#AND THEN IT GOT REVEALED HE'S LITERALLY A BUG. FUCK ME I GUESS!!!

[lynn-tged-posting]

please understand that i made this before the events of episode 163

[eightofpents]

A collection of rambling thoughts about London under the cut. spoilers, obv.

The idea that the butterfly's champions Never remember is straight up Canonically not true right? First thing the special says and it's straight bullshit.

The Gorilla grabs Bug Noire's hand to stop her from destroying the door. Can we talk about how stupid dangerous that was? If she doesn't react in time you Die. Bro.

Kagami definitely disapproves of the lying plan, but the "go away ladybug" line, doesn't strike me as angry at her (which is a read i've seen). It feels like Kagami giving her an out before she says something stupid and outs herself, to me.

"And you will need it." The fuck was that Tikki? Oh. Oh you little shit.

"There's no such thing as ghosts." Excuse me you have a fairy literally inside you right now but ghosts definitely DO NOT exist, sure.

Both of Lila's akumatizations being boy shaped could easily be a laudable commitment to disguise. Certainly she's known to be good at it. But. Do you think she has Gender? (also, it was ridiculous (utterly ridiculous) when they tried to play off Kagami's gender as a big reveal. but this is worse. it'd be one thing to they/them akuma!Lila just because the audience knows. but 'Bug says he once and Bunnyx corrects her. they Always assume gender! sometimes incorrectly! (see Kagami) and they commit to it. (is this an english only problem??))

We all love Nathalie for waking up from dead and saying "Time to kill Gabriel again." But she knows she's only awake because he made the wish. She goes down there, crossbow in hand, expecting to find Gabriel And Emilie. (i don't think she coulda killed him in front of her.)

"The light is already on. They were always here." There is only one timeline forever. But then what the hell is Bunnyx's job. Timetagger, yes. A villain gets timeywimey powers, gotta stop em, a reasonable use of time police. "Marinette you made a wrong decision for the timeline (what? how?) and now you gotta stop Chat from blowing up." Stupid. The elder buns knew this was coming. But they still fade. This show has a fixed timeline. But parts of it explicitly involve risking the timeline itself and pretending there's a world where they might lose? Astruc get your shit together.

Using papillon to refer to the new unnamed butterfly holder makes sense. Translating that as Hawk Moth does not.

Marinette: Should I lie to Adrien about his dad? Everyone else: Definitely not. But you're Ladybug and his girlfriend so we trust your decision. (what?) Marinette: Got it. Time to lie.

Calling the lucky charm to get untangled is fucking great. (i'm never gonna be over this actually.)

Completely in love with the London fight. A portal fight is always sick. And the fact that it's Bunnyx in control of the portals, not Chronobug? the team work! And I'm, like, distractingly into the song in the back half. The bug's out here sayin' all this cool shit and I can't hear her cause my brain is Locked In on the music. (and i am not known to notice a soundtrack)

Lila has never interested me. I Love Chloé, and Gabriel and Nathalie are the loves of my life, but Lila's villainy just doesn't do anything for me. (Maybe if she were allowed to be a person, I guess.) But. If Lila's willing to get Fucky with it, poke around with the rules of the miraculous. I think I can get behind her. (a villain with more cunning than gabriel will be fun. the butterfly is immensely powerful and he was too dumb to use it well <3)

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "A Dicey Situation" Episode Followup, Part 2

Captain O origin story continues, below the break!

Okay...this whole dice randomization thing is clever. Hate to do it, but I have to award another point to Tasha.

Yeah...yeah...he would have a dance to resemble a tragedy, bless him.

...No.

I would have been happier if they dropped a year. No thinking about the timeline. Drop a year and run.

On trillions of levels. No.

Instead they didn't, and I'm left with whatever assfuck shit this thing is that's supposed to be an old-timey version of a smartwatch but is not.

I do, however, appreciate the dice math lesson. That's pretty unique. Another point to Tasha.

...No, actually, subtract one for this completely arbitrary guessing and the contrived shit that will make one of their guesses right.

Considering they're partners in the same way Iroha tells Satoru that she feels "a special kind of wonderful" when she's with him in Precure, this is cute.

"We are so in sync!"

Man, Tasha's just getting all the ambiguously LGBTQ+ people in this series, huh?

You see that ship in the front?

AND NOW IT'S DRIED UP SO NOW WHAT. NOW WHAT???

That's what I thought Captain O's ship was gonna be. Had it spinning in my head and everything.

Okay, we get it, Orli and Ozzie are here, they are listening, please move on.

You...I mean...you haven't beaten them before? With your dice rolls?

Lmao okay sure.

Okay, I honestly have no idea why Osgood has a phone too, but it's bugging the absolute hell out of me because he's clearly on the line with Dottie but she's only on the line with Captain O.

Make it make fucking sense.

You roll your eyes, but there are hundreds of islands out there, so even though she just revealed her own weakness, this logic actually makes sense.

Love the chickenpox, hate the psoriasis.

Brought to you by Lilly Pharmaceuticals.

Oh this is bad news to drop on people who are trying to catch a villain. Fucking timing, my guy.

11 fucking minutes and Tasha can't even give a fucking reason why Captain O has to transfer to begin with?

B- h- why though. Why though.

Unless this is gonna get answered at some point during the finale, this is extremely disappointing. And even if it was, here the Admiral could have just said "an...incident has come up" or some other vague reason, and just left it at that to perpetuate the mystery.

Got the cartoony faces, but with all the charm of Ohlm.

And we all know how Ohlm turned out.

*long deep sigh* God save me.

THEY BROUGHT BACK THE TIME CARD??? FOR THIS?!?!?!?!?!

No...no...I fucking can't. Let me remind you that the one time a kraken was ever featured in this franchise, it was so horrifying that it wasn't even allowed to be shown onscreen and scared the hell out of everyone, Oprah included.

I'M SORRY???????

If I extended my middle fingers any more, I'd have to get the doctors to pop 'em back in.

To hear that this bitch can just summon krakens to attack literal children -- which, you know, can eat said children -- is so stupid and so out-there and so continuity-breaking that I am revoking every point Tasha has ever accrued and sending her to Seren Hell, where Odd Squad episodes are played on an endless loop and all there is for food and water are rice cakes and lava.

Make it make sense or I will bring my ass to wherever and make it make fucking sense myself.

And then it ate her, right?

A-and then it ate her, right.

'Cause that's what krakens do.

...SAY IT, TASHA. FUCKING SAY IT YOU COWARD.

(Also, Captain O wears pants here but switches to a skirt when she transfers. It's a nice touch, but I'd prefer if she kept the pants.)

...WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT DIDN'T EAT HER???????? FUCK YOU TOO!!!

Okay, for the sake of my sanity, I'm deducing that this is Odd Squad poker and this will never, in my lifetime, be up for debate.

"this is why you'll always be my first best mate"

he is literally in a position lower than her in the hierarchy

I'm sorry, was "second-in-command" not anything tossed around in the writers' room or??? Because that would have made this precinct a lot better.

It is always this same dumbass dance move and I hate it. I like the party in "Box Trot". Draw stuff from there.

And your credits for this episode. Octo is not listed in here, for some reason -- probably because he has miniscule speaking lines.

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

Overall...this was one big pile of ough. Better than "The Triangle Sisters", but not by very much. Other origin stories -- "Weight of the World", "Totally Odd Squad" -- were much better, but "Mission O Possible" still ranks as the worst of the worst for me. This one is not nearly as bad.

Methinks Tasha needs to do a little more work before returning to the franchise, because both of her episodes were swings and misses in more ways than one. It is a good concept with a good math lesson and a good villain, but it needs to be fleshed out and freshened up a little more.

Next time will be "Lift Off", or the biggest cultural clash of the entire damn series/season. If there's a popstar clam...I wonder if we'll get a song? Food for thought.

Seren out!

[palesmokeisinthevoid]

Fuck it, sona stuff

Noticed something when drawing Smokey so now his tail has a butterfly on the end!

Something I made on Election Day

Both of them panic a lot when something goes wrong for them. Smokey is the one who panics more on account of being a lot more involved with people while Ignis lived in the woods. Also Ignis wasn’t made with a soul so his creator, who was dying, gave him the closest powerful soul. So if Smokey dies Ignis also dies. (Though is Ignis dies…well, the soul was originally Smokey’s, but it’s also part Ignis’, so while it won’t completely kill Smokey if Ignis dies a part of him does still die)

Despite having shapeshifting, Smokey can’t change his height, unlike Ignis, who can pretty much change any aspect of his physical appearance except scars and injuries.

Speaking of scars and injuries…Ignis’ prosthetics were kind of, made so taking them off would be very painful. So he has to always wear them, as much as it irritates what it’s attached to.

Ignis has some trauma. Also he uses his scarf to hide the fact he has a shock collar which never seems to come off no matter what he does. He’s tried dislodging it, exploding, butter, etc, but it seems without a certain persons command it’s stuck on there for the time being…

Birthday is coming up so that’s fun.

Mouths. Or lack thereof. Idk Smokey is based on my Minecraft skin which doesn’t have a mouth and Ignis…doesn’t like having one.

I kind of go back and forth on calling these two best friends and qpp’s, I’m going to say they’re both because it doesn’t really matter, they’re soulmates in some sense of the word (literally share a soul), they’ll go through anything for the other to be safe. Hands are held while making friendship necklaces and they share their favorite flowers. Probably somewhat weird since they’re technically used to represent me but I’m the one who made them so uh…idk

Ignis god form

Species swap!…Or I guess, appeared species swap. Ignis is still a god and Smokey is still a fae.

Just them taking a nap

Two little moments from an au involving them and a bunch of others. Eventually I’ll show it.

Smokework! One day they figure out how to make their soul a little more together. He’s got three legs and three arms since they still can’t detach their prosthetics.

Them as Pokemon! Ignis is a shiny Absol because he’s the god of disasters and Absol is the disaster pokemon (he’s shiny because green eyes and closer to firework colors, even if he’s Yellow and Blue), and Smokey is Ribombee because Bug/Fairy type and it has bee in the name.

…Since Smokey was based on my Minecraft skin, I made a third sona based on my Roblox avatar!

It’s names is Pales Moke, Smokey and Ignis are kind of just living in its apartment and it has a weird door in its apartment that sometimes becomes two different elevators. He might get a design change once I get robux to actually buy stuff and I might make a thing explaining the changes.

Just the three goobers.

Smokey and Ignis’ first time seeing the Regretevator

Based on the fact I jump on the Npc’s heads, Pales likes to climb people! He likes feeling tall.

Smokey and Ignis’ first time on the Regretevator. At some point they set something on fire.

The second elevator that comes to Pales apartment kind of…changes stuff about you once you enter it, as Smokey and Ignis find out. It’s the elevator from Dandy’s world. Pales is Astro, Smokey is Poppy and Ignis is Boxten. Also Ignis mouth reveal

[anachronistic-falsehood]

EPISODE 9 TRIVIA:

- charlie clocked "the asset" as wavelength IMMEDIATELY. grizzly and condi thought it was tide at first :]

- charlie reading out his last like 20 rolls and none of them are above a 10 . of these, 6 of them were nat 1s . the curse is so real.

- vyncent doing the sidequest thing at the mechanics shop was intentional and supposed to feel out of place! to make him feel more like a fantasy dnd campaign character instead of a comic book character !!!

- charlie: "im getting so into character playing william now that i am consistently feeling sad and awkward. when doug did the stupid shirts and skins bit i genuinely felt that so deep in my bones"

- bizly: "the fact that you guys just assumed the principal was tide was really cool. i cant wait for you to find out who he actually is. i cant wait to give you guys tides backstory" << HE DOES THIS EVENTUALLY. THERE IS A TIDE BACKSTORY ONESHOT !!!!

- ALSO BIZLY: "i planned on blowing up the base from.the beginning because i felt like i didnt describe it very well and didnt want to retcon anything. oh well, guess its demolition time!" WHICH IS SO FUNNY TO ME

--> on a more serious story note he did actually plan for them to lose the base at some point which is why he was so lax on giving them overpowered cool tools and vehicles at the beginning. because he knew they were gonna lose them soon anyway :]

- grizzly teared up for real after they stopped recorded at the end of the session because he started thinking about "the repurcussions of dakotas actions and how he never thought it would be this bad. this kind of stuff doesnt happen to regular kids and its gonna tear him apart. growing apart from a friend doesnt lead to your home being blown up and your father figure getting hurt. im just so sad thinking about it because guilt is a huge part of my character, its one of his big complications" so yeah i love when players are just as emotional about their characters as i am!!!!!!!!! crying !!!!!

- "is dougs supervillain lair called the dugout" (<< this one got me bc im a guy who likes a good baseball joke)

- dakota doesnt spend a whole lot of time thinking about things too hard which was why he was concentrating so much during school all day. he was thinking about the fact that he tricked doug with the phonecall and what the implications of that were !! i thought that was such a good character moment

- grizzly, about ghostknife: "you guys are perfect for each other"

charlie: "no, dakota. at the end of the day, *we* were the ones that hugged under the sprinklers" << this podcast is so unserious

- bizly is kind of disappointed dakota never made that perception check in the school because there was something he wanted to reveal with that! (you will find out what this is later i promise. it has nothing to do with doug <3)

- asking if they get any post-podcast secrets:

bizly: "i will say... you guys are on new radars. thats all you get"

grizzly, REALLY SUDDENLY AGGRESSIVE FOR NO REASON: "IM GONNA KILL YOU."

6 OF HIS ROLLS WERE NAT 1S. JESUS CHRIST. CHARLIE YOUR ROLLS!!!!!!

bizly disliking the way he described something and deciding to just blow up the fucking base. when ur a gm u can just do that shit <3 slay

oughgh dakota ough i love a fucked up guy filled with guilt. oh my goodness. grizzly i love ur little guy as much as u do <3 literally the guy of all time. i love dakota i want to study him like a bug. the guy ever actually

[arcplaysgames]

Omg Yosuke that's so thoughtful of you, organizing the "we ain't got dates" conciliatory orgy event for the holiday! I mean, we all know it's his in with Reverie but I am not gonna rat him out, let him shoot his shot! Literally! Or, figuratively, but-- you know what I mean.

ALSO THIS IS A WONDERFUL FUCKING DETAIL BUT this game is set in the era of flip phones, not smartphones, and the specific way that Yosuke types is emblematic of the way you would use a shitty ten-keypad for typing, and it's SUCH a specific touch.

oh my god now i'm curious how Japanese text messaging worked in that era. if i remember, I wanna look into that later.

yeah you know what that's fair you all can stay here forever. i grew up in florida is palmetto bugs, aka The Big Roaches That Can Fly. my fear is intense and well-founded.

Yosuke you lie like a fucking rug, you literally texted everyone and picked the folks. It would have been JUST as easy to invite EVERYONE to Aiya or something. You cannot fool me, Hanamura, I'm a higher level gay than you are.

TROY BAKER SING TO ME /slams hands on table

I see u blushu, Kanji. /bats eyelashes at Kanji

also the sad hilarity of Teddie knowing the social script more than Yosuke does occur to me, yep.

YURI LOWENTHAL, SING FOR MY AMUSEMENT

gdi no one fucking sings in this scene, what a fucking rip off! booo! zero out of five, worst game i ever played.

anyway, for Christmas proper, NANAKO AND DOJIMA ARE HOME AND I COULD FUCKING CRY ABOUT IT. nanako i am gonna squish ur lil round face i love you mwah mwah

anyway

GOT MY INSURANCE CARD MIGHT LITERALLY BE THE FUNNIEST LINE IN THIS FUCKING GAME, I'M WHEEZING. god the line read is so fucking good on it too, I love Kanji. I would kill for Kanji. He's the best fucking character in Persona and it's not even close.

anyway, shock of shocks, the cake is not poisonous this time and everyone gets to enjoy it (tho Naoto reveals it was their third attempt at making one, lol)

Teddie made Nanako a teddie doll and I want a fucking teddie doll, goddammit

don't even fucking worry about it, dojima, it's fine

Dojima accidentally brings up the fact that Reverie is leaving soon, which Fucking Sucks. but! it sucks less than being a human sacrifice to fuel a seal to prevent the fall of Nyx, The God Of The Dark Hour, so really, can't complain!

I am pretty sure Reverie is gonna live through all this. I think getting his ass shot by Adachi was the only chance of for real dying, so we should be good.

god, I would sacrifice Reverie for, uh, P3P Reverie in a heartbeat.

(I remembered in literally the middle of that sentence that all of my characters are named Reverie Vantas lol)

NANAKO I LOVE YOU can we finally finish your fucking slink tho, is that now allowed again?????

anyway the game is wrapping up and I am anticipating another P3P-style time skip to when Reverie leaves but

one, I am still sort of... not actively sour on but ambivalent about the entire Midnight Channel thing. I feel like the final explanation had a lot of plot holes and didn't really make sense if you thought about it.

two, this is not a game about dying like P3P was so there is a lack of finality to everything honestly, which has less bombast than i anticipated

three, I STILL WISH I FUCKING KNEW WHY NAMATAME, ADACHI, AND REVERIE HAD THIS POWER. like, the big eyeball mentioned it granted powers to those with the fortitude to traverse the hollow forest but WHY SPECIFICALLY THESE THREE DUDES ugh whatever

four, i hope the bonus dungeon boss has some fucking Shenanigans bc Ameno-sagiri just does not compare to Ryoji-Nyx and the multiphase shit that was so fun.

sigh! sigh!!!!!

I did max out Marie tho so I will see about that at some point I guess?

