#I’m no longer a casual player! I’m supposed to take this game seriously now or something

[toothpaste-for-the-skin]

I remember an earlier version of who would eventually become Iota that I had around 2 years ago. Funnily enough, their story back then also involved being angry about something lol. But in this case she was angry about the fact that the Splatoon 1 plaza was more or less abandoned after Splatoon 2 came out, so she was kinda stuck in her Splatoon 1 ways and unable to accept the state of things now. Tbf this version of their character wasn’t an agent but was based off my Splatoon 1 avatar that Iota is also based off of, so they’re technically an older version of the same character.

This is the only drawing I found of this version of them, from summer of 2021 so 2 years ago. (Also check out that wasabi splattershot, nice). Btw! When I mentioned how Iota is technically a redesign, this is who they’re a redesign of!

Also yeah I might just randomly post character fun facts bc I think about them at 3:30am instead of sleeping now lol.

[hotchnisslovechild]

On the Sidelines

Chapter One

Holly and Marvyn meet and have a few beers.

A/N: i've recently fallen in love with the show big shot and grown quite attached to the relationship between holly and marvyn. i'll be needing something to hold me over as i wait for season 2 to be announced and released *fingers crossed*, so i thought i'd write a little something about these two. i’m not sure if any of you on here watch the show at all, but i feel like posting this here anyway. i recommend binging the first season of the show on disney+ :)

Pairing: Marvyn Korn/Holly Barrett (Big Shot) Rating: T Word Count: 2,302 AO3 Link

Today is the day. The day Holly gets to meet her new coaching partner and the team meets their new head coach. Changing into her practice clothes, something resembling both anxiety and excitement burrows itself in Holly’s nerves. Her thoughts run wild as she anticipates meeting the great Coach Marvyn Korn for the first time.

Holly would be lying if she said she didn’t have a little crush on Coach Korn. Of course, she admired his great looks, but she found his coaching to be just as fascinating, if not more. Watching him coach was electrifying. He’s animated, excited, always moving around, unable to sit still for a single play. He saw the court and everything happening all at once, managing his players like a brilliant conductor of an orchestra. She learned a lot from him by studying his coaching methods at Wisconsin from the comfort of her living room couch. He unknowingly taught her about defensive schemes and rotations, end-of-game scenarios, the importance of teaching your players every detail of the game and correcting their mistakes so they can improve. He undoubtedly loved the game and coaching it. His enthusiasm for the sport was infectious to his team in every game, and it paid off. That was until he threw it all away. And ended up here, at an all-girls private high school in California.

Taking a deep breath, the assistant coach walks into her office, her excited nerves to make a good impression mingling with her eagerness to get the season started with a new coach.  After tapping Shave and a Haircut on the window separating her office from Marvyn’s, she lets herself in, extending a hand to greet him.

“Holly Barrett, Assistant Coach,” she greets with an enthusiastic smile, borderline out of breath from the anticipation of finally meeting him. She studies him. His looks. His demeanor. He looks better than he did on TV — if that’s even possible. She finds his dark features beguiling. And those eyes. She could get lost in those light-colored eyes. There’s a lack of actual light in them, however. He seems unenthused, maybe a bit on edge. But she shrugs it off, attributing the lack of energy to nervousness.

“Marvyn Korn,” he says, shaking her outstretched hand, holding on to it a bit longer than necessary, caught off guard by the bright energy of the woman standing before him. She’s the first person at this school to greet him in a way that resembles any sort of kindness. No one at Westbrook wants him there. Hell, he doesn’t even want to be there. This is just one step towards getting back to college ball.

“It’s a great honor, Coach,” she says, letting go of his hand and walking towards the front of his desk, “I’m a big fan. You have no idea,” she admits, trying her hardest not to come across as creepy or weird. They are going to be working together pretty closely for the next few months, so she wants to start things off right with him, not scare him away or freak him out. She’s sure he’s already a bit freaked out being transplanted into an all-girls high school after coaching college men for so many years, and she’s not caught off guard when he then asks her for advice on coaching girls.

“Well, I'm tempted to say just treat 'em like the boys,” she starts, debating whether or not she wants to continue that thought. It’s probably not the best idea to offend the head coach on his first day on the job.

“But?” he pushes.

“You didn't treat the boys so well,” she answers matter-of-factly.

“Do you have any advice that might actually be helpful?”

She tells him that the girls on this Westbrook team are future leaders who are anxious to get started and can be a bit much. “Don’t pretend, they’ll see right through it,” she adds finally. And I’ll see right through it she thinks. “Other than that… let’s go coach some basketball,” she says brightly.

Marvyn tries his best not to roll his eyes as he gets up from his chair and heads onto the court to meet the girls. He doesn’t want to be there. He doesn’t want to coach a bunch of rich high school girls. Everything about this gig is a demotion for him. From college to high school. From men to girls. His disregard for this job is anything but hidden as he walks out of his office, dreading the official start of his role as Head Basketball Coach at Westbrook.

Holly follows closely behind him, excited and ready for a fresh start with a new coach to work with. Their previous coach had been nothing short of insufferable, constantly telling Holly she had no say in the team, diminishing her role as a coach, making it clear she was not in charge. Despite his harshness towards Holly, he coddled the girls on the team, always telling them what they wanted to hear. The lack of discipline never got the team anywhere, but Holly bit her tongue, knowing that whatever she had to say didn’t matter to her then-colleague. Marvyn gives her a sliver of hope for the team’s future and hers. She knows Marvyn will run things differently, and she hopes that this change will be a good change.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

After one practice and not even one drink into their casual rendezvous at a sports bar, Holly concludes that Marvyn certainly is different from their previous coach, but she’s hesitant to consider the change a positive one. He takes the game too seriously, prioritizes the end goal of winning and success over the feelings of the girls on the team. To him, they are just pawns in his own lifelong game of basketball. They are X’s and O’s, not individuals worthy of being treated with respect. He practically committed every sin of working with teens in the book. He demeaned them, embarrassed them, and disrespected them all in the span of one practice.

“My life is basketball,” he begins, “Everyone in my life are basketball players. A good coach can't be successful if he becomes friends with his players.”

“What about after work?”

“There is no after work. Not if you wanna win. There's diagramming plays, there's watching tapes, the recruiting, but there's no after work.”

Holly lets out a breath. His version of reality is nearly incomprehensible to her. Never in her life has she met someone more polarizing and stuck in his way than this man in a tracksuit sitting in the booth with her. She almost feels sorry for him. He doesn’t have any friends, and he spends all of his time thinking about basketball and how to make his team better.

“I guess I don't have to ask what happened to your marriage,” Holly says boldly, venturing into the untouched territory of his personal life as she takes a sip of her beer.

“Nope. What happened to yours?” he returns. He checked her out in the teacher portal the day before. He’s all about preparation, and that does not exclude doing some research on his assistant coach.

Her eyes grow wide. How the hell did he know I was previously married? She thinks to herself. “None of your business,” she retorts, sidestepping his question as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, not wanting to air out her dirty laundry in front of her colleague, especially considering they just met some few hours ago.

“It is my business. Add to that, you opened the door because you asked about my marriage.” She scoffs in response, now regretting bringing up the topic of failed marriages.

Marvyn opens up about his divorce first, telling her that his wife left him, which Holly deduces was because Marvyn is such a workaholic. “She figured that she deserved more, that she could do better. So she did,” Marvyn explains. “Your turn.”

“Same,” she utters, wanting nothing to do with this conversation any longer, “He realized he could do better.”

“Why?” He pushes once more, his stubbornness starting to set Holly’s nerves on fire.

“None of your business,” she says, her voice laced with more attitude than she intended.

“If it speaks to your character, it is my business.”

Looking down at her lap, Holly lets out a quick breath. She has her back up again the door of the closet, refusing to expose the skeletons locked in there. Her marital past is not something she’s particularly proud of or that she looks back on with much joy. It’s hard to talk about without feeling embarrassed, feeling ashamed that she had an affair with a man named Matt, who happened to be her husband’s best friend.

The neglect from her husband eventually pushed her over the edge to do what she would never forgive herself for. The person who was supposed to love her the most in this world stopping caring. She was left unfulfilled and disconnected from the man she once loved. He was absent. Even when he was there, he wasn’t actually there. They didn’t even bother to fight anymore. They simply coexisted in a house that no longer felt like home.

She really wasn’t thinking at all when it happened the first time. She had an itch to scratch, and Matt was there.

“I cheated on him,” Holly discloses finally, “I had an affair. Worst thing a spouse can do, I suppose. Short of neglect, maybe,” she explains, purposefully vague, hoping he doesn’t interrogate her further.

“Are you saying my betrayal was worse?” he asks, suddenly feeling defensive.

“I’m saying his was worse. But yeah, yours too, I guess, if that's what you're guilty of.” The weight of her words hangs in the air between them. He watches as she shifts once more in her seat, visibly uncomfortable with the level of openness of the conversation.

Holly sighs. “Wow. This is a really nice ‘How do you do? Let's get a beer’,” she says with a subtle bite of sarcasm, avoiding his gaze and reaching for her beer.

“This isn't a ‘How do you do? Let's get a beer’. You have an agenda.” She rolls her eyes at his accusation, although there is some truth to it. She does have something she wants to talk to him about. “You clearly have an agenda, so get to it.”

