#Dee Dee Sharp-Gamble

[fuchinobe]

(2009, Chalk Hill Edits, CHALKHILL 001)

Bootleg house edit of 1977 original.

[letsgofoletsgo]

My part of an art trade for @konoa-t, reminder that my trades/commissions are open!

Tucked away in the corner of Gamble Galaxy, there was a planet largely uninhabited by intelligent civilization. This planet had no name, but was covered in lush forest. Towering trees of green, yellow, and pink covered the lands, their large, rustling leaves creating a shadowy blanket along the forest floor. Various critters made their homes in these trees, in burrows in the ground. They enjoyed a happy, peaceful life on this quaint planet.

However, there was one area where the foliage was cut into. A haphazard gash was recently formed, knocking over the trees and unearthing the ground. At the other end of the smoldering wreck, the cause of this “wound” was present. A small ship lay on its side, still smoking from the inertia. Its wings were styled like those of a bat, and they were hanging on by a thread. The front of the ship looked something like a mask, the glass window now shattered.

From a tiny door on the upward side of the ship, a round, orange creature leaped out. It was a Waddle Dee, and he donned a blue and white sailor hat on his head; along with a worried expression on his face. He scurried around the ship, surveying the damage. To his dismay, the ship was in pretty bad condition. There were serious repairs to be done if it were ever to fly again.

While he was a bit intimidated by the amount of damage to the ship, he figured nothing would be solved by sitting around and moping. The first thing he’d need to do was gather supplies, not only for repairs but to sustain himself (despite not having mouths, Waddle Dees still needed to eat). He set his sights on the forest surrounding the ship, and picked a direction. Before he went to explore, he grabbed a sharp stick that was snapped off during the impact.

The Waddle Dee ventured cautiously through the multicolored forest. As he walked, he made periodic indents in the ground behind him- at least he’d be able to find his way back into the ship. He kept his eye out for anything that may be of use, but the little creature also found himself admiring the scenery around him. The leaves created soothing hues against the sunlight, warm patches dancing about as it was blown by the breeze. Most of the trees stood tall, but there were some that were smaller and more erratically shaped. Their bark ranged from lemon yellow to cotton candy pink, and had almost fluffy leaves. His situation may not have been ideal, but at least he found himself an aesthetically pleasing location to be stranded at.

Then, at the corner of the Waddle Dee’s eye, he saw something. Hanging from one of the lower branches was a tangle of vines, all varying shades of soft pastel color. He figured he could use these vines to repair certain parts of the ship, at least for the time being. Holding his sharp stick in hand, he bounded over to the tangle. He noticed where the vines were tangled the thickest, and traced down where they began to separate. Stick in hand, he angled it to begin cutting away at the cluster. A new sense of hope began to well in his little body at this find. He figured things may not be hopeless, maybe he could really get out of here!

When suddenly, he heard a rustle behind him. The Waddle Dee froze in his tracks, heart stopping at the noise. Ever so slowly, he turned around, stick held out in front of him. There was nothing discernable in front of him, just a layer of thick bushes- when one began to rustle again. He pointed his stick to the bush, scared but ready to face whatever creature awaited him.

To his surprise however, it was no horrible creature that leapt out. Rather, it was one that looked like him! A fellow Waddle Dee, this one wearing an old-fashioned nurse cap. He seemed to be rather lost himself, jumping back in startelement when he noticed the stick.

“P-Please don’t hurt me! I don’t want to fight!” He cried, placing his nubby hands over his head.

The other Waddle Dee lowered his weapon, shocked at this encounter. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to fight either. What’s a little guy like you doing all the way out here?” He asked, stepping closer.

“Well, uh,” He sniffed. “I was exploring with my friend Yumi, but we got separated and I can’t find her.”

“I see. What’s your name?”

“Rueben, you?”

“Well, people call me Sailor Waddle Dee, but you can just call me Sailor.” He said. “I’m in the same sort of predicament you are, actually.”

“Really?” This seemed to comfort Rueben somewhat. “What happened?”

“You see, I’m a part of a large spaceship, and I was sent out to fight an oncoming threat. Unfortunately, I was shot down, and I crash landed not too far from him.”

“Gosh, that sounds scary. It's a good thing you weren’t hurt.” Ruben said.

“Agreed, though I can’t say the same about my craft. In fact, I’m out here gathering supplies to see if I can repair it.”

“Ah.” Reuben thought for a moment. “Um, do you think maybe I could come along with you? I-I can help you out!” He suggested.

“Sounds like a fine idea!” Sailor said confidently. “You can help me out here, and I can help you find your way back to your friend!”

“You… You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, my friend. Two Waddle Dees are better than one, after all.”

The other Dee lit up “Oh, thank you!! Thank you, I promise I’ll do the best I can! Anything you need!”

“Sounds like a plan. On that note,” Sailor looked back up at the foliage. “How about you help me with carrying these vines back?”

“Will do!” Reuben piped.

And so, the two Waddle Dees set out to prepare for the days ahead. It wouldn’t be easier, but with each other, the two had newfound hope they’d be able to return to their respective paths- and make a new friend along the way.

[lboogie1906]

Dee Dee Sharp (Dione LaRue, September 9, 1945) is a popular R&B singer, known for “Mashed Potatoes Time,” a #1 hit in 1962. She was born in Philadelphia.

She has a musical background as a lead singer of a group of gospel-singing teenagers, playing piano as well as being the director of the choir at Eternal Baptist Church in Philadelphia, pastored by her grandfather, Rev. Eubie Gilbert.

When she was 13 years old her mother was injured in a car accident. She answered an ad for a singer who could play piano and sight-read music. She got a job with the Clara Ward singers, singing backup on many of Ward’s records. She credited Willa Ward with getting her started as a professional musician. While on one tour in New York, she took the opportunity to produce a record centered around a new dance craze, the Mashed Potatoes. She adopted the stage name Dee Dee Sharp.

She was the first African American female teen idol. She appeared on the syndicated teen dance show many times and she joined Dick Clark’s popular Caravan of Stars.

While “Mashed Potatoes Time” propelled Sharp to stardom, the first record pigeonholed the Philly songstress as a teenybopper forever to be identified with her #1 smash, her next hit, “Gravy (For My Mashed Potatoes),” was released, peaked at #5 on the US Pop Chart and #7 on the US R&B Chart. She collaborated with Chubby Checker on the album Down to Earth. Ride! “Do the Bird”. Other songs from her were “Wild,” “Willyam, Willyam,” “Never Pick a Pretty Boy,” “He’s No Ordinary Guy,” “I Really Love You,” and “Standing in the Need of Love”.

She signed with Atlantic Records. She and Kenny Gamble, her husband, founded Gamble Records with Leon Huff. She released “The Bottle of Me” on the Gamble Label followed by “Happy Bout the While Thing.” Despite the major success of Gamble and Huff with other Philadelphia artists like Teddy Pendergast, she never had a hit.

She became known for her cameo appearances in films such as Don’t Knock the Twist, Desperately Seeking Susan, Hairspray, Troop Beverly Hills, and Sister Act.

She lives with her husband Bill Witherspoon in New Jersey. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[kermitjay]



Dee Dee Sharp

Dee Sharp, is a popular American R&B singer, known for “Mashed Potatoes Time,” a number one hit in 1962. She was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, on September 9, 1945, as Dione LaRue.

LaRue has a musical background as a lead singer of a group of gospel-singing teenagers, playing piano at an early age as well as being the director of the choir at Eternal Baptist Church in Philadelphia, which was her family’s church, pastored by her grandfather Rev. Eubie Gilbert.

When LaRue was 13 years old her mother was injured in a car accident. Late that year, to make money to help the family, Sharp answered an ad for a singer who could play piano and sight-read music. LaRue got the job with the Clara Ward singers, singing backup on many of Ward’s records. She later credited Willa Ward, sister of the gospel singer, with getting her started as a professional musician. While on one tour in New York Sharp took the opportunity to produce a record centered around a new dance craze, the Mashed Potatoes. Sharp recorded “Mashed Potatoes Time” on the Cameo/ Parkway label, and the song became an overnight success. She adopted the stage name Dee Dee Sharp for the recording, partly because she was already called D, and sang in D sharp.

Recording “Mashed Potatoes Time” at the age of 16, Sharp was the first Black female teen idol.

Living in Philadelphia, the home of Dick Clark’s American Bandstand, helped her career. She appeared on the syndicated teen dance show many times from 1962 to 1981, and in 1965 she joined Clark’s popular Caravan of Stars.

While “Mashed Potatoes Time” propelled Sharp to stardom, it pigeonholed the Philly songstress as a teenybopper forever to be identified with her number one smash. Sharp’s next hit, “Gravy (For My Mashed Potatoes),” was released in 1962, peaked at #5 on the U.S. Pop Chart and #7 on the U.S. R&B Chart. Also, in 1962 Sharp collaborated with fellow Philadelphian Chubby Checker on the album Down to Earth. Ride! “Do the Bird,” was released in March 1963. Other songs from Sharp were “Wild,” “Willyam, Willyam,” “Never Pick a Pretty Boy,” and “He’s No Ordinary Guy,” were all released in 1964 and “I Really Love You,” and “Standing in the Need of Love,” were released in 1965.

Sharp left Cameo because of slumping sales of her recordings, and signed with Atlantic Records in 1966. Then in 1967, she and her then husband Kenny Gamble, founded Gamble Records with Leon Huff. In 1969 she released “The Bottle, or Me” on the Gamble Label followed in 1975 by “Happy Bout the Whole Thing.” Despite the major success of Gamble and Huff with other Philadelphia artists like Teddy Pendergast in the 1970s, Sharp never had a hit on her husband’s label. The couple divorced in 1980.

Later Sharp became known for her cameo appearances in films such as Don’t Knock the Twist, (1962), Desperately Seeking Susan, (1985), Hairspray (1988), Troop Beverly Hills (1989) and Sister Act (1992).

Dee Dee Sharp currently lives with husband Bill Witherspoon in Medford, New Jersey.

--

[djrobblog]

50th Anniversary: Philadelphia International’s 100 Greatest Songs - The Most Objective, Comprehensive Ranking Yet!

50th Anniversary: Philadelphia International’s 100 Greatest Songs - The Most Objective, Comprehensive Ranking Yet! #PhiladephiaInternationalRecords, #PIR, #Juneteenth, #50thanniversary, #BlackMusicMonth, #BlackHistory, #100GreatestSongs, #GambleAndHuff

(June 19, 2021).  Within weeks of 2021 starting, the music world began commemorating the golden anniversary of one of the most important record companies in American music history – a label that, during the 1970s, would become the cornerstone for a soul music sound that was as much linked to its home city as Motown had been to Detroit the decade before. Kenneth Gamble (standing) and Leon Huff,…

[omanxl1]

Philadelphia International All Stars / Let's Clean Up The Ghetto

Philadelphia International All Stars / Let’s Clean Up The Ghetto

Digital Crate Digging Continues on a Throwback Thursday, this is how the work will be! Check the Thankful Thursday vibe, it’s also a blessing to be here!! somebody can feel me!! Retro futuristic is how the work will be, check us out as we take it back to the future!! Going ballistic with the sound? oh yeah, that’s the deal / that’s what it do!! We’re checking out this classic soul jazz from the…

[ur-typical-nerd]

What am I doing-

So, @sparkerinparadise has this really cool idea called sexyman descendants, and I instantly fell in love with the concept (I actually have kind of a similar idea, only it’s with exclusively cartoon and video game characters. I have no idea how I’ll get it off the ground, especially since the main character is a SpongeBob descendent lol-)

However, I am…not the best artist. Nor am I the best at making/describing Monster High-styled outfits. However, I am a good writer, so I’ll be writing descriptions for my seven (you read that right) OCs for sexyman descendants. I…might be also write some fanfic for this. BTW, these guys’ parents are all pulled from the sexyman Wikipedia (something I’d never thought I’d have to look up…)

LUCILLE DEVIL/MORNINGSTAR

Lucille has pale, almost grayish skin, pitch black, fluffy hair, her dad’s eyes and horns, fangs, and sharp claws that are usually painted black. I…have no idea what her outfit is; all I know is she has a black faux fur jacket and a pitchfork necklace. She’s on the shorter and lankier side, something the compensates for with heels.