[bingobongobonko]

4 hour sleep gang but sooo worth it.. lancer rpg. blinks wildly. im. 3-session long bossfight, fucking INSANE. hardest fucking fight we've ever dealt with, surrounded by webs of bombs and mines, and the Fool is a literal stand user and she fucking summoned it to kick our asses. actual hell on earth.

became this at some fucking point 😭 EVERYONE WAS SO FUCKING TIRED OF HERRRRRRRRR SHE WAS DOING SOME MIND GAMES SHIT WITH INVISIBLE MINES ANDIT WAS GRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOURE DONE!!!!! YOURE OVER! such a good fucking battle though, albeit.. [TREASURE] and kuruushi got really fucked up throughout, im pretty sure more than half of us structured at some point. i fended off a bit better cuz i kept a distance, since my balor's a long distance mf. i love my superheavies. but yeah it was. bad. because even after we kill her stand basically, she's still puttin up mines and shit, and we realize. Oh we have to do a systems check.. we have to see the mines. and WOW its bad. its bad. we're completely and utterly surrounded. one fucking step in any direction, and either the Fool or [TREASURE] is getting blown to BITS. so we're freaking out... eventually though, [TREASURE]'s got rapid jet system or summat like dat, and he fucking bolts the shit out of there, but he's STILL NOT SAFE!!! BECAUSE SHE KEEPS TARGETING HIM.. THOUGH now she realizes the mines aren't gonna work (except on kuru, who at this point has exploded on those mines and structured like 30437498494 times now... it was miserable), so she hops out of the mines and right into us and we're like AHA YOU ARE SO SURROUNDED. AND WE DO. for [TREASURE] unfortunately, she's permainvisible and so a GOOD portion, if not all of his hits, don't land :( shitty fuckin rolls, it happens though tbh. im able to get a shot in at her regardless of missing, cuz cyclone has reliability tag of 5, and tellius basically grabs a spear and forces it into her mech, making her immobile and slowed. and THEN, i ram right into her mech and slam it into a nearby pylon, and force her prone. we're all fucking dogpiling her - but then we realize, thats WHAT she wants, because she grabs her grenade launcher and points it at the ground beneath all of us, knocking back the party a good amount and im pretty sure someone NEARLY structured from that. i dont get pushback thankfully, but im not the one who does the killing blow either. tellius rams himself back into the fight and fucking grabs his drills and forces it right into where he thinks the cockpit is, and lo and behold, there is a gaping hole in the thing. and it just keels over. and in the rubble and the dust thrown about, she's still alive. she's crawling out her mech pit, barely alive, bleeding from her midsection. this is *new.* we. won? i guess. the party, particularly skink and tellius get their words in, i know it gets revealed where the people who fucked telly over are, so thats OUGHG. thats. not good is it....... we will see.. but. the fool looks up at yves and is like. "Well? What are you waiting for? Do it." and yves does not need to be asked twice. he crushes and mangles her body under the heel of his mech, like he's killing a bug. and he.. doesn't feel anything. it's not satisfying. at all. and god it makes me so sad. when all of it is said and done, [TREASURE] picks up the parts of whats left of her, and just. holds them gingerly. it barely looks like anything. its so fucked. ooc i feel so bad abt it.. we really could have saved her. if we wanted to. we could have. but i know yves wouldn't let that happen. he has no reason to. yk. the military comes in, and they just kinda cat_blink.gif at us cuz like. ermmm are you guys okay lol. No. Not really. and the party's tryin to ease the tension, and make jokes and shit, but yves is like. Shut the Fuck Up. Shut the Fuck Up. and getting riled up and upset, because he just. doesn't feel anything. and its not funny anymore. none of this is funny. and elias kinda pipes in from the back like... hey man maybe we should calm down. yk? and i wont lie to you, yves's first instinct was to start screaming and kicking his cockpit, but realizing it's elias saying this, its kinda like. You Know. and they have a whole scene and... oh :(. well. yeah. i. well. yeah. its bittersweet. he's able to calm yves down, and it's just. really sweet.

im like.

its fucking over man. hes not wrong. but also, like i was telling flore, yves is a ticking time bomb, and the fear far outweighs anything but at this very moment, its fine. its fine. he's not wrong. shit is changing. it has to mean something. even if its doing this forever and ever and ever and ever. and dont get me wrong, he loves elias a lot, but he CAN'T do this forever. not anything personal with elias, elias is. more than he ever thought he could have, just. vague hand moments. all of this. if he could get away from all of this with just elias, he would. he'll do this forever if thats whats gonna happen, but it's not preferred, even having elias there. thats the bitter part. you can love someone, but it doesnt change the horrors. but the love makes it easier. if anything. yeah. nothing changes, the horror is still lingering, but the love is there

[blue-cypress]

Time to post about my fave vanilla romdram ahahah

Okay so like this season was really nice overall just like wonderfully made a produced it didn't feel rushed (except the random ass FOUR MONTH time skip at the end)

Mel's pregnancy arc came to a sad end that I didn't expect, but in hindsight I probably should have. There were some times where they would say things about the pregnancy and I would go 'the fuck I thought you were only telling your boss his wife and your sister about this, why are you telling this to these random extras we'll never see again??' Brie and Brady made me sad especially cause of the reason she broke up with him. Mike literally had the same secrets as him and she's still choosing to date him, which bugs the shit out of me. Also I still don't trust Mike, I get off vibes from him. Preacher is the man Bo Burnham was talking about in lower your expectations cause this man is everything. He's thoughtful strong attractive will hide a body for you can cook!! And he's dating a woman who lied about her relationship status and wanted to keep things casual even though she didn't say that at the beginning of their relationship. Also her ex is really possessive of her and she keeps telling Preacher "oh its fine, he's harmless" and then two seconds later the ex is like " she's always gonna choose her job over you, and guess what, I'm part of that job". Lizzie and Denny. God they're cute and all but he's in love with her and she loves him. Like they said that to each other with Lizzie specifically saying "love" rather than "in love". Also Dennys grandma was a biiiiiitch. Hated her. "I was doing it cause I loved you!" 'It' being lying about being in love with someone else cause I know you don't want a baby so I'm not gonna tell you I'm having a baby and never speak to you for 50 (30? I don't fucking know man) years. And then telling denny she wanted him to go back to college even though he wants to live the rest of his healthy life with someone he loves?? Bitch behavior. Going back to Mike quickly, whenever brie and Brady had a fight or argument, he would just swoop in and flirt with her, even though he knew she was dating brady, huge red flag to me. Him getting shot did nothing for me, it just gave Brady more trauma. And the fire, it got the BnB, lily's farm, Muriels house, but god forbid the bar burns down. Speaking of the fire, nick was a terrible mayor and jo Ellen shouldn't have told her husband about hopes fender bender. Hope may not be in tip top shape, but she was delegating better than nick could have dreamed. One thing i didnt really like, however, was Mel and Jack planning to buy the land of lily's farm and rebuilding said farm. Like I don't know why but it feels weird to me. I'm not even gonna touch on Cameron or Charmaine cause I am not ready to type out my rants on these two. All in all, amazing how in 5 months half of Virgin River burned down- paiges abusive husband held her hostage, died, got buried on the side of the road that's coming back to bite preacher in the ass- abusive husband's BROTHER came to Virgin river, held Paige hotage, got arrested- Jack got shot by the brother- brie came to town and had a miscarriage- Lilly (a forty ish year old woman) gave birth then died of breast cancer- Hope got into a car accident so bad she was missing for almost an entire season- Mel got pregnant and then also had a miscarriage- Tara's sister Ava came to town and revealed she had mentioned-once-disease-that-i-cant-rememeber-the-name-of AND that she is one of now two lesbians in the show- Charmaine got dumped, pregnant, engaged, was forced to give away her dog, had a high risk/high maintenance pregnacy, then BAM we barely ever saw her or heard about her pregnancy for the entire latest season also Calvin is her baby daddy?? You know what I'm just gonna stop- Jack's cabin was set on fire- hope and doc went from on the verge of divorce to happily married and probably some other things I missed.

Also the only gay people in this are Ava, Hannah (who I'm pretty sure didn't have a name until season 2), and two extras named Johnny and Adrian.

[tamarakkoarchive]

Shin Megami Tensei II livetweet thread (8/8)

the second aspect in smt2 that stands out: the crazy twist obviously

i still have mixed feelings over how weirdly written the law ending is but nevertheless the concept of an artificial messiah group was dope. they're pretty much what i'd like to see being explored in fanart the most

aleph felt linked to all these other lab creations and he must watch their fall caused by the fake roles assigned to them that in the end god would never truly approve of

i guess this must be why zayin got so convinced they should keep going even without yhvh

that being said, sadly aleph's connection to them is not really put as much weight as it could've been, he feels super detached because their interactions are very sparse, tbh i think it could've helped if all of them... were playable at some point like mt2 ryu or the smt1 friends. i was fine with the small amount of dialogue in mt2 and smt1 but smt2 is where i felt it ended up really diminishing the impact

i unironically ended up being more fond of the "what could've been" situation between aleph and our dead beth than hiroko lmao she has such an insane reveal behind her but the whole thing goes just "lol. crazy. anyway let's keep going"

~

izanami randomly appearing to comment "oh you two remind me of my marriage that is fucked up but for entirely different reasons"

oof how could i forget to show earlier

aside his sunglasses form zayin also turns into this cool shape with six boobs. iconic

the theme connection between smt2 and smt4a that i finally could confirm from that interview was that even back then they did think smt2 satan leaned towards neutral despite being from the law route, with killing yhvh and all. that's why they made him neutral in smt4a

~

and now for the third and last thing it's... finally the game where demon fusion gets fun but most importantly: where kaneko starts slaying HARD on demon designs. crazy amount of exclusive designs he was able to draw, a lot even beyond of what they could do relevantly with

alright let's go for the bad!

1. it's a replay nightmare. full of bugs. it somehow has a worse interface than smt1's. gotta mention AGAIN that you can't auto guns. by far the smt where you get lost the most and you gotta write down several passwords to enter locked doors

the dungeon design in smt1 wasn't super diverse either but smt2 it's just... excruciatingly boring. "shitload of doors with nothing" the game. you don't really have reason to fill the whole map because they don't put any reward whatsover be with items or npcs with information

2. THE SOUNDTRACK SUCKS period. it's the same composer from mt1-2 so my disappointment for how cheap the snes games sound in comparison is abysmal. they aren't improved much in the psx rearrangements either

instead of a final boss theme they use the same music from several major bosses (regardless of alignment) and it's just... this

compare it to the super special one from mt2

and now 3... this might surprise you guys since i just talked abt them being better at writing the law and chaos sides and to be fair this is on a subjective perspective but... i didn't like the alignment choices in this game

smt2 to me was essentially a game with dope worldbuilding and dope story concept all ready to be deliciously consumed on a plate but the execution ended up not feeling satisfying on the stomach

i think what made me like smt4&a way more than smt2 is that it showed more impact from the choices happening around the protagonist in a way that i could say "yeah this alignment makes sense for what he's feeling"

basically there's already very few relevant alignments choices and they went too far on making aleph an incognito for the player to insert their own thoughts into so the final result is that he ended up being awfully hard to read and sympathize with

guy is probably not even a year old, no hint of childhood, had fake memories but got them wiped (double brainwashing??) so he was literally a blank state with no humanity inserted into by the time he was found and taken by the gym uncle

he had no mercy in killing when he was a gladiator too so the likely options for aleph's personality is: 1. church tool (fake memories) 2. basically him copying the gym uncle and the normal citizens around him (after his memory got reset)

anyway i think you can guess where i'm going with this, a lot of the buildup to aleph has him either instinctly acting on the law side since it was what he was made for or he gradually replacing his default persona with feelings of compassion from living with normal people

the thiiiiing is, the biiiiiig problem i have with how the alignment system is written in some games that is ALSO a thing here is that when they want to make the player decide between law or chaos they don't discern between dark/light actions (aka being selfish or being selfless)

you'd think being a church tool would make aleph a cold-hearted guy. but no! remember the subplot with the workers in sweatshops? if you decide to release them from being incarcerated, it gives a LOT of points towards being law instead

the chaos side on the other hand wants to protect the underworld and the abyss residents from being exterminated but if you wanna join them you have to act like a selfish jackass in some instances like refusing to help hiroko, wanting to kill daleth or violently coercing demons

so tldr my frustration is that it was just really confusing why aleph would switch from law to other alignments. it got extra ?? with the whole "fake" yhvh and "true" yhvh thing. i don't think they even put down a proper explanation for why he'd prefer killing lucifer in neutral

like geez lucifer is so goddamn selfless in this era! he had his own agenda but prioritized giving help to the weak until the end instead of going on a rant of 'hurr the strongest wins'

man i can't stress enough that law was a big punch on the gut not only for zayin going 180º but also because the game gave you the impression you were gonna be "the kind law guy" and instead you got betrayed and forced to genocide the whole planet into oblivion

anyway that's what i fucking mean when i say aleph is hard to read 🙉 when aleph showed compassion to workers it was a buildup to abandon them in the limbo. when aleph was violent to mutants it was a buildup for him siding with them against the oppressors. like wtf

so yeah something something this game is biased towards being neutral since it was a sequel/alternate future to smt1 just like smt4a was to smt4. it's the best standpoint for how to make his actions make sense, whatever. aleph neutral hooray i guess

END

[russburlingame]

A is for Accident

So, here goes.

A few weeks back, I was supposed to have started work on the Alphabet Superset, a project from Struthless that's aimed at helping motivate artists who are a little...stuck.

I am, strictly speaking, not stuck. I actually have more on my plate than I can handle most of the time. Still, it seemed like a cool project, and something that could help me hone some writing muscles that I don't use very often. I have a fiction project that has been percolating in the back of my mind, but it has been literally years since I wrote more than a few pages of fiction. And longer than that since I showed it to anyone.

So. The Alphabet Superset. It's a weekly challenge format, where you have a consistent theme and approach to the art, and each week you come up with a piece of work representative of that week's letter of the alphabet. I SHOULD have just started with D -- especially since I know what D is, and it's exciting! -- but I also know myself well enough to know that if I bail on A through C, I'll probably do basically none of the letters down the line.

Recently, I have been going through a bunch of my old archives to see whether there are any diamonds in the rough. So my "style" is going to be creative writing -- fiction and creative nonfiction, mostly not journalism, which is what I do the rest of my life. And the theme I'm choosing is autobiography. That doesn't mean you're going to get a lot of stuff that's super revealing about me -- although there will be some of that. It means each project will speak to a theme, an idea, or sometimes an archival project that was significant to a part of my life.

For the first installment, I'm going with "A is for Accident." The accident in question? A first-time hitman kills the wrong guy.

Oops.

This is a reworking of the first bit of 'I Got Him,' a novel I wrote once...but didn't back up before my computer was stolen. Back in the 2000s, not everything was always being loaded to the cloud. That was a rough lesson to learn, kids!

The only part of 'I Got Him' that survived was the first 40 or so pages. And I have always fantasized about bringing it back to life. This is not entirely new content, but a piece of the original version, lightly edited. I may tweak and hone a little more during a future week, but the hope here is to get myself back on track for the Alphabet.

So...here we go.

Oh, and this story takes place around 2003.

CHAPTER ONE: Somebody Got Murdered

  “I got him,” Martin said into the phone. “Just like you wanted, I got him!”

  “You didn’t,” Alderman said coolly, the background buzz of a crappy payphone not enough to mask his irritation.

  “Best part?” Martin continued, undeterred. “I knew the bastard! Fucking comes into McVeigh’s all the time and gives me shit because his burger has mayonnaise. Like I can help it that nobody reads the ‘special order’ line.”

  Alderman sighed. “What are you talking about?”

  “What, I gotta say it?”

  “That’s what I’m asking for.”

  “How do I know the phone’s not bugged?” Martin asked, and instinctively looked around as he said it.

  “Why on earth would it be?”

  “Alright, fine….I killed the Zlomek guy for you.”

  “Somehow I’m guessing that one of us has got something very confused here,” Alderman said, sarcasm starting to creep in around the edges of his frustration.

  “How do you mean?”

  “I’m very busy right now, actually. Can I call you back?”

  “Oh, right, right. Fine. But we’re solid here, right? You’re going to make sure I don’t get blamed for this?”

  “I really do have to go. I have a friend from work here right now,” Alderman said.

  “Oh,” Martin said. “Didn’t realize. Sorry!” And then, after a pause, “We’re not on speakerphone or anything, right?”

  “No, no. Eugene Zlomek is here, is all, and he’s telling me about his plans for the weekend. I think I’ve mentioned him before, right? A business acquaintance from the City.”

  Martin felt his stomach fall into his testicles. “Fuck,” he said.

  “That’s right.” The happiness in Alderman’s voice was the kind you only heard when businessmen were placating a customer, or an employee. Professional Happiness.

  “How about I’ll call you tonight, okay? Have a drink and unwind while you wait, alright?”

  Franklin Alderman didn’t wait for Martin to respond before hanging up. Martin had said, “Ri—” before realizing that nobody was on the other end, and then hung up with a petulance rarely seen in a grown man. He tapped the end of his rifle impatiently against the side of the phone booth for a minute, but his mind was moving too fast to remain focused on that, and he inadvertently put the barrel through the thin plastic panel.

  The Verizon logo on the outside of the phone broke outward and away from the booth and bits of plastic rained on Martin’s hair. The reason it had rained on his hair, rather than on his shoes, is that when he heard the sound of the plastic popping and breaking away, he hit the ground in terror, dropping the gun. He was convinced that, somehow, it had gone off in the booth. Having no bullets in the chamber, though, the gun of course hadn’t go off, and continued not to do so when dropped. Suddenly he wondered what the hell he had been doing carrying the murder weapon around with him in the open to begin with.