“You are profoundly unlikable. You know that, right?” She doesn’t even try to hide the sourness of her tone.

“You're just scratching the surface. If you have something to say to me, please say it. 'Cause I'd like to get back and work on the Laguna game.”

God, he’s so fucking persistent. “Okay.” She set aside her beer, leaning in towards him. “Marvyn, these are high school girls we are working with. I know your tried-and-tested ways of coaching got you far at the collegiate level, but these girls can’t be treated like they are men in college.”

“And why not?” Her point evidently went right over his head.

“Because they are different. They don’t handle criticism like those men do. They take things personal. They won’t be responsive to your derogatory, hotheaded way of giving feedback or your ‘my way or the highway’ mentality. These girls need to be inspired and supported, not embarrassed and disrespected. These girls don’t just kiss the ring. If they aren’t respected, they are going to try to get the upper hand. And they are quite good at it.”

“They’re not gonna get the upper hand with me,” he counters.

“Look at how scared of this you are.” She can’t understand how it’s so hard to just receive these girls as the complex people they are. This team won’t get anywhere if he doesn’t let go of all his unreasonable preconceptions and connect with these girls. He’s so stuck in this mindset that the team is beneath his abilities that he doesn’t realize he could actually learn something from these girls. And he shouldn’t be afraid of that. Holly is always learning new things from her students and players. When is Marvyn going to get it through his head that he can learn from these girls just as much as they can learn from him? It’s a two-way street.

“This is another thing. You don’t know me,” he snaps defensively, “so don’t pretend that you know me.”

“I don’t want to know you,” she says coolly, “I just want what’s best for the team,” she assures him, feigning sincerity, telling him exactly what he wants to hear whether it’s what she wants to say or not.

“Yeah.” He nods his head, thinking she’s finally seeing things from his point of view.

“Is that a good answer?” she asks as she raises her eyebrows, revealing the insincerity of her previous words. His face drops, catching on to her little game. She’s irritatingly clever.

The conversation comes to a quick end, interrupted by the other patrons of the bar cheering and applauding, celebrating a touchdown in the football game playing on all of the TVs.

They find themselves back in that same booth at the same sports bar the next night. As they sip on their beers, Marvyn expresses his doubts about coaching this team, telling Holly that he just doesn’t think he can do it.

“What else?” he asks after bringing up everything that’s happened with the girls in just his two first days, speaking so frantically Holly could hardly keep up. “What the hell else?” His apparent distress over coaching a bunch of high school girls makes her laugh. You would think the world was coming to an end based on how he was acting.

“I know. You're not prepared. Welcome to high school,” she quips.

“I- I had no idea what I was in for.”

Clearly.

[kareofbears]

persona 5 royal: my thoughts after finishing it five minutes ago

disclaimer: the only reason im writing this is because 1) i have a lot of thoughts and feelings that i need to write down and if i dont ill explode and 2) i want to be able to find this when p5s eventually drops so i can compare my thought processes. if you do not agree with what i’m going to say, that’s cool! just block me or ignore this post. 

now for the sake of sanity, i’m going to try and narrow down this entire list into chunks because this’ll probably be very very long and very much about me just screaming about stuff that i liked, loved, and don’t like. i will be spoiling both the original persona 5 and persona 5 royal, obviously, so i hope you finished both!

1) Akechi

so yes. Goro Akechi. Everyone’s favorite murderer. I’m going to by spewing a lot of hot takes, and this is probably going to be the spiciest: i am in the most intense love-hate relationship with this brown haired antagonist because jesus christ is he a complicated son of a bitch. I know i’ve complained in the past about how much Atlus often struggles with utilizing a character well, but that does not at all relate to Akechi in any way, shape, or form. 

I’ll say this now: He is a character I genuinely, truly hate, yet he is the one I want to hear from the most. He is someone who is a bad person (yes, he is a bad person) but whenever he comes on screen he makes me sit up, he makes me pay attention to him because that’s just the aura he exudes. He is a character who i would never, ever waste my time defending or justifying his actions, but every minute joker spends with him is a minute i want to stretch out as long as possible because he is just that good of a character. He is interesting, he is well defined, he is smart, he is clever, he is sassy, he’s a motherfucking asshole who’s never had a vibe check in my life and i still hate him. Goro Akechi is what Star Wars wanted Kylo Ren to be, and that allegory may not make sense to many people but it works for me so i’m saying it. It’s to the point where writing akechi in a fanfic makes me sweat because in my opinon capturing the essence of akechi is near impossible unless you know what you are talking about (i do not mean that in anyway to discourage people from writing him, im just saying that I am a coward because i will never be able to write a good akechi). Anyway, bottom line is: i despise him but my eyes are always glued to him at all times.

back to the main point-- Atlus absolutely nailed this character and every single addition they put in for Akechi. I’m so damn thrilled that you actually have confidant hangouts with him because every single time you talk to him, it services not only the plot, but it perfectly does what it is supposed to do: it makes you like him, but also leaves the player slightly unnerved. they do it so casually that I might have trouble explaining it, but bear with me: everytime you hangout with him, he always does or say something that unhinges you just a little bit, it leaves you asking ‘wait why?’ or ‘but how did you know that’ or ‘why are you saying that?’. akechi is constantly playing mind games with you. and not only that, adding backstory to akechi (moreso than in the original) is just fucking fantastic. he’s always been a fully fleshed out character but after playing royal, goro akechi actually exists in my mind, and i still hate him (but also i dont. but also i do. anyway)

2) the ending

just finished the game and this is the point where i am at odds with p5r for the first time. the ending to p5, in my opinion, was flawless; everything was perfect and had meaning. from the shot of akira being shown to not wearing glasses anymore because he no longer feels the need to wear a mask (character development: he was very unhappy at the beginning of the game and now he’s happy with his friends--i love it), to his friends being the one to drive him home (amazing, he left his home town and came to shibuya alone via transit, and one year later he’s now leaving with all of his best friends in a van they rented just so they could stay with him as long as they can--it’s perfect, i love it), and also all of them seeing how large and infinite the ocean is (because now there’s unlimited options for them because they all have a new perspective on life). 

But....none of that is there in p5r. it feels impersonal. no one drops him off at his hometown, he was still wearing glasses, and there’s no grand metaphor about what they all achieved. 

Now, i am not a (complete) moron. I know why they had to change it: it’s because of persona 5 scramble (i think). they wanted to set up a plot for the next game and i feel like thats the reason why persona 5 royal’s ending suffered for it: they were too focused on the next plot that they forgot to focus on the sentimental ending for p5r. don’t get me wrong, seeing akechi in the train station absolutely made me lose my shit and made me scream at one in the morning, but i think they lost the core meaning in doing the other stuff. i did not like the focus on maruki and kasumi (will be talking about them later), cause i feel like it took away from the ending, and i also didn’t like the fact that the whole joker outfit in the reflection thing (but i will be letting it slide since it was during the after credits anyway). So while i do love one (1) new aspect of the final cut scene, i still adore and stan the one from persona 5. 

3) the entire last semester 

i’ll be quick: the final palace? the best palace. fight me. it’s fantastic, it’s innovative, it’s interesting, and most of all, the palace ruler is actually the best one in the entire game and i know i wont be the only one to say this. maruki is not a villain: i know for a godamn fact that im not the only one to say that i almost agreed with his deal of allowing the reality (damn i almost agreed twice) because why wouldnt you?? it’s literally a perfect reality! the only reason i didnt agree is because i knew the game wouldnt want me to agree and would force me to have the bad ending! anyway, i love the last section so much. the palace design is interesting, the antagonist is brilliant (who doesn’t love a morally gray antagonist?), and finally, the payoff of kasumi happened and it made me silent for ten minutes. the entire reveal of her being sumire and kasumi being dead is just so genuinely shocking to me that it nearly broke my neck.

what actually broke my neck was the initial incident for the third semester. seeing everyone in this wild alternate reality made me so unsettled that i literally got a stomach ache. i saw morgana as a human and nearly passed out. shiho in the underground? wig. ryuji saying he’s on the national pedastal for running? literally my eyebrows just popped off my head. fucking WAKABA? FLATLINED. brilliantly executed and i love the initial akechi and akira buddy cop movie vibes in the beginning it was just so fun. 

one huge part of the third semester for me though, was of course, akechi. seeing him completely throw away his ‘charming ace detective’ speil was the most refreshing and interesting and not to mention, hilarious part of the game. he does not give a fuck about anyone and he is not afraid to let you know. he is the biggest savage and the most insane person on the phantom thieves group. he’ll roast you, he’ll roast your boyfriend, he’ll roast fuckin anyone and it’s fantastic. not to mention his dialogue is killer: he says the most bat shit insults ever and my favorite example is when you go up to him near the end of the game, you know, to hangout with him and be a nice guy, he just does not hesitate to say ‘what, you came just to see me? just the sort of brainless sentimentality i’d expect from you.’ i LOVE IT because why the hell would he try to be nice? the jig is up, he’s got nothing to hide. and he owns it. atlus seriously nailed akechi in this last semester and it’s brilliant and i love it.