-Daughter of the Devil from Cuphead

-Pansexual

-Rules the cheerleading squad with an iron fist

-Also in both the drama club. Probably the one who takes the lead from @sporesgalaxy’s Spamton Jr. 

-Inherited her dad’s temper and crybaby tendencies

-Has caused multiple fire drills due to her fire powers flaring up when she’s angry

-Will occasionally try to con her classmates out of their souls

-Fairly protective of her step-sister, who is Dice’s daughter

-Her pitchfork necklace can turn into a full-sized pitchfork by pulling the charm off the chain

-Lords her dad’s status and power over anyone who dares to threaten her

-Haaates @sparkerinparadise’s Dee Cipher and Roman (sees her as competition and beating her sister out for class president, respectively). Thinks Too-Lette is cool though.

-Arrives to school in a pillar of hellfire every day for the ✨aesthetic✨

-Lucille: I’d sell all of you to my dad for a corn chip-

-Voiced by Aimie Atkinson (aka Katherine Howard from Six)

IVORY DICE

Ivory is a average-sized, slightly curvy teen with dark skin, white hair with a purple streak in cube-shaped  puff pigtails, green eyes, and purple freckles. She wears a version of her dad’s shirt and jacket with the sleeves rolled up, a purple skirt with rows of all four card suites in pink and black, purple chunky high heels with dice for the heel, pink poker chip earrings, white gloves, and a black choker with a silver crown charm. She also wears purple lipstick and eyeshadow

-Daughter of King Dice

-Lesbian

-Assistant leader of the cheerleaders and member of the debate team

-Tried to start a gambling club in school, got shut down almost immediately

-Do not play any sort of card game/game of chance with her. You WILL lose.

-If you make her sister cry, Ivory will kick your butt while simultaneously comforting Lucille

-Favorite class is music

-Occasionally brings her dad’s card minions to school with her

-Regularly blackmails/bribes others into doing things for her

-Kinda unhinged

-Can remove her head like her dad can. It’s…way more disturbing than when her dad does it.

-Always has a deck of cards with her

-Voiced by Ashley Park (aka Gretchen Wieners from the Mean Girls musical)

CALLIE THE COMPUTER

Callie is a small, lanky girl with pale, metallic skin, white hair in a messy bob, and dark eyes framed by square glasses. She wears a red and blue argyle sweater vest over a white t shirt, a blue skirt with a silver stripe at the bottom, knee socks with a yellow stripe on top, clunky heels that look like a computer mouse, and a circuit board hair clip.

-Daughter of Colin the Computer

-Greysexual 

-Autistic

-Head of the robotics/coding club

-Loves talking about computers!!!!

-Will throw you through a wall while screaming if you touch her 

-Her attempts at socializing often come off as kinda creepy. Nobody knows if it’s intentional or not

-Can bring people into the digital world, though she’s banned from doing it on campus after Lucille’s head exploded into glitter upon exiting (she was fine after a day or so)

-Exempt from swimming due to the risk of her shorting out

-Regularly asks intrusive questions about others 

-Nobody knows if she’s an AI in a robot body or a cyborg. I mean, she plugs herself into a wall socket for lunch, but Ivory swears she saw some sort of brain-like organ in the panel on the back of her head last week…

-Voiced by Shelby Rabara

DIANA DASTARDLY

Diane is a tall, bulky girl with pale skin, long, dark hair in a braid, and blue eyes. I don’t have any outfit ideas for her, but I do know she has a sort-of steampunk-ish style, a love for the color purple, and high heels with a wheel for the heel (that can act as heelies because why not-)

-Daughter of Dick Dastardly

-Bisexual, with a preference for men

-Part of the robotics/coding team 

-Though highly intelligent, she occasionally ends up in detention because she cheated on a quiz or something minor 

-Grumpy and dramatic

-Favorite class is either engineering or woodshop

-The next person who asks her if she’ll join a sports team is going to get punched in her dad’s namesake-

-Has an emotional support/service dog named Molly she brings to school with her. She doesn’t tell anyone why she has an emotional support/service dog; Callie asked once and got thrown into a garbage can.

-(It’s for health conditions she has due to her father going to the Underworld to save Muttley before she was born and depression)

-Occasionally wishes she was more feminine-looking

-Has a motorcycle she drives to school pretty much every day

-Can be found fixing cars and inventing outside of school

-Voiced by Genesis Lynea (aka Anna of Cleaves from Six)

ERIS CHAOS-SHY

Eris is a tall, lanky teen with wild pale pink, almost white hair, tan skin, her dad’s mismatched horns, and heterochromia: one yellow and red eye and one green eye, both with different-sized pupils. I don’t have a set idea for her outfit, but I do know that the outfit doesn’t even seem to match itself, she has a different tie every week, and it’s made up of both her dad’s and mom’s color palette. She also paints each of her nails a different color and changes them frequently.

-Genderfluid (any pronouns) Polysexual (not attracted to people who identify as male)

-Daughter of Discord and Fluttershy

-Enjoys music and psychology classes

-On the debate team

-His chaotic powers have an entire section in the school rule book dedicated to them

-Completely aware that they’re all fictional, but they’re strongly encouraged not to tell anybody

-Chaotic neutral, seems to pull a different prank on the student body every other week

-Has a feud going on with both Lucille and Dee

-Attracts animals with her singing; however, they are not the cute little woodland creatures her mom attracts

-One time classes had to be canceled because a goose flew through the window while she was in music 

-Has slight stage fright. Can’t handle large crowds (aka auditorium/stadium full of people) watching him sing, but can handle a classroom full of people watching

-Severe claustrophobia/fear of being trapped

-Encourages people to make up new pronouns to refer to them as

-Voiced by Christina Modestou (aka Anne Boleyn from Six)

WALLYWINK (because we need more male rep, dang it!)

Wallywink is an average sized, dark skinned teen with curly pink hair and matching fur on his upper arms and legs. He wears a pink, fluffy sweater, jeans, and dark pink cowboy boots, under which he has hooves.

-Son of Wammawink (yes, I’m just as surprised as you are)

-Gay

-Favorite classes are Home Ec and Music

-Total Mom friend

-Regularly helps out in the cafeteria

-More satyr-like than his mom

-Has the same kind of magic Wammawink does, but mostly sticks to bubbles

-If two people start fighting in the hallway, Wallywink will put them in bubbles he calls “time-out bubbles”  until they calm down and are able to apologize to each other

-Loves his mom, but he wishes she was less overprotective

-Has totally brought his mom’s mertaur magazines to school (both for himself and because others dared/blackmailed him to)

-Voiced by Jeremy Jordan

BETTY KOOPA

Betty is a tall, bulky girl with tan skin, red hair in a messy ponytail, sharp fangs and claws, horns, and dark eyes. She wears a slightly torn white tank top with pale yellow stripes, a black biker jacket with spiky shoulders and sleeves and a red flame design on the back, torn green pants, black combat boots, spiky bracelets with a matching choker, and a green spiky shell purse.

-Daughter of Bowser Koopa (yes, I’m giving him another kid. Why not?)

-Lesbian Transgirl

-On literally ALL of the sport teams. Basketball, soccer, golf: you name it, she’s a member

-Loves all her siblings and would kill/die for them (BTW, most of the Koopalings probably attend school with her)

-Very loud and in-your-face

-Total delinquent 

-Attracted to princess-like/feminine girls like her dad

-Has no clue how to flirt, so she just brags about herself very loudly, acts intimidating, and throws random gifts at people and hopes it works

-(It hasn’t yet, but she’s trying okay-)

-If you imply her personality/appearance makes her “less of a girl” you WILL be lit on fire with extreme prejudice

-Did I mention she can breathe fire? Because she can.

-Cleans up quite nicely when there’s a formal event

-Voiced by Kimberly Brooks (aka Jasper from Steven Universe)

[saradika]

jess!!! ✨ if you’d be so kind - i’d love boba’s point of view when he first spots the reader in ‘the mistress and the master’ 💞💞💞

Hi Dee! 💕 Ahh of course, thank you so much! It was so fun to revisit this fic, it was really interesting to write what Boba was up to!

Boba's POV from the beginning of The Mistress and the Master

Boba Fett x F!Reader

Rated E - 1.2k words

Tags - sexual daydreams (PiV sex), mentions of sex and exhibitionism

(From A Certain Point Of View Ask Game✨)

---

His mind has circled through a million different topics in the past hour. There’s an endless list of things that requires his attention more than this kriffing Sabacc game.

The Slave I, and that indicator light on the dashboard that kept blinking, the bulb on its last legs. The ledgers, the shipment of supplies coming in tomorrow. Fennec’s evening reports. The renovations to the third floor. But like the twin suns on Tatooine, his thoughts kept orbiting around a much more interesting topic. You.

He wondered briefly what you are up to. If you are out, still patrolling the halls, or grabbing a bite to eat. Or… if you were waiting for him, right this second, in his room. That thought made him want to leave mid-game, so he squashes that one down to revisit at a later time.

Boba itches to be anywhere else - this room did nothing for him. It was too loud, too crowded, exactly the sort of place he had learned to avoid. The drinks and the gambling were wasted on him - but he knew Fennec was right, this was a good way to build business relations. He just didn’t have to like it.

He hadn’t thought he’d miss bounty hunting, but he also didn’t anticipate how sedentary ruling would be. Boba’s mind was as sharp as ever, but sitting all day - well, he hadn’t missed the side-eye Fennec had been giving him lately, a look that said he’s been getting soft.

He needed to release some of this pent-up energy.

And like before, his mind orbits back to you.

He really shouldn’t call you- he should just leave you alone, give you the night off. But Boba’s never been all that interested in being good. It only takes a few seconds of debating, before his hand is raising to the button on his helmet, sending you a comm.

As predicted, you pick up before the second ring.

“I’m at the cantina.” He grits out, by way of greeting, “Back table. Will you come?”

You said you will, also just like he predicted. Boba makes a mental note to make it up to you later - it didn’t take much to tell that the Cantina was not your preferred location to spend time, either.

Time seems to crawl even more slowly as he waits, the air perfumed with heavy smoke and the sound of the Bith band only fueling his irritation. His eyes idle over the crowd, throwing down a card on his turn, then telling himself he was just watching, not looking.

He kills the passing minutes by thinking of a few nights ago, the pretty little sounds you made as you rode him. The rough slap of your thighs against his as he lifted you up and down on his cock, spearing him deep into you, again and again.

“That’s it, girl. Use me, take what you need.”

He thought about the way your back bowed at his words, tight cunt clamping around him as your fingers dug into his flesh, as you -

The memory is rudely interrupted as the Weequay across the table gestures towards him, and he focuses long enough to catch the end, “-and we’re so pleased to be working with you.”

Irritation pricks at his skin as Boba acknowledges with a quick tilt of his head, and that’s enough of a response for them. His eyes do another slow sweep.

It feels like you’re taking ages, and he wonders idly if you’re doing it on purpose. If you are, he thinks, then it’s working.

His eyes rest for a moment on a figure that just entered from the side entrance, dressed in shades of red in a dress that would ruin a lesser man. When he registers who it is a moment later, his gut does this uncomfortable flip that he only associates with two things - danger, and... you.

Your eyes dart back and forth quickly as you work your way through the crowd. A mix of habit and unease, he suspects, you always did have a hard time turning off your brain. Always alert, always thinking about what’s next, what that plan is - he knows that feeling well.