  Martin picked it up and forced it into his long, over-packed gym bag. It was nylon-and-mesh, and intended for use by baseball players (hence the length to accommodate a gun). It was loaded up with shorts and towels, on the off chance that anyone should want to take a look through it and Martin couldn’t dissuade them. The bag had a Champion logo on the top of it, which Martin couldn’t help but feel was a little ironic riding next to his face at the moment, while he tried to figure out how he botched his job so badly and who, exactly, he had killed.

  He jogged to his car—a red, 1991 Ford Mustang LX waiting at the curb about fifteen feet from the payphone—and jumped in. He tossed the Champion bag in the back and shifted gears all at the same time, in one motion as though the release of the bag by his left arm had caused the right one to pull the lever between his front seats. The car failed to roar to life, but gurgled a bit, and rolled down the street in the way that 1991 Mustangs are wont to do.

  The street was well-lit for the night drive home, and Martin was thinking of his terrible mistake, wondering what would happen next, when he saw the lights of a police car in his rearview mirror. He looked at the digital clock he had fastened to the dash when all of the vehicle’s interior lighting had failed months before. It read 1:39, which meant it had been a little more than forty-five minutes since Martin had killed someone who was not Eugene Zlomek.

  He grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his dashboard and took one out. He lit it with a Zippo from his jacket pocket because the cigarette lighter in the Mustang had been removed by the previous owner, who thought he had been improving the transmission at the time. He rolled down the passenger side window and blew the smoke from his cigarette in that direction. He leaned onto the passenger seat and opened the glove box.

The police officer, carrying a flashlight that was completely unnecessary given the intensity of the spotlight he had pointed at Martin’s rearview mirror, used it to tap on the driver’s side window. Martin opened the driver’s door a crack and half-shouted out it.

  “The window doesn’t open, Officer,” Martin apologized. “Wiring’s all screwed.”

  “Can I see your license, registration and insurance card, please?” The policeman asked, with no clear indication that he understood or cared what Martin had said about the state of the Mustang.

  “Absolutely. Hold on a minute.” Martin felt a cold sweat coming on as he rifled through the open glove box. He coughed a little on the cigarette, as he didn’t smoke. Instead, he had lit up to mask the odor of smoke in the car.

  Having worn gloves for the killing, Martin thought that maybe they would have gunpowder residue on them, and started the light them on fire in the bushes outside the

Zlomek house. But when people inside realized that someone—not, apparently, Eugene

Zlomek—had been killed, they started to mill around by the window and Martin had felt

obliged to get out of there, carrying—in his dazed panic and hurry—his flaming gloves

with him. The smell of smoke was very strong in the car, and he had made use of some

very old, very cheap cigarettes a friend had left in the car months ago. He sat upright in

the driver’s seat, passing his license and insurance card to the patrolman outside.

  “I can’t find the registration,” Martin said. “Can you take it off the windshield?”

  The patrolman shone his unnecessary flashlight at the windshield to confirm that

there was, in fact, a registration on the car. “I’ll get it from the plates,” he said, and

walked to the front of the car, shining the flashlight some more.

  The officer walked back to the open door. “Where is your front license plate?”

He asked.

  “Vanished a few weeks ago; haven’t had time to report it,” Martin said honestly.

  “You’d better.”

  “I will.”

  “Next time,” the cop warned, “you’ll get a ticket.”

  “Is that why you pulled me over, Officer?”

  “I’ll tell you when I get back.”

  “I wasn’t speeding, was I?”

  “I’ll talk to you when I get back,” the officer said, increasingly frustrated.

  The patrolman walked back to his car, clicking the flashlight on and off, and then

sat in the driver’s seat for what seemed to Martin to be a very long time. Finally he got

out of the car, still hefting his flashlight.

  “What’s that smell?” Asked the police officer when Martin reopened the door for

him.

  “Smell?”

  “Smoke. Do you have an exhaust problem, too?”

  “Not that I know of. Maybe my cigarette?”

  “Is it cloves or something?” The cop asked.

  “No, just very cheap.”

  “Hm. Maybe.” He straightened up. “Mr. Bidwell, do you know why I pulled

you over?”

  “Because I have no front license plate?” Martin ventured.

  “No.”

  “Oh. In that case, I’m not really sure.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “No. Absolutely not. I’ve never had a drink in my life.”

  “That sounds very defensive,” said the police officer, shining his flashlight around

inside the car.

  “No, Officer. Just definitive.”

  “Do your headlights work?”

  Martin looked at the switch on his dashboard which controlled the headlights. It

was in the “Off” position.

  “Shit,” Martin said.

  “That’s what I thought when I saw you barreling down the road like that,” said the

patrolman.

  “I just pulled away from the gas station about two miles back. This is a very well-

lit road…!”

  “I understand. Are you related to Jonathan Bidwell?”

  “My second-cousin.”

  “His father was on my softball team last year.”

  “Mike’s a great guy.”

  “Yeah….I’m not going to ticket you tonight. Just be a little more with-it, okay?”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. And get your exhaust checked. I don’t think that’s tobacco.”

  “Thanks.”

  The patrolman walked back to his car and sat in it while Martin pulled back into traffic, turning on his headlights and blinker. In the back seat, the odor of the burning evidence still lingered. He left the passenger window down to get rid of it.

-----

  “…But it’s trash, Doug!” Irwin shouted.

  Irwin Shaw was sitting on a rolling chair in an office of white-painted concrete,

shouting emphatically at a stooped, wrinkled man whose white, bushy hair and lively eyes left even his best friends wondering how old he actually was. The man, his editor, walked away toward his own office and Irwin stood to follow him.

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s trash, Shaw,” Doug told him. “What you did was unwarranted.”

  “Completely unwarranted,” Irwin agreed, in a way that expressed a total lack of enthusiasm for, or interest in, Doug’s assessment.

  “You wrote—let’s see…” Doug rustled papers around on his desk theatrically until he found one that he wanted. He squinted at it, opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.

Then he threw that paper at the ground, and picked up another one instead. He looked pleased with this new acquisition.

“You wrote, ‘…where the only thing greasier than the fish fry and warm beer is the middle-aged barmaid who flirts with everyone under eighty.’”

“It’s true. The facts all check; I have quotes from seven regular customers.”

“I don’t care about your ridiculous quotes. You know you can’t say that shit.”

“Why not?”

“You know damned well why not,” Doug growled, withdrawing a pair of reading glasses from his paper-covered desk and putting them on top of his head as if he may wear them eventually, but not right now.

“I can’t tell the truth about the places I’m supposed to ‘review’ because they’re our advertisers and they might get mad if someone points out how shitty their bars really are.”

Irwin had used air quotes to emphasize his point when he said the word “review.”

“Not bars, Irwin. Clubs.”

“Three quarters of what you send me to cover for the ‘Local Clubs’ column are just crappy bars that have local cover bands playing on systems too loud for the rooms they’re in.”

“Tanner’s called. They won’t advertise with us anymore.”

“That’s not such a bad thing,” Irwin said. “I don’t think I would want our paper associated with that dive anyway.”

“No, no, no. That’s a very bad thing. Where do you think your salary comes from?”

“Salary?! You’re crazy. I get twenty bucks a story. That’s not a salary, that’s money for gas and food to get to, and then do, the story. And the food’s hardly ever any good. But I’m not complaining about the money, trust me. Play money for play journalism. It all makes sense.”

“I told you when you took over this column that the food is free at the clubs you’re writing up,” Doug sighed, putting his head in his hands and knocking the reading glasses askew, then taking them off and putting them back on the desk.

“I’m glad you think that; the bar owners don’t seem to have been told.”

There was a knock on the door, and a young, husky man with very black hair came in wearing a t-shirt that said, “Dammit—I Did Not Have Sexual Relations With That Woman Either.”

The young man said, “Mister Hooper? We really need you out here. It’s almost two,” and left in such a hurry, it was obvious that he was either very busy, or hoping to dodge Doug’s reply.

“Okay, Irwin. You’re off this column.”

“Doesn’t that have to wait until the real editors get here in the morning?” Irwin asked with a smirk.

“No. You run in my edition. And I already talked to Brad.”

“So, I’m fired?”

“No, you still have your other column.”

“Gee, thanks. You know, that one was also a lot more interesting before you guys started to get…”

Doug cut him off. “…And for the next few weeks, until we figure out what else you’re good for, I want you on newsdesk during this shift.”

“What?”

“General assignment.”

“I’m—what? Demoted? How does that even work, when you pay by the story?”

“Not demoted. The new Local Club writer came out of that slot. I just need you there until we fill it.”

“Roger is taking over the Club column?” Irwin choked on the statement, and caught his body trying to laugh without permission.

“Yes. Is there a problem with Roger, too?”

“Not at all, Doug. It suits him.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Doug asked, a vein in his head starting to throb.

“Your nephew’s not really a reporter, he’s just the nephew of an editor.”

Doug's face started to turn red, and he rose in from his seat, but Irwin continued. “That column isn’t really reporting, as I said, just kind of masturbation of our sponsors…”

The young man came back to the doorway, still looking harried. “Mister Hooper? It’s almost two.”

“Still?” Doug shouted.

The young man missed the sarcasm, and paused for a second before darting away to process it, as though the question might be a trick.

“…Yes?” He responded hesitantly.

“I’m coming,” Doug said to the young man, and then to Irwin he said, “Get out of my office. I just got like nine e-mails in two minutes, so something must be happening. Go check the places you go check.”

“Will do, Skipper. By the way, nice office you have here.”

“Yeah, Doug said, ushering everyone out the door. “It used to be a bathroom, but the Department of Health said it was too small for that. Now get out of it.”

“I see,” Irwin said, “You’ve gotta take a leak.”

Doug slammed the door.

Irwin walked around the corner behind him and was standing next to the computers that were set to receive e-mails from wire services, freelance writers and letters to the editor. Two of them were idling, waiting for a password to unlock them so that they may crash freely. On a third, there was an e-mail program open. This, Irwin knew, was the computer that John Ramsay, the editor in charge of the Op-Ed section, used to receive all of his e-mail. Irwin sat in front of the computer and looked up the e-mail preferences.

Ramsay had set the computer, apparently, to filter out pornography, letters from a recently-fired Sentinel employee and anything with a subject heading containing nasty language. Irwin knew that there had been some very, very unpleasant language used in a some recent letters to the editor, mostly directed at Ramsay’s mother after a story he’d written on why it was necessary to enforce dog-leash laws that were already on the city’s books. Irwin changed the settings so that anything containing any one of several nasty words would be forwarded to Ramsay’s home e-mail account and marked with a little red flag that said “Urgent!” if you held the mouse over it for a second.

He also turned on an auto-reply feature that would tell anyone e-mailing letters to the editor that The Editor had been “…eaten by a rampaging groundhog, and that future e-mails should be directed to:” and then Ramsay’s personal e-mail address again.

He skated sideways on the rolling chair, then, and punched his own password into another computer to see what had been coming in while he was in Doug’s office.

A few headlines popped onscreen: “Fire at Soup Company Kills 11.” “Classical Pianist Arthur Dent Dies at Age 67.” “French Language More Prevalent In Michigan, Study Shows.”

He printed off each of these and left them sitting on a desk for the news desk reporter to find in the morning, then he walked toward the door.

“Where are you going, Shaw?” Shouted Doug Hooper from a light table where he was looking at the next edition of the Sentinel.

“My People of Interest column,” Irwin said.

“I’ve already got it!”

“The next one.”

“What was on the wires?”

“Gerard Depardieu in Detroit.”

“Just go home, Shaw,” Doug said, waving at him irritably, looking down at the table, then feeling on the top of his head for the reading glasses that were no longer there.

It was 1:40 in the morning when Irwin Shaw left the offices of The Sentinel.

It was 6:51 the next morning when he finally arrived at home. At 1:46, as he was turning into his driveway, Irwin had heard on the police scanner in his car that a man had been found dead about four miles from where Irwin lived.

He arrived at the address of the death five minutes ahead of The Sentinel’s police reporter, Jim Smith. Jim was a tall, jolly guy whose writing was as bland as his name and who didn’t really care if other reporters hijacked his stories. He’d just been working the same beat for so long, it was like getting paid to hang out with his friends in blue.

The house was enormous, but other than that pretty unremarkable. It was white with black shutters, squarish, and had what appeared to be about one window for every room in its three sprawling stories. All of the windows were the same; there was no picture window visible on any of the three sides of the house that Irwin could see either from the road or from his current position in the driveway.

Irwin, flashing his press badge to no one in particular, stepped up near the front door of the house where the police and the press had already set up shop. There was a police line, and just outside of it a handful of uniformed police officers were talking in subdued tones to a young man and woman in their early- or mid-twenties. The young man looked vaguely familiar, but it was the kind of familiarity that easily could have come from living so near to one another and shopping in the same places. Irwin couldn't place him.

The police didn't seem to be talking to the young man and the young woman as much as talking to the young woman and tolerating the young man being there, his hands on the girl's shoulders obviously being integral to keeping her from falling apart. The young man looked around him, and his eyes were red. He glanced through the crowd, fixed on Irwin for a second, and then looked away. There didn’t seem to have been any indication of recognition from the young man in the second they'd made eye contact.

The officer who had been talking to the young couple turned his back and headed indoors, and the couple sat on the bottom step of the house's big, all-wooden porch.

Irwin hung his head, took a reporter's notebook out of the pocket of his gray trench coat and approached them slowly. He spoke, first, to the girl, who had obviously been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair mussed. There was blood on her shirt, which had been partially covered by the brown corduroy jacket slung over her body. The young man next to her didn't look much better.

"I'm sorry," Irwin started. "I know this is a terrible time, but can I ask you a few things?"

"Who are you?" The girl choked out.

"Irwin Shaw, with The Sentinel."

"Oh. Press."

"Yeah. We always know just where we're needed the least, and that's more or less where we're paid to be. I live right down the way, so my editor figured I might know you guys,. Your brother looks a little familiar."

The young man didn't move, didn't respond. He didn't seem to be acknowledging Irwin at all.

"He's not my brother," the girl corrected. "My fiancé. This is James. His father is...was...he's the son."

"Of the one who passed?"

"Right."

Irwin looked at the young man, whose dark hair was longish and unkempt and who appeared to have been rousted from his sleep to come to the crime scene; he was wearing sweat pants, a mesh shirt and slippers. His eyes were also red with exhaustion and tears.

"I'm sorry for your loss, James," Irwin said, but the young man didn't respond.

The girl chimed in quietly: “What do you need, Mister…hmm…I’m sorry, forgot already…?”

“That’s okay. It happens. Irwin Shaw, Sentinel. You’ve had a long night.”

“So do you know what’s happened?” She asked him.

“I heard on the police scanner that someone was found dead here.”

“Yes, James’ father.”

“You said,” Irwin led her on. “What happened?”

“He was murdered. Shot.”

“Was anyone else in the house at the time?”

“He was shot through the window.”

“Are they absolutely sure about that?”

“I don’t know if they are, but I am. I was in the next room.”

Where was James here? In bed?”

“Yeah, in bed…at home…” the girl seemed flustered. “…At his house. Sorry. I don’t usually talk to the press.”

“You’re fine,” Irwin reassured her, “You’re doing fine. What’s your name, though?” He was scratching out the first notes in his pad.

“My name? It’s Michelle Zlomek. This is my house.”

“You live here alone?”

“No. It’s my dad’s house. I live here. I’m not out of college yet.”

“Where do you go?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Okay…”

“Don’t you want to know about who was killed?”

“I was coming around to that.”

“His name was Lowe. Edward Lowe.”

“Name sounds familiar.”

“He was the CEO of Keystone Security,” James said. His voice was so hoarse and quiet that it took Irwin a second to realize that he was being addressed.

“We did a feature on them not long ago,” Irwin said, turning to James and trying to keep from seeming put off. “They’re local.”

“Yeah,” James said.

“Was there any reason why anyone would be wanting to kill your father, James?”

“Plenty.”

“Want to tell me some of them?”

“Not really.”

“Want to tell me who? I might be able to bring them to justice….”

“I thought that was the police.”

“Them, too,” Irwin quipped, trying his hardest not to sound overly glib and failing.

“I think I’ll stick with them. They’re kind of officially doing it.”

“They’re just part of the Executive Branch. The press is the Fourth Estate.”

“I am greatly disturbed by the death of my father, which comes as a shock to our family,” James said. It sounded as though he were reading from a script. “I look forward to seeing his killer brought to justice and will support the law enforcement community in any way I can during the investigation.”

“Wow,” Irwin said.

“Is that what you needed?” James asked, ice in his tone. “A comment?”

“Did you kill your father, James?”

“Fuck off.”

“I’ll fuck off in just a minute. Just wanted you to know—if you give a press conference and make a remark that shallow, in that tone of voice, anyone who sees you on TV will think that you killed Edward Lowe.”

“Off the record?”

“That all depends.”

“I already know who killed him. I also know they’ll never be held accountable. I just don’t know what I’m going to do about it yet.”

“Tell me what you think. Maybe I can get some evidence to supply to the police.”

“Why can’t I just tell it to the police?”

“Or that.”

“You’ve got my statement, Mr. Shaw. Please just go away now.”

“Miss? I forget your name.” He looked down at his scrawled notes. “Michelle!”

“What?” She sighed.

“Why was Mr. Lowe at your house so late?”

“My father works with Ed at Keystone.”

“What’s your father’s name?”

“Zlomek.”

“His first name?”

“Just go read some press releases or something,” James hissed. “I’m sure you can put it all together.”

“Thanks for the help,” Irwin said.

He stood, much to the chagrin of his knees and ankles, and turned around. He almost walked into a uniformed police officer who was making a beeline for something important.

“Whoa! Sorry,” Irwin said. “Irwin Shaw. Sentinel. Got a minute?”

“No,” the cop said, and tried to sidestep Irwin, who followed his movement.