4) everything else 

- one small thing that pissed me off in both games (but especially this one) is how many godamn fake out deaths there are. Morgana has one, Akira has one, Ryuji has one, Sojiro has one, Maruki has one, motherfucking Akechi has two. it just hurts me!

- sumire is an amazing character who has depth and she is lovely and my biggest complaint is that it feels like atlus shoved her in. like, she feels like a new addition to the game, you know what  i mean? maybe its because ive played the original p5 first, but you know, it’s not a big deal. but i love her so much

- on the topic of sumire, i cant say that im completely super duper happy with how different she felt from the other thieves? im sure that’ll be explained in p5s but she just got so much screen time that it just truly made me confused?? maybe im just a horrible person, or that’s just a really hot take. but anyway, yeah maybe im bitter because i really wanted to see extra hangouts/school trips during royal, but didn’t really.

-baton pass? literally orgasmic. it made turn base battles so damn fun and the addition of darts and billiards made me foam at the mouth it was SO SMART AND INNOVATIVE AND I LOVE IT ATLUS I LOVE YOU ATLUS YOURE SO SMART SWEETIE

-small thing, but making spells like ‘dormina’ actually useful just made the game so much more fun and dungeon crawling became something i truly, genuinely looked forward to

-being able to give gifts to my bros? absolutely incredible. thank you. side note: seeing akechi happy from giving him a multi vitamin cracked me up. side side note: giving ryuji a fuck ton of weights and him just smiling made my heart so happy i love that boy so much

- ah this game just looked so GOOD! i thought the original looked good but they really went all out. im not kidding, the smallest details in everyday life or even just normal cut scenes were out of this world. especially stuff from the third semester its just OOF good JOB atlus i love you buddy

-ahhh thieves den! how can i forget? i love it. at first i was a bit iffy with it since it really felt like persona 5 (undoubtedly the biggest game atlus has created) was just jacking itself off. but as time goes on, it became a huge addition to the game and seeing characters’ insights and extra lines of dialogue became super duper interesting and a highlight of the game for me. and don’t even get me started on how much i love love love the photos they added of them hanging out! so lovely, a bunch of them made me tear up

- i know it’s literally impossible, but i feel like the game just forgot that akechi is a person who can wield multiple persona and i just wish that could’ve been messed around with during Palaces

- showtimes are so, so crazy and i get so embarassed whenever they play on my tv because they are just outlandish and unashamed but i love them so so much it just defines persona’s personality 

-because i love ryuji: i prefer the final conversation you have with him aka ‘whaddya mean? you’re there’ but there’s still a lot of really tender and sweet moments like akira genuinely telling him that he’ll miss him, and also the fact that ryuji wants you both to send each other your times through the exercise watch so you can still race ahhhh i love him so much yall

so, overall, this game is better than the original p5 because of the extra content we get. if persona 5 was the perfect dinner, persona 5 royal is that same dinner and you get to enter the dessert buffet. it’s brilliant, it’s smart, it’s hilarious, it’s heartwarming, and it’s undoubtedly my favorite game of all time without exaggeration. while i do prefer the final cut scene (and final dialogues with some characters) in the original persona 5, in the overall experience, persona 5 royal is superior in my mind. i would willingly get amnesia to play this game again. 

I didn’t get to cover everything, but this is definitely most of what i wanted to say. if you actually get to reading all the way to the end, thanks! it means a lot. i hope we can all enjoy persona and look forward to persona 5 scramble together :-)

[homespork-review]

HOMESPORK ACT 5 ACT 1: Mobius Double Plusungood, Part 2

BRIGHT: Nepeta wants to know what’s going on. Aradia finally stops dodging the question and tells Nepeta she’s dead, but doesn’t elaborate on how it happened. She asks Nepeta to keep it a secret, which Nepeta agrees to. Aradia’s also picked up some froglike traits from being merged with the sprite -- namely a tendency to ribbit.

In retrospect, it’s kind of funny that an active player can merge with a sprite. The role of a sprite seems to involve having detailed knowledge of how the Game works and what the player should do next, but only dispensing vague advice to the player. Prototyping a player would give them full access to that knowledge with no sprite vagueness to get in the way. The Game doesn’t seem too concerned about that, though.

CHEL: Now it’s time to get to know AG better. A doodle of her declaring her to be a HUGE BITCH fades into her standing in her room. Rather gothic, and also filthy-looking; it’s dark, with a red sky outside, and cobwebs and broken Magic 8 Balls lie around everywhere. There’s a FLARP poster and numerous pages of notes on the wall.

Your name is VRISKA SERKET.

You are a master of EXTREME ROLE PLAYING. You can't get enough of it, or really any game of high stakes and chance. You have persisted with the habit even in spite of your ACCIDENT. But then again, you don't have much choice.

Your lusus is VERY HUNGRY, ALL THE TIME. She can only be appeased by the FLESH OF YOUNG TROLLS. You cloud campaigns for teams of Flarpers, utilizing your abilities for ORCHESTRATING THE DEMISE OF THE IMPRESSSSSSSSIONA8LE. Your victories supply you with treasure, experience points, and SPIDER FOOD.

You are something of an APOCALYPSE BUFF, which is something you can be on Alternia. You are fascinated by end of the world scenarios, and enjoy constructing DOOMSDAY DEVICES for the hell of it. You are drawn to means of DARK PROGNOSTICATION and the advantages they offer, particularly in gaming scenarios. Your abilities in this department were hobbled with the loss of your VISION EIGHTFOLD, and you have since sought alternatives through various BLACK ORACLES. You consult with these ominous globes, but routinely destroy them in frustration over the PUZZLING GUARANTEED INACCURACY of their predictions. Breaking them has developed into a habit BORDERING ON FETISHISTIC, and with each you destroy, you add to an insurmountable stockpile of TERRIBLE LUCK. You have to stop. But addiction is a powerful thing.

FAILURE ARTIST: FINALLY we get a name for her and we don’t have to keep saying AG. I imagine the non-Homestucks are feeling like I did when I played Danganronpa 2 finally and saw the “fingers-in-his-ass” guy.

CHEL: She examines a drawing on the wall, of her FLARP character MARQUISE SPINNERET MINDFANG, who is just Vriska in a different coat and seaboots, with a hook instead of her robot hand. She is the scourge of land dwellers and sea dwellers alike, and worst nightmare to silly BOY-SKYLARKS everywhere. She has accumulated more treasure and gained more levels than any member of the PETTICOAT SEAGRIFT class ever. She gained all the levels. All of them.

En route to her computer, Vriska steps on a D4, and complains about how she’s had terrible luck since her mysterious accident. I’d just like it noted that this is a small but noticeable occurrence of Vriska’s tendency to blame others for her problems; if she cleaned her room some time, that wouldn’t happen. Still, she doesn’t worry about it too long, as she’s busy.

So many irons in the fire. Such a tangled web. It is a web full of flaming irons and mixed metaphors.

BRIGHT: Vriska equips her weapon of choice, a set of enchanted D8 dice called the FLUORITE OCTET.

...okay, I’m getting used to characters having semi-absurd weapons, but seriously, what? Let’s review everyone else’s chosen weapons: Hammer, knitting needles, sword, gun, sickles, lance, clawed gloves, walking cane. Sollux had some throwing stars but didn’t assign them to his specibus owing to his telekinesis being enough; we haven’t seen Aradia’s strifekind yet, but she also has telekinetic abilities, and hers are apparently enhanced by her being dead. So that’s a lot of genuine weapons, and some things which aren’t weapons but can readily be used that way in a pinch...and then Vriska has a set of enchanted dice.

It’s a good fit both for Homestuck’s absurdity and for Vriska’s obsession with luck. But it does stand out rather.

Anyway, rolling the dice will execute a wide range of highly unpredictable attacks. Very high rolls can be devastating to even the most powerful opponents. Apparently these work everywhere, not just in FLARP games. Also, while we see ghosts, psychic powers, and superpowered coding, I think this is the only reference to plain magic we have on Alternia.

Vriska steps away from the computer to avoid talking to GA, who she refers to as an unwelcome solicitor, but returns to it when someone else starts messaging her. Vriska calls him this guy; he has no icon -- and, oddly, no username -- and types in white, which means the reader (and Vriska) ends up highlighting the conversation a lot. 

Hello.

AG: Oh my god, why are you talking to me????????

This is the last time we'll ever talk.

AG: Still sticking with the white text I see. So smooth and stylish!

AG: I forgot how much I loved highlighting it to read all the 8oring things you have to say.

AG: It's like a fun game for super extra handicapped retarded people. Like opening a present! Find out what o8noxious thing the mystery tool typed.

AG: What is it!

A parting courtesy, I suppose.

All the ways I've exploited you were meant to bring about the events that will take place this evening.

Knowing this will provide context for the events in your near future, and will affect how you behave in response.

These events will be just as important as those preceding it.

I've gone to great lengths, you see. 

Well, this guy sounds ominous.

Also, using ‘handicapped’ and ‘retarded’ as insults is entirely in character for Vriska, who has no time for people who can’t operate on her level. Currently Vriska’s also being shown as an unlikeable character. We’ll see how that develops.