He’s noticed you a few moments before you see him, and he takes that time to look at you like a stranger would - appreciating the way you had dressed up for him, wearing a gown that showed off your figure. He wondered if you were aware of the attention you were drawing, but he wasn’t concerned. Let them look.

The skirt looks like it’s made of fire, rippling shades of silky crimsons and burgundy's, hinting at your curves underneath. The fabric looks so delicate, he is sure it would rip under his grip, if he tried. A smile tugs up the corner of his lips as a flash of gold glitters on your thigh, he’s familiar with the blade strapped to it. He was the one who gave it to you, after all.

Your eyes meet his a moment later, and he likes the way your pretty lips curve up, almost automatically. You are like him, when he was younger - so used to the mask that your face is an open book without it. Under his heady gaze you flush easily, a mix of pleasure and self-consciousness at his attention.

His fingers itch, his self-control the only thing keeping him from bending you over the table right there. Because really, who would stop him? This was his Palace, his domain - if he wanted to claim you in front of anyone, make you scream his name as you came around his cock, well, that wasn’t their business, was it? If they didn’t like it, they could leave. Boba’s hand closes into a fist at the thought - he wouldn’t, but Stars, he’s already half-hard just thinking about it.

As you halt by the chair, he watches your hand reach out, as if to touch the curve of his pauldron. He is faster, his hand closing around your bicep and tugging, all but dragging you onto his lap.

The little gasp you let loose is breathy, close enough to a moan that it sends another jolt straight to his cock. He hold himself still as you adjust, balancing yourself on one thick thigh, your hands wrapping around the muscle near his knee as you settle.

He has to admit that your weight is welcome, your hips pressing against his thighs, making him sit up a little straighter, spreading his legs a little wider. There’s easily room for both of you in this chair, and he makes a mental note to thank whoever designed this room.

You’re only seated for a moment before one of his large hands comes to rest on your abdomen, pulling your bare back flush with his chest. The curve of his helmet brushes your shoulder, close enough that only you can hear the sharp rasp of his breath.

“Did you dress up for me, Princess?” Boba asks you, voice low and gravely beneath the helmet. His other hand reaches out, almost unconsciously, to stroke the burgundy fabric bunched high on your thigh. He wants to ruck it up, see just what you’re wearing underneath.

But good things come to those who wait, and now that you’re here, he can be patient. But that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy himself in the meantime.

“I didn’t know you knew how to have fun.”

----

[deafeninggardenerpanda]

King Dedede and Meta Knight created nothing but various gimmicks as they continued up the tower. As they did, their distrust towards the other only increased. Meta Knight thought as he stared sharply at King Dedede.

(What an aggressive shift ... Mm, he screamed at those Copy Kirby fighters ... Such intense and violent language ... not at all like his usual self. He’s being manipulated by the power of that shooting star, after all ... )

King Dedede was thinking too as he glanced at Meta Knight.

(Meta Knight’s staring at me with those sharp eyes. He’s watching for where to aim when he gets the chance to strike. Must be being manipulated by the power of that shooting star ... Of course, because *that guy* would get manipulated easily.)

The twentieth floor ... thirtieth floor ... The tower grew taller and taller. 

The thirty-fifth floor. This floor was still under construction, with Waddle Dees carrying stones and hitting with their hammers.

"What kind of gimmick do you intend to be on this floor?" Meta Knight asked.

"That's right ... " King Dedede thought about it. He had made a wide variety of stages up to this point. Gradually, he had run out of ideas. Meta Knight stared at him as he stood motionlessly.

"No way, are you out of material?"

"W-w-what, why would that be the case!?" King Dedede hurriedly replied. "My ideas are endless. I’ve got plenty more, I’m just thinking of them!"

"Then, what about this floor?" 

"Uh ... Uhh ..." King Dedede, trying to squeeze the ideas out, looked around. Then, some Waddle Dees carrying stones came into his view. Many Waddle Dees carrying large stones on their heads were lined up in a row.

"Heave, heave! Hup, hup, hup~!"

Watching the Waddle Dees call out as they stepped in sync, King Dedede was suddenly struck with an idea.

"That's it, a train!"

" ... A train?" Meta Knight repeated in puzzlement.

"Uh-huh! I’ll make the gimmick for this stage a train!"

King Dedede envisioned a train with the appearance of a Waddle Dee—its design quite like a toy train’s, and the landscape changed as soon as he shouted out. Railroad tracks covered the floor, and the remaining area became a beautiful lake.

"Railroad tracks ...? That means ... No way!" A whoooo sound was heard the moment Meta Knight shouted.

It was a whistle. A steam train blew out fumes as it ran.

"Auugh!" The two were in danger, about to be hit and launched. They hurriedly jumped into the air. Meta Knight stiffened up and glared at King Dedede. "What are you doing! You aimed for me, just now!"

"Why would I do that!" King Dedede roared back. "I was about to be run over, too! That was a close call for both of us!"

"And that was something you took into consideration and gambled on!"

"That's—to have an idea like that ... No way, the train came so suddenly ... " 

Then, again, "whoooo" the whistle called. The train rushed in at blazing speeds. Meta Knight and King Dedede both jumped up at the same time and the two landed on the train’s cars! The wind blew fiercely there. Meta Knight lowered his stance and pulled out the treasured sword, Galaxia. King Dedede got down on his hands and knees as well.

"Pulling out your sword, what are you going to do, Meta Knight!" he shouted. "You cur, it’s just as I thought ...! " 

"I have to open your eyes!"

Little by little, their distrust of each other had gotten worse and worse until it had finally reached its climax. They had to open their partners’ eyes that were being manipulated by the power of the star. Meta Knight and King Dedede both gripped their respective weapons tightly.

"NOWWW ...! "

King Dedede rose up quickly. Meta Knight leapt and slashed at him with his sword, but the Great King held his hammer firmly and defended against the attack. Sword and hammer—the pair locked eyes and locked weapons.

"Listen to me, King Dedede. This tower is filled with a mysterious power!" 

"Ohh, I know. You’re being manipulated by that power!" 

"You’re the one! Open your eyes, King Dedede!"

Meta Knight countered the King’s hammer and jumped up. King Dedede planted his feet and attached himself to the ground with all his might, then attacked Meta Knight, who dodged with a somersault before aiming for the King once more.

Neither allowed the other an opening for even a moment. Losing their balance, even a little, would cause them to slip off and go plunging into the lake.

"Meta Knight ... C’MON!"

"OPEN YOUR EYES—!"

The two’s attacks started to grow fierce, the battle kicking into high gear. And at that moment—

Something unexpected happened.

The Waddle Dees had stood still, frozen, unable to move on the railroad tracks. If this went on, they would be sent flying and end up seriously injured! King Dedede’s expression changed when he noticed this.

"W—what are you doing, you idiots—!" He dropped down and jumped onto the railroad tracks. Meta Knight spread his cape and jumped, too. The two held the Waddle Dees in both arms and lept down out of the way.

Of course, everyone went head over heels into the lake. The Waddle Dees shook as the train passed by overhead with a roar—they couldn't even speak. King Dedede floated up to the water’s surface buoyantly.

"You idiots—! When the train approaches, avoid it quickly! Do you all want to be run over!?" The Waddle Dees’ eyes welled up with tears as they raised a cry all at once.

"Uwaaaaahh~!" 

"I-I was scared, Great Kingggg~!" The Waddle Dees assisted by Meta Knight were crying too. King Dedede and Meta Knight swam to shore and shook themselves off.

"That train will come again, don’t be careless," King Dedede said. "Proceed with construction, quickly!"

"Yes, Great King!"

The Waddle Dees helped by Meta Knight quickly bowed their heads. "Thank you very much, Sir Meta Knight!" they said in unison. Meta Knight was silent and started walking.

"That guy ... isn’t he being manipulated?" King Dedede murmured. He gazed at Meta Knight’s back with a complicated expression.

The Buddy Fighters Tower, thirty-sixth floor. King Dedede and Meta Knight had started a campfire to dry themselves.

"Jeez, that was awful! I can’t believe they were just—wandering around!" King Dedede sneezed and continued harshly. "They can't do anything without their leader, Bandana! Annoying!"

"Oh, I agree," Meta Knight murmured. King Dedede shot him a dirty look, but Meta Knight kept his gaze down and continued. "The Waddle Dees are weak, small, and have no redeeming qualities. They’re very different from my fine subordinates. It’s rather pitiful for you, I’ll lend you my men, sometime."

" ... What?" King Dedede replied back, then became stern. "Idiot! You don’t understand! They're way more than they seem."

"Hm. How?"

"They’re hard workers, diligent, have skilled hands, and, because everyone is on good terms, they’re always smiling and their teamwork is incredible. I don’t tolerate insults against my subordinates!" Meta Knight laughed gently.

"I thought you’d say that." 

" ... What?"

"You should’ve just said it from the beginning. The reality is that you really value your subordinates, no matter how much you’re a terrible sourpuss about it."

" ... Hmmph ...! '' King Dedede turned sullen when he realized that he was being made fun of. The two stared at the fire silently for a while. Meta Knight opened his mouth.

"King Dedede. I seem to have misunderstood."

"Misunderstood?"

"I thought that you were being manipulated by the evil power that fills this tower, and that you were out of control."

"Me? Out of control?" King Dedede replied in disbelief. "This stuff that you’re saying ... I thought you were the one out of control."

"What do you mean?"

"I noticed you were watching me with those stern eyes. I was worried that you were going to attack me when you saw the chance."

"That’s absurd ... " Meta Knight sighed. "I was watching you because I felt like you had a secret." 

"A secret?"

"I thought you were hiding something. Inside that robe."

King Dedede was surprised. He grasped his robe. 

What the Great King was hiding were the two masks that gave off a purple light, but he didn't want to reveal those to him. "No way, no way. Really, there’s noo-thing at all. Nothing even remotely of interest!"

"Then, why don't you take your clothes off. Your wet robe is cold, isn’t it? You should take it off so it can air out."

"Don’t try to help me ... Achoo!" King Dedede sneezed loudly.

"I don't know what you’re hiding, but I suspect it’s dangerous," Meta Knight said.

" ... Nng!"

" ... That’s what I had thought, at least. However, I misunderstood. It seems that you’re not being influenced by an evil power after all. I realized it some time ago when I saw how you acted." King Dedede turned away, standoffish when Meta Knight bowed to him. "It was admirable how you went back to aid your subordinates despite the risk. I must apologize for doubting you."

"Hmph ... Hmph!" King Dedede arrogantly turned to fully face Meta Knight. "I’ll forgive you for your misunderstanding. Because you helped my subordinates back there."

"Anyone would’ve decided to help in that situation."

"It was dangerous, but you didn’t hesitate for a moment. You have my thanks!"

King Dedede smiled. Although his expression could not be seen, Meta Knight’s demeanor softened, as well. The ill reservations the two felt towards each other subsided, and the air finally became calm.

" ... This is the first time I've talked to you, at ease, like this," Meta Knight said.

"Because there's nothing to talk about."

"That's true."

The silence continued for a while. Suddenly, King Dedede said, "You know, now that I think about it, I don't really know anything about you. Just that you’re a nuisance of a knight that rides around in a battleship."

"I don't know much about you, either. Just that you’re an arrogant tyrant that made himself the King of Dream Land."

" ... Hmph!"

" ... Huff ... " 

In a short time, the atmosphere once again became gloomy. King Dedede spoke, after a while. 

"You never show your true face. What's going on under that mask?"

"It’s none of your concern."

"Why don't you take it off every now and then?"

"I refuse." 

"Mhmhm ... if that’s the case ... " King Dedede gave Meta Knight a ridiculous look. "You must have a really weird face."

" ... "

"That's why you don't like showing it! Uwahahahahaha!"

"It doesn't matter if you think that," Meta Knight said bluntly as King Dedede laughed loudly. The King stopped laughing in response to his serious tone.

The silence continued again for a while. King Dedede opened his mouth. 