“How about half of one?”

The cop’s jaw tensed for a second and then relaxed. “What do you want?”

“Whose house is this?”

“No comment.”

“What relation is he to the deceased?”

“No comment.”

“I hear he worked with the victim. What’s the homeowner do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you know that Lowe was the CEO?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t know what Zlomek was? Is.”

“No.”

“You guys got on this pretty quick. I don’t live far.”

“I was in the area.”

“Doing what?” Irwin wondered if there was evidence to be had, which a slow patrolman might not put together and might, therefore, accidentally expose to the press.

“Someone busted in the side of a phone booth.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Irwin said, “What’s your name?”

“Shane Norton.”

“Thanks.”

Irwin put his pad and pen back in the pocket of his coat without having written anything about a vandalized payphone.

---

Martin’s phone was ringing.

He had been sitting up in bed for over three hours, waiting for the call, but he was slow to answer. On the small coffee table in front of his television was the morning’s paper. On the front page, with a tabloid-sized headline, was a story about a CEO of a locally-owned, New York-based company having been shot to death at his partner’s house the night before.

“Edward Lowe, 53, of Brick was killed last night in Red Bank….Lowe, the CEO of Keystone Security, was shot through the window of 212 Marsh Drive….The building belongs to Eugene Zlomek, Lowe’s business partner and the CFO of Keystone.”

Martin had killed Edward Lowe. Edward Lowe, the annoying bastard who always came into work and bitched about his cheeseburger. For a moment, Martin was struck by the pettiness of a millionaire—someone who obviously could have gone to a better establishment after one or two disappointments and left Martin the hell alone—coming every single day and bitching about mayonnaise. The thought, though, was hard-pressed to remain long in Martin’s mind, given the thoughts it was fighting for attention and the ringing of the phone that Martin knew could not possibly be good news.

“Yes?” He answered, tired and anxious and not at all happy to be alive.

“Martin, how are you?” Came Alderman’s voice from the other end of the phone; his good cheer was infinitely more frightening than if he had just called and started shouting.

I’m so sorry I fucked up, Mr. Alderman,” Martin said into the phone, so fast he could hardly be understood. “Please give me another shot—chance. I’ll fix things.”

“There’s nothing to fix. I’ve got things under control on my end, I think. You’re not going to be paid for this travesty, certainly. You did, after all, screw up the job rather severely…but you had the right idea and you got away without implicating any of us.”

“Thank you, Sir. Do do I…?”

“I want him dead by Friday, and I don’t want it in the papers. I don’t want my people to hear about it until it’s too late to be helped. This is kind of against the rules.” His sinister, faux-European voice paused to assume a more professional air. “Zlomek will be named CEO on Friday if he’s still alive when the Board meets in emergency session to discuss the passing of Mr. Lowe. At that point, he’ll become very useful to us. I’d rather he didn’t; he’s a prick and I don’t want to work with him for the rest of my days.”

“And you’re sure there’s nobody listening on the other end of the phone, right? I mean, I’ll get away with this, right?”

“The only thing that could get you in trouble now, Martin—is if you keep asking that. It’s really very unprofessional. It’ll give people the wrong idea.”

“Sorry.”

“Quite alright,” Alderman said. “I’ll call you when I hear that Zlomek is dead. In the meantime, you just sit tight.”

Before Martin could say goodbye, Alderman hung up the phone. Martin sat for a second, scowling at this indignity, and then hung up the phone and silently threw himself at, more than into, his huge blue easy chair. He picked up the remote control from the seat, flicked on the television and caught the news:

“Edward Lowe, President and CEO of Keystone Security, was killed late last night at the home of the company’s CFO Eugene Zlomek. This could spell more trouble for Keystone, whose bid to take over CopCo fell through very publicly last month and whose stock has been steadily declining since rumors surfaced that the company could face charges relating to union-busting. Lowe’s family says they intend to release a statement this afternoon. Keystone, meanwhile…” and Martin switched the channel. On HBO, they were playing a documentary about Lenny Bruce, and Martin left it there while he closed his eyes and tried to decide whether to cry or just take a nap until the phone started ringing again.

---

Irwin's phone was ringing.

After having filed the late-night story on the murder of Edward Lowe, Irwin had returned home and slept. His sheets were tossed everywhere, and there was a pretty clear trail of disorder from where Irwin had entered the dark room the night before, to where he'd hopped onto bed. In that trail were all of the pieces of junk that he had stepped on before falling asleep at five in the morning. He could see it all now, with his clear eyes and the light flooding the cheap lace curtains of the bedroom.

Monumentally disoriented, Irwin faced the wall and reached out. His hand struck the wall and he turned back around and reached out again, this time grabbing at his alarm clock.

"Yallo?" he muttered into the phone when, after its fifth ring, he finally had it in his hand.

"Shaw, what the hell were you thinking?" Hooper demanded.

"Say again?"

"I said, 'What the hell were you thinking?' Last night."

"Last night, I was thinking, 'I should hand in this story to Doug, so that he'll stop bitching.' Shows you Daffy Duck was right when he said it doesn't pay to think."

"Smartass. Stop screwing around. You were hounding someone else's story."

"Oh, come off it. You know he doesn't care."

"We have to have some semblance of order here, Shaw."

"It didn't seem to bother you last night; they said they were planning on running it on the front page."

"They did."

"Great. So what are you complaining about?"

And Irwin hung up.

Of course, I didn't know any of this yet. I figured it all out later.

"Blah-blah-blah!" The TV told me. I had been, for the previous hour, watching an HBO special on Lenny Bruce. Sunk low in a star-spangled camping chair in the living room of my small apartment, I stared vacantly at the television, too exhausted to either change the channel or take in the information in any meaningful way. My phone rang, and I ignored it. Finally, the answering machine kicked in.

"I don't know how you got this number," my voice came from the machine, "but there must be a good reason for it if you did. So state that reason and maybe I'll get back to you." There was then a series of beeps long enough to irritate all but the most persistent caller.

"Mr. Abernathy, we need to talk," a voice said. I cocked my head a little bit and hit the mute key on the remote control. Lenny Bruce was silent, but the TV continued to buzz with electrical life. The caller pressed on. "I believe that someone has tried to kill me. I was fortunate in that they failed, but I'm worried they may try again. I also have...fears...about the legal ramifications for me of their failed attempt. Please return my call at 200-8870. I will pay handsomely."

I clicked the sound on the television back on and mulled over what he had said. I already knew who he was, of course--it had been all over the papers about Ed Lowe at Keystone. There are only so many people who can afford my services, so there isn't a lot of room for coincidences in these matters.

There were only four or five people who could be calling me, asking for my help in this particular circumstance: Board members fo Keystone. I knew off the bat that I could count Mrs. O'Keefe out, clearly, and probably Bill Munger, too. He was too good a guy to be in a compromising position and too hapless to realize it even if he was. Also unlikely was Vittorio Graves, who was too old to be a suspect without a really solid motive--which nobody yet knew he had. That left the CFO, Eugene Zlomek. He made sense as a suspect; unfriendly, corrupt, young and strong...and the murder had happened at his house. So of course he hadn't done it, but the police would be positive he had.

Shit. I had to do this, didn't I?

I tuned off the television and sunk lower in my chair, closed my eyes and bowed my head. Might as well get some sleep.

[blueicequeen19]

Patience is Virtue Pt. 3

Warnings: protected & unprotected sex, talk of violence

It's late when I get to her apartment. If her baby isn't with Lana then it's probably sleeping. I guess I should find out if I have a son or daughter and what's fucking name is.

The door opens slowly to reveal her beautiful exhausted face but I can't stop myself. I lunge forward, holding her body to mine as I kiss her. She moans as her legs give out so I scoop her up and plop down on the couch with her in my lap. Her arms wrap around my neck as she kisses me back, her entire body shaking.

"Rafe." She murmurs as I dive my hand down her sleep pants. She's slick and ready so I shove two fingers inside her. I kiss her quickly to conceal her cries as I finger her to a quick release.

"Rafe, we need to talk." She whimpers when I withdraw my fingers and manuever her to straddling my lap.

"After I fuck you." I growl, freeing my dick from my shorts. Her eyes bug out and she hesitates for a moment before planting her hands against my chest and pushing back.

"No, now." I stop at the determined tone in her voice. God, if I piss her off then she really won't like me.

"You going to waste this?" I tease, flashing my best smile as I rub my dick over her clothed pussy. She shudders before quickly standing and shoving her bottoms to the floor with her panties. Now I'm shaking with anticipation as I watch her. I was on the verge of shouting.

"Condom?' She asks, pushing her hair from her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not on anything." Her eyes narrow for a moment but I quickly yank a condom out of my back pocket and roll it on. Nice to know how easily I could get her pregnant though. I should've popped a hole in it before I got here.

"There," I say, holding my dick as she looks between me and him. "Now sit on it." I grab the back of her thigh and yank her forward so she practically falls on top of me.

"I need to tell you about my-my--." She gasps loudly when the head slips inside her. My grunt is muffled against her shirt. Heaven. Her pussy was literal heaven.

"About what?" I ask, hoping maybe once I start fucking her the urge to talk will go away. I thrust up into her, sheathing myself fully in her tight little channel so hard that she holds her breath for a moment, nails biting into my shoulders.

"My ex." She breathes, eyes falling closed as she savors the feeling. Although now, I'm the one pissed off. Did she really just mention another dude while my dick is inside her.

"What about him?" I snarl, grabbing her hips roughly as I roll her back and forth, her clit must be grazing my pelvis because her body is jerking against mine.

"He-he's c-crazy." She whimpers.

"So. Am. I." I can't stand it anymore. I stand and turn, dropping her onto her back on the couch before coming down on top of her still fully clothed. I bury myself inside her so hard and fast that she squeals before I quickly slap my hand over her mouth. I was going to fuck her and that chatty mouth and crazy fucking ex was not going to stop me.

My hips snap forward over and over until she wraps her legs around my waist and I lean down to capture her mouth. She kisses me urgently, like she's finally given herself over to the pleasure and gotten out of her head. I swallow all of her little sounds and mewls while her pussy swallows my cock. She's cum so many times that is running off the condom and down her ass.

When I pull back to look in her eyes just as I get mine, I see something shining in her eyes. Her gaze is swimming with emotions as she looks at me like I'm her knight in shining armor. Like I'm the answer to all her prayers. She's a broken woman and I think I've just made her fall in love with me.

I collapse on the couch next to her and pull her against me after discarding the condom. She's panting and her body still shakes as I nuzzle into her neck. My dick was still hard but I knew she needed a minute.

"That was--."

"I know." I turn her face and kiss her softly. Her eyes are heavy but I’m no where near ready to let her sleep. We needed to get this talking out of the way. “So tell me. What’s so crazy about this ex?”

I feel her body stiffen for a moment so I trail my hand up and down her arm to try and soothe her.

“He was abusive. Violent. Manipulative. He constantly accused me of cheating although he was the one cheating. He was always going through my phone or following me to work. He even had his friends keep tabs on me.” She let’s out a shaky breath and I pull her closer, kissing her shoulder.

“Then I got pregnant and I ran.”

“Does he know you were pregnant?”

“Yes. I think so. I never got the chance to actually tell him. I had morning sickness so bad that I was losing weight instead of gaining it and it was still early when I left. I’m sure he assumed.” I place my hand over her racing heart, inhaling her scent like it’s my new favorite drug.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Either of you.” She sniffles and I cup her jaw, turning her face so I can kiss her lips.

“Rafe, this is a lot. You don’t have to do this. Don’t make me your problem.” She whimpers, rolling to face me completely and dipping her tongue in my mouth. I grip her ass, hiking her leg over my hip for access as I bare my teeth.

“You are not an inconvenience,” I slide inside her and she gasps. “You’re mine.” I thrust hard, fisting the back of her hair. “Your baggage, your dirty laundry, your problems, your past, your fucking secrets. They’re all mine now too.” I fuck her hard and watch as her eyes roll back in her head.

“Oh, Rafe.” She moans, clinging to me as I fuck her through her high. Her brows pinch together like she’s in pain so I roll to put her on top of me.

“Now fuck me.” I thrust up into her, grinding her hips on me as she tries to regain herself. When I finally get to release inside her, I moan louder than she does, holding her body against mine until we’re both spent.

Later when we’ve moved to the bed and my dick is raw, I close my eyes as she traces my face with her dainty little fingers. We’re silent for awhile but thankfully there’s no need to fill the silence. Just two people existing. When I hear her let out a shaky breath, I open my eyes.

“Tell me what’s bothering you.” I whisper, kissing the tip of her nose.

“There’s one more thing you should know.” She adverts her gaze for a moment before finally looking back at me while I wait.

“He’s a cop.”

I feel her hold her breath as she waits for my reaction. There wasn’t one. If anything I fought to contain my smile. Good thing I didn’t have any problem killing a cop.

[imagination-is-key-in-my-world]

Awkward Encounters

Authors Note: At first, I was going to write this as the reader being in Tessa’s perspective but then I thought that it would be too much of a copyright. There may be some similarities to the story but I have written Tessa in as a separate party. Tessa is still with Noah in this. Also, I will be referencing parts from both the movie and the novels. In this particular fanfiction Tristan is a girl, like the movie.

Summary: You are a freshman at college and your life there started pretty normally. Your best friend is Tristan who is dating Steph who is roommates with Tessa. That was until you went to a party with Tristan and the girls. You had no idea that the mysterious British boy was going to intervene when you come face to face with the Bitch that is Molly.

Warning: Swearing

Pairing: Reader x Hardin Scott

Word Count: 4,423

“Come on Tristan, I told you.” I moan. “I can’t go to another party; I am still recovering from the last one.” I cling to a cold compress, trying my best to shield my eyes from the light that is seeping in through the open door.

Tristan threw a pack of Ibuprofen onto my lap that she snooped around in my bag for. “If it’s that bad, take one of these and get your butt out of that bed.” I groan at the impact from the small box just for the effect. “Don’t be a baby and get up.”

I roll over on the bed to face the wall. “Can’t you just go with Steph?”

“No!” She abruptly spat out. “I want to go with you. Steph is bringing Tessa and I don’t want to show up alone.”

“But you will be with her when you’re there. What’s the point in me getting out of this lovely cocoon that I have made, just to walk you to the party?”

Tristan had her head bent over, pulling her hair into a high ponytail on the top of her head. “You know that what you just said was the whole point.” She sighed. “Everyone is going to stare at me when I walk in there all on my lonesome.”

I eyed the short revealing dress that she was pulling onto her petite and envious body. “You know everyone will be staring at you no matter what if you wear that.” I laugh. “Those legs are going to be the headliner for that party.”

Tristan winked at me and continued adding more accessories to her ever-growing ensemble. “That my dear naïve British friend is the goal of this outfit.” She dropped to her knees faster than I could pry open the antibiotic wrapper. Gripping onto my hand she pulled me away from my mission to rid the world of the swirling furniture before my very eyes. “Y/N, if you do not go, I will literally never talk to you ever again.”

I raised my eyebrow at the sight before me. “Is that a promise.” I bravely say.

“Y/N! Please!”

“Fine alright. Give me five minutes.” I surrender, using every ounce of strength that I had left to lift myself from my comfy nest. “But you owe me, big time.” Tristan’s arms were around my neck faster than I could respond. Her soft lips that I am sure Steph adores, pressed against my forehead.

“I love you so much Miss Y/L/N!” She squealed.

I let out a stiff laugh as I saunter off to the bathroom to sort whatever state I currently appeared to be in.

***

“You know, when you said that this was going to be a cool night for us both? When did I factor into the equation?” I scoff, lifting the red solo cup to my lips. The bitter taste made my stomach curl, but what was worse was not drinking around all these over-the-top drunk people.

Tristan was straddling Steph on the sofa by the side of me. These two did not understand the true definition of PDA and why some people may find it uncomfortable. Including myself.

I inch further down the sofa that was unsurprisingly very sticky. If I wasn’t feeling queasy when I turned up, I certainly felt it now. I try to distract myself from the fact that I had to peel my legs from the leather material just to cross them. The sound was very unflattering.

“Why are you in my seat?” I roll my eyes the minute I recognised the irritating voice that filled me with angst and hatred from across the room. Molly Samuels. Her whole presence just irritates me, and it appears that I am not the only one with this response. I gaze over to my left to see Tessa shaking her head at the general distaste she had for the girl. I lift my cup up to Tessa who shyly mimics. ‘To stuck up bitches, ay?’ I say to myself, quietly so that she couldn’t hear.

Molly pushed Zed Evans and his girlfriend for the night out of her shitty throne causing his date to land hard on her arse. I am sure it wasn’t the first time that Molly has done this to declare her ‘power’ to the whole room. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” The blonde cried as Zed attempted to pick her up from the floor which was soaked in alcohol.

“Does this brat literally think she can talk to me right now?” Molly scoffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Turning to her so-called friends for approval of her comment and actions.

“What did you just call me?” The poor young girl shook off Zed’s protective arm and stepped right in front of Molly’s nose. Probably not the best move, but I have always found that Molly needed taking down a peg or two.

“You heard me, loud and clear” She popped her tongue on the letter ‘l’ in loud. “A little slutty brat who thinks for a second that Zed will call her back after he fucks her tonight.” Molly’s teeth were snarling almost like a wild animal.

“At least I’m not a bitchy whore who thinks that everyone here is her friend.” There were a couple ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ almost as if we were at a panto and not a college party after Zed’s girl’s response.

The second Molly let the words register her hand was leaving that poor girl’s cheek, along with a bright red handprint in its place.

“What the fuck, Molly!” I heard the words clear as day, but I never in a million years imagined that they would come from my mouth. But there I was, standing right in front of Molly, shielding the young girl from another blast to the face.