CHEL: Still, a lot of people really don’t like those words being used casually, and the fact that we need to show you how things develop should imply that they won’t develop in a way you’ll like. So…

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 39

White Text Guy, as the characters refer to him for a while to come yet, continues gloating about how successfully he’s exploited Vriska, who tells him she’ll log off and orders him not to use that nasty trick where you log me 8ack on out of petty douchey spite! WTG says he’ll be brief, though he’s not particularly brief in fact, tells her he no longer hold[s] her accountable for any wrongdoing, and says that if she accepts this, she may get her luck back. Vriska doesn’t believe him and continues to rant, and he points out that her unpleasant, simplistic temperament is what made her so easy to mess with.

If you turn a swarm of wasps on a crowd, the outcome is certain.

He leaves with these even more ominous words:

Though the magnitude of the ensuing destruction resulting directly from your actions will be neither possible or necessary for you to fathom, there nevertheless ought to be a silver lining.

The only question is whether you will live long enough to see it.

Vriska, enraged, lifts a Magic 8 Ball with the intention to smash it, but decides she can’t be bothered, and answers GA, hoping some camaraderie will cheer her up, even if it’s from a meddler. However, GA’s first question is “Is Your Lusus Dead Yet”. Not particularly cheering, is it?

Vriska, for the first time, expresses concern and sympathy for another person when GA says her own lusus is dead, though it may be undermined slightly by her own personal disappointment in never having got to meet said lusus. GA doesn’t seem very concerned, and says “Maybe You Still Can”. According to her, though, all their lusii are dying, as a “Preemptive Consequence” (if that’s a meaningful concept) of the upcoming Game. Karkat blames himself for activating the cursed code, but GA thinks it was inevitable. However, Karkat’s idea of a curse Is Inseparable From His Perception Of Events As Intrinsically Negative And As Tailored To His Personal Dissatisfaction, and so is Vriska’s poor luck. GA points out that if Vriska cleaned her floor she wouldn’t step on so many things. THANK YOU, GA, you made my point for me! Vriska is angry at GA “meddling” so, and demands to know why she does.

GA: Because Youre Dangerous

[...]

GA: Its Ok To Be Dangerous

GA: Lots Of People Are

GA: And Dangerous People Can Be Really Important

GA: Maybe Even The Most Important Sometimes

GA: But It Just Means Theres Got To Be Someone Around To Keep An Eye On Them

As Vriska gets angrier, it’s noted that she puts 8s in her typing in places where they don’t work as Bs or as “eight” sounds, and they become more numerous.

AG: Or you know, if you're so h8gh 8nd might8 an8 th8nk you're so gr8at, m8y88 you c8uld oh I d8n't kn8w........

AG: TRY AND ST8P ME FROM DO8NG B8D THINGS????????

GA: That Wouldnt Work

GA: If I Tried To Stop You You Would Regard Me As An Enemy

GA: Instead Of Merely As A Nuisance

BRIGHT: GA’s strategy appears to be trying to talk Vriska into being a better person, either by persuading her that it’s the right thing to do or by being so annoying that Vriska does the right thing to avoid being meddled with. She’s making an effort, I’ll give her that. And given that she doesn’t live anywhere near Vriska, there isn’t all that much she can do to rein her in.

CHEL: Vriska signs off, ranting about her “Lousy st8pid godd8mn supportive friend!” and heads down the enormous staircase to check on her lusus.

You wonder if any other kid on the planet has such a high maintenance lusus? You DOUBT it.

As a matter of fact, one does and Vriska knows that, but we’ll see them later. Not a continuity error, it’s just Vriska self-pitying.

From a window, we see a doomsday device hanging over a chasm by chains attached to the surrounding cliffs. Vriska built it for an especially powerful and influential member of the nautical aristocracy, with help from an as-yet-unnamed nearby friend. Vriska reaches the bottom of the stairwell, and we meet her lusus, which is…

… a spider about the size of a cathedral. For the sake of our arachnophobic readers, we’ll refrain from posting a picture. Suffice it to say she’s as terrifying as she sounds. Pan out to show the entire valley is filled with cobwebs, and Vriska’s hive is matched by a similar one on the other side of the valley.

Before we move on, I’d just like to chat a little about the astrological symbolisms used here. Vriska’s the Scorpio troll, and it puzzles a lot of people that she’s spider-themed instead of scorpion-themed. Both arachnids, but not the same thing. However, Scorpio does have multiple symbols, depending on the source of the interpretation of the constellation, including the spider and the phoenix. Observe! (I enjoy astrology. Sue me.) Also, a scorpion would be a lot harder to get the story symbolism out of; Vriska is at least attempting to be a master manipulator pulling on strings, i.e. webs. The astrological symbolism and alleged personality traits aren’t used for all of the trolls in general, either. The troll with the sign of Aquarius the Water-Bearer is seadwelling nobility and probably wouldn’t be happy to be represented astrologically by a servant, and Gamzee is basically the opposite of the ambitious and hardworking traits of the allegedly typical Capricorn. Basically the signs are mostly aesthetic and if Huss can work in some connected symbolism that’s a bonus. I don’t consider this a negative thing in particular, though it might annoy some astrology buffs.

Actually, I don’t know how intentional this was, but one fan actually analysed how the social expectations on Alternia are in fact the exact opposite of what would actually suit their astrological sign. It didn’t get finished but there’s some interesting information - read the posts in question here, beware spoilers!

BRIGHT: One amusing consequence of this can be turned into a game: Go to Tumblr, find an astrology post, and see how long it takes to figure out if it’s a Homestuck riff. Some of them even just say ‘Vriska’ for Scorpio.

It’s probably just because I mostly follow fandom-related blogs, but I’ve yet to see a Tumblr astrology post that wasn’t a more-or-less-subtle Homestuck joke.

CHEL: And the ones which aren’t make for great fanfic prompts!

BRIGHT: Vriska’s lusus is fine, as it happens. Vriska pretends to be happy about this, but she’s rather less convincing than Dave is about his own guardianship issues. 

FAILURE ARTIST: And we turn from Vriska to look in her neighbor and it’s….that creepy guy! Hurray!

Your name is EQUIUS ZAHHAK.

You love being STRONG.

You are so strong, you would surely be the class of the elite legion of RUFFIANNIHILATORS. And while such a calling would be quite honorable, you would prefer to join the ranks of the ARCHERADICATORS, perhaps the most noble echelon the imperial forces have to offer. Unfortunately, you SUCK AT ARCHERY. You have not successfully fired a SINGLE ARROW. Every time you try, you BREAK THE BOW. You are simply too strong. You have broken so many bows, it has developed into a habit BORDERING ON FETISHISTIC. You have to stop. But addiction is a powerful thing.

You have a great appreciation for THE FINE ARTS. You use your aristocratic connections to acquire PRICELESS MASTERPIECES, painted in the oldest and most respected Alternian tradition of NUDE MUSCLEBEAST PORTRAITS. These striking depictions of the EXQUISITE FAUNA native to Alternia remind you of the PUREST PHYSICAL IDEAL that must be sought by anyone who professes a LOVE OF STRENGTH. When those of lesser bloodlines turn up their uncultured noses at such stunning material, it MAKES YOU FURIOUS.

Practically everything MAKES YOU FURIOUS. You have so much rage, it can only be expressed through STAGGERING QUANTITIES OF PHYSICAL VIOLENCE. You build strong and sturdy robots, set them to kill mode, and BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THEM in caged brawls. Sometimes you LOSE TEETH. But they usually grow back.

FAILURE ARTIST: Equius Zahhak’s first name is obviously a take on the Latin word for horses, but his last name is from a Persian demon who is also known as “he who has 10,000 horses”. 

So yes, that furry porn on his walls is high art to trolls. Though the prequel Hiveswap Friendsim, which has artist characters, doesn’t have MUSCLEBEAST PORTRAITS. Maybe Equius is actually weird.

CHEL: Actually, the Friendsim does have musclebeast art; if you squint at the beginning of Nikhee’s route, you can see depictions of white muscular chests flanking the arena, which don’t look like troll chests. Hiveswap proper is rated PG, so we’ll be spared it there, too.

FAILURE ARTIST: Equius is more even-tempered than his introduction suggests. He’s not completely violence-free (as we will see)  but he’s not in a constant ‘roid-rage. Heck, from what we’ve seen before of him he just gets peeved and snotty. 

Equius calls for his lusus Aurthour, who I guess could be called another self-insert. Aurthour is a centaur-type creature with cow udders and a mustache and looks like something out of Hussie’s early comics. Aurthour carries a glass of lusus milk on a platter, presumably from its own udders. Ummm. 

You cannot hope to beat Aurthour in a butler-off. He is simply the best there is.

Sweet, I guess.

CHEL: I wonder how Aurthour contorts around to reach his udder. Centaurs aren’t really known for flexibility.

FAILURE ARTIST: We find out why Aurthour has a shiner. It’s not because of domestic abuse but because when Equius “gently” pats Aurthour, Aurthour bruises. Yet this creature is the only lusus STRONG enough to raise Equius. 

Equius tries to drink the glass, but it shatters in his hand. Which begs the question of why Aurthour doesn’t use an alternative to glass. Well, I guess Equius going straight to the source would be too disturbing even for Hussie. A bigger problem is how Equius can do the fine detail work of building robots when he can’t hold a glass. 

Equius goes into a rage, which just means he stands around in Hero Mode while the lusus milk quickly evaporates. Wait, quickly evaporates? What is it made of?