"This tower is filled with a mysterious power, for sure. The Kirby’s and those evil, influenced warriors and the various gimmicks that appear when I wish for them are proof of that."

" ... Mm."

"There’s no doubt that both you and I are being affected by that mysterious power. I think I'm feeling more aggressive than usual."

"Seems like it."

"But, you’re not noticing it because you’re not out of control. It’s making you aggressive, too."

" ... What are you trying to say?"

"I mean that the power of the shooting star that fills this tower will affect our hearts before we know it. It's alright for now, but if we relax, it’ll come back to bite us. We’d get manipulated immediately. Don't let your guard down."

"I know."

"Then, should we get going?" King Dedede stood up and put out the fire, then started walking towards the stairs. Meta Knight thought as he watched him.

(But, I’m still worried about something. What is he hiding in that robe?)

At the same time, King Dedede was thinking while feeling Meta Knight’s sharp gaze. 

(He really doesn't want anyone to see his true face, I wonder why. Well, everyone’s got a secret or two that they don't want known. I won’t pry.)

The two remained silent and continued onwards, further up into the tower.

< Previous | Table of Contents | Next >

[goodomensblog]

Afterward - Part 17

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16

(#2 definitely won - but #4 was a pretty close second, so we’re doing the classic punch and run!)

Afterward - - - Part 17

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

Entropy, rising up, tilts its head and smiles a wide, infinitely deep grin. Pale, ephemeral tendrils squirm where the creature’s head and neck are rapidly reconnecting.

Gabriel has picked up the sword and is twisting it up.

Beelzebub, however, beats him to the punch. Literally.

“Mine,” is all Beelzebub manages, a low, rasping shout. Pushing roughly in front of the archangel, Beelzebub winds a bloodied fist back and strikes.

Their knuckles smack between its eyes - and with a wet sounding squelch, the head which hadn’t yet fully re-attached, flies off Entropy’s shoulders.

This time, however, Entropy seems to retain consciousness, and the head screeches in outrage as it careens across the room.

“Shoo, bitch,” Beelzebub spits.

“My angels,” the head shrieks, rolling across the floor. “Your master commands you! Attack!”

From the top of the courtyard, where tiled roofs curve above stone carved archways, movement draws Beelzebub’s gaze up.

Angels line the tile rooftop, their formidable white wings spread wide. In the place where the angels’ eyes should be, dark, sunken pools hauntingly stare.

From behind Beelzebub, Gabriel makes a low noise of distress.

Beelzebub scans the faces. There are none they readily recognize - Michael and Uriel, at least, are absent. But surely most of the dark eyed angels are - or were - under Gabriel’s command.

“No…” the archangel breathes.

Forcibly ignoring the pain they feel radiating off Gabriel in cold, nauseating waves, Beelzebub shakes their head and, squeezing their hands into fists, cracks their knuckles one by one.

“What are they?” Aziraphale asks, horror lacing his words.

The first angel steps from the rooftop. Where it lands, stone splinters around its feet. From its eyes, black ichor drips, trailing like tears down its pure, celestial skin. It takes a second step, and the floor cracks anew.

“That,” Crowley says, speaking up from the back, “looks like an angel on steroids. Bloody evil steroids.”

Another angel drops. Then another. Gray dust from pulverized stone rises in an ominous cloud.

“I - I have to-” Gabriel is muttering, and Beelzebub can feel him moving behind them, probably making up his mind to do something stupid.

“Yeah,” Beelzebub says, surveying the hoard of freaky angels. “Fuck this noise.”

Turning right the hell around, Beelzebub grabs Gabriel roughly by the arm. 

When he doesn’t move - like the absolute asshole he is - Beelzebub grits their teeth and yanks, violently hauling the lead-limbed archangel with them. When they look up and see that Aziraphale and Crowley are still standing there, waiting, they yell, “Oi! Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum! Fucking move!”

Crowley and Aziraphale retreat through the doorway, but go no further.

Beelzebub is panting, blood from a cut they didn’t even realize they had dripping into their eyes, and the room is tilting as a frankly annoying whine picks up in their ears - but this is no time to pass out, so Beelzebub doesn’t. 

At least Gabriel is finally moving; Beelzebub, all too happy to release him, shoves the archangel through the door. 

Upon crossing the threshold, Beelzebub is hastily elbowed out of the way by Crowley; Aziraphale, bracing a hand on the wall, traces glowing symbols on the floor.

“What’s-”

“That’s why we were waiting,” Crowley snaps.

Beelzebub reflects that if the room were spinning any less, they would have happily smacked that smug look off his face.

Instead, they crouch, bracing their hands on their knees.

Aziraphale straightens up with a satisfied nod. “That’ll do the trick.”

Then Crowley is swinging the door closed. Hand on the handle, he melts the lock. 

“If Aziraphale did what I think he did, we do not want to be here when they cross that threshold,” Crowley says.

“I did,” Aziraphale says with a grim smile.

Gabriel, who Beelzebub thinks is looking more like his usual insufferable self by the minute, claps his hands together. “Then let’s fucking go!”

“Right!” Crowley crows, pointing at Gabriel, “Your illicit sneaking out of Heaven door!”

Beelzebub and Aziraphale turn to look at Gabriel.

“Okay it’s really not as weird as he’s making it sound.”

 “It doesn’t matter-” Aziraphale says with a wave, but Beelzebub isn’t listening.

Blinking rapidly, they frown at the black dots blossoming across their vision. They immediately blink harder because they are not going to pass out; It is a fucking bad time for losing consciousness - and besides, they’d honestly rather die than look weak in front of these morons.

Crowley is turning, leading the way, and Beelzebub starts to step after him - when everything takes a sharp and sudden dip. 

And shit - Beelzebub thinks, consciousness slipping as a roaring white noise fills their ears. Blackness is spreading, sweeping across their vision.

They see outstretched, reaching hands - and then darkness swallows them whole.

Reality narrows to individual, isolated moments.

The press of fine, soft as silk fabric against their cheek.

A long hallway lit by a single flickering light.

Aziraphale, pale with purple bruises beneath his eyes, pulling a tapestry aside - pushing a doorway open.

Crowley’s hands cupped around that strange, blue flame.

Then white light - at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

Beelzebub stiffens, crying out in protest - because they know the saying about light and tunnels, and they straight up refuse to let that prick Death lay those frigid hands on them now.

This is followed by the soft, hesitant brush of fingers over their forehead and a whisper-soft murmur. “Don’t worry. It’s not that kind of tunnel.”

Again, darkness.

And then Crowley is exclaiming, shouting excitedly, and Beelzebub squints their eyes open to glaring sunlight - and a sleek black car, parked on what appears to be a random London street corner. 

When someone swings one of the rear doors open, Beelzebub has a sense of deja vu as they are laid down on black leather seats.

Voices drone, someone shifts beside them, and the car awakens with a reassuring purr; Beelzebub’s tired eyes close.

- - - 

Brushing his hands over the steering wheel, Crowley sits in the Bentley, taking a moment to enjoy the car’s energetic rumble. She doesn’t handle long periods of idleness very well. And though Crowley hasn’t been gone all that long, he imagines it must have been rather demoralizing to have been abandoned on a lonesome countryside road. He’ll have to make sure she’s still in working shape. 

“Just cause I gave you a little vacation,” Crowley says, tapping the dashboard admonishingly, “is no excuse for any slacking off, you understand?”

The car rumbles, and Crowley sighs, rolling his eyes. “See? I leave you for half a day and now I’m getting back talk.”

“Can we please just fucking go?” Gabriel snaps.

A glance in the rear-view mirror reveals the altogether unpleasant sight of Gabriel’s frowning face. 

The archangel is pressed up against the door, his large arms folded impractically in front of him. 

Beelzebub, in the few minutes after they’d been set down, had somehow completely rotated, and now they stretch out, arms flung out in either direction. Their booted feet are kicked up - one jabbing Gabriel’s side and the other shoved up against his face.

The archangel glowers.

From the passenger seat, Aziraphale clears his throat.

Crowley’s attention is immediately diverted.

Aziraphale is battered. Deep scratches scatter over the entirety of his person, and a bone deep exhaustion shows in his overall pallor and the bags like dark bruises gathering beneath his light eyes. 

Crowley has the impulse to stroke a thumb beneath that gentle gaze and burn a miracle to soothe some of the exhaustion marring his skin. 

He doesn’t.

Because he filled Aziraphale’s veins with demon blood, and Crowley isn’t entirely sure Aziraphale won’t come to resent him for it. 

The desperate transfusion had worked. Aziraphale is here. That is what matters. But the fact that the cost of this gamble - the cost of mixing that which was never meant to join - has yet to reveal itself, leaves Crowley deeply on edge. 

“Dear,” Aziraphale says, mercifully interrupting Crowley’s rapidly spiraling thoughts. “We fled the bookshop earlier because we believed we were dealing with a threat who knew us, personally. Entropy does not know us. And I presume that it does not know where I live.”

“...you want to go home, don’t you?”

“Yes I want to go home!” Aziraphale says in a rush, hands folded, his fingers twisting together. “It’s been a really long day.”

Crowley considers, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “I suppose we could ward the hell out of it.”

Aziraphale is eagerly nodding, “I already have a good few around the foundation as it is.”

“Is it defensible?” Gabriel asks.

“Better,” Aziraphale replies. “It’s hidden.”

“Though adding a few defenses wouldn’t hurt,” Crowley adds.

“As long as we get off the damned street,” Gabriel says with a weary sigh.

“That, we can do,” Crowley says, shifting the car into drive. 

“Wait!” Aziraphale says, grabbing Crowley’s arm. “First, we need food, Crowley.”

“....right this second?”

“As soon as possible. You do realize that we should avoid using powerful miracles at the moment, right?”

Crowley glances in the rear-view mirror, only somewhat mollified to see that Gabriel is also staring at Aziraphale with an expression of blatant confusion.

“Er - yes? I mean, we don’t want to go around putting beacons on our heads,” Crowley replies. “But what in the world does this have to do with food?”

Aziraphale is staring at him like he might be stupid - which he’s not. Right?

Crowley checks the rear-view mirror again.

Gabriel is squinting at Aziraphale. “Aziraphale. What are you talking about?”

Aziraphale looks between them, mouth agape.

From the backseat, Beelzebub groans. 

“Angel,” Beelzebub says, cracking an eye reluctantly open, “They’re both idiots. Don’t… strain their brains.”

Aziraphale glances back, relief evident. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Of course I know what you’re talking about!” Beelzebub replies, and the other eye opens to a menacing slit. “Food strengthens your bloody corporation. You. Are. Living. In. It. So fucking feed it. The stronger your corporation is - the stronger you are.”

Aziraphale is nodding vigorously. “And we are all very injured. Beelzebub especially. A good meal will help kick start our angelic - and demonic - healing.”

“Ah,” is all Crowley manages.

“Honestly, dear. You really didn’t know that?”

Crowley, who will frankly never admit that he played hookie during the body orientation seminar to check out the strange angel he’d seen walking up on Eden’s wall, adjusts his glasses and shrugs. “I’m a demon. What’s the archangel’s excuse?”

“Corporeal bodies are not my department.”

Beelzebub blows a raspberry.

“Since you’re awake, your highness - mind moving your foot out of my face?”

Beelzebub’s only reply is a long, deep snore.

Crowley shuts both of them up by jerking the car into motion.

Food it is!” Crowley says, foot sinking satisfyingly down on the gas pedal. “And I know just where to take us.”

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

The angels and demons have managed to escape Heaven and flee from Entropy. Before holing up at Aziraphale’s bookshop and deciding their next move - Aziraphale insists they get something to eat. Crowley decides the best place to get a couple of angels and demons lunch is….

The grocery store! Crowded around a single cart, they will shuffle round the aisles of the local grocery mart, exploring the strange wonders of fluorescent illuminated human cuisine. 

The Ritz! Sitting elbow to elbow around a pristine white tablecloth, they will be sipping at champagne and making awkward small talk. Probably nothing will catch fire.

