s eyes widened.

               “All right, kid, let’s do this,” Stan said, picking Daisy up.  He ran to the bathroom.  

               A few minutes later, Stan returned, holding Daisy again.  Ford looked up from his shakily-drawn lilies.

               “How’d it go?” Ford asked.  Stan beamed.

               “Daisy’s gettin’ closer to losin’ those nasty diapers.  Aren’t ya?” he cooed at his daughter.  Daisy giggled, clearly proud of herself.  “Can’t wait until I’m done with ‘em.”

               “You’ll be dealing with them again, though,” Ford pointed out.  Stan frowned.

               “What?”

               “Don’t you and Angie have plans for more children?”

               “Well, yeah, but not for a while, Sixer, geez.  Don’t scare me like that.  I thought you found a positive test in the trash or somethin’.”

               “Unlike your dog and goat, I don’t dig through the garbage,” Ford retorted, returning to his drawing.  

               “Yeah, and whose fault is it that I have a goat?” Stan said.  The doorbell rang.  “Saved by the bell, Poindexter.”

               “Sure,” Ford mumbled.  As Stan went to get the door, Ford focused on his exercise, carefully etching out a lopsided daisy.  

               “Pretty,” Danny said quietly.  Ford smiled at his niece.  

               “Thank you, Danny.”

               “My goodness, Stanley, why is your hair so long?” a familiar voice said. Ford’s heart leapt into his mouth. He turned.  Standing at the front door was someone he knew very well.  Stan seemed shell-shocked; he took a solid two minutes to croak out his startled response.

               “M-Mom?”

[herocious]

Rise and Fall

by herocious

Security guard in parking lot

I hope Dana didn't think I was being too--how do you say?--intrusive. I mean, I just think she would be a good woman to have on the cover of my next CD, you know, she has a good enough face and body so that her picture would attract a lot of attention to my new release and get people to buy it.

The truth is that she should be honored that I asked her to do this for me because it's not like I asked her to pose topless or anything, right? Well, maybe Dana doesn't feel so honored just yet since she hasn't heard what my music sounds like, but I gave her my last CD to listen to just now. Once she pops that into her radio she'll know the talent she's dealing with. I'm The Legend.

Apt. 119

The pasta is cooking. Usually I stand over the pot and watch it boil, but not this time. The apartment is empty of noise, empty of people. Only one light is on; the light I'm using. I'm writing under this light. Outside it's dark. Cars are passing, their tires making smooth streaking sounds as they roll.

Apt. 219

Ah yes, I love watching television. Mike doesn't like it so much though. He'd prefer to sleep, read, or make love. I think it's in that order, too. But me, I like watching television before I fall asleep. Mike always tells me to turn down the volume. I don't know why he tells me to do this; he has no right to since it's my damn television--I bought it with my own damn money--but still I do him the favor and turn it down. Not because I'm submissive, but because I'm kind.

Apt. 319

Shit I have a big dog. He's taking up my whole damn bed, but I don't complain; he's been a good dog so far. Hey, funny I haven't named him yet even though I've had him for a coupla days. You know, I don't think there's really any use in naming him though because when I want to get his attention I just look into his eyes and whistle or clap and he wags his tail and nods his head up and down and walks on over to me just fine.

Wait a sec, what's that smell. Yep, that's definitely a fart, but it wasn't me. Oh shit, the dog did it! Damn that stinks.

Apt. 41

-But I didn't sleep with her! -You didn't, huh? Well, I don't believe you. -Jesus, Vicky, what do I have to do to make you believe me? -How `bout showing me some lovin' for starters. Also, I'd like to know where the hell you go off in the middle of the night for Christ's sake. -Nowhere, and I'll prove it to you. It's the middle of the night right now and look where I am--right here with you! -You sound like I should be grateful for that. -Look, I promise that I didn't sleep with her, Vicky. You have to believe me. I've been interviewing her for my job and she's only free on weeknights, that's all. -Whatever. Are you attracted to me anymore? -What kind of question is that? Of course I'm attracted to you. -Then why are we talking instead of fucking? -Beats me.