CHEL: I assumed the heat of his rage boiled it.

FAILURE ARTIST: Equius tries to equiup equip a bow but fails due to his strength. Like the glass smashing, this is a normal occurrence. You’d think he’d give up but apparently breaking bows is like popping bubble wrap to him. Expensive bubble wrap. So he has the useless 1/2bowkind, a bowkind for when he’s ever that lucky, and the fistkind which he actually utilizes. Yes, in Homestuck, you can register your fists as lethal weapons. 

Equius talks with Nepeta and the narration summarizes like thus:

CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no

Equius is still worried about his good friend Nepeta, so he decides to relieve his stress by talking with another friend. And here comes a line fans take as meaning trolls don’t have friendship. 

It should be noted that in troll language, the word for friend is exactly the same as the word for enemy.

Though that line contradicts Equius considering Nepeta his friend only a few lines back. This worldbuilding sucks. 

CHEL: Well, he doesn’t treat her the way a human should treat a friend at this point.

FAILURE ARTIST: So Equius trolls this frienemy who turns out to be Gamzee.

centaursTesticle [CT] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]

CT: D --> Have I ever told you what a reprehensible disgrace you are

TC: hAhA, fUcK yEaH, oNlY eVeRy MoThErFuCkIn DaY bRo!  

Yeah, Equius, pretty much everyone tells Gamzee that every day. 

Equius says he wants get some things off his chest, which giving what we later learn about troll relationships might be adulterous. Gamzee tells him not to let his feelings be bottled up lIkE a FuCkIn AlL sHaKeD uP bOtTlE oF fAyGo and this metaphor makes Gamzee thristy. Equius berates Gamzee for drinking soda, which seems harsh but we later find out soda is booze for trolls. He’s also angry at Gamzee for doing sopor slime. Now, fans think Karkat didn’t like Gamzee doing sopor slime but we never actually see it. It’s just Equius who cares. This leads to an exchange I find interesting.

CT: D --> You will stop

TC: WhOaAaA, i WiLl?

TC: hOw Do YoU kNoW tHaT?

CT: D --> No, you don't understand

CT: D --> It's not a predi%ion, it's an order

CT: D --> I command you to stop

Gamzee is so passive he finds it hard to imagine making decisions that will change his future. Sad. And when Gamzee does get what Equius means:

TC: Oh, AlRiGhT bRoThEr.

TC: yOu MoThErFuCkIn GoT iT.

CT: D --> What

CT: D --> Are you serious

TC: yEaH.

TC: I mEaN, yOu GoT tO sHoW sOmE fAiTh In YoUr FrIeNdS, cAuSe ThEy'Re AlL tHe OnEs WhO'rE bEiNg To LoOk OuT fOr YoU.

TC: sO fUcK iF yOu SaY i'M nOt DoInG tHe ShIt RiGhT, tHeN wHaT tHe MoThErFuCk Do I kNoW!

CT: D --> No

CT: D --> This is una%eptable

CT: D --> Ok, let's start over

CT: D --> I apologize

CT: D --> I was completely out of of line, and I'm sorry

CT: D --> I have no right to talk to you like that, or tell you what you can't do

TC: aWw, No WoRrIeS!

Gamzee was ready to kick sopor slime except Equius backed down. Wondering about the timeline where Equius didn’t back down. 

Still, Equius begs Gamzee to behave like a superior. Gamzee asks what that means and Equius gives a very creepy answer.

CT: D --> 100k, it isn't that difficult

CT: D --> Try to be cognizant of your desires and needs

CT: D --> And attempt to regard those around you as simple vehicles meant to bring about your gratification

At least Equius is a hypocrite...most of the time.

Equius asks what Gamzee is doing and Gamzee relates his adventures in Sgrub. He bonked an imp on the head and scared another with a horn and eventually ended up sharing pie with them. Equius likes the tales of valor but is disappointed with the peaceful end. 

Equius asks Gamzee to roleplay and Gamzee says yes; there’s an uncomfortable sequence where Equius tries to get Gamzee to virtually dom him. Gamzee is terrible at being assertive, but Equius is still whipped into a state of contrition. Basically, Equius is getting off on this. 

CHEL: It should be noted that tricking a child into sexual behaviour is a form of abuse even when it’s done by a child of the same age. Not cool, Eq, and not funny, Hussie.

CALL CPA PLEASE: 11

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 40

SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER: 4

Though, while that is clearly the reading we’re meant to get from that, I have to say Equius never reads to me like he’s actually enjoying being ordered around. With Gamzee he’s just frustrated that he’s not behaving in a correct manner, and in later exchanges he seems knocked off-balance by the normal social order being upended. I know I’m just projecting, but it reads more like he has some issues with anxiety or OCD and is desperate for someone else to take control and tell him what they want him to do so he doesn’t have to worry. He sweats constantly during these exchanges, which is supposed to imply he’s aroused, but people sweat when they’re worried or afraid too.

FAILURE ARTIST: On a lighter front, Equius says he doesn’t live near the ocean, which considering his neighbor regularly goes on a pirate ship is an odd thing to say.

CHEL: How near is “near”? He might just mean not within walking distance so he can’t casually wander out to the sea like Gamzee does.

FAILURE ARTIST: Equius ends by wondering about the social order that puts someone like Gamzee above him but someone as graceful and poised as a certain mysterious she is of the lowest caste. Gamzee (and the readers) ask who she is and Equius brusquely says D -->I shouldn’t be talking about this D → You’re the enemy before signing off. 

CHEL: If one’s been paying attention, one can guess.

Next, Equius and Vriska are in cahoots. Cahoooooooots. Vriska declares her intention to meddle, and they have a brief exchange about sarcasm. It’s horribly inconsistent whether trolls have sarcasm or not, as I’ve pointed out before. Already gave a point for it, though.

Anyway, Vriska asks if Aradia’s present is finished. It is.

CT: D --> But I don't understand why you're intent on gratifying that worthless peasant

AG: 8ecause I promised I would and it's none of your damn 8usiness! Man.

Their plan is to let Aradia usurp Sollux as leader with her cute little ploy (recall her sending him to sleep and letting him swallow mind honey earlier), then both snatch power from her and become joint leaders. Each asks the other if they’re planning something sneaky and each insists they’re not. Equius can sense that Vriska is trying to read his mind, and when she won’t stop, he takes control of her cybernetic arm, which he built, and makes her slap herself in the face.

FAILURE ARTIST: So given that Vriska tried to read Equius’ mind, despite the dangers (both physically and mentally), it is unbelievable she refrained from reading Karkat’s due to delicacy. 

I think Hussie has said in his commentary that Vriska had a crush on Equius. The fandom prefers lesbian Vriska at this point and so has ignored that. YMMV on if there is evidence of a crush in the text but I find the idea amusing. 

CHEL: Equius goes to fetch the present for Aradia which he was supposed to give to Vriska.

You naturally will doublecross your accomplice, just as you assume she has plans to doublecross you. You assume she is assuming the same of you. Business as usual for blue bloods.

How the hell does this society get anything done?

You will deliver it to Aradia yourself to gain her favor, and then doublecross her and take your rightful position as team leader. How ironic that someone of your blood purity must work to win the favor of the lowest sort of peasant. Humiliating. Strangely titillating, even. But in the end, class order will be restored.

He takes the tarp off the present, and it is…

Why, Aradia. It appears the red glass of your eye has caught the pink and green glint of the moons in their perigees. The sweet poetry almost makes a man forget how the grime that once filled your veins made his stomach turn. It is a good omen for illicit lovers. Could you imagine the scandal if anyone found out?? No one must ever know.

But worry not. Your heart will pump no more of that despicable red sludge. You have been given a new heart. You can be taught the ways of the class you were always meant for. No one is beyond redemption.

Be grateful, dear Aradia. For the first time in your meaningless life you have met a man with true compassion.

Jesus fucking Christ. See what I meant when I said his interactions with girls were worse than his posters? No points because it’s supposed to be creepy, and with the teachings of his society it’s not entirely his fault, but wow.

FAILURE ARTIST: Well, his interaction with a girl is creepy. His relationship with Nepeta is more problematic than fans remember but that’s two-sided and not infatuation. As for Vriska, he’s cold and business-like with her. He collaborates with GA but that’s off-screen and was probably also business-like. Meanwhile, he has lustful interactions with most every male character. We’ve seen how he acts with Gamzee and we’ll see more later. Equius’ interactions with guys are another example of Hussie using male attraction to other males as a punchline.

CHEL: But yes, he’s built her a robot body. Unfortunately for everyone involved, while making out with it, he feels judged by one of his battlebots, gets angry, and punches it. It goes flying out the window and robosplodes above the valley, and its remains hit Vriska’s doomsday device, setting it off. It breaks before it can actually destroy the planet, but the chains holding it up snap, sending it swinging into the cliffside, causing another explosion. The cliff collapses, taking part of Equius’ hive with it, sending Aurthour plummeting into the chasm and crushing Vriska’s spider lusus under tons of rubble.

Cutting back to before that, we see Terezi battling imps on her treehouse’s rooftop, when Vriska messages her, declaring that playing the game together means breaking their truce. Terezi says that’s not what the truce was about; it was about STOPP1NG TH3 3NDL3SS CYCL3 OF R3V3NG3 and Vriska not using her powers maliciously anymore. Terezi’s next couple of comments are just calling Vriska a liar so I’ll just take Vriska’s, to further illustrate her behaviour.