The drive thru! Packed in the Bentley, Crowley will drive them all to the greasiest of fast food establishments. With all three speaking at once, Crowley will attempt to order.

Please comment or reblog to vote! :)

Part 18

[letsgofoletsgo]

Random hcs with Charlie and Ramsey, and some with the rest of the gang

-Ramsey xemself is a very unpredictable character

-Xe has staggeringly different behaviors based on xyr situation, and it’s unknown if it’s a mental issue or if xe just does it for fun

-Ramsey typically has a sharp tongue and enjoys poking at people for xyr own entertainment, sometimes going farther than simple teasing

Xe’s on prescription stimulants, which xe sometimes abuses. Xe also gives xyr pills to people in exchange for money, sex, etc

-Ramsey grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania, and moved to Philadelphia after college

-I haven’t figured how Ramsey joins the gang yet, but I can tell you that xe and Charlie immediately have an,

-Odd relationship

-it’s a gamble whether xe wants to strangle him or make out with him on any given day

-However, Ramsey usually refrains from anything physical unless it’s “demanded”, as xe puts it

-Charlie is equally random with his actions towards xem, appearing to have some kind of mutual attraction but not above name calling or even physical altercation

-Ramsey calls him Kells as a nickname

-Xe also calls him “Old Man”, as he’s fairly older than xem

-In regards to his feelings for The Waitress, Ramsey really couldn't care less; mostly because they both know l she's too good for Charlie, but partly because xe isn't sure of xyr feelings xemself

-The two do have their moments when truly getting along. They both enjoy campy, obscure films, espeically those of the violent variety. Ramsey introduced him to Troma Entertainment movies, and the two often have "date nights" where they binge their movies and get wasted

-During the episode where Charlie and Frank are married for whatever reason, Ramsey finds it hilarious. Xe doesn't take it seriously and jokingly tries to convince Charlie to sleep with xem and "cheat"

-Of the gang, Ramsey seems to be on the best terms with Dee, both appearing as the voices of reason until their maniacal nature is brought out by the guys

-In fact, Charlie seems to view Ramsey as one of the guys, even if the others don’t

-This may be due to Ramsey's lack of regard for gender roles, going as far as to be topless with the other guys

-There's a running gag where Dee asks why Ramsey is attracted to Charlie, usually while he's doing something stupid or embarrassing. Ramsey never has an answer for her

-Ramsey enjoys using Franks money for whatever xe pleases, sometimes even stealing it. Frank doesn't seem to notice

-Xe doesn't care too much for Dennis or Mac, though does find Dennis annoying

[thetomorrowshow]

The Poignancy Of Silence

Part 2!

A/N: This is my entry for @stop-it-anxiety‘s fall fic contest! I had a lot of fun writing this. It’s based off the prompt “Patton’s Song”. There will be a part two--hopefully I can get it out before the contest ends (part 2 will be Roceit y’all).

Words: 5309

Tw: car accident (nothing graphic no one really gets hurt), little bit of blood, light kissing, gambling addiction, lots and lots of tears

Pairing(s): Moceit (yeah, I don’t normally like it. Inspiration struck though, and I really like this story)

-

Kind people who had known Dee as a child would have called him imaginative. Less kind people might have labeled him troubled. Those who were even less so would've said he was a delusional liar.

It didn't really matter to Dee. In more cases than not, those who couldn't hear the music weren't worth his time.

Yes, Dee heard music. As a child, it had been loud, ever-present, as children were almost always happy. Not that 'happy' was quite the correct word for it. Each person had a different song, one that played when (as far as he could tell) that person was experiencing a strong, positive emotion. One he'd observed was love. Sympathy, occasionally. But most frequent was joy.

Dee didn't have a song. He didn't know why, but always suspected that he was just missing out on whatever joy everyone else possessed. He'd never been truly happy. It hurt, deep down. Hurt to know that he'd never get this little portion of personality. He hid it the best he could.

Trying to explain to teachers and guardians why he couldn't pay attention in class did nothing but land him therapist visits, diagnoses, and pills that there was no way he was going to take. By the age of nine, Dee had learned to lie about it. People were scared of the music, he realized. They didn't want anyone to hear it.

So, the next time his foster brother burst through the front door waving his report card, a huge smile on his face and accompanied by the cheery ukulele strumming that was his music, Dee just smiled as well and said nothing.

A new family stopped making him see the doctors and take the drugs, but somehow got the memo that he was a liar. It hurt to hear from the people he desperately wanted to be loved by, especially since most families didn't want him, mainly due to his birth disfigurement. He tried to laugh it off, though. His face made for wonderful Halloween opportunities.

As Dee grew older, he started listening to music of his own. Earbuds playing light mood music or The Beatles or quiet indie songs, a playlist perfectly crafted to allow him to focus. It covered up the discordant mash of instruments that was high school.

One weekend, he locked himself in his stuffy room on the upper floor of his foster family's house, intent on staying there until Monday, when he discovered that his earbuds were broken. He didn't dare go in search of a new pair and put himself in the middle of whatever his guardians were arguing about this time, so just cracked his window for some fresh air and hoped no one was near enough for their song to hit his ears. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. A tune drifted up, and, before he shut the window, he tilted his head, listening to someone's joy.

It was a jaunty piano tune, plunked out jovially, like whoever it was coming from hadn't a care in the world. It was . . . pretty, he decided. Very sweet and easy. So, for that one time, he left the window open.

-

Every day after school Dee dashed up to his bedroom and cracked his window, tearing out his earbuds recklessly. Every day, that music wafted up to his room and he smiled, the day finally made good.

One day, he popped his head over the sill and glimpsed a grinning teenager, sprawled out on the trampoline in the neighbor's backyard. He immediately ducked down, afraid of being seen. The boy was—there was no other word for it—adorable. Like a puppy, happy at existence.

Dee started to keep an eye out for him. Paused his music when walking past him on the way to school, or when walking past the neighbor's house. Blushed when he saw the boy's smile at the grocery store, working as a cashier.

He wasn't attracted to the dark-haired, liberally freckled, bespectacled boy. He just wanted to know. What about him made his music so carefree?

-

Dee taught himself to how to play piano when he was fifteen, sneaking into the jazz band closet during lunch and plunking out notes on the keyboard. He said to himself that knowing how to play piano was a good skill to have, and it would get him girls, and maybe he could take it to a career if he got good enough.

Saying that didn't change the fact that the first thing he learned was the boy's song.

-

Years haunted by that cheerful music (which, for some reason, he never got sick of) passed. Dee moved away, got an apartment of his own, yet he still heard it.

The university he attended was unsurprisingly lacking in music. It came in short bursts here and there, but maybe it was more plentiful in the dorms. That didn't change the fact that every morning, on the walk to whatever building of the school he needed, He heard the neighbor boy's music. It was brief, always drifting from the same busy intersection, like it was coming from one of the waiting vehicles while Dee crossed the road.

The tune being so close and so far at once drove Dee mad. He stopped listening for it—he needed to move on. His playlist had been specifically designed to block out music. He started wearing his earbuds everywhere again.

One morning he was running particularly late. He ran out of the apartment building and dashed down his route to campus. His backpack bounced and jostled, his breath came in gasps, his eyes were fixed on his pounding feet, but he didn't hear any of it. Just George Harrison singing sweetly in his ear. Which was probably why he didn't notice that the light was green as he burst out of the tree line and ran  into the busy intersection.

He didn't hear the honking, or the tires screeching, or the shouts.

-

His eyes blinked open, then instantly squeezed shut as they were met with a blinding light. He felt sick and dizzy and his head ached. A shadow passed over his eyelids, and he realized he was lying on something hard and almost sharp.

“I don't think he's waking up!”

Dee groaned and let his eyes flicker open again. A helmeted head turned away from him blocked the sun. Then the person turned back, a phone to his ear, freckled face creased with worry. Even years later, Dee recognized him. Even without the glasses, and with blood welling up from a deep-looking cut on his cheek.

The boy. Or, the man.

“It's you,” he said before he could stop himself. The boy man's face relaxed, and he spoke into the phone again.

“Never mind, he woke up! When will the ambulance be here?” A pause, then he nodded and covered the receiver. “Don't worry,” he whispered with a conspiratorial wink. “I have financial aid.”

And that was how Dee formally met Patton Esperanza. Sprawled out on a busy road, bleeding from a head injury, the man's motorcycle lying just in his peripheral.

And he was head-over-heels in love.

-

Their first date was in the hospital cafe, both with their wounds treated. Dee had noticed the pride pin on Patton Esperanza's collar. He shared that he was pansexual himself, and Patton Esperanza, with that adorable little smile of his that scrunched up his eyes and put a dimple in his right cheek, had said, “So I guess this is a date, then. Or a gay-te.”

And that music had played, that cheerful, down-to-earth tune that Dee could associate with a shining face and a small gap between teeth and a sea of freckles.

“I—I guess,” he'd stuttered.

And Patton Esperanza had laughed a small laugh, and Dee found himself blushing as Patton Esperanza suggested a second date soon.

-

Their second date was at a small, locally-owned buffet. Dee found himself laughing an easy laugh as Patton Esperanza mimicked a walrus, chopsticks stuffed in his cheeks. Even over the five separate tunes playing from other customers, he could hear Patton's song.

He found out that Patton Esperanza was in veterinary school, across the campus from the law division of the school, where Dee spent most of his time. He could imagine Patton greeting the dogs and cats with a huge goofy grin, and realized that he would be a perfect veterinarian.

He felt his face grow warm when Patton nudged his shoulder, sputtered a bit when Patton stole the vegetable sushi from his plate, grinned stupidly when Patton cooed and waved at the baby in the booth across the aisle.

As he'd noticed years previously, Patton Esperanza was the happiest person alive. With him, Dee thought that maybe—just maybe—he could be just as happy.

-

It was the fifth date when Patton Esperanza kissed him. A quick peck on the lips at the local Museum of Modern Art (Dee's choice, it was mentally quieter than the places Patton liked to visit), followed immediately by a scared look.

“Was that too much?” Patton asked quickly, those bright hazel eyes brimming with worry. Dee realized he hadn't moved, just stood frozen while he tried to process.

“N-no, it was fine!” He shook his head, trying to clear it, thinking only of how brief the moment had been and how weird kissing was, but in a nice, soft way. “It was good,” he amended, and slowly, cautiously, slipped his hand into Patton's. The man's face lit up, the worry washing away.

They wandered the halls all afternoon, hands laced together between them, giggling at nonsensical art and standing somberly before pieces that hit too close to home.

“My parents split up when I was eleven,” Patton admitted at some point. His music had quieted. “I've got two little brothers. My parents both knew that they wanted my brothers, and argued over them, but. . . .” he sighed. “Neither of them really wanted me. I ended up with my mom and one brother. It was clear that she only really loved my brother.” He saw Dee's sympathy and smiled sadly. “It's okay, though. Just because I love them doesn't mean they have to love me.”

-

“My parents didn't want me, either,” Dee said over a cup of coffee, at the cafe across the street from the museum. He laughed, the sound more bitter than his drink. “Failed abortion. You'd think maybe they'd have a change of heart, and keep me, but no. Took one look at my face and screamed, I guess.”

Patton reached over and lightly ran a hand down the bumps and ridges that defined the scaly deformity that disfigured the left side of his face. “I like it,” he said quietly. “Even if no one else does. It just means no one will be trying to take you away from me.”

This time, though Patton again initiated the kiss, Dee didn't freeze. He passionately responded.

-

They shared a home now. Dee's home, actually.

Which meant they shared a kitchen.

Which naturally meant they should bake cookies together.

Poof!

A cloud of flour erupted in Dee's face. He coughed and sputtered and heard Patton's voice from somewhere through the cloud. “Oops. Sorry!” The little giggle that followed denoted any sincerity.