I could hear people whispering behind my back. ‘What is she doing?’ ‘Is she stupid or something?’ ‘Does she not know what Molly is like?’ Despite being close friends with Tristan, I never would have expected her to step up to defend me, especially when Molly Samuels was involved. She stayed on Steph’s lap; eyes bugged open. Utterly frozen.

“Wow Y/N? Get involved in other people’s business much? Just because your life is too sad, you feel like you can insert yourself into other people’s.” I roll my eyes at her pathetic attempt to rattle me. “You’re just a sad little virgin that no body wants around. Tristan only invited you tonight for her own benefit. Just look around, you don’t fit in here.”

I stay silent. I may have only spoken up once tonight, but that was enough for me. Frat parties are my least favourite place to be. The only reason I came here tonight was for Tristan. I should have left the minute she started making out with the red-haired beauty.

“Cat got your tongue now, bitch.” Molly’s face was inches from mine and I choked on the strong aroma of alcohol on her breath. “Oh, wait I forgot, the girl doesn’t own a backbone.” There were a few stifled laughs here and there. Zed stayed silent, as did Tristan and Steph. None of them making the effort to stand up for me. “Let me guess. Tristan batted her big eyes at you and begged you to come tonight, didn’t she? Then ditched you the moment someone prettier came into the picture.”

I gulp back the bile that I knew had risen to the back of my throat. “Why don’t you go back to your dorm. Oh, better yet, get on a fucking plane and fly back to shitty England. We could only get lucky and hope the thing crashes with you inside it.”

“That’s enough Molly!” The voice behind me held a British twang similar to my own. A voice I had only heard about but never actually seen. The bad boy, Hardin Scott.

Hardin Scott was attractive. Since I got here, I knew he was the talk of the college. Everybody knew who he was and that he wasn’t good news. His white shirt displayed his various tattoos clearly through the thin and tight fabric. His black hair was pushed back to show his piercing eyes and anger set eyebrows. His eyes never left Molly who was stood behind me.

“Oh, Hardin you know I am only messing with the virgin.” She forces a small laugh. “It’s not like I can control the planes is it.” Her head tilts to the side as her gaze locks onto mine, only to intimidate. “I mean I wish I could.” She muttered so that only the people stood around her could hear.

“Do you ever know when to stop!” Hardin barks, not acknowledging me physically. “Do you ever think that you’re the one that people don’t want around?” He questions, moving slowly across the room. I hadn’t noticed but the volume of the once booming music had been lowered to a slight hum in the background.

Hardin was now stood right beside me glaring down at Molly who mimicked his stance. “Ding Ding. Come on guys let’s just drop it!” Nate calls over when he noticed their glares on each other were far from breaking.

Molly was the first to move. “You’re right Nate.” She coos. “Let’s play a game.” She scans the room of her so-called posy who all appeared to be done with her shit for the night. “It’s Friday night. We need to play a game. I will even let the little virgin here play along, too.”

I am very aware that all the eyes were now back on me.

This wasn’t something that I wanted to be a part of. It took me what felt like an eternity to move my feet across the room to where Tristan was sitting. “I am going to head back to the dorms.” I declare quietly to her, but I can tell that they are all listening.

“No please stay, it won’t be the same if you go.” Tristan reaches for my hand which I pull away.

I don’t know why I am letting Molly’s words sink in so much. Everybody who knows her knows that she is full of herself and couldn’t give a shit who she hurts.

“No, it’s late.” It was only nine. “And I have assignments that are due.” I lie, they are all finished. “I’ll see you back at the dorm.”

I start towards the door but I can hear Tristan calling after me to stay.

As I reach the front door to the frat house, I hear Molly’s voice loud and clear. “So, Hardin truth or dare?”

***

The walk back to the dorms was anything but peaceful. The cars were loud and honking at me as they passed. Classy.

I reach for my phone in my bag. I could do with tuning out the world for this half hour walk back in the dark. But my fingers only find a vibrant red lipstick that I couldn’t pull off in a million years.

I stop dead in my tracks. This was Steph’s bag; I grabbed the wrong one during my never-ending embarrassment.

I couldn’t go back, but I couldn’t go further either. Where was I supposed to go, Steph’s key wasn’t in here so it’s not like I could sleep in her room for the night. No cash, key or phone meant that I had no other choice. I had to suck it up and go back.

“Fuuuck!” I shout, not caring that I startled an elderly woman who was placing a rubbish bag in her bin just outside her front door.

“Not a very ladylike thing to say.” I hear a mocking chuckle behind me causing me to jump out of my skin.

When I turn around, I am greeted by the tall British bad boy covered in ink standing about 6 foot in front of me.

His head cocks to the side when I don’t answer him. “You don’t say much, do you?” My eyes scan over his attire, black ripped jeans, white top, and a jet-black leather jacket. “But you do stare a lot, don’t you?” That British chuckle makes it’s second appearance tonight.

“What do you want?” I blurt out, shaking my head at the fact that I was indeed caught staring at the boy.

He steps a little closer to me, closing the gap between us ever so slowly. I watch in amazement at how sexy he makes walking look. “You left this at the party.” I hadn’t realised that he had extended his hand to reveal a clutch bag. My clutch bag.

“Oh!” I speak. “Thanks.” I take the bag from him and prepare myself for the walk back.

“Don’t take any notice of Molly. She is a bitch.”

“Yep.” I chip in, turning to walk back towards the college dorm rooms.

I only get a few steps ahead when I feel a cold sensation wrap around my bare arm. Why the fuck didn’t I bring a coat? I gaze down at the hand that is pressed to my skin. “Where are you going?” He softly says. His tone and action were not at all forceful but something about him made me shiver with fear deep inside the pit of my stomach. I was warned about Hardin Scott. Tristan said that he wasn’t exactly good news around her group of friends. Acting with his fists before connecting his words, that’s what she said at least.

“H-Home.” I stutter, half from the interaction, half from how fucking cold it was. I straighten up. “I am going home.”

“Alone?” He jumps in straight away.

I don’t answer. I just look back at his hand around my arm.

“S-sorry.” He stutters, removing his hand from my arm. “It’s just it’s a long way back to the dorms and it is late.”

I shrug my shoulders at his declaration. “I know.” I simply say and start to walk again but I am blocked by the gorgeous boy standing in front of me. “Oh fuck, you’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“No of course not!” He blurts.

“Good! Now could you” I gesture to the fact that he is stood directly in my path. He catches on to my hint and steps aside.

“You’re not going to walk there alone, are you?” His voice sounding desperate.

I spin and mockingly look around for people, lifting my hand to shield my eyes as I continue my search. This provokes a choked sigh from Hardin. Once I am satisfied with my ‘search’ I say “yep” and continue to walk.

“But it is late.” He chimes in again walking backwards trying desperately not to break my gaze as I try desperately to avoid his. “And you’re alone.”

“Yes, we have established this.” I mock, glaring at the stoned pavement or sidewalk ahead of me.

Hardin reaches both hands out in front of himself creating a wall which stops me from taking another step. “What is your problem?”

I take a step back, alarmed at his outburst. “My problem. You’re the one who has continuously blocked my way for the past ten minutes.” I bark. I try to move around him but he doesn’t budge, copying my actions to stay ahead of me.

“I am trying to offer my services.” Hardin exclaimed but then scowled at his choice of words. I too have a hard time accepting the word ‘services.’ Just as I go to argue he opens his mouth. “Fuck that’s not what I meant to say.” His hands instantly dart to push his hair back out of his face. A nervous tick I assume. What did he have to be nervous about? He is the one stalking after college girls at half 9 at night.

“Look can we start over?” He offers shoving his hands into his jacket. My arms promptly raise to cover my bare arms where goosebumps have started to form. Why didn’t I bring a jacket? “Could I possibly walk you back to the dorms?” His eyes dropped to the ground to stare at a pebble that he toyed with his shoe. Was he anxious?

“Why?” I question fairly quickly.

“I just want to make sure that you get back safe!” His tone wasn’t very friendly. I cock my head to one side. “Sorry, that came out bad.” His tone softening. “I just didn’t like the way that Molly spoke to you earlier and I also hate the fact that you would be walking back in this sketchy neighbourhood alone.”

“Fine.”

***

We walk all the way back to the dorms in silence. Hardin looked uncomfortable the entire time as if he were being forced to be here. I sure as hell did not make him.

I pull the key from my bag and slot it into the lock on the door. Pushing the door slightly open I stand with my arms still draped across my shivering body in the doorway. “Well, thanks for walking me back and bringing me my bag.”

Hardin didn’t budge. His eyes were locked on my body, traveling from my legs to my face. His face turned a shade of white when his eyes caught up to mine. “Fuck!” He announced.

“What!” I jump at his sudden change in demeaner.

“Your lips.” He gestures to my trembling lips that haven’t stopped shaking since I stepped outside of the frat house. “They are fucking blue!” Panic surges over him as he rakes his hands through his hair. “Why didn’t you say you were cold?” He started passing back and fourth in front of me.

“There wasn’t much you could do.” I counter. “My own stupid fault for not bringing a coat.”

I walk inside the room and grab a jacket and throw it on over my shaking body. Hardin enters after me and grabs my hand carefully. “Fuck lot that will do.” He picks up a towel and drags me back down the hallway.

I try to pull my arm back but it is no use. “Where the hell are you taking me?” I say a little too loud. Silently cursing myself if I may have woken up any of the other students living down this dorm.

“The showers now come on.” He tugs a little harder as his feet guide me towards the shared bathroom just a few floors down from my own.

As we reach the bathroom, Hardin throws the towel over the railing and reaches in to turn on the water. I couldn’t help but watch his every move. “Get in!” He cries. Gesturing to the box that was filling with tempting hot steam.

I hesitate. “Y/N, get in the fucking shower.” I jump, not at his tone. But at the fact that he used my name. How did he even know it? Oh right, he was at the party when Molly was insulting me. “If you don’t start undressing now, I will have to start doing it for you.”

I raise an eyebrow but decline his offer, stepping into the box and pulling the curtain across to shield my naked body.

***

Hardin was right, I needed that shower. I hadn’t realised how cold I had gotten from that walk home. I stood in that shower for what felt like half the evening.

I shut off the water and begin to pull the curtain slightly across so that I could reach for the towel that Hardin had placed on the rail when Hardin’s hand slips through holding the towel between his fingers.

“Thanks.” I mutter, draping it around my soaking body.

I step out to find that Hardin’s hair has dropped and started to stick to his forehead in places from the steam. His eyes dart up and down my body, quietly.

I am the first one to break the silence as we stand there in the shared bathroom. “So, I should um, probably get back to my room.”

I watch as Hardin lets my words break him from his still stance. “Yeah, um, after you.” He holds his arm out and follows me out of the bathroom. Something has shifted in Hardin. Tonight, I have seen him; angry, intimidating, shy, solemness and lost for words. It was a lot to take in during a short period of time.

I open the dorm door and step inside. When I hear the door shut, I jump and almost drop the towel. “Shit, sorry I didn’t mean for the door to shut so loudly.” He curses under his breath.

“It’s okay.” I mutter. I cling to the towel as I stare back at Hardin who hasn’t moved or made any effort to leave.

“Y/N?” Hardin’s voice softer than ever tonight, bringing my eyes to meet his. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What do you mean?” My words coming out slowly. His head dropped to face the floor. Was he trying to count the flecks of glitter on the carpet from Tristan’s body butter or something?

“Why didn’t you say that you were cold?” I roll my eyes, this again. Crossing my arms over my stomach.

“Like I said, there wasn’t anything you could have-”

“I could have given you my jacket.” He interjects. Taking a step closer to me. His body was merely a foot away from mine.

“But then you would have been the one with the blue lips.” I counter. Tilting my head to the side in a modest challenging manner.

This stirred something within Hardin, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I know that he isn’t used to a woman not agreeing with every word that comes out of his mouth.

I suddenly shake my head as I feel a slight chill spread up my back. I am still in my towel and now I am very much aware of that. Quickly I turn away from his locked-on gaze.

“Can I have some privacy please.” I mumble, not able to turn around to face him. “I need to, uh, get changed.” I add.

Hardin lets out a small grunt but eventually I do hear the click of my dorm-room door close. I don’t know why but I feel a shed of disappointment at the fact that he listened and actually left.

It takes my hands what feels like hours to release the tight grip that I held on to the towel. Allowing it to fall onto the floor.

“You know what-” I hear the click of the door and his voice fill my ears. I jump from my spot in the middle of the room. He doesn’t finish the sentence, instead Hardin slams the door behind him. “Fuck!” His eyes firm but glued on my body.

I quickly try to grab the towel up off the floor, but it is no use. Hardin instantly placed his foot over the soggy material. “Don’t.” He lets that one word fall from his lips as he slowly continues to decrease the distance between us.

“Hardin!” I shout. “Give-” I can’t finish my argument as I find his finger is placed over the top of my lips.

Hardin doesn’t speak, he just shakes his head. His soft hand moves from my lips and trails off to my cheek, holding me in place. My eyes locked onto his own, frozen in place. I watch as his eyes bounce from my own to my lips, seeking permission. His other hand snaked its way around and laid itself on the small of my back, pulling my naked body closer to his.

I was completely thrown off by the audacity of my body responding to his touch, bringing me to him. Everything happened in slow motion from the second we were back in my room. I knew that Hardin was trouble, everybody did. But no one actually prepares you for a moment like this. Where you are stood in front of a gorgeous guy whose whole attention you own. Did I say he was gorgeous?

I shake my head breaking the eye contact trance I was in. “Har-”

“You’re so beautiful.” He interrupts, breaking right through the barrier I was desperately trying to build. Correction, he shattered the wall to pieces and I find myself pushing my lips aggressively against his, hungry for the contact.

It takes him a second to return the haste in my actions within his own. Moving his lips to mimic the speed that I had set for him. It took no time at all for that jacket that he kept holding over me for not taking since we got back to the room to be thrown onto the floor, revealing the crisp white T-shirt underneath.

His hand wandered lower to lay slightly above my bare arse. While my hands slithered up underneath his shirt. Desperate to feel the skin underneath and to trace the ink that it held. The hand that rested on my cheek now held tightly to the back of my neck making it impossible to break the kiss, not that I wanted to.

I could stay like this forever, kissing Hardin has awoken something inside me that I didn’t even know existed. This overwhelming hunger for his contact. I tug a little on the hair on the back of his head which in response summoned a deep growl from Hardin that I didn’t think I was prepared to hear. Any sense of doubt that we should stop kissing left my mind the second I heard that sound.

“Y/N? You would not believe what you missed after-” Tristan stood in the open doorway, her mouth held open just as wide.

Fuck. I jump back from Hardin and scramble for the towel, concealing my naked form from my roommate. I look over to Hardin who didn’t look at all affected by the events in the last ten seconds.

“I can tell your busy so I will just, yeah.” Tristan steps back and shuts the door behind her.

I run into the closet and quickly throw on a set of underwear and a long-oversized shirt that came down to lie just beneath my arse. “I think it’s about time I start locking that door.” I joke as I step through the closet door.

My eyes roam the room for the handsome boy I was just making out with only to be greeted with an empty room. My shoulders fall, “I guess that’s goodbye.” I mumble, trying my best to hold myself together. Locking the door before falling onto my bed.

Part 2?

[golbrocklovely]

remember me // colby brock (pt 2)

A/N: as i mentioned before in a different post, this took me FOREVER to write. i loved writing this story but something about it just made me drag it out for so long. nonetheless, i love this and i'm excited to see what you all think. please lmk what you thought about this. thank you to everyone that has supported me and sent me kind messages. yall are the best ! hope you enjoy :) also lmk if you want another part...

prompt: she's the only one that remembers colby, or so they both thought.

trigger warning: ANGST, heartbreak, AU mention, friendship problems, cursing, happy-ish ending (but not the end...?), kissing

word count: 5526

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colby was relieved that the waitress, the only one that remembered him, decided to help. The moment she agreed, Colby gave her his number and left. She texted him not too long after, and he realized for a moment she never said her name. He planned to ask her the next day when they decided to meet up at his place.

It was weird to come back to his apartment, knowing that down the hall his best friend, his brother, lived there and didn't know who he was. Usually when Colby felt lonely, he would walk down the hall to Sam's and hang out for a bit. It was always nice to talk to Sam about anything and everything.

But now... he couldn't do that.

Colby tried to sleep during the night, but barely any rest came from it. He tossed and turned, hoping that when he would wake up, this would all just be some weird-ass nightmare.

When his cell phone rang the next morning at 9:34 A.M., it was an unfamiliar ringtone. As he rubbed his eyes awake, he glanced at the caller, the name 'Waitress' appearing on his screen.

I guess this wasn’t a dream after all.

"Yeah?" Colby groaned, squinting his eyes at the sunlight.

Her voice came through cheery, the tone too loud in Colby’s ears. “Let me up to your apartment. I'm here.”

He cleared his throat. “This early?”

“I figured you would want your normal life back as soon as possible, yeah?” She sassed.

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, give me a second. I'll come down and get you.”

Colby stumbled out of bed, running his fingers through his hair as he threw on a random shirt and jeans, slowly trudging down to the lobby of his apartment. She sat on a couch, tapping her foot against the carpeted floors. Her eyes were staring out the door, almost like she was looking at someone. When she heard Colby’s footsteps, her gaze pulled away from outside.

“Did I wake you?” She frowned, grabbing her bag next to her and standing up.

He shook his head. “You can't really be woken up if you barely slept.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She lightly bit her lip, following Colby to the elevator.

He shrugged tiredly. “It's okay.”

They both slowly got into the elevator, climbing up to Colby's floor. The loud 'ding' of the elevator broke their silence moments later. They walked to Colby's apartment, and he unlocked his door quickly.