AG: Man, you like to give me such a hard time a8out all that. I can't catch a 8reak! AG: Can't you see I'm trying to put all that 8ehind me and make amends with every8ody? AG: No, of course you can't see that. What am I saying! [...] AG: I'll prove it to you. I'm giving Aradia a present that will make her feel all 8etter finally. AG: Then I'll 8e in the clear. Phew! Totally redeemed. You'll see. I mean smell.

Vriska appears under the impression that large flashy gestures are the important part of an apology, not actual sincerity. Terezi points out Aradia doesn’t care about anything anymore and probably won’t care about this.

AG: Man, why can't you cut me some slack for once???????? AG: It's not like I even did anything that 8ad to you. AG: I lost seven eyes 8ut you only lost two! I would say you came out ahead in the 8argain. GC: 1 KNOW GC: 4ND 4CTU4LLY GC: 1 N3V3R R34LLY GOT TH3 CH4NC3 TO TH4NK YOU >:D

Vriska’s disbelief aside, Terezi really is serious here. Not surprising to the reader, her blindness is basically a superpower.

AG: Remem8er Team Scourge? How convenient all that must 8e to have forgotten! You were so nasty. AG: Oh man, if you crossed Terezi Pyrope you were fucked!!!!!!!! GC: Y34H 1F YOU W3R3 4 B4D GUY GC: W3 W3R3 SUPPOS3D TO B3 L1K3 4 V1G1L4NT3 DUO D1SP3NS1NG JUST1C3 GC: 4ND YOU COULD T4K3 TH3 B4D GUYS HOM3 4ND F33D TH3M TO YOUR STUP1D SP1D3R GC: BUT 1NST34D YOU JUST F3D H3R 3V3RYBODY! GC: 4ND L13D 4ND L13D 4ND L13D

Okay, this little exchange needs some more dissection. Terezi is supposed to be the “good cop” of Team Scourge, the by-the-book one on the side of the law. But we saw what Alternian law is like, and later on we’ll see demonstrations that things such as having a birth defect or, according to Hiveswap, owning fiction which so much as mentions the possibility of rebellion, are punishable by death. Not only is this not making Terezi look any better, if she’s as obsessed with the law as we saw, who would she deem not a “bad guy”, and why would Vriska have such a shortage of “bad guys” that she’d need to take anyone else? Hussie appears to have forgotten that the Alternian concept of justice is different from the Earth one.

FAILURE ARTIST: And what we would consider a “bad guy” wouldn’t be the same on Alternia. There’s tons of trolls murdering other trolls on Hiveswap Friendsim without any hint that’s illegal. It’s probably completely lawful for a highblood to kill a lowblood just because the lowblood annoyed them.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 29

BRIGHT: Maybe. I’d say what this shows us, and is intended to show us, is that Terezi’s sense of justice isn’t just based on Alternian law, but on her own moral code. The law made it perfectly acceptable for Vriska to feed lowbloods to her lusus regardless of whether they’d done anything, but Terezi didn’t think it was right, and for her that superseded the law. She’s the ‘good cop’ not because she always follows the book, but because she’s willing to ignore it.

We also know she thought Vriska was on the same page as her. Note that Terezi makes two accusations here — the first is that Vriska killed people who don’t deserve it, and the second is that Vriska lied to Terezi about doing so.

CHEL: That may be what it’s intended to show us, but what we’ve already seen is that she worships the law; she draws and gleefully licks pictures of the head of the troll court, His Honorable Tyranny, and she shows no concern in her roleplay with hypothetically executing people for relatively trivial crimes. That makes this a bit… shaky, IMO.

BRIGHT: True. Terezi may have stopped killing since her FLARP days (or, at least, we get no indication that she’s still doing so), but it doesn’t seem to have shaken her belief in the Alternian legal system. Just her belief in Vriska, who even brings up a similar point.

AG: Well if you want to know what I think, you should start changing your tune. AG: Cause even though you got all these highfalutin morals and fancy reserv8tions, you know as well as me that a killer is a killer is a killer! AG: There 8n't no ch8nging your ways for good, and one d8y you're going to flail that silly l8ttle cane of yours and not find n8thin to 8ump into, and fall f8ce first into the shit ag8in. AG: And you're going to do something t8rri8le to some8ody and wish you could t8ke it 8ack 8ut you c8n't!!!!!!!! AG: And then you'll work hard to win 8ack their trust, and you'll try and try and tr8, and you'll see how hard it is! AG: You'll seeeeeeee!

Vriska’s making this all about her own feelings about Terezi abandoning her, but she’s not wrong.

Vriska hears the doomsday device exploding and the subsequent rockslide, and goes to  find out what it is. Terezi tells her not to get crushed.

The next page jumps back in time again -- this time, quite far back. Terezi’s eyes are normal, and she’s talking to Aradia about Tavros’s recovery. Aradia says he’s probably paralysed for life. Terezi brings up the possibility of getting him robo-prosthetics, but after the Vriska debacle Aradia is firmly against having anything to do with bluebloods.

CHEL: Terezi warns Aradia that revenge attempts will end badly and she wants to handle it. Aradia says Vriska isn’t able to control her, but Terezi says Vriska will find a way to harm her anyway. They lament how they were both distracted by the same person.

AA: wh0 was he anyway GC: PR3TTY SUR3 1T WAS VR1SKAS FR13ND AA: what was he d0ing there AA: watching us GC: WHO KNOWS GC: H3S NOT R34LLY H3R FR13ND THOUGH GC: YOU SHOULD S33 HOW H3 T4LKS 4BOUT H3R B3H1ND H3R B4CK GC: SH3 H4S NO 1D34 HOW B4D H3S PL4Y1NG H3R GC: BUT TH3N 1 DONT TH1NK H3 KNOWS HOW B4D SH3S PL4Y1NG H1M 31TH3R

This sounds like they mean Equius, but we’ll see. Aradia feels she’s letting Vriska win by doing nothing, but Terezi has a plan. She confirms that her friendship with Vriska is over.

Cut to Aradia’s house, and here I need to go into a bit more detail. This is her house:

Aradia’s a maroonblood, the lowest of the low on the hemospectrum, peasantry and cannon fodder and supposedly extremely numerous. Yet her house looks to be about the size of the entire block of flats I live in, and she lives in it alone, with no other buildings at all in sight. In the next page, we see inside her house, which looks exactly the same as all the others; she has piles of roleplaying books and posters and a computer, and nothing looks to be in disrepair.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 30

BRIGHT: Her house also looks a lot like Tavros’s, what with the windmill feature on top and the brown hangings rather than maroon, which threw me off at first.

CHEL: We’ll talk about this more later. For now, let’s stick with the most noticeable thing; Aradia is alive! Her skirt is untattered and her eyes have colour and pupils. Her lusus is alive too, napping beside her. It’s not quite clear what it is exactly; it has a sheep-like head, but its body is long and slim with much bigger hind legs than forelegs. Could be supposed to be dragon-like? I’ve also seen it interpreted as kangaroo-like. I don’t think we ever get a better view of it.

Anyway, Aradia knows Terezi’s advice is sound, but she can’t bear not to do something to Make her pay. She puts her hands up to her temples, and the image fades back and forth with one of wrapped troll corpses in Spidermom’s web…

It's a shame it had to come to this. You don't like summoning the spirits of the dead to settle scores.

But if she had to face her victims again, maybe she'd finally learn to feel remorse.

OOOOOOOOOO

This begs the question, how the fuck can the highbloods oppress people who not only hugely outnumber them but can shoot lasers from their eyes, control animals, and summon the dead at will? Well, there’s actually some explanation for that. The player trolls all appear to have unusual levels of power, for whatever their given powers are; most maroonbloods can’t do this. In Hiveswap a main character is a more typical maroonblood, who can just about bend spoons with his telekinesis and not much else (though we haven’t seen him speak with dead yet, and it’s possible he’s better at that). Not all trolls even have their caste’s powers, as far as I can tell, as we do see a yellow in Hiveswap Friendsim who’s not a psionic and some ceruleans who don’t seem to have mind-control powers as well. Head or eye injuries, which aren’t exactly rare in Alternia, can cause the loss of said powers. Also, the highest blood castes have powers of their own and other things to hold over the lowbloods’ heads. It’ll be a while till we get to that, but I’ll say now it is convincing, we do not have an Oppressed Mages scenario.

Anyway, Aradia does her thing…

As Vriska cowers on her floor, White Text Guy messages her again. Vriska replies angrily, ghosts looming over her shoulders.

Aren't you going to kill her?

AG: Who????????

Your friend.

The one who summoned the spirits.

AG: Will that make them go away?

Does it matter?

She brought them here to torment you. This obviously warrants revenge.

Vriska asks why WTG doesn’t kill Aradia instead, since he helped kill Tavros; he replies “All I did was stand somewhere for a few minutes. I just gave you an opportunity to do something you wanted to do anyway.” So, seems it wasn’t Equius they meant earlier. Vriska protests she never intended to kill her gaming companions, and blames him.

Again, I didn't talk you into anything, nor am I doing so now.