“Oh, it is on,” Dee grinned. He spotted the canister of sugar on a counter and, quick as a flash, grabbed a handful and launched it in Patton's direction.

“Ow! No fair!” laughed Patton. Dee recoiled with a bark of laughter as a plastic measuring cup narrowly missed his nose.

The kitchen exploded into an all-out war of ingredients (or anything else at hand), the recipe book on the table forgotten.

When it was all over, and the dust had literally settled, Patton and Dee stood in the middle of the kitchen, crying tears of laughter and holding each other like it was the end of the world. They were both covered in fine white powder; every movement brought another puff of flour. The afternoon sun filtered through a window, catching the particles in the air and surrounding them with a galaxy of little star-like specks.

“I love you,” Patton whispered. Dee heard his cheery music, which had been a background noise, rise to almost deafening.

“I love you.”

-

“I hear music.”

“What?”

Dee wasn't quite sure why he was saying it. Everyone he'd told about it had called him a liar, delusional. Somehow, though, he felt like Patton was different. He steeled himself.

“I, uh. I hear music.”

“Right now?” Patton smiled, and yes, Dee did hear his music right then.

“Uh, yeah, actually.”

Patton paused the movie. They were curled up on the couch in their living room on a Sunday afternoon, cuddled in the warmth of blankets and each other, the first snow of the season falling outside.

“It's stupid, never mind.”

“Dee, you can tell me anything.”

One look at those eyes, honest, accepting, loving, gave him the courage he needed.

“Well . . . I hear music,” he repeated. So few words, yet so hard to say. “Like, for me, everyone has their own tune that plays when they're joyful—or, whatever.”

He tensed and looked away, waiting to be called a liar, or silly, or be laughed at. Instead, the music grew louder.

“That's awesome.”

Dee looked back; Patton's face was shining with excitement. He chuckled a bit. “Uh, yeah. It's actually pretty loud.”

Patton didn't seem to hear. He bounced off the couch and to the keyboard in the corner of the room. “You play, right? Can you play me somebody's?”

“Of course, mon amour,” Dee said, trying to mask his apprehension with a silky tone. Patton blushed, then pulled back the chair. Dee sat, letting his nerves roll off in waves. He stretched his fingers, took one last glance at his love, then closed his eyes.

He knew what he was going to play. He'd memorized it years ago. Anytime he sat before a piano,  it pulled at his hands and pushed at his head.

His hands found the correct keys. He waited a few seconds for the music in his ears to loop around to the beginning, then let it flow from his fingertips. He missed a note or two, but it was fine. The rest of it, the jaunty, plunking tune, sounded beautiful.

When he wrapped it up, he opened his eyes to see Patton's shining with wonder.

“Is that yours?”

Dee barely heard the whisper over how loud the song was. He cringed inwardly, not wanting to wake the hurt deep inside at not having a song of his own. He grinned up at Patton.

“No. It's yours.”

-

“Where are you?”

“I got held up. Dr. Green wanted to talk with me about getting an internship.”

“Where?”

“Thompson and Edelman.”

“That's far away.”

“Yeah. I don't think I'm going to take it.”

Silence. “So where are you right now?”

“Stuck in traffic. It's Friday, you know. Rush hour's pretty bad.”

“Yeah.” A sigh. “I don't know. This is the third date night in a row you've missed. Maybe we should stop trying.”

Now he felt guilty. In truth, the internship discussion hadn't been what made him late. He'd hung around the dorms, playing poker with some other law students.

“Maybe we can do something tomorrow?”

“I've got to be at the clinic.”

“Right. Movie on Sunday?”

“. . . Yeah.”

“Great. You want me to pick something up to eat on my way home?”

“No, no. I made dinner. I'll just reheat it for you.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you.”

-

Patton's spoon clattered as it fell back in his bowl. His jaw hung open. Dee could hear the first few notes of a very recognizable tune.

Dee laughed. “It's true. I've never built a snowman.”

A huge grin unfurled across Patton's face. “Let's go! Right now. I think it's wet enough.”

“Are six inches enough to build a snowman?”

“Any amount of snow is enough if you try hard!”

So they built a snowman. Dee's coat was warm, but he didn't have any gloves, and wore yellow rubber dish gloves instead. When he waggled his fingers, Patton just laughed. “Now I know what to get you for Christmas!”

The snowman didn't go so well. Grass stuck to it and the construction was lopsided and Dee was fairly certain that the head was the same size as the bottom part, but Patton smiled happily and ran inside the apartment building. He emerged with a carrot, likely borrowed from one of the grinning neighbors that watched through the windows. He stuck it proudly in the middle of its face; Dee wrapped his only scarf around it.

Patton declared it the best snowman ever.

-

He did get gloves for Christmas. They were a ghastly yellow (likely in memory of the dish gloves), but they were soft, and one look at Patton's sparkling eyes told him he was going to wear them every day.

-

“I'm truly touched that you didn't like my birthday gift.”

“I told you I didn't want anything! I would've loved to just spend the day with you.”

“Well, I'm sorry that I didn't understand your stupid hints. Maybe I shouldn't have spent a week trying to pick something!”

“If you'd listened to me, you wouldn't have had to! You would've known what I wanted!”

“Obviously I'm not wanted, I'll be back tonight. Return the gift, I don't give a—”

“—Don't go play poker, you know I hate it when you gamble!”

“Don't tell me what to do.”

“That's not the person I fell in love with!”

“What, you thought I was a submissive puppy?! I have goals and a life, you know! I can't spend every minute listening to you! I'm not here just to make you happy!”

“And I'm not here to have a boyfriend who ignores me and lies to avoid spending time with me!”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Maybe I don't know if it was a sincere apology!”

“Maybe you should get a new boyfriend!”

“. . . You—you don't mean that.”

Slam.

-

“Name?”

Dee cleared his throat. “Uh, I'm just here to deliver these flowers to Dr. Esperanza.”

The man at the desk's face lit up. “Aw, that's cute! I'll let him know.”

Dee turned to leave, but a door opening behind him gave him pause. Was Patton coming into the waiting room?

No. The man had glasses, but his hair was a lighter shade of brown and his eyes were grey, and he had a more professional look—a necktie over a white button-up, covered by a lab coat. A low, methodical tune followed him.

“The Foster dog needs flea treatment,” the man said to the secretary without preamble, then noticed Dee. “Ah. Are you a patient with us?”

Dee shook his head. Then gestured at the flowers, then pointed at the door the man had exited from. His throat felt too dry too speak for some reason. The man followed his gestures, then his gaze landed on the deformed side of Dee's visage. Dee felt his face burn as he saw the distaste take over the man's—Dr. Logan Cato, his badge read—face. Dr. Cato's music trundled to a stop.

The doctor took him by the arm out the front door, nails biting into Dee's skin. As soon as the door closed, he spoke.

“If Patton ever comes into work crying again,” Dr. Cato said, his voice a low threat, “you'll have me to answer to. You're going to have to do better than some cheap flowers.”

Dee nodded and tried to pull away, but the man wasn't done. “Anyone would be lucky to have him,” the veterinarian said. “You need to recognize just how much you mean to him.”

That annoyed Dee. As Dr. Cato released him and walked back inside, Dee went over his words again. How much he meant to Patton? What about how much Patton meant to him? He'd skipped class and driven across town to the vet that Patton interned at just to apologize! Sure, maybe he was too much of a coward to say sorry in person, but he'd googled about which flowers meant what and composed a poem.

Patton was his life. He wouldn't let a stupid mistake push him away.

-

“Did you skip class to get me the flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Dee, you can't—”

“Sweetheart, I wanted to.”

“But your future!”

“I don't want a future without you.”

-

“Where were you?”

Dee froze halfway in the door. “Tutoring,” he lied. Patton hated when he gambled. Speaking of Patton, the man stood before him now, his face stony, arms crossed.

“We were supposed to spend the evening together.”

In all honesty, a part of Dee had remembered. They'd been planning a trip to a busy restaurant. He knew Patton wanted to, but he shuddered at the thought of such a crowded place, so many people with so much music.

“I'm sorry, he apologized automatically. “Three students needed help, and I was the only person there to tutor—”

“I got the evening off work just to spend with you.”

Dee felt a spark of anger in his chest. “What about me?” he asked belligerently. “What if I'd come home and wanted to be alone?”

“Well, I—”

“I can't drop everything I'm doing just because you want me to!” Dee ranted, really getting heated now. “I care about you, but I have a life too! I have things that I want to do, too!”

Patton's brow furrowed. “Were you . . . were you out gambling again?”

Dee felt his face heat up. “So what if I was? What's wrong with that?”

“Dee, there's so much wrong with it, but. . . .” Patton looked away. When he turned back, his earnest face was crumpling, his eyes full. “Today? Of all days?” he choked out.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no. His anger vanished quick as it had come, replaced by a cold fear. Today? What was today?

The 24th. The 24th of April. The same date that, a year ago, Patton had agreed to be his boyfriend.

Their anniversary.

“Oh no,” he breathed. His mind flew: did he get a gift? Was his gift going to be spending time together? And if so, did he just ruin their anniversary—and relationship—by being a selfish idiot?

Before he could say anything, a body pushed past him; the door swung closed.

“No—Pat, wait—!”

He threw himself out the door, but Patton was already gone. The thudding of running feet echoed from the stairwell.

“Pat, please!” Dee called out, heedless of those trying to sleep in surrounding apartments. He flew down the stairs, coming to a stop on the ground level just as the building door slammed shut.

A woman and her toddler watched on sympathetically as Dee dropped to his knees and sobbed. He hadn't thought that the night before would be the last night   he'd get to hold his true love.

He hadn't thought that he'd be the one to drive his true love away.

-

“One more chance.”

“One more chance.”

Dee pulled Patton into a kiss, relaxing when his boyfriend (somewhat reluctantly) returned the affection.

“How about I take off work tomorrow? You don't work till 3, so we can pull an all-nighter tonight.”

Patton nodded, a small smile gracing his tear-stained face. “It's been a while since we did one of those.”

“I still haven't seen that Christopher Robin movie.”

Later, they were curled up on the floor, surrounded by blankets and pillows and popcorn, a plate  of pizza rolls between them, the movie playing on the screen before them. Dee tapped Patton on the shoulder; the man looked up sleepily.

“I made this for you,” he whispered, and dropped something into his hand.

Patton's eyes widened at the bracelet. Beads spelling his name were laced into a complicated braid (Dee had learned to braid years previous, having been forced by a foster sister, then realized he found it calming and kept it up). Different shades of blue and grey crisscrossed beautifully and intricately.

“I'll wear it forever,” breathed Patton. “How did you make it?”

Dee shrugged awkwardly, a hand on the back of his neck. “It wasn't too hard. Just a braid.”

“I love it.”

Dee smiled, relieved. “I love you, you know?”

Finally, he heard that soft, plunking music.

“Yeah. I love you.”

-

It was late—or, early, maybe? That was okay, though. He'd let Patton know in advance that he'd be late. He'd made something up about a study group and dinner afterward. Patton had seemed okay with it.

However, it was now clear that his boyfriend had made plans of his own. He could hear Pat through the walls—chatting with the couple two doors down. He couldn't hear his song, though.

Instead of going straight to bed, he flopped out on the couch and turned something on—probably music. Music made for a good white noise for him, something to have to relax against.

It was perhaps a sign of his growing drowsiness that he didn't hear when the door opened.

“Oh.”

The word was cold and removed, and Dee sat up and stretched, blinking blearily at the figure in the doorway.

“Pat?” He took in his boyfriend's red nose and eyes, his stiff posture, the tight line that was his mouth. “What's wrong?”

“She tagged you.”

“What?”

Patton pointed at an open laptop on the counter, which Dee hadn't previously noticed. He stumbled up and over to it, his fingers dancing across the mousepad as the screen woke up.

It was open to a video on a social media site, and before it even started, Dee felt his heart sink.