She whistled quietly. “Woah, nice place.”

A half smile spread across Colby’s face. “Thanks.”

“No offense, but how do you pay for this place if you're not a social media person?” She questioned, stepping into the kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow. “That's... a good question. From what my mom told me over the phone yesterday, I worked all throughout high school and college, so maybe it's from that?”

“You only worked at Dairy Queen while you were in high school. You must have gotten a better job in college because there is no way you can afford this place.” She disagreed.

Colby smirked. “How'd you know I worked at Dairy Queen?”

“Well, for starters, my friend told me. And also, I did some research about you. But I'll get to that in a second.” She continued, her voice falling to a serious tone, “So... would you like to hear my theories?”

“Theories?” He puzzled.

“As to why everyone forgot about you.” The waitress explained.

Colby sat down on his barstool, exhaling. “Let's hear it.”

“Okay. For argument sakes, you're gonna have to just go with me on this. Because otherwise, I literally have no way to help you.” She started, already pacing slightly.

He cautioned. “...okay?”

“So last night, I tried to think of a reason why everyone would collectively forget about you. And the only conclusion I could come up with is that you're in an alternative universe.” She hypothesized.

Colby’s eyes widened, bugging out of his head. “A what?”

“An alternative universe. Basically, everything is pretty much the same in your life, except a few minor details,” she revealed. “That’s why you still live in this apartment, but you didn’t get here the same way you did in your other life, your real life.”

“This... it's way too early for this.” He grumbled, astonished.

She sighed, her hands resting on her hips. “The only other option is that this is a very long-winded prank that your friends are still pulling on you. Have you tried talking to any of your other friends besides Sam?”

“No, everyone else’s number is gone in my phone, which I can only assume means they don’t know me either.” Colby retorted. Then he took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “But, this doesn't make sense. How did I end up here if this isn't my life?”

“I’m not sure how you got here, but I think you’re here for a specific reason. I think you’re here to right a wrong that this Colby Brock did. I’m just… not entirely sure what that wrong might be.” She answered, unsure.

He huffed. “Okay… what am I supposed to do then? Stay here and hope we figure that out soon? I don't even know who I am in this universe.”

“And that's where my research comes into play.” She pulled a laptop from her bag quickly, placing it down on the counter and opening it. She scrolled through her browsers until she came across Colby's Facebook, which surprisingly looked active for someone who hadn't been personally on it in years.

I use Facebook? Gross.

“First, I started by seeing if you and Sam were friends on here, but that didn’t amount to much since Sam doesn’t have a Facebook. However, what I found out is that you and Sam did live in the same town, go to the same high school, and played in the same marching band. Sam talked about his early years before he was ‘famous’ in one of the first videos he posted, and I crossed referenced that with your profile and it all matches up.” She informed.

“That's strange,” he mumbled. “What did we do after high school?”

She stated. “You went off to college and majored in Business Management with a minor in Philosophy. You graduated early too.”

Me? Graduating early? I couldn’t even get through math without Sam’s help.

“What did Sam do?” He asked.

The waitress scrolled to another tab, opening it to show a search of Sam. “Well, a very quick Google search shows that he actually went to the same college as you but dropped out once his Vine career started to pick up. Then he went on to Musical.ly when Vine died. He moved out to LA in 2017 and started a YouTube channel after he met Katrina, and slowly met all of his- your, friends that way. He got a bump of followers once he started dating Kat because of her following.”

Colby’s mouth gaped at her words. “That can't be true. He would have never wanted that. I mean, I had to convince him that we should be on social media so that we could spread our message. Plus, he hates those channels that use their relationship for views.”

“Not this version of Sam. Or at least, it doesn't seem like it.” She commented.

He covered his face, groaning into his hands. “What the hell am I here for? What wrong have I done in this universe?”

Her voice low, she replied. “I think it might have to do with Sam.”

“But... he doesn't know me.” He dissented, sitting up.

She nodded. “I thought so too. However, after scrolling through all of your public photos, I found this.”

Colby squinted at the screen, an old photo of him and Sam stared back. They looked super young, probably sophomores in high school. They were both smiling, laughing at something. He vaguely remembered this day.

“So, we did know each other.” He bit his lip softly.

She hummed. “Yeah. And weirdly, it’s the only photo of the two of you on your profile. But it’s not the only strange thing.”

Scrolling to a different tab, she pulled up an old tweet of Sam’s. It read ‘Never thought you would be the one to hurt me. But I guess everyone can be surprising.’

Colby noted the date. “That was back in high school.”

“Yeah, and there’s a bunch like them. He talks about being betrayed and someone hurting him deeply. He never mentions, of course. But his tweets line up with some that you were tweeting at the same time.” She confessed.

The waitress clicked on a different tab and another tweet showed up, one from Colby’s account. He gazed at it, reading the words ‘If you hate me… imagine how I feel about myself.’

Colby’s face dropped. “Wait, what?”

“You don’t tweet that often, but when you do, you talk about righting wrongs and fixing things you fucked up.” She added, “You also hate on yourself a lot.”

He doubted, crossing his arms. “You think they’re connected?”

“I do. I think in this universe you fucked up somehow and hurt Sam. And I think you are here now to fix what the other you did.” She explained.

He ranted. “This is all so fucked! When I saw him yesterday, he acted like he didn’t even know me. How am I supposed to even go about this? What, do I just go down the hall and apologize for something I don’t even remember doing?”

“No. Sam's not in his apartment anyway. I saw him leave while I was waiting for you.” She mentioned nonchalantly.

He grunted. “Great, he could be anywhere in LA right now.”

“I know exactly where he is.” She smirked.

“What? How?” He questioned.

The waitress divulged. “This version of Sam has a favorite restaurant he goes to all the time. A lot of his fans know about it, thus one look through any of his fan accounts and you'll see it. It's called ‘Paradise’.”

“Sounds like a strip club.” Colby deadpanned.

She pouted. “It's not. But he goes there all the time, and I got us a table there last minute.”

“What exactly are we gonna do when we get there?” He crossed his arms.

“I was planning on going up to his table and talking to him, maybe asking him about you, see how he reacts.” She described.

Colby furrowed his brow, confused. “And what about me?”

She slid her laptop into her bag, zipping it up hastily. “Well… I didn’t really think that far ahead. But hopefully, whatever you did is forgivable, and we can just fix it right there.”

He murmured. “That's a lot to hope for.”

“It's better than sitting here and wasting daylight.” She grabbed her stuff and headed for the door. Colby followed suit, grabbing his keys.

He spoke as he locked his door. “What if this doesn’t work?”