You were, and are, going to do this regardless.

I only ever place myself into positions of tangential involvement with events that will bring about my employer's entry into this universe.

I oversee the events as they take place, and ever so slightly nudge them into motion when necessary.

BRIGHT: Looks like Aradia and Terezi haven’t told her Tavros survived, which is eminently sensible. This conversation also highlights another Vriska trait: That she’s a very active person, but will try to shift responsibility as soon as she doesn’t like the consequences. That could be a result of her upbringing -- Vriska had to actively go and kill people for Spidermom, but she wasn’t responsible for the overall situation. (Although -- how much did she do to ameliorate it? By the time SGRUB starts, Spidermom’s far too big to fit into Vriska’s home. Vriska might have been able to get away with not feeding her at that point; there’s not much Spidermom can do if she can’t get to her.)

CHEL: The later addition to the canon, Pesterquest, claims that the lusii can psychically nag their charges and she could bother Vriska that way, but that directly contradicts Act 5, in which the trolls want to prototype their lusii so that they’ll be able to communicate properly with them for the first time, and also couldn’t Vriska just move further away?

BRIGHT: Inertia is very much a thing, and people do often just settle into a rut of ‘this is the way things are’ even when something could be changed, so it’s not improbable that it wouldn’t occur to Vriska to move — come to that, I don’t believe it occurs to anyone else either — but the fact that it doesn’t occur to her does say something about her character. 

CHEL: Also, why didn’t Vriska feed the spider on animals? The possibility is never so much as considered by her or anyone else, though it seems the most obvious thing to do. Sure, the spider might be picky, but as we said, it can’t leave the valley due to its size, or it’d be hunting for itself. If it’s left with the choice to eat cows or die, it’d presumably pick the former, especially since the lusii aren’t supposed to be sapient and thus wouldn’t have the capacity for spite. For assuming that Vriska did what she had to when such a screamingly obvious better option is never addressed, here we go with a new count, which will rise whenever Vriska’s horrible actions are excused.

ALL THE LUCK: 1

 Back to the scene, Scratch claims omniscience, which Vriska mocks.

AG: Sure you know a lot, 8ut I know for a FACT there's stuff you don't know.

That's true.

But the gaps in my knowledge exist by design.

They are the pillars of shadow on which my comprehensive vision is built.

Necessary pockets of void meant to effectuate outcomes I've foreseen and which will require my influence.

Each dark pocket, in time, will be filled.

[...]

I don't lie.

Deception is only necessary for those like you to achieve their objectives.

I play with my cards face up.

Isn't it funny how during our various matches, I can tell you what my moves will be in advance, and still win?

Vriska, angered by this, does in fact plan to kill Aradia; Not much point in living with all these moaning spooks just to spite some guy you don't give a shit about. She can’t control Aradia because Aradia’s own powers get in the way, but there are other people she can use.

How about this guy? Unfortunately, you can only control him about half the time.

Then again, that should be all the time you need.

Cut back to Aradia’s place, and she receives a message from Vriska, telling her her boyfriend is outside. 

BRIGHT: Vriska also lightheartedly tells Aradia she’s sorry, and that she’ll make it up to ‘him’ someday. Presumably ‘he’ is meant to be Tavros, except that Vriska seemed to think Tavros was dead in literally the last conversation she had. This is probably just a slip-up on Hussie’s part, but it’s possible to read this as Vriska referring to a different ‘he’ entirely, considering what’s about to happen.

CHEL: Aradia looks, and sees a figure hovering telekinetically over the fields....

Note what’s in his hand. You do not under any circumstances eat the mind honey… His eyes start flashing and Aradia looks afraid, but we suddenly cut to a view of Alternia, and then to a closeup of its green moon. The prompt instructs us to Be the white text guy, and we meet him in a very familiar-looking green mansion.

You try to be the white text guy, but fail to be the white text guy. No one can be the white text guy except for the white text guy.

The white text guy is known as Doc Scratch.

He is an officer of an indestructible demon known as Lord English. His job is to pave the way for the arrival of his master, who will be summoned upon the termination of the universe. He has worked at this task for many centuries, and will continue to do so until THE GREAT UNDOING.

Scratch is Alternia's FIRST GUARDIAN. Every planet destined for intelligent life has such an entity meant to protect it, and facilitate the planet's ultimate purpose. A first guardian is typically almost as old as the planet itself, and each has a unique, circuitous origin through the knots of paradox space. They can be born into a great diversity of forms, though they all share a common, especially potent genetic sequence. 

Remember Rose’s MEOW book, and how DD used it to create Becquerel? Yep.

The code grants them near omnipotence, and when merged with a host of great intelligence, near omniscience as well.

BRIGHT: Only near-omniscence, however. Scratch is surprised to find Terezi contacting him, but he’s able to work out that she got Sollux to help pretty fast:

Occasionally I discover there are things I have not always known.

It gives me the opportunity to make deductions, which are practically always flawless.

It's gratifying.

He also suggests she call him ‘Mr. Vanilla Milkshake’, and then hints that Aradia might not be straightforwardly dead by stating that Sollux and Terezi believe she is dead, and will soon believe she is not, both of which are true statements about their beliefs rather than reality.

Props to Hussie on this: I’m pretty sure every Homestuck fan wants to punch Scratch in the face. He’s just so obnoxious. 

Terezi, however, refuses to let Scratch keep derailing her for long. She wants Scratch to get involved in their feud again, and she has a good reason for him: She knows how Vriska’s been able to come so close to beating Scratch in their games lately. Before she can tell him, though, she needs to talk to Vriska again.

She starts by asking how Vriska feels about killing Aradia, after she promised not to. Vriska responds with dramatic insincerity about how she feels awful, and then says Terezi should be happy that Team Charge is out of the picture. 

AG: Uuuuuuuugh, what do you want from me????????

GC: 1M NOT SUR3

GC: 1 GU3SS 1M LOOK1NG FOR SOM3 R34SON TO CH4NG3 MY M1ND

GC: 1 DONT KNOW WH4T YOU C4N S4Y TH4TLL DO 1T

GC: 1 SORT4 HOP3 TH3R3S SOM3TH1NG THOUGH

In the end, there isn’t. Terezi tells Vriska she’ll be dead in a couple of minutes, and to ‘CONSULT W1TH YOUR L1TTL3 4DV4NT4G3’ if she doesn’t believe it, then leaves the conversation.

Vriska’s little advantage turns out to be a MAGIC CUE BALL, which is similar to a magic 8 ball except that it’s predictions are specific and accurate, and it lacks a portal through which the user can read said predictions. Fortunately that’s not an obstacle for Vriska: Her VISION EIGHTFOLD allows her to see through the opaque casing.

CHEL: Vision Eightfold is the vision from the one of Vriska’s eyes which has seven pupils, which she covered with an eyepatch with seven rubies on it when she was FLARPing. Also remember that Jade had a Magic Cue Ball but couldn’t read it? Yeah, it’s another one.

BRIGHT: One other thing: According to rumour, it used to belong to the man on the moon.

As Vriska asks the cueball whether she should be worried about Terezi’s threat (answer: YES), Terezi lets Scratch know where his missing property has gone. Vriska asks the cueball how it’s going to happen…

I WILL EXPLODE IN YOUR FACE.

Boom.

This section is one of my favourite Terezi moments. It really shows off Terezi’s ability to outthink and manoeuvre people. She’s never spoken to Scratch before, but she still plays him against Vriska easily.

CHEL: This is why Vriska has a plain eyepatch and a robot arm in her future appearances, but she’s otherwise fine. Bluebloods are tough, apparently.

BRIGHT: Back in the future, Spidermom has survived the rubble falling on her, but just barely. Vriska puts her out of her misery with her magic dice, which summon up a massive guillotine and decapitate the lusus, drenching Vriska in spider blood.

GORE GALORE: 11

The decapitation sets off another landslide, sending Equius’s house straight down on Vriska’s head, but before it can land, a portal opens underneath it and transports it into the Medium.

Vriska promptly jumps on Trollian to freak out about this, because her plan depended on her getting Aradia’s surprise present from Equius to pass along and then Aradia and Vriska entering the Medium together, and never mind that a house was about to fall on her -- in fact, when Aradia points out that Vriska was about to die, Vriska accuses her of planning this. Aradia placidly agrees.

CHEL: This is part of my evidence for thinking Vriska might not be neurotypical. Not the priorities most people would have. Also, meanwhile, note that the lusii have the same blood colour as their charges, while the non-lusus animals Nepeta killed were black and had red blood. I’m not sure whether that’s a species trait, or a side effect of the weird bond between them (doesn’t make a lot of biological sense, but then this is basically fantasy with a sci-fi coat of paint).

Vriska is enraged by things not going the way she planned; her grand gesture of apology, the robot body, will now be handed over by Equius and not her, ruining her chance to be friends again with Aradia. Again, she doesn’t seem to understand how apologies work.

AA: were we ever really friends

AG: Yeah!!!!!!!!

AG: I don't know. I felt like we were even if you didn't think so.

AG: I guess I'm not very good at acting like a friend. Or saying stuff like, hey friend! You're my friend! It doesn't really occur to me.