Apt. 519

Where are my teeth? I need to eat some chocolate before I go to bed. I know I put them on my nightstand, but where are they now? God I'm getting old. I miss Harry. He'd know where my teeth are, I know he would. He always knew where I put my teeth. I remember one time I left them under my pillow, only God knows how they got there, and he found them for me as if it wasn't strange that they were there in the first place. And another time they were in the refrigerator, right next to my box of chocolates. Lord knows what they were doing in there. Surely I didn't take them out to eat my chocolates; then how would I chew? Still, Harry found them for me. He simply went straight to the refrigerator, opened the door, and came back to the bedroom with my teeth--bless his heart.

Apt. 619

-L-A-Z-E, laze -What! That's not a word. -Sure it is. -I don't believe you. -You want to challenge me then? -Laze? What does it mean? -Like `he sat in a laze.' You know, it's like a weird funk, sort of like daze except with some laziness added to it. > -I still don't believe you. -Then challenge me. -No, forget it. How much is it? -Well, I got a triple word score, and a double letter, too. So 14 times 3 is ... 42. -42! Damn, that better be a word. -It is, I promise.

Apt. 719

(Ringing telephone.)

-Hello? -Hi, it's me, could you buzz open the gate? -All right, baby.

(Fifteen minutes later.)

-Hey Dana, sorry if I woke you? -No baby, it's no problem; you know I get home from work `round this time. I was just watching some television. -Really? I don't hear anything. -That's `cuz I have the volume down low. Hey, what took you so long to get here? It's not like I live that far away from the guest parking or anything. -Yeah, I figured you'd be asking that. I ran into your security guard driving around in his golf cart--it always cracks me up when I see him roving the prop. -And? -Well, I stopped and talked with him for a little while. Then I remembered that I had some beer in the trunk, and, you know how I've always thought that he looks so lonely out there waving at every resident as they pass by him in their car, so I offered him a bottle in return for a ride around the premises on his golf cart. -Really! Did he give one? -Sure he did. And you should've heard all the funny stories he has about some of the residents in this building. That guy's pretty cool, you know. -I don't know about that. I think he's a little strange. Before I came in tonight he drove up alongside me in the parking lot and asked if ... you will never guess. -What? -He asked me if I wanted to be on the cover of his new CD. -What! Your security guard is a musician. -It's news to me, too. He said I have a face that's `naturally photogenic.' -Hmm... -Then he gave me one of his CD's for free to listen to and told me that if I respected the music, which he was sure I would, then maybe I would actually want to be on his next cover. -Wow, you're a model now. -Hardly. So, why did you decide to show up tonight? This is a surprise. (Silence. Sudden change of mood.) -Oh well, look, I'm sorry to, uh, have bothered you so late, Dana, but I really feel like we need to talk. -Uh-oh, this sounds serious. -It is. -Well, what is it? -I've been thinking a lot about us, and, well, I think we need some time apart. -Time apart? -Yeah. < -Um okay, if that's what you want, baby. -You're fine about it then? -Yeah. - Do you at least want to know why? -No, not really. I know you have your reasons, all men do. -You sure you're fine about this? -Yeah, of course. -Okay. Well uh, I'll see you later then? -Bye.

(Dana closes door softly, goes back into bedroom, and turns up volume on television. Then she cries, and, in between each sob, curses his name.)

Apt. 619

-C-R-O-C, croc -Croc? That's not a word. -Sure it is. You know, like short for crocodile. -Well, I don't think it's a word, but I'll let you have it since you let me have laze. -Ah-hah! So laze isn't a word. -It is a word. -Then why are you giving me croc. -Because I love you. How many did you get? -24. -Ugh, I can't believe you. -Yeah well, it's not 42.

Apt. 519

There you are. How did you get in there? In my hair of all places! I must've put them up there by accident. But why in the world would I put them in my hair? There's no reason. I wonder if Harry would've found them there. Of course he would've. He would've seen them in my hair and reached out and grabbed them. Or maybe he would've left them there just for laughs.