She turned back to him. “It will. It has to.”

~~~

Paradise was a themed restaurant, which Colby thought was strange because his Sam never really liked those types of restaurants. The theme was nice, however, tropical and Hawaiian. It felt like something he, Sam, and a few friends would have gone to after a fun, drunk night.

As Colby and the waitress were escorted to their table, they both kept an eye out for Sam, glancing around nervously for the blonde boy.

“I think the worst thing about this universe version of me is how messy my car is,” Colby joked. “It’s like I live out of it.”

She shrugged, smiling. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You should see my real car. My honey wagon is spotless.” He expressed, waving his hand.

“Honey wagon?” She queried.

“Long story,” he chuckled. Then abruptly, he gasped. “Holy shit, I just realized I never got your name.”

She cocked her head. “What? I never told you?”

He blinked. “No.”

She started. “It's-”

“Hi, I'm Tony, I'll be your server for today. Can I get you something to drink to start you guys off?” Tony greeted, cutting her off.

“Yeah, sure. A water for me.” She blurted out.

Colby added. “Coke, please.”

Tony smiled. “Okay, coming right up.”

Once Tony left, the waitress started scoping out for Sam again, her eyes widening once she saw him.

Her body stiffened, turning back to Colby. “He's over there, three tables down to your left.”

Colby gazed over his shoulder at his friend. Sam looked lost in thought, staring at his phone as he ate his food.

“Why is he alone?” He muttered.

“From some of the blogs I read, he likes to go out and eat by himself. Also, apparently, him and Kat are on the rocks.” She admitted.

“They love each other so much, it's kinda gross to be around them sometimes,” He quipped, but shook his head. “So to hear that...”

“I'm gonna head over.” She announced quickly.

Before he could speak, she left the booth. Colby watched her walk over to Sam, listening closely to their conversation as he ducked his head down.

“Hey... sorry to bother you, but are you Sam Golbach?” She asked sweetly.

“Yeah I am. Did you want something?” Sam stared blankly at her.

“Um, yeah?” She almost scoffed at his tone. “I’m a huge fan and I know this might be a weird question, but do you know someone named Colby Brock?”

Sam’s face remained stoic, but his eyes intensified. “No, I've never heard of that name before.”

“Are you sure, because I'm pretty certain that you and him are best friends.” She insisted.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Colby watched nervously as she pulled out her phone and showed Sam the photo. Sam scrunched up his face, his eyes scanning the image. “Yeah, no. Still don’t know who he is. What was his name again?”

“Colby Brock.” She stated.

“...Sorry. I’ve never heard a name like that before.” He mumbled, almost inaudibly. “Sounds stupid anyway.”

She cocked her head. “Wait, what?”

Colby clenched his fist, unable to hear this conversation any longer. He needed to come face-to-face with Sam. He slid out of his seat, walking hastily over to Sam and the waitress. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he gaped at Colby.

“Sam…” Colby started.

Sam growled. “Are you fucking serious, Colby? Did you really have to get one of my fans involved?”

“What?” Colby puzzled.

Sam jumped out of his seat, grabbing Colby’s arm and pulling him out of the restaurant. The waitress followed behind them, confused just as much as Colby. Sam’s feet stopped behind the back door of the building, turning to Colby without warning.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sam barked.

Colby stepped back, surprised by Sam’s anger. “...Uh, I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Sam scoffed. “Why the fuck are you here? After all this time?”

“So, you do remember me.” Colby remarked.

“Yeah, I do. When you showed up at my place yesterday, it took me a minute to realize it was you, since you decided to dress up like a Hot Topic employee, but yeah, I knew it was you. Are you really gonna pretend in front of her that we don’t know each other?” Sam teared his eyes away from Colby’s, staring at the waitress suddenly. “Let me guess, he hasn’t told you the whole story, right?”

“I guess not.” She shrugged uncomfortably.

Sam chuckled darkly. “Of course not. If he told the whole story, he would have to admit he was an asshole, and God knows he’s not gonna do that.”

“What are you talking about?” Colby panted.

“Do you not remember? Well, I’ll give you a refresher. You and I became friends freshman year of high school. You were my best friend and I was yours. I trusted you. I trusted you with a lot of shit that I’ve never told anyone. Senior year of high school, right before we were about to graduate, right as we were starting a social media career, suddenly you don’t want anything to do with me; which would have been bad enough, but then I go and find out you and my girlfriend were hooking up behind my back,” Sam snapped, catching his breath for a moment. “So yeah, I remember you, Colby.”

Colby’s mouth fell open, his breathing speeding up.

None of this sounds like me. I would never hurt Sam like that.

“And now, you have the fucking audacity to show up when everything in my life is going great and I’m succeeding. I have fans, friends, and a girlfriend that all love and care about me, and you’re here trying to what? Stir up drama? Get some clout from me?” He demanded.

“If your friends and girlfriend love you, why are you eating all alone?” The waitress jeered.

Sam glared at her, biting his tongue. “And you made one of my fans hate me. Dope, dude.”

“Sam, look; I’m sorry for what I did. But that was years ago. I’m not who I was back then.” Colby choked out.

“I don’t care. I don’t want you in my life. Do you not understand what you did to me?” Sam persisted.

“I know I was an asshole, and I apologize for ever hurting you like that. But I miss you, and I want to work things out. Let me prove to you that I’m better.” He trembled, getting closer to Sam.

Sam backed up, blocking Colby. “No. No! You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to miss a relationship you fucked up. It took me years to trust again. Hell, I’m still going through it. You don’t get to decide whether or not you’re in my life. Not anymore.”

“Sam… please.” Colby whimpered.

“Don’t show up at my place again. Don’t talk to my fans about me. Don’t act like you care about me. Because I’m done,” Sam stared into Colby’s eyes before going back into the restaurant. “I don’t care about you. Fuck off forever and leave me alone.”

Sam’s words punched Colby hard, taking the breath out of him instantly. He caught himself against the wall, his legs turning to gelatin under his weight.

He stuttered. “I… gotta leave. I-I have to…”

“Colby, relax. It’s gonna be okay.” She grabbed his hand.

He shook off her embrace. “What? No it’s not! Did you not hear what he said? Why would he want to be friends with a piece of shit like me?!”

“You were eighteen when this all happened. Give yourself a break.” She argued.

“No. I’m fucking terrible. This version of me is terrible. Of course he doesn’t want to be friends with me! I don’t even want to be me.” His voice quivered with anger, his body racing away from her.

She furrowed her brows, trying to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“I just need to leave. I can’t be here right now!” He grunted, his pace picking up.

She called after him, but Colby didn’t care. His heart slammed against his chest over and over again. Tears weld up into his eyes, blurring his vision as he began to run. He wanted to keep running until his legs gave out, until he couldn’t remember all the words Sam had said to him.

It dawned to Colby how much worse this universe was.

He wasn’t just stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t know him.

He was stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t want to know him.

In a universe where Sam didn’t love him.

And he had no way of escaping.

Colby must have blacked out while he ran, somehow maintaining to stay upright, because once his thoughts started to subside, and his body basically gave out under him, he noticed he was in a part of LA he had never been before. Some random neighborhood that was unfamiliar.

He shoved his body up against a metal telephone pole, sliding down to the ground. He tried catching his breath, gulping back breaths as he forced down the nausea overwhelming his senses. He wiped his face with his sleeve, feeling more tears rush down his cheeks.

His throat and chest burned with each sharp inhale. He whimpered into his hands, covering his face from the slowly retreating sun.

He slid his phone out of his pocket once he caught his breath, calling the only number he knew.

“Hey honey. What’s up?” His mom’s voice rang back sweetly.

Colby’s voice was monotone, exhausted. “You know who Sam is, don’t you?”

The line went quiet for a moment, all Colby could hear was her light breath.

“You told me not to talk about him. After you two stopped being friends, you said you never wanted to hear his name again.” She exhaled deeply, “I was taken aback when you asked about him yesterday.”

“He’s out here… in LA.” He responded.

She gasped lightly. “Did you run into him?”

He laughed bitterly. “You could say that.”

“Oh, Colby. I’m so sorry.” His mother consoled.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, mama. I just…” Colby trailed off, unable to explain.

“Why don’t you come home this weekend?” She offered. “I miss you, you know.”

“I would love to. But…” His chest heaved as hot tears drifted down his cheeks. “That’s not my home.”

“Nonsense. You will always have a home here.” She assured him, her voice almost trembling.

He wiped a fallen tear, a broken smile coming to his face. “That’s good to know. I love you.”

She hummed. “I love you too, baby. Call me again soon.”

“I will. Bye.” He uttered breathlessly.

The sky was getting darker and darker, and Colby remained against the phone pole. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but suddenly his phone vibrated, a new message from ‘Waitress’ asking where he was. He sent his location, and she arrived twenty minutes later in his car. He stood up, stumbling to his passenger door. His legs were weak from the sprinting he had just done. As he got in, the cool AC blasted the sweat and tears off his face.

They didn’t speak, a quiet radio station playing in the background the only sound. She drove through the hills of LA, eventually hitting a peak. She parked the car as it overlooked LA, the lights looking like stars on the horizon.

She got out a minute later, walking over to the hood and leaning against it. He could see something in her hand but didn’t recognize it. Colby sat in the car by himself, not able to physically move his body from how exhausted he felt. Eventually, he achingly stepped out of the car, sitting next to her on the hood.

“I’m fucked.” Colby breathed.

She started. “I don’t think-”

“Please don’t try to make me feel better. I know you mean well, but I am fucked,” he rebutted, his voice dark. “I’m stuck here, in this universe, where Sam hates me. And as if that weren’t bad enough, I did terrible things, things I know I would never do to him. How the fuck am I supposed to apologize for those mistakes? I wouldn’t take him back if the roles were reversed.”

“Read this.” The waitress stated, handing him a journal.

He glanced down at the leather-bound book, slightly faded from years of writing. He unclicked the lock and opened it, looking down at the pages. It was his, a journal full of writings he had done.

“Where did you get this?” He inquired.

“You were right about your car being messy. But you’d be surprised what you fine if you just look.” She teased.

Colby read over the words, the first entry catching his eye. It was dated a year after him and Sam had graduated high school.

Sam is succeeding without me. I knew he would. He was always so smart when it came to business decisions. He just hit 10k followers on Vine. That’s crazy!

“What the hell is this?” Colby questioned.

She answered quickly. “This whole journal was you keeping up with Sam without him knowing. This version of you always paid attention to what he was doing, even if you guys were no longer friends.”

“I’m obsessed with Sam? That’s great.” He deadpanned.

“You’re not obsessed with Sam. Read this entry.” She skipped a handful of pages, finally stopping on one and showing it to him.

I hate myself everyday for the hurt I caused Sam. I can’t believe what an idiot I was back when I was 18. We could have gone so far together… but I had to go and fuck it up.

He scowled. “Am I supposed to be sad for myself?”

“Keep reading.” She pushed.

The night I chose to never speak to Sam again, I knew I made the wrong decision. But I had to. Sam was ready to go on and do bigger and better things. I was just gonna hold him back. I was terrified of failing, not only myself, but him. He deserves success. That’s why I had to ignore him. I have never been as smart as him. I would have ruined our chances of doing something great. And I have been proven right by how far he has gone without me.

“You stopped being his friend because you were scared, not because you didn’t care anymore.” She repeated.

He slid off the car, scoffing. “So what if I was scared to fail? Sam didn’t deserve the hurt I caused just because of that. And what about me cheating with his girlfriend?”

She jumped off the car, striding up to Colby. She grabbed the journal from his hand. “You didn’t cheat, look.”

She pointed at the bottom of the page, his eyes following her finger.

“Me and Lexi were never together! I hate her for telling him that. One night, they had a really big fight and she came over to my house to ask what she should do. I told her to break up with him if she really didn’t care anymore. And then she tried to hit on me. I told her off and threatened to tell Sam, but she got to him first. She must have told him her and I were together.” The waitress read aloud.

“Wait, if I never hooked up with his girlfriend, why wouldn’t I tell him that?” Colby hissed.

“I think at that point, you wanted the friendship to be over, and I think this solidified it.” The waitress responded.

“All this time I could have been friends with Sam, but I ruined it because I was scared? What a fucking idiot.” He spat.

“You weren’t an idiot,” She interjected. “You just disliked yourself so much you didn’t think you deserved happiness. At least now you know that this version of you isn’t as terrible as you thought.”

“Even with that being the case, Sam’s never gonna accept my apology. Why should he?” Colby lamented, “I let him down the worst ways. I broke his trust and loyalty.”

She shook her head, stepping towards him. “Give him some time. You might be surprised."

Before Colby could speak, his phone rang. He took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the number. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Did you really mean it when you said you were sorry?” Sam spoke, his tone hesitant, but dry.

His breath hitched at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Of course. I never meant to hurt you, Sam.”

Sam paused for a moment, before breathing out. “I’m giving you one more chance. Tomorrow. Come by my place. You apparently know where I live.”

“Yeah,” Colby laughed awkwardly. “I’ll come by. Thank you… Sam.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll see you later.” Sam stated, hanging up.

Once the call ended, Colby’s eyes stared down at his phone widely. He almost couldn’t believe that happened.

He inhaled sharply. “Sam just called me. He wants to meet me tomorrow.”

“That’s great.” Her voice just above a whisper.

“He wants to hear me out… he wants to give me another chance.” His face dropped with confusion. “How did he get my number?”

It hit Colby like a brick as he gazed up at the waitress, who bit her lip hiding her smile. “You…?”

“You weren’t the first person I showed the journal to,” she explained. “When you ran off, I was gonna go after you. As I got in your car, I saw this journal sticking out from under your seat. I read through it and… I knew I had to show Sam. I went back in and talked to him for an hour, showing him how much you were actually sorry. How much you had beat yourself up over hurting him. And then I gave him your number. I wasn’t sure if he was gonna call but-”

“Oh my God, you’re amazing!” Colby ran up to her, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around. She gripped his shoulders tightly as they spun, laughing loudly into his ear. As her feet touched the ground, he stared into her eyes, his smile the brightest she had ever seen it. His hands glided up her body to her face, cupping her cheeks quickly. He smashed his lips against hers, his heart pounding as he did. Her hands lowered to his chest, her grasp on his shirt tightened as she felt herself lose her footing and back up into the car.

As they stumbled, he realized what he was doing, pulling away quickly. “Shit… I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s okay,” She giggled. “I’m just… surprised.”

He exhaled, letting his arms fall away from her body. “Me too.”

They leaned against the car, keeping a slight distance from each other. A light blush rested on both their faces; however, it was hard to see with the setting sun, something they were both grateful for.

The waitress sighed, breaking the moment of silence. “I think I know why this happened. Why I was the only one who remembered you…”

He raised an eyebrow, slightly side-eyeing her. “Really?”

“I lied to you when we first met. I wanted to seem a bit cooler than I am, but I don’t think I can hide that anymore.” She began, nervously.

Colby’s face relaxed a little, surprised at her words. “Okay.”

“My friend didn’t introduce me to you guys… I introduced her… to you.” She confessed.

A soft grin came to his face. “I had a feeling.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did! I totally did,” he snickered. “Not every fan knows I worked at Dairy Queen. And… no average fan would have helped me get Sam back the way you did.”

“I think there’s a reason for all of this. I think in your universe, your life… you don’t know me.” Her voice dropped suddenly, making Colby turn to her.

“That’s true, I don’t.” He nodded.

Her eyes met his, a sad glint reflecting in the moonlight. “But I think the reason for that is because… you’re not supposed to.”

“What do you mean?” He replied, his face twisting in confusion.

“I think you and I are only supposed to have met here, in this universe. But not in yours.” She glared up at the sky, “Maybe in some weird way, I’m your guardian or guide or something.”

Colby’s thoughts raced. “So, what you’re saying is-“

“This might be the last time you’ll ever see me. You did what you had to do. You got Sam and you to talk again.” Her voice cracked as she held back tears, “You can go home.”

He grabbed her hands, holding them close to his body. “But… I don’t want to leave if it means I don’t know you.”

A hitched breath fell from her lips, a smile appearing from his words. “If we’re meant to be, we’ll see each other again.”

“That’s not fair.” He shook his head, a deep frown settling on his face.

“I know, but it’s how it has to be.” She whispered.

He rested his forehead against her, breathing deeply. “Can I… get one more kiss?”

She bit her lip softly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They leaned in, his breath fanning across her lips for a split second before he pulled away.

“Wait…” He shuddered. “I never got your name.”

A soft smile came to her lips. “I’ll tell you after.”

His arms wrapped around her, pressing her body into his as their lips collided. He held onto her for dear life, terrified that the moment he pulled away, she would be gone.

He could feel things around him slow down, almost melting away, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the beauty of their kiss making him dizzy. A whirling silence overcame his senses. A burning sensation sliced through his abdomen; his breath ripped from his lungs.

A heavy darkness overtook his vision and for the briefest of moments, he felt absolutely nothing.

Except her lips.

<< |

[crowdedimagines]

Spill It - Harry Styles

an// i literally love the spill your guts concept, but hopefully this is a new take on it! also, this is not going to be chronologically correct to real life, that’s the fun of fiction! also in a world without covid

“I will never understand how you continue to convince people to do this.” I sigh, taking in the table in front of me.

“Let’s take a look at what Y/n here is so fond of.” James teases before giving the table a good spin, showing off all of its contents, “To start we’ve got salmon smoothie, beef tongue, bird saliva, scorpion, fish head, hot sauce, bull penis, and finally, the water beetle. I think you’re both familiar with the rules of this game.”

“I’m sure.” Niall smiles, turning his head towards mine and I nod in agreement.

Niall and I go way back, having been friends for years. We met back in 2013 when I opened for One Direction’s tour. I quickly become close with all of them. One more so than the others. Harry. He and I just clicked, everyone knew it. It took months for us to start dating, afraid that we would ruin the good thing we had, but neither of us wanted to wait anymore. You can’t pass up a connection like that.

“Niall, I will ask you the first question.” James announces, “We’ll go with the salmon smoothie.”

“Oh god.” He mutters.

James lets out a loud laugh and covers his face in shock over the question. He turns it to me so I can catch a glimpse before he reads it out-loud and my jaw drops.

“You might as well drink now, not even hear the question.” I tease, leaning across the table.

“Niall, who is your least favorite member of One Direction?”

Niall’s head drops in defeat, even though he was sure going into this a question like this would be brought up. He just wishes it could’ve been on something a little easier to choke down.

“Drink up, babe.” I smile, a teasing smile crossing my face.

“Fuck.” He shakes his head.

“I can’t… “ He reaches for the glass and throws it back, it takes a few seconds for the sludge to finally shift and he can get a mouthful. A sour look takes over his face as soon as it reaches his taste buds. He quickly leans down to spit it in the bucket.

“That’s horrendous.” He coughs, “It was like a salmon yogurt.”

“Alright Niall, your turn to ask Y/n.”

I smile politely to my friend of many years who takes on a sinister look once he’s read the question.

“Please be nice.” I stick out my bottom lip.

“Right right.” He laughs, spinning the table as he takes in his options.

“Don’t forget I have a very good memory, especially of the years spent on a shared tour bus…” I chaff.

“Don’t remind me.” He settles on the hot sauce, thankfully one of the lesser evil options. I would take this over anything else on the table.

I did crash on their bus more than my own. It started because they were fun, barely older than me, but then when Harry and I started dating we became. Even sharing a bunk as uncomfortable as it was most nights. Those boys grew up with me, and I’m thankful to still be in good contact with all of them.

“You recently welcomed your third god-child into the world when Zayn Malik and Gigi Hadid welcomed their daughter to the world.”

“Yes, I did.” I smile at the cheering audience. I have managed to do the impossible in staying close with all of the boys since the hiatus. Well, all but one. Gigi and I met years ago, and I introduced the pair at an award show. The other boys had their reason for making me god mother, but it did give me this monopoly on all of the One Direction children. 

“You are actually the god-mother to all three of the One Direction children. Who’s your favorite?”

My jaw drops at the question. Who had the audacity to ask that? To think I could ever answer that about any of my little nieces and nephews. The audience cheers in shock over the question as well.

“You’re joking.” I scoff, “They’re children, I could never pick a favorite!”

“How about your least favorite then?” James teases.

“You lot are all horrendous!”

I grab the shot glass and down the hot sauce immediately. I love all of them way too much to ever pick. I’m sure it’s exactly what they expected with a question like that. It burns for a few seconds and I put the glass back and try to shake it off.

“Nice one!” Niall cheers.

“Now James-” I clear my throat, the hot sauce catching up with me, “Name one guest that you would never invite back to the show.” I bite back a smile and fan my face with the card.  

James looks up into the camera as if he actually wants to answer.

“C’mon, you can do it! Just for once.” I grin like a little kid in a candy store, I want him to answer. I want to know, and it would be nice to finally get him to reveal an answer like this.

“Are you trying to get this show canceled?” He turns to one of the producers off screen. He looks between them and the water beetle I’ve placed in front of him. He gives his head one last shake before throwing it down the hatch.

“Niall, it’s your last night on Earth, you can either spend it with your ex girlfriend Ellie Goulding or Selena Gomez?”

He goes back and forth, trying to be polite with his answer before eventually picking Ellie.

“Y/n, who is your favorite member of One Direction?” Niall asks, the smirk growing wider with every word he utters.

The crowd roars, knowing very well of my relationship from a few years ago. One that people still brought up regularly in both Harry and my life due to us remaining friendly. 

“What is up with you guys wanting to know my favorites?” I roll my eyes, “Give me something I can actually answer.”

“Fine! I’ll ask you one!” Niall grins, an evil and family glint in his eyes appearing, “What songs have you written about Harry?”

A red hue takes over my face again, only this time it’s not from the hot sauce.

“Either that, or the bird saliva.” He grins, showing off a wide smile. If only we weren’t on national television and I could smack it off.

“It smells like wet dog.” I sigh, I pick it up giving it a whiff before setting it back down on the table, “Could I name one song?”

Niall and James exchange a look before the nod accepting it. 

“I wrote the song Everything about him.” I smile. It shouldn’t exactly be a surprise to most people, there were clues. Both of our fans were smart enough to catch on and read between the lines. It was a song I released almost two years ago, the album following our breakup.

It was a powerful song, it quickly became one of the favorites of my fans. It’s also one of the few that I don’t perform. I can’t think of a time I’ve sung that song without crying, it wasn’t meant for the stage. It was meant to be played in your bedroom while you stare at your ceiling. People have always understood that. 

“It’s a lovely song.” Niall smiles knowingly.

“Thank you.” I smile, I move on and reach out to ask James his question.

“James, you have been blessed to have both Niall and I on for carpool karaoke.” I smile at Niall, “Which one did you enjoy more?”

I can’t fight off the laughter that takes over. As if it isn’t hard enough to answer questions like these, it’s only upped the ante by having us both here.

“You’re kidding.” He dabs away the sweat on his forehead.

“It’s okay, Niall won’t be that offended.” I reassure and stick out my tongue at Niall.

“You’re an arse.” Niall laughs with the roll of his eyes.

In the middle of Niall and I acting like children bickering, James tears off a bite of the cows tongue without another word.

“Oh god.” I turn away from the unpleasant sight.

“That’s rank.” Niall huffs.

Niall answers his next question from James again, successfully getting away without eating anything.

“Y/n, if the past four years you have gotten into acting. You have made quite a name for yourself on the big screen as well as on the stage.” Niall begins.

“I don’t like where this is going.” I laugh.

“Rank your co-stars from your past films best to worst; Dylan O’Brian, Logan Lerman, and John Boyega.” Niall smacks his knee with a laugh.

“I have been blessed to work with so many talented actors” I start, picking up the terrifying looking bug that has been placed in front of me.

“Mhm.” James agrees with an evil smile on his face.