He saw himself, hissing on a pair of dice and tossing them out onto an unseen table. Saw himself raise his arms in a gesture of triumph, mouthing “Snake eyes!” amidst silent cheering from the group crowding around him. Saw a girl (he didn't even know her name, some freshman who was already failing) pull him by his collar until their mouths collided. Saw his own eyebrows raise. Saw a student whistle, another letting out a noiseless catcall.

The clip moved on to a different moment before he could watch himself push the girl away with a nervous laugh. Check the time. Make up some excuse about leaving. Bite his lip anxiously, hoping that Patton would never find out.

He looked up wordlessly, trying to find something more meaningful than I'm sorry (words that should mean so much, but went hollow after too many lies). A tear slipped from Patton's eye, dying a spot on his light blue t-shirt black.

“I thought you'd died,” he spat. “There was an accident on 150. The car looked like yours. I kept calling, and you didn't pick up.”

“Pat—”

“I don't want to hear it!” Patton shouted, anger spilling over. “You promised you would stop gambling, you promised to not lie, and on April 24th, over a year ago, you promised to love me!”

“Pat!” But he couldn't be stopped.

“Everything is lies! Every day, I'm asking myself if you're really planning on coming home that night!” Tears ran fiercely down both of their faces. Dee stood, reached for Patton's shoulder, who jumped back as if burned.

“Don't touch me!” he hissed. “You're full of lies, and—and—” his voice raised— “Now I know why your parents named you Deceit!”

Dee physically recoiled. They never talked about his birth name. Ever. Patton had promised to never bring it up—not in an argument, not in a loving way, never. It hurt too much. He looked , expecting an apology. None came. Patton glared at him. Dee broke eye contact immediately, feeling the freezing pain of hearing his name mixed the crippling pain of his lover's hateful gaze. As soon as he turned away, a choked sob met his ears, and a body pushed past him.

Not for the first time, Patton ran away from the apartment. Not for the first time, Dee stood in shock, and briefly wondered what the neighbors must think.

Not for the first time, Dee fell to his knees, certain that this was the last time, that his true love was never coming back.

-

Dee was there when Patton returned—or, rather, there again. Dee had wandered the streets in the windy night until the edges of the sky started to turn purple, then orange. Then he'd wearily trod back to the complex to see if Patton had returned of his own accord. The man hadn't, but hardly ten minutes passed before the door was quietly pushed open and Patton stumbled in, stepped around Dee—who was silently crying in a heap on the floor—and went into the bedroom. The lock clicked behind him.

Now, Dee dashed away his tears. The sun was almost fully visible. On a weekday, they would be up at this time, preparing breakfast and showering and packing their bags for class.

Dee wasn't all that great at cooking, but scrambled eggs were decently simple, so he cracked some eggs in a pan and turned on the stove.

At some point, a glimmer of hope had sprung up in his stomach. Maybe . . . if he changed . . . if he reminded Pat of all the good times. . . .

He shook himself. He isn't happy with you, he told himself. It's hurting him to be with you.

Still, though. Maybe . . . maybe if he devoted his life to him . . . maybe . . . maybe Patton could love him again. . . .

“Dee?”

Dee dropped the spatula with a jump; he looked up to see Patton in the doorway. The man was in the same clothes as the night before, hair rumpled and eyes heavy with sleep.

He looked away as quickly as possible, stirring the eggs with vigor he didn't possess.

“Dee?”

“I'm making eggs,” Dee rambled. “You know I'm not that good at cooking, but I wanted something to do, and you were going to need to eat, and I couldn't sleep, so—”

“Dee.”

He met Patton's eyes. They were quiet, dull without the normal sparks of love and life. “Yes?”

“We tried, you know?”

And there it was. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes as Dee dropped the spatula again, letting his arms fall uselessly to his sides.

“We tried,” Patton continued, voice somehow emotionless yet overflowing with all the feelings neither of them could confess. “And we had some really good times. But people change—like clothes shrinking in the wash. One day, it's your favorite shirt, and it fits perfectly and you feel happy. The next, it's too small. Doesn't fit. It'll never fit again. And you're sad—you've just lost something that made you feel really good.”

“Pat, please—”

“I-I care about you, Dee. But this is hurting both of us. We—we just don't fit anymore.”

And now Patton was crying, now they both were, shaking and sobbing and feeling their life crash down around them. I'm sorry, Dee wanted to say. I'll change. Please. Please don't leave me. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Patton as the man flung himself at his chest. The eggs forgotten, they stood in the middle of the kitchen, crying tears of sadness and frustration and everything else and holding each other like it was the end of the world. The morning sun filtered in through the window, shining a spotlight on the two broken men.

“I love you,” Dee whispered. Patton said nothing, just hugged him closer. And Dee heard the sharpness, the poignancy, the depths of emptiness wrapped in one melody.

Silence.

[sunny1ace]

Fix You- Part 3.2 of the FamAU

Characters: Logan Sanders, Patton Hart, Remy Hypnos

Summary: Logan gets a job offer and makes Patton sad.

Words: 2115

Warnings: Guilt, anxiety, sad feelings, let me know if I should add any more :)

A/N: I don’t like this chapter, it didn’t turn out the way I wanted, I hope y’all still enjoy it!

Taglist (let me know if I should add you): @espepspes @kaileah-kat @i-need-you-buddy

***

Logan can’t do this.

He’s not an anxious person, growing up the way he did, it’s a miracle he isn’t, but he’s not.

That aside, it’s impossible for someone to never get anxious... everything is just too confusing.

Feelings and deadlines and interviews and-

Logan’s phone rings and he stares down at the caller I.D, too afraid to answer.

Afraid.

If there’s one thing Logan wishes he could never be again, it’s afraid.

The commons are busy, alive with half dead college students wandering about. A few feet from where Logan sits is a couple fighting, on the other side two girls talking about their little sisters at home.

For everyone else, it’s just a normal day. No one else is plagued by the uncertainty Logan is feeling, no one else keeps getting these stupid calls!

As the phone rings again, Logan takes a deep breath and holds it to his ear, “Hello?”

“This is The Florida State Education Department, calling for a Logan Sanders?”

“Yes.” Logan winces, “That is, speaking. I’m Sanders- Logan.” This is already going great.

Reminding himself that he isn’t anxious about work, that other things are bleeding into his professional life, Logan takes a breath.

He’s smart. He’s capable. He knows what he’s doing.

“Wonderful. This is Cathy Eliot. I’d like to discuss a possible career opportunity for you.”

If Logan weren’t a professional, he’d be jumping up and down. Instead he clears his throat and takes a few steps away from the couple next to him. “I see, are you presenting an offer?”

“Mr. Sanders,” Mz. Eliot begins, “we have a large group of graduates we’ve been considering.”

Logan smirks, two can play at that game. “I understand there’s a high demand. Though I’ll tell you I’ve gotten multiple offers from other school districts.”

It’s not a lie, he has received other offers. He’s just… turned them all down.

Though risky, the gamble draws the desired effect from the woman. There’s a pause, and then she sighs. “What I was meaning to say, Mr. Sanders, is that though we have a lot of candidates, you are our desired individual for this opportunity.”

“That’s good to hear! Are you willing to discuss this in depth now?”

“It would suit our time better to email you the details, and set up a call later on. My file says you currently live in Michigan, is that correct?”

“That is,” Logan responds promptly, leaning against the wall.

There’s some typing noises before the woman speaks again, “our board of directors are free around one o’clock your time. Does that work for you?”

Logan pauses as he’s about to say yes. One o’clock is when he meets Patton for lunch. “Is there anyway we could do it a little later?”

“We need to know you’re serious about this, Mr. Sanders.”

Of course they do.

Logan bites his lip, tapping his middle finger against his thigh to the rhythm of a classical piano piece. “I…” He adjusts his glasses and swallows. “Yes. One o’clock works for me. Thank you.”

“Have a good day Mr. Sanders.”

He wishes he’d stop using his name so much. “You as well.”

After he hangs up, Logan leans back to smack his head against the wall. This sets off his plan with Patton, not to mention he’s never cancelled before, he hates going back on his word.

Without really thinking about it, Logan starts walking towards the coffee shop he’d visited earlier that day with Patton. He’d since finished his coffee, and the desire for caffeine is making his neck itch.

He should probably look into that.

“What can I getcha hon?” The barista asks with a smile, leaning over the counter.

Logan blinks, then clears his throat. “Black coffee.” Then, “Please,” as an afterthought.

The barista grins and turns to start making the coffee as Logan pulls out his wallet. When she turns back around to pass it to him, she shakes her head. “It’s on the house dear, any friend of Patton is a friend of mine.”

“Oh,” Logan slowly puts his money away. Patton. Always Patton. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she replies, and Logan doesn’t believe her. She passes him a peppermint stick and winks. “Peppermint always helps me when I’m stressed.”

Logan perks up and nods, “You’re correct! In fact, people exposed to the aroma of peppermint and peppermint oil experience enhanced memory, increased alertness and increased processing speeds, according to the International Journal of Neuroscience-“

“That’s nice,” The barista responds distractedly. Logan snaps his mouth shut and nods another thank you, then turns and leaves.

Sipping his coffee, Logan feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he pulls it out, wincing at Patton’s number.

Knowing he has to cancel at some point, Logan answers, “Patton, I was just about to call you.”

“Really?” And god, Patton sounds so excited, Logan wants to smash his own face through a wall. “Well I guess I beat you to it!”

“I suppose you did.” Any other time, Logan would be smiling.

“I wanted to ask you something, but you go ahead, okay?”

“Very well.” Logan clears his throat. “I’m afraid I- well you see something came up and- Patton I’m afraid I’ll have to cancel lunch.”

The pause on the other side of the phone is deafening.

Distantly, Logan can hear someone whispering something, and Patton saying something back. Finally, Patton’s voice gets loud enough for Logan to make out. “That’s okay Lo! Don’t worry about it!”

That’s a relief. “Excellent. Now, what was your question?”

“Oh..” Another whispered exchange and then, “I was just wondering where you wanted to meet. That doesn’t really matter anymore though!”

Logan nods. “I really am sorry Patton. So, how-“

“I’ll see you around!” Patton hangs up.

“-are you,” Logan finishes flatly. He pockets his phone and shakes his head with a huff.

It’s not until he’s halfway finished with his coffee that he realizes Patton didn’t finish their conversation with the usual ‘don’t forget how incredible you are!’, something was off with him.

Patton is hurt. Because of Logan. Again.

Suddenly, his coffee tastes as bitter as Patton describes black coffee to be.

By the time one o’clock rolls around, Logan has had three more cups of coffee, four peppermint sticks, and too many worried looks from the barista to count.

It’s taken all the self control he has not to skip class to find Patton. That, and the fact that Patton is also in class, and he’d hate to disrupt even more of his day.

Now, sitting in front of his laptop, waiting for the call from Florida, he still can’t keep his mind off Patton.

“Focus Logan,” a sharp voice says. At first, he thinks it’s his mom, he almost goes into a panic when he realizes it came out of his own mouth.

“Focus,” He says again, calmer. That reminds him of Patton, and it doesn’t help in the least.

Logan takes a deep breath and hums. “Focus.”

This time, he sounds like himself. Good.

His laptop beeps and he waits until the second one to answer, situating himself so it doesn’t look like he’s sitting on his dorm room floor with moving boxes piled up around him.

A smiling man blinks into view on the screen, wearing a blazer over a shirt with tiny sunglasses on it, on his face are another set of sunglasses.

Logan blinks in surprise. This is not what he expected by ‘board of directors’. “Hello… I’m Logan Sanders. Who am I speaking to?”

“Sup! I’m Remy. Nice to meet me.”

...What.

“Uh, yes. It is.”

For a few seconds, Logan forgets everything he’d learned about interviews, letting Remy stare him down as they sit in uncomfortable science.

“You want the job?”