He sure got a good laugh every now and then by doing stupid things like that. Sometimes he'd pretend like he couldn't hear and make me yell the same thing over and over again and all he'd do is scratch his ears if he did anything at all, and I'd keep on yelling as I walked closer to him. Then he'd look at me, and in the softest voice he'd say, `I hear ya, sweetheart.' Then he'd laugh a little.

Yes, on second thought, he probably would've left my teeth where they were just so he could get a laugh. He'd say, `Where could they be? I've checked everywhere. Do you remember where you last saw them, sweetheart?' And I'd answer all his questions with my teeth in my hair. Dear Lord, I'm getting old.

-Oh I miss you, Harry. I sure do.

Apt. 419

-So let's fuck. -And after thinking I slept with someone else--man, you're serious, aren't you Vicky? -Do you want me to answer that? Now come on into the bedroom! I got the candles lit for us and everything. -Uh-huh, and I see that you've also changed into my favorite lingerie there, didn't you? -Just for you. Damn, I'm gonna give it to her real good this time. Sometimes I just lie there and let her do all the work, but not this time--huh-uh. I'm gonna give it to her just how she likes it and once she gets off she'll forget all about that other woman.

Apt. 319

Maybe I should give him a name ... yeah, I better. Besides, what'll I do when I walk him and someone says, "Nice dog. What's his name?" It'd seem sorta weird if I said, "Well, he doesn't have one." But then again, that wouldn't be so bad if it was a hot girl asking me because then I'd have an excuse to talk with her. But otherwise ...

All right, here's what I'll do, I'll give him a name, but if a hot girl asks me about him I'll say that he doesn't have one, and then we'll have to talk some until I get her number; I'll be the `different guy' with the nameless dog. Yeah, that sounds good. So what should I name him? How `bout . . . hell, I don't know.

Wait, I got it! Pimp. I'll name him Pimp.

-What do you think about that Pimp? Huh, Pimp? Are you a good boy, Pimp? Yeah, Pimp's a good boy, isn't he? Pimp and I are going to go walking tomorrow around the track, aren't we, Pimp? You like being walked, huh, don't you, Pimp?

Apt. 219

Maybe I'm too kind. The only thing Mike does all day is sit on his ass while I work. When I leave in the morning he's sleeping. When I come back in the evening he's waking up from a nap. He usually doesn't like admitting this, but I can tell from his messed up hair and wrinkled cheeks. Then he never fails to ask me to cook dinner. The nerve of him. I usually think about spitting in his face right about then, but then he acts all nice, and all I can do is be kind and cook.

Oh no, there he goes snoring again. Man, he snores loud. I'm gonna turn up the volume just to piss him off. There, I hope he wakes up and can't fall back asleep. I wonder what he'd do then, maybe slap me. Shit, if he did that I wouldn't even think about spitting in his face, I would just tell him to get out. This is my fucking apartment, you fucking bum. That's what I'd say.

Wake up! Is that loud enough for you? Wake up, you snoring bum! I hope you can't sleep. I hope you have bad dreams and wake up and feel terrible because guess what ... I'm not as kind as you think I am. I can be a real bitch sometimes. You just watch. From now on things are going to be different around here. No more cooking; no more keeping the volume down low; no more days spent sleeping while I work my tail off. Things are going to be different around here starting right now I tell you. Bum!

-Gosh honey, could you please turn that down? Thanks.

But I'm just so damn kind.

Apt. 119

Smooth streaking sounds as they roll ... their tires making smooth streaking sounds as they roll ... and then what? Where are the cars going after the sounds stop? Passed my apartment and then where after that? Damn it! There's a great story where they're going; I'm sure of it. But where exactly are they going?

Ah hell, forget about writing something--I got my whole life for that. And the pasta's probably done by now anyway.

Security guard in parking lot

That beer sure was good ... you know, it'd be nice if that guy could give me another. Hey, that's right, I've seen him `round here lately; always parks in the guest lot. Maybe I'll drive up alongside him when he comes back--if he does--and politely ask for another. But I wonder if he was going to see Dana. Wait, I think I remember seeing those two a little tipsy together the other night ... nah--doubt it was the same guy. She's way too much woman for him, gonna be on the cover of The Legend's new CD--I'm sure of it.

Originally appeared in Whistling Shade