“So talented, that I could never rank them.” I throw back the scorpion before I can second guess myself. I manage to chew enough of it for it to count before spitting it out as gracefully as I can.

That’s a wrap after that, enough time getting juicy content out of us quite literally either spilling or filling our guts. I give Niall a hug before going back to my dressing room. I couldn’t be more thankful to share the couch tonight with a long time friend.

I drive home, eager to go home and relax. The episode won’t air until later tonight which gives me a couple hours of peace from Twitter. I take a bath and make myself some dinner, before eventually climbing into bed and turning on the TV to watch the episode.

It’s good, fun to watch back. Niall and I make a good pair, easy to read the friendship on camera. In time the episode ends and I turn off the TV and decide to go to bed. It’s been a long day full of press. Before I can actually drift off my phone lighting up and vibrating on my nightstand grabs my attention.

You are my everything too. xx

PART TWO??????

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

So this is a personal one for me to ask and if you're not comfortable with it don't mind it; how would the tmnt boys (seperate) react when the reader confesses that they're autistic after the boys got curious when she had some peculiar, behavior or stims. The reader would be stressed, because she has a crush on the tmnt boy in question and she didn't want them to find her weird or just stop interacting with her. When she's met with confusion instead, because the boys never heard of it, cue this weird conversation where reader tells them to the best of her ability what it is and the boys just keep asking questions. Also some general headcannons with it maybe?

Okay so I'm actually really happy that you asked me this because I feel like ASD isn't portrayed a lot in any type of media. My ADD and ASD have a lot of overlap so I hope I can capture what you're asking of me!

Now let's get into it!

TMNT Headcanons

The boys reacting to an autistic reader

Leonardo

he wasn't really sure what was happening the first time you reacted

one minute you were standing next to him doing dishes and the next you were attempting to claw your skin off like an angry cat

Leo tried not to look annoyed as he watched you rub your hands against your shirt until your flesh started to turn red

you looked like you were crying but he knew you weren't

but your face was starting to turn purple and your cheeks were puffy from the effort of holding your breath

"Y/N? You need to breathe."

You shot a glare at him, scathing eyes meeting his now very concerned expression

your own softened and you clutched your arms to your chest, heaving oxygen into your lungs until your face became a normal shade again

"Are you okay?"

The words were stuck in your throat and you weren't sure if you should nod or shake your head

so you gave him a half-hearted shrug

he frowned back at you but turned to finish the dishes on his own

when he questioned you about it later he couldn't help but be curious

"Well actually it's uh- it's kinda a sensory type of thing? There are certain textures that I can't stand touching do I avoid them but if I come into contact by accident my brain just kinda explodes and I shut down."

"How exactly does that work though?"

"I don't really understand it much but like- you know that feeling you get when you think there's a bug on you and there's not but it really really feels like it?"

He nodded

"Yeah, it feels like that. And anytime I touch something that triggers that reaction it takes FOREVER to get the feeling off my skin. That's why I usually wear gloves when I do dishes. Guess I just forgot to grab 'em today."

He was sympathetic

and god, you were so embarrassed

lucky for you, Leo's not an asshole

"Well thank you for explaining it to me, you really freaked me out earlier. I'll talk to April and see if we can keep a pair or two at the lair just in case you forget again."

Consider your heart melted

you couldn't even find the words to thank him and holy shit was your face red

"Hey y/n?"

"Yeah Leo?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me- us that you were autistic?"

Did you rip the band aid off now or make something up? Which would ,technically speaking, be less catastrophic in the long run?

"I uh- I really like you and I really didn't want you or the other's to look at me differently..."

wow, you liked him? miss ma'am you have saved this boy a world of anxiety and damn does he thank you for it

"Thanks for telling me... and y/n? I really like you to."

Awh fuck yeah, best possible execution of band aid-ripping-off ever

Donatello

Donnie wished he could act surprised when you finally told him

he really wanted to, it would've made you feel better for sure

but he sucked at lying and he didn't want to make you feel like he thought you were an idiot

because that was so far from the truth

after going through extensive research on Mikey's behalf when he suspected he had ADHD Donnie had stumbled across many different websites that discussed the symptoms and overlaps between both disorders

to make a long story short, Donnie knew that you had ASD and he was waiting for you to tell him

it would probably come off as rude if he brought it up in conversation right?

he didn't want to risk it

but that didn't stop him from keeping an eye on you and your behaviors

he was a man of science, of course he was going to analyze you

not in a weird way or anything, just as a curious sort of precaution

but the longer you were involved in the turtle's lives the more noticeable your stims and meltdowns got, Donnie did his best to cover for you without making you suspicious of him

eventually he'd come up with something that he hoped would come across as a friendly gesture and wouldn't set you off or scare you away

it was game night at the lair and you, as always, were perched on the arm of the sofa, a large grin plastered on your face

inside your head was exploding but you were masking it pretty well if you do say so yourself

but Donnie was, well... donnie was donnie

so when he noticed you starting to rock a little more visibly he removed his attention from commentating the game and grabbed a pair of headphones from the side table

you were beyond confused when he passed them to you but your face revealed everything

"They're noise cancelling, try them on."

holy shit it was like putting your head underwater, everything was muffled

not in the way normal headphones did, you quite literally couldn't hear anything at all, just a calm amount of nothing

you nearly started crying when you realized that Donnie had figured you out on his own

but you'd never been more relieved about anything in your life

Raphael

he wouldn't admit that he was mesmerized by your presence

you practically radiated calm

his complete opposite

it was his favorite thing about you, because despite your quiet disposition and calming aura you weren't afraid to call him out or rebut any of his insults

this was not something you expected him to appreciate nor was it something you thought would make you catch feelings

but damn if you didn't

he'd been sitting in on yours and Donnie's little experiment for an hour or so now, watching you both exchange quiet whispers and inside jokes that you always seemed to lag on

then you slipped up

not bad, nothing detrimental to the project, just the same mistake that you'd already made ten times over

you might as well have exploded

"Y'N, you just have to move thi-"

"I KNOW DONATELLO. I FUCKING KNOW AND I JUST CAN'T DO THIS BULLSHIT!"

you set everything down gently enough to avoid breaking it before turning and storming out of the lab, waving your hands like they were on fire

Raph and Donnie exchanged a look that sent the larger red turtle following after you

when you calmed yourself down enough to talk you kept your gaze locked on the wall, explaining that you couldn't make eye contact when you were upset

he might not be the smartest brother, but Raph's no dummy, he put those pieces together pretty quickly after you told him that one small detail

he wasn't upset that you didn't tell him and you'd personally never been more relieved

your heart nearly splattered into the stratosphere when you finally gace him your own explanation

"yeah, I like ya too."

you grinned so wide you were sure your face would split open and your entire body rocked side to side with excitement

he thought that was pretty adorable too

And he did stick around to offer a bit of support when you apologized to Donnie for screaming at him

Michaelangelo

to be frank it probably shouldn't have taken so long for Mikey to realize that you were autistic

the similarities between your own personality and his ADHD were so in sight it was near painful

it was his turn to make dinner that night and you'd made sure that you came over early to help him set up, you knew how side-tracked he'd get and you were the poster child for solid routine

what more perfect matchup existed?

trick question, there isn't one

you were on one side of the counter cutting vegetables and he was on the other throwing said vegetables into the mixing pot

the music was at an ungodly level of loud so your only means of communication were screaming over it

"MIKEY."

"WHA?"

"YOU GOT THE-"

"YEAH."

"AND THE-"

"UH HUH."

"COOL, HAVE YOU SEEN THE-"

"TONGS? NO, THE SKEWERS. YEAH, THEY'RE IN THE OTHER DRAWER."

"THANKS."

the two of you went about your previous tasks, thinking nothing of the conversation that had just taken place

at least until you'd begun washing your knife and cutting board

that's when Casey walked in, looking both perturbed and annoyed at the same time

"Alright, which one of you knows telepathy?"

Mikey exchanged a glance with you and you returned it with a raised eyebrow

"The hell you mean brah?"

he looked at the both of you like you were the ones that had grown four extra heads before speaking again

"You literally just had a conversation with like five words and somehow just knew what the other meant? What's up with that?"

you glanced at Mikey again

"Holy shit, did we?"

"I mean, not really. You used your hands."

now all three of you were confused but it quickly became two when Casey shook his head in defeat and left the room

"You know I think he's right."

he blinked first and your staring contest ended

"But you used your hands-"

"I got autism Mikey, one does not simply not use their hands as forms of speech."

"You're-"

"Yep."

was the silence laughing at you? could it do that? it was kinda rude

"Huh, that actually makes sense, that's not mean is it?"

you shook your head no

"You're just me but fast."

Mikey agreed with that, pestered you with a few more questions, and went back about working, as did you, you saw no reason to address it further

but your cheeks burned red

"Yo- Y/N that actually explains why everyone else thinks we're a thing."

you didn't know if you could choke on air or not but you did it anyways

"Are we?"

he gave you his signature grin

"If we are then Raph owes April a hundred bucks."

you returned his smile

"Oh this oughta be good."

I'd like to preface this by apologizing for my near three week absence. Life got crazy and my writer's block hopped on a train, went through a school zone, killed seven pedestrians, and committed tax fraud before tumbling off a cliff never to be seen again.

But on the bright side- I got my SAT scores back and started some scholarship applications. Super happy with that. School's out in a few weeks so I'll be able to write more (hopefully).

Anyways, I hope I got this one down okay. I may have hyper analyzed the request so I might be a little off. But I really enjoyed doing this one and I hope you like it!

-Mars 🌠

[liitlesunshiine]

High on the clock

Quirkless AU - Toya Todoroki

Warnings: cursing, drug use, anxiety, panic attack mention, suggestive themes, slight sexual themes 

A fun light hearted fic. Definitely enjoyed writing this piece so I hope you guys enjoy reading it. ^.^ It’s flirty n cute n Toya is a total bae. <3 

You and Toya are coworkers who try making the most out of your shitty job. 

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

“Goddd this place fuckin blows.” You groaned in frustration sitting across Toya. 

“As if I didn’t know that already,” he sleeplishly replied. 

You never intended on working in this shit show of a store for as long as you have but yet, here you were two wasted years later. You had high hopes after graduation but it seems no job wants to hire someone with no experience and you can’t get any experience since you can’t get an actual job that’ll provide it. So it’s forced you in this sort of awkward limbo and vicious cycle of going back and forth. You’ve been stuck wearing this shitty bright uniform with a barely livable wage and terrible hours. Miserable every second of the day, with the constant guilt eating at you for being so complacent. 

Of course there were a few exceptions.

Of course… Like the highly attractive coworker you spent most of your time here with. Days spent with Toya were significantly better than the days spent without Toya. In fact, if it weren’t for him, you’d probably wouldn’t have lasted as long as you had here. Because man, when days were good they were ok, but when the days were bad, they were really fucking bad.  Some in which you were ready to burn down everyone and everything yet the sweet, hot, god-like Toya would make you melt with his cute quirky smile and meet your eyes with his own that you would absolutely drown in and next thing you know, you had completely forgotten about what you were upset over. Now, it’s just a bonus that he meets your sarcasm with his own, the both of you have always had this flirty like atmosphere that neither of you are willing to acknowledge but low key kinda know there’s an underlying sexual tension there. It was strange how well you both got along, the average onlooker would assume nothing more than a simple boyfriend and girlfriend relationship but it was really just mutual likability and connection between the two of you. Days with Toya were simply good days. And you were absolutely grateful for someone like him because god knows how terrible it’d really be here without him.

“Why don’t we make this night a bit memorable,” Toya who was right next to you behind the counter, gives you a side wink and unzips the company jacket to reveal a small ziplock within the pocket. Andddddd long behold it’s weed! You chuckle to yourself, never getting tired of Toya’s shenanigans. Very much appreciated as he’s best form of entertainment here. 

“Toya we almost got caught last time, you really wanna risk it again?” Your words ran on deaf ears as he was already rolling up the blunt underneath the counter, “what’s the worst they can do? Fire us?” You stopped for a second and nodded, well he wasn’t wrong. Maybe this was the push you needed to finally leave this shit hole. “You got a point, let’s do it quick before someone comes in.” 

While this is a 24 hour convenience store, usually pass 1am, rarely anyone is inside. So you suppose it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea. Plus with Toya your bound to have a good time, who are you to deny him. You trusted in him enough to get away with his bs. 

“Pass the lighter doll,” you fished for the lighter that was nicely decorated with little blue flames over in your small book bag and passed it to him. He holds the blunt between his two hands and you duck underneath the counter with him. “Ladies first,” he cockily said, you lean forward and placed your mouth on the blunt while he held it for you. He always did this and it always felt oddly intimate to you. Couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling in your chest taking over when his glass like eyes gazed over you. They always made you curious and somehow hungry for knowledge of his life. You’ve never knew someone so well yet know nothing of them, but that’s always been enigma of Touya. You exhaled closing your eyes, attempting to calm your nerves. “You know the only time I ever smoke is on the job with you.” He smirked bringing the blunt to his own lips, “guess I’m a bad influence then.” 

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Everyone needs a lil spice in their life, no?” It was his turn to roll his eyes. You gently grabbed his wrist and led the blunt back to your lips again, he stared quietly at you. Which oddly made you tense up. “Don’t look at me like that,” you smiled. 

“Like what?” He smiled. 

“Like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world that you can’t live without.” Now you both laughed. This was the usual routine with Toya; cracking jokes and talking shit for a bit and simply enjoying each other’s company while the store was empty. He finally broke the trance you were in when he spoke up. 

“You know, having my father kick me out of the house wasn’t so bad after all,” Toya leaned in. 

You looked at him with a puzzled look, he never brings up his father. Whenever the conversation appeared it was quickly diverted elsewhere. You didn’t want to poke or intrude but curiosity got the best of you and you couldn’t help but want to continue the conversation. “Yea? Why is that?” You wondered. His father, from what you’ve been able to gather with the little bits Toya has mentioned here and there, was that supposedly his father is some CEO to a multi million dollar company. Odd considering the likes to where Toya ended up but you concluded that they must’ve ended in bad terms. You understood how cruel and selfish parents can be and didn’t need further explanation on that part. Easy to assume considering how poorly and little he speaks of him. He shut your ideas off with his simple response. 

“I wouldn’t be smoking a blunt with the world’s most beautiful girl under this shitty counter, if it weren’t for it.” Ha, that definitely caught you off guard, causing a light blush to form across your face. Even with a seeming sensitive topic he still manages to tease you. He’s got that cheeky smile plastered all over, “Got you choked up doll?” You rolled your eyes. You were about to tell him off before the door rang indicating that someone has entered the store. You snapped out of the haze and immediately got up to quickly realize that the person who entered was one of the regional managers, oh fuck. You nearly froze in fear and kicked Toya under the counter. “Ow the fuck was that for?” He looked at you while soothing the kick you just gave him but upon looking at your panicked expression and frenzied body, he quickly crushed the blunt and shoved it back inside the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t need to be told or explained which you greatly appreciated at the moment. Toya was always able to read the room, bless his soul. He clumsily got back up to which you had fixed his crooked hat and whispered into his ear to tuck his shirt in while covering him slightly to do so.

“Hi-ya hello, good afternoon, I mean good evening sir.” You embarrassedly stumbled over your words to which Toya snickered at. You kicked him again harder this time as discreetly as you could. On the verge of a panic attack. He gripped tightly at the counter, smiling at the man in front of you both. Hissing silently at the pain your kick caused him. He gave you a quick side eye nodding his head in disapproval. Which somehow made you feel drastically worse. 

“Good evening to you both, I’m sure you know who I am.” 

You responded a bit too hastily looking like a rabid chihuahua. “Yes! Yea. Of course we do, how are you? What brings you in at this time? It’s so late.” You manage to say within 2.0 seconds, the automatic robotic customer service attitude overtaking your body. Well- at least trying to considering you just had a 30-minute smoke sesh under the counter and your mind is  desperately trying to sober up. Honestly, what the fuck was he doing here at this time? This has never happened and I mean out of all the hours of the day. Oh yea, you’re definitely getting fucked, the smell of weed was so pungent, it was literally embarrassing how bad the situation looks. You wanted to cry. Toya’s eyes were stained red and you only assumed yours look worse. 

“Gotten a few complaints about this store recently. Wanted to come in and take a look.” You began to get a cold sweat, oh shit he knows, he definitely knows. You had words lodged in your throat that couldn’t come out. What could you say? What can you say? You’re in the wrong here. Everyone knows that smoking weed with your cool and kinda hot coworker under the counter is definitely not ok. Maybe even illegal, oh god what if this gets on your record. You’ll definitely not be able to get a professional job, then you’ll really get stuck working a even shitter job than this. Oh good oh god oh my god. 

As if sensing the absolute panic and anxiety off of you, Toya gently caressed your arm motioning you to relax and to stay silent. You recognized the wave that washed over him and instantly knew he’d handle the situation, he always does. And if you could die in his arms right now, you’d accept your fate happily. Toya was an interesting man oh right, you always believed he held such potential to do great things and even change the world. It doesn’t make sense really considering you both work at a basic job but you had come to secretly admire the guy. You’d would tell him too, how you believed in him, how you had so much confidence for him to become something great but he would always shut it down and brush it off like it was nothing.  It was as if he didn’t think he was good enough. It always bugged you that he thought so little of himself, but seeing him now causally and confidently bullshit the regional manager out of your current situation just simply reminded you of how special he was to you. Definitely got your pussy wet and made you eternally grateful too.

Toya was standing in front of the counter, making hand gestures while the manager just stared analyzing his words. You were completely z0ned out, only able to get parts of the conversation. 

“We’ve been having this customer appear at the store over and over again around this time of night harassing me and Y/N. We’ve considered calling the cops since he’s always high off his mind, we’ve caught him smoking in the bathroom on multiple occasions too. He was in here about 15 minutes ago and we haven’t been able to get rid of the smell.” 

Ah the beautiful lies that slipped through Toya’s lips sounded like a symphony. It was nothing short of comedic and yet so fucking Oscar-worthy. You could definitely pay this man to tell you lies he with how effortlessly convincing he was. You couldn’t even care to listen to what the manager was responding with, but on his way out he waved at you wishing you a goodnight and you sighed out with relief. 

Toya turns to you clasping his hands together “well there’s gonna be a security guard here for the next two weeks.” You laughed “I guess that’s better than getting fired huh.” 

“I’m not sure about that,” he chuckled. “I texted Shigs to come and take over the rest of our shift.” 

You looked at him confused, “how come? Either way, do you think he’ll be ok alone here?”

Toya slipped his phone into his pocket and walked back to you “yea he doesn’t give a fuck. Besides you look pale fucking white, guess this guy sobered your ass up real quick.” 

You attempted to glare angrily at him but it came off as a soft puppy look. You had no energy nor the strength to pretend. It feels like you just got whiplash from the rollercoaster you were on. Figured it was no use in lying considering you looked like you just went through it. “Yea, I still feel high as shit, I just wanna go home already, only thing this guy gave me was a fat fucking headache.” 

He ruffled the top of your head, “awe poor baby,” he said in a teasing tone, he inched up right beside you, “I got something that can help with that.” You jokingly pushed him off you, tying to ignore the warm feeling pooling under your stomach. Your mind was definitely thinking something dirty with a million miles per second and with how he handled today’s situation you’d be more than willing to give him whatever he pleased, but you pretended to cast aside those intrusive thoughts and act unfazed. “Shit don’t tell me you got Advil on you too?” 

He chuckled lightly nodding is head down, “got something even better doll.” He scoots up next to you and grabs a bottle of excedrin underneath the counter, passing it to you. You excitedly open it taking two pills out “oh my god I didn’t know we had some underneath here, yes thank you. You're definitely my hero today Toya.” As if y’all didn’t work in a convenience store that had if not all types of medicines. It was the effort that made it special though, it’s what brought that bright goofy smile of yours to light.  

You weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks while you swallowed the two pills. “Yea I remember you telling me you get headaches n shit and I know this medicine helps with it.” He was scratching the back of his head awkwardly. He never really handles compliments well but you tippy toed over to him and wrapped your arms softly around his neck. “I appreciate it Toya, that was really thoughtful. Thank you.” 

If you didn’t see his previous blush you definitely noticed this one, which in turn lead you to blush. But you couldn’t miss this opportunity- “AWE is lil Toya blushing. So cute brings me back to my middle school days.” That caused a loud laugh to come out of you both. “Shut it.” he quickly and quietly said. 

“Am I interrupting something.” You and Toya quickly untangled from each other trying to play off the slight tension in the air. 

“Errrr um.. Hey Shiggy, thanks for uh coming in.” You awkwardly stumbled, you never really got along with him so there was always this weird loud silence between the both of you. He already seemed to be annoyed, per usual.  The sloppy blue hair all tangled looking greasy and his patchy skin looking irritated and flaky as usual. He definitely was not amused or happy to be here. Well when was her ever. You’ve yet to seen the man smile. 

“Whatever.” He takes a sip from his metal bottle and walks over to the counter. 

“Shiggy you the man, thanks for pulling up bud.” Toya pats him in the back and Shigaraki shuttered. “Don’t touch me,” he flatly said. He glared at you both. 

“You guys can go leave and fuck now.” The words caught you instantly by surprise and you got completely red. “That’s not what were gonn- ugh whatever like it matters.” With that, you and Toya clock out and leave the store with Shigaraki sending daggers at your back.

“He’s always acting like such a bitch.” You annoyingly complained. 

Toya puts his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him “he ain’t so bad when you get to know him.” 

“I guess.” You rolled your eyes, you didn’t really care. You were more relieved to have finally left. He can rot in the store by himself for all you care. Not you or Toga would miss him. 

“So,” Toya glided with his words, itching you closer to him. He was leading the way in this position with you happily following. Not knowing the destination but feeling completely at peace with his form completely snug at your side. You comfortably wrapped your arm around his waist and gently placed your head in the crook of his neck. This was nice you thought, you and Toya were always this intimate when alone. No hesitation or awkwardness, just simply holding hands and sharing body heat as friends with the underlying passion waiting to burst and to be acknowledged. But nothing ever felt rushed, not with Toya. You stared at him from this angle, taking in his beautiful effortless features. His lashes looked so long as you stared in slight jealousy, his hair a perfect black mess with hidden red roots if you stared long enough, and his eyes. Man, you could write poems and sing songs with how the eyes stirred up some emotion you can't quite pin down. Always causing an eruption of feelings you can barely control. 

You felt the warmth from his breath when he spoke, “wanna go to back to my place and finish that blunt? Would love nothing more than to see the world’s most beautiful girl on my bed.” 

You blushed and nodded looking at those piercing blue eyes once again “well, when you look at me like that I guess I can’t say no.” 

Maybe this time you would finally show Toya just how special he really is to you.