Logan almost falls over, “What?” At Remy’s raised eyebrow, he fixes his tie nervously, “Er, that is, What… is the job?”

“My secretary is a ho,” Remy grumbles and then sips loudly out of a cup in his hand. “The job, Logan, is an opportunity to head a new education branch for financially challenged and er- to put it delicately, behaviorally challenged kids.”

For some reason, Logan has a feeling Remy knows a lot about the latter group. He holds back any snarky comments as excitement grows inside him. So his counselor hadn’t been lying when he’d said Logan was being looked at for high positions.

“Hello? Where’d you go, space?” Remy snaps his fingers, “Earth to space boy!”

Logan snaps his eyes up to meet Remy’s, fully aware of the stupid grin on his face. “I’d be honored, sir.”

“Please don’t call me sir.” Remy holds his pinky up to the screen, “Pinky swear you’ll email me back when I send you the details?”

“Of course I will.”

“Do it.”

“We aren’t capable of touching, I’m not sure what you mean by-“

“Shake your damn pinky and you’ve got the job.”

Logan nods and shakes his pinky in the air, the smile still on his face as Remy signs off.

He has a job.

He has his dream job.

Four years ahead of schedule!

He has to tell Pat-

The smile slides off his face. Patton.

So what? Maybe Patton was a little hurt. He can fix that! The meeting ended up going a lot faster than he thought it would. There’s still time for the two of them to get lunch.

Fumbling his phone, Logan holds it up to his ear, counting in his head as it rings.

“You’ve reached Patton! Leave it at the beep kiddo!”

“Leave what at the beep?” Logan whispers and hangs up. He could try calling again, or text.

Logan huffs as he stands. Who is he kidding, his feet are already on the way to Patton’s dorm.

Thoughts like, he should’ve brought a jacket, texted Patton to warn him, and thought about the possibility that Patton wouldn’t even be at his dorm completely escape him.

All Logan knows, is he has to tell Patton everything.

The door to his dorm is decorated with stickers, paper hearts, a sign that says ‘Hungry? We have cookies!’ and both Patton and his roommate, Dee’s name.

Logan smiles and knocks, careful to not mess up any of the decor. “Patton? It’s Logan, do you have a moment?”

No answer. Logan knocks again, “I’d assume it’s plausible that I hurt your feelings earlier, perhaps we could still have lunch now?”

Again, silence. Logan can hear his heart in his ears.

“Patton I am truly sorry, i never meant to hurt you, not again.” Logan swallows hard and takes a breath, “The fact is, I- well- I love you. Truly. And it was impossible for me to get those words out before, because of what I’ve been through, I see now that.. that is no longer an excuse. I love you, Patton Hart. And I believe- I believe I always will.”

If this were a comedy show, crickets would be chirping, and Logan would be, in fact, a clown.

The air is still, and Logan realizes he’s holding his breath. He waits, waits until his face is probably red and his jaw is locking up and his eyes are watering and telling him to breathe goddammit, and Patton doesn’t answer.

Logan turns away, gasping for air and shakes his head. His eyes don’t stop watering.

His phone dings, and he looks down, staring hard at the text to see through the tears.

‘Sorry I missed your call! Out at lunch with Dee, call you later?’

Logan laughs, he’s not in his dorm. He’s not in his dorm and Logan just confessed his love to an eccentric door.

Typical.

Logan pockets his phone, wipes his eyes, readjusts his glasses, and leaves to order another coffee.

The day pitters by, and Patton doesn’t call back.

Slowly, Logan’s fears resurface, and he starts to wonder if he ever will.

He’s still thinking these exact thoughts, sitting in the campus library at three am.

He can’t take this anymore.

Without thinking, he sends Patton a text, not expecting a reply. He gets one forty-eight seconds later.

Ten minutes after that, Patton is standing in front of him in the empty library, beautiful and kind and tired and sad.

Logan tries to remember his plan, his speech, any one of the poems he’d written for Patton over the years, some way to eloquently tell his best and only friend how he feels.

At least six cups of coffee, the rollercoaster of a day, and the late hour make this impossible.

Patton shuffles his feet and then meets his eyes, “Logan-”

“I’m in love with you,” Logan blurts.

Patton’s eyes widen.

The world stops.

[oldshowbiz]

producing the smoothest soul there is 

[kirbythoughtsihave]

He who has conquered the Star

AN: SORRY I wrote this like an hour ago and I am falling asleep right now

    There once was a legend on an ancient planet. A planet of beings so wise and powerful, that only they could defeat themselves. They knew of this, and in order to stay safe, they encourage friendship as much as possible. This worked, and the pitfull of many was fixed by the beings of seemingly infinite wisdom, however even the smartest of minds couldn’t count on luck.

    A group of ancients began to work on the power of friendship, and how it could be used for good. This pleased many, as frenship couldn’t be harmful, right?

    The group tested everything, gathering survey to inform, stalking for info, and experimenting with their own bonds for the sake of knowledge. This disturbed the other ancients and they tried to help the group. This only provided more test subjects as the group lied about their feelings and waited to see the results of this path.

    In the end, they found that friendship could be physically manifested and that it could be used to create and destroy. They created tools; tools of hope, dreams, and power. Wish granting devices and cretors that created on their own. However, that group wanted to learn more, so they focused more on the components of the friendship.

        Hear, Soul, Mind, and Dark were all the components of friendship. This puzzled the group, how could matter of darkness be a friend, and so they isolated the component, into a matter most dark, and with this condensation of darkness, a being was born.

        The scientist freaked out and tried to destroy their creation,but all of the energy would be abused by the void. The group screamed for the other ancients, and they came rushing by as the dark being tried to consume the group. The whole planet tried to fend back the being of their own creation, the being trying to find the group that created it. All it knew was destruction; whether it be from it or them.

    The void absorbed every bit of magic and technology thrown at it, and created spawns to help with the search, until four individuals joined forces to fight against a common threat. These four allies used the matters that the matter of dark was missing and forge them into sphere and used those sphers to imporsion the monster.

        The battle was won, but the lives lost caused the planet to become inhabitable. The planets intrade with the ancients home collapsed without an economically infrastructure, and the group, the indirect destroyers of planets, were scattered in hiding, may they be out of shame, or out of fear.

        This only got worse, as the way to create beings out of matter became known, people foolishly began created life. However, things changed.

    A group of sorcerers combined all the matters of friendship, gave the creation a heroic heart, and took away all traces of darkness. This bore two beings, of yellow and pink, however that story is for another time child.

    Kirby shook themselve,’ why were they having flashbacks now,? We are in ANOTHER DIMENSION...’. Their eyes darted to their side. Dark Meta Knight, Darouch, and Marx were annoying Meta Knight as Susie and Magolor observed. Rick, Kine, and Coo were talking to some of the helpers who were...helping. Gooey was floating next to Ribbon and Adeline, and the girls had nevose looks on their faces. Taranza was talking to Bandanna Dee and Dedede, most likely about government stuff- the sort of thing that made Kirby fall asleep whenever Dedede complained about it during a meal.

    Speaking of meals…”Hey Adeline. Is STILL LIFE ready?”

    “Kirby...I just used it.”

    “Yeah but…….that looks to be boss coming up”

    The artist looked in front to see several essence surround an elegant door, and paused. “Guys! I think that’s where all these portals are coming from!” The group all stopped their conversation and examined the gold door that was coming up.

    “Okay, are we all healed?” asked Bandanna Dee.

    “I could go for some food right now”

    “But are you healed?”

    “...Yeah..” The group did a double check, Kine and Darouch were missing some health, but the group was in great condition. With that, they entered the door to the corrupted officiant.

(0^0)

    Everyone felt tired, they had just fought Hyness and the Three Mage Sisters. The helpers that helped were collapsed by the body of Hynessx leaving only the dream friends and Kirby standing(besides the aforementioned sisters). The Sisters opened a portal back to the Gamble Galaxy with four warp stars waiting for them. They restored Hyness's heart, and were on the warpstar when another portale appeared. The star allies look at Hyness in suspicion.

        “Juh? Japologa, but this is not me Majaja.”

    The allies looked at each other and sighed, ‘welp, I guess we’re doing this’ was a common thought among them.

    “Wait, I might be able to help.” Hyness summoned the pink spheres of legend and shot them at each of the warp stars. The stars lit up and combined in a flash of light, and each crating a bigger star, a STAR SPARKLER. The allies nodded and hopped on in a four single file line, one group per four stars. As they entered into the darkness they heard a faint, “We’ll take care of anything that comes out!” from the mage sister below.

    Inside the portal, the darkness faded as the group ended up on a large flat mirroring surface, as what looked to be the galaxy watched. In the center layed a morphing blob of sharp spikes of darkness. It molded itself into a giant form, larger than any being that Kirby and the gang have ever fought sans Star Dream.

        The giant was TRUE VOID TERMINA, and it was a titan on darkness.

    Eyes appeared all over the body and the four stars split up to take the down. Rick, Kine, Coo, Gooey, and Marx took the left, Adeline, Ribbon, Darouch, and Dark Meta Knight took the right. Taranza, Magolor, and Susie shot the eye in the back, while the main four took the eyes in the belly and on the head. The titan’s face mask flew off as Kirby’s star flew inside.

    “This is gross,” mutter King Dedede.

    “Said the person who was eating rotten food earlier,” quipped Meta Knight.

    “Possession!’

    “Guys could we not fight each other in the middle of fighting someone else” said Bandanna Dee.

        “Fine”

    “Fine”

    The Shell came off with the combined forces of an electric  hammer, sword, and sphere. The force of the shell blew the four friends out of the body of the void.

           Void Termina’s body directed the newly unleashed power brought upon by the removal of the shell and wings of a familiar foe sprang from it's back. The white and red wings had eyes form on them, and the star allies knew that they had to do this phase again.

           The titan's body cramped up in pain from the shots fired by the four stars, and was sent crashing into the ground with the loudest thud some of them have ever heard.

           Again, the face-mask fell off, but this time the four Star Sparklers rushed into the body of the colossal. Then their eyes met with eyes most familiar.

“ Kirby...what”

“Kid...explain”

“How”

“What”

“Who”

           Kirby froze. Those eyes. The eyes of the star traveler. The eyes of a created being, the eyes of puffballs. They were staring at them with the innocence of a newborn. Kirby stared at the being for what seem to be an eternity, but both knights were re yelling at them. They glanced at their friends, eyes in confusion, panic, and fear. The knights’ eyes were one of fearful recognition.

“You recognize them”, stated Kirby

“They….the eyes”

“What's going on?” asked Gooey.

Kirby laughed and said with a sign,” There were tales of the star conqueror. The being that came on a spring breeze. Living anywhere and consuming all.”

“ Why does that thing look like you demanded Susie.

“For they are me and I am them. We were made the same, but the experiences we had changed us.”

“What about us?” asked Dark Metela Knight.

“You were created by that wizard, right?  What made you think he had the right recipe, o’or winged one?”

“Kirby, stop talkin’ like that” said Dedede.

“ Apologizes, but this is a family matter an-” Kirby was cut off as a laser was shot at them. “ Oh right, final boss.”

The dream friends rushed at the boss, swinging everything they had, and used the confusion and betrayal as fuel to fan their flames.  The orb laughed and smiled as the final blow came down, knowing the fate they will receive. The orb exploded and everything went to white.

(0^0)

Kirby woke up to the burnt face of Zan Partizanne tending their wounds. “ What happened?” asked the pink puffball.

“After you left we fought a butterfly and then there was an explosion on the other side of the portal and all of you guys came out with magical injuries.”

“ If you really think about it...isnt everything a ma-”

“That's it, you aren't getting the wait on your explanation.”

“Wwwaaa-”

“ EVERYONE!!! KIRBY IS AWAKE!!”

         The room flooded in with helpers and dream friends. They all had a pensive look on their faces. “Kirby...what was that?”

Ohh..ohh…

“ It's a long story,but here's the abridged version.”