For some strange reason related to her prototyping with the frog statue, Aradia types out “ribbit” into the chatbox, and informs Vriska she’s not on the Blue team as she expected, enraging Vriska further. Vriska accuses her of taking revenge, which Aradia denies, saying Vriska was always going to be on the Red team, and that she doesn’t care about her death.

AG: You're so infuri8ing! Why c8n't you just h8 me? It would 8e a lot easier th8t way.

AG: Or at least feel 8othered or annoyed or S8METHING! God!!!!!!!!

AG: May8e I sh8uld just rip my he8rt out of my chest and pound it to a 8loody pulp here on my desk with my sup8r strong ro8ot arm.

AG: Pound pound pound pound pound pound pound pound!

AG: Look at that, more nasty 8lue 8lood all over me. Why not! Might as well op8n the floodg8s and p8nt my whole hive with this oh so envia8le cerulean SWILL.

AG: 8ecause clearly it's up to me to feel em8tions for the 8oth of us, you misera8le soulless witch!

AA: 0_0

AG: I h88888888 you!

AG: H8 h8 h8 h8 h8 h8 h8 haaaaaaaate!

AG: I only regret killing you cause it m8de you so 8ORING!!!!!!!!

AA: s0rry

Aradia assures her that the teams are meaningless, but being on the Red team will put Vriska in the position they need her in. Vriska’s confused and angry, and leaves the chat.

In Equius’ LAND OF CAVES AND SILENCE, he trolls Aradia again, telling her he will be the sole leader, which she doesn’t care about. He’s surprised she isn’t objecting, and says he needs a towel.

CT: D --> Never mind

CT: D --> I'm trying to stay professional about this

AA: ab0ut what

AA: what are y0u talking ab0ut

CT: D --> Forget it

CT: D --> It's just pleasant to consort with one of lesser breeding who clearly understands her place

He’s been established to suffer from hyperhydrosis, but he’s clearly also supposed to be getting off on this, which, since he’s thirteen, is icky to read.

CALL CPA PLEASE: 12

It only gets worse.

CT: D --> I 100k forward to seeing how well you serve me, server player

AA: uh

AA: thats n0t quite the meaning 0f the w0rd server

CT: D --> What do you mean

AA: as y0ur server i manipulate y0ur envir0nment t0 help y0u advance

CT: D --> I don't understand

CT: D --> Are you

CT: D --> Are you saying

CT: D --> That

CT: D --> You are in a position of control over me

AA: i supp0se s0

CT: D --> Oh

AA: what

CT: D --> Oh my God

He babbles about how he needs fresh air or another towel, getting so agitated he actually drops an F-bomb, which he immediately covers up with “Fiddlesticks”. He says he wants to break something, and Aradia offers to break something for him, as she’s developed an interest in breaking things recently. Next page, she flings an “abluti0n trap” through his wall. 

FAILURE ARTIST: The running gag of girls fucking up boy’s homes with bathroom appliances continues!

CHEL: He’s very happy, except about her commoner slang.

CT: D --> In fact, this is an order from your leader

CT: D --> Call things by their proper names

AA: what

AA: y0u want me t0 call it a bath tub

AA: that s0unds ridicul0us

As FA noted, this bit of worldbuilding ends up retconned out with all trolls calling things by strange rewordings later on.

Whatever it’s called, Equius asks her to throw it through the wall again. She asks if that’s an order, and he can’t decide.

CT: D --> You could cause quite a bother for me, with the power you wield

CT: D --> I can do nothing to stop you, peasant girl

CT: D --> It's so magnificently depraved

CALL CPA PLEASE: 13

Aradia ribbits again and he takes it for roleplaying, but commands her to continue to do as she pleases. He tells her he’s bringing the robot body, and muses on whether she should actually be co-leader again; in fact, he decides, she should be the actual leader, in secret, through him. She points out that’s what they’re doing anyway.

CT: D --> You take to authority well for one of your b100d

AA: i d0nt have bl00d

CT: D --> Not yet

CT: D --> But soon your heart will beat anew, and through it, fresh b100d and fresh passion

AA: 0_0

CALL CPA PLEASE: 14

Equius proceeds to STRONGJUMP right up to his first Gate, punching off an ogre’s head as he goes, and to STRONGFALL out into LOQAM, where Aradia waits. Equius hands over the robot and Aradia enters it; she seems happy, but Equius cautiously asks if she feels anything else.

EQUIUS: D --> Can you detect anything within you might describe as

EQUIUS: D --> Smoldering passion

[...]

ARADIABOT: 0h g0d

ARADIABOT: 0H MY G0D WHAT DID Y0U D0!

ARADIABOT: did y0u pr0gram this r0b0t t0 have feelings f0r y0u?

ARADIABOT: R0MANTIC FEELINGS???

EQUIUS: D --> Hrrrk

ARADIABOT: ANSWER ME BLUE BL00D SCUM

EQUIUS: D --> I

EQUIUS: D --> Yes

EQUIUS: D --> Uh

EQUIUS: D --> It's a chip in your heart

EQUIUS: D --> Is that not ok

Understandably, it is emphatically not.

GORE GALORE: 12

Now, this is undeniably a really, really, really creepy thing to do. I’m not sure how much blame can be applied to Equius here, though; he’s been raised in a society which would presumably tell him she would have to accept his advances no matter what, considering their caste difference. In a horrifying way, the chip might have been, in his mind, the nicer option. Still, as I said, creepy.

CALL CPA PLEASE: 15

BRIGHT: I think it’s telling that he asks if it’s not okay after Aradia freaks out, as though he honestly hadn’t considered that Aradia might have a problem with it. Specifically, up until that point, Equius seems to be interacting with Aradia more like she’s a prop than a person — it doesn’t seem to occur to him that she might not want what he wants, unless their wants conflict in a way that he finds titillating. Then she freaks out and he’s surprised. And that in turn speaks volumes about how lowbloods are viewed by highbloods in wider society.

Contrast Vriska, who absolutely realises that people down spectrum can have their own agendas and emotional reactions; she just does her own thing anyway. Vriska is actively malicious; Equius is, at least in this case, accidentally malicious. Note that he doesn’t make any effort to prevent her from removing the chip once he realises she’s distressed. (Not that he really gets a chance.)

Equius in particular also seems to have a problem about slotting people into roles in general -- he does it with Gamzee, too, although since Gamzee is higher-blooded than him, he has to at least face the fact that Gamzee doesn’t fit into his role. He comes across as very sheltered.

FAILURE ARTIST: Equius considers it such a good thing to be a highblood that he thinks he’s doing her the greatest favor by turning her into one. 

CHEL: This also brings up the question of where he got all that blue blood. I hope it’s synthetic. If not, he’s already said he doesn’t kill animals, so I’m not sure whether it’s creepier if he killed another troll for it or if he slowly drained it off from his own.

Aradia’s not contemplating that, too busy crushing the artificial heart and slapping the shit out of Equius for multiple pages, before, er…

Yes, she’s apparently making out with him as a reward for violating her mind, even after the chip was removed. 

BRIGHT: The first time I read Homestuck, I thought that was meant to imply that not all of the programming was gone.

FAILURE ARTIST: Hussie did confirm the programming was gone. He compared it to a failed roofying.

CHEL: This is a bit of a shock, but it makes somewhat more sense when we see more of troll culture, not long in the future. Still, right now it’s probably upsetting for a number of readers because that part of troll culture hasn’t been established, so…

CALL CPA PLEASE: 16

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 41

[umbureraakademi]

Introductory Note About the AU & Other Chapters & Face Claims

-a/n start-

[Potential spoilers for anyone who hasn’t seen or finished TUA Netflix series but seriously how could you stop yourself from watching such a captivating show.]

Word Count: 2339

Diego dancing again. Fuck yeah.

-a/n end-

The Hargreeves Case

Chapter 11

Leaning on the outside of his car, Diego felt as if eyes were on him as he waited for Monica just outside the steps leading up to her apartment. It wasn’t too threatening, but it did make him feel uncomfortable. 

Looking up he thought he saw a woman around Monica’s age glaring at him from her window. He looked around to see if she may have been looking at something else but he confirmed he was the only person standing right in the direction of her glare.

“Hey, watcha lookin’ for?” 

“Oh! Hey…” Monica’s voice startled him a bit and when he turned to look at her he found his voice trailing off. She had on a white longsleeved button-down shirt tucked into an olive green shorts, finishing off nicely with a pair of white sneakers for a more casual look. 

It was probably the first time he saw her without stockings, and she had a nice pair of legs.

“So I’m guessing you like what I’m wearing.” Monica said with a chuckle, which caught Diego by surprise as he cleared his throat.

“Well, uhh… you look great.” he said.

“Thanks.” she responded as a blush crept on her cheeks. 

“Hey umm… this is a weird question but do you happen to know who lives up there?” Diego asked as he pointed to the window where the woman who had been glaring at him was now gone. Monica took a quick look to where he was pointing before turning back to him and responding.

“Oh that’s where I live, why?” 

“What? Oh… you said you had a roommate, right?”

“Yeah… why the sudden interest?”

“Uhh… nothing it’s just… nice curtains.” Diego said awkwardly before he turned away from Monica to open the door to the passenger’s side. “Let’s get going.”

“Oh, a gentleman for the night, I see. Well, Hargreeves it’ll take more than that to impress me.” Monica said as she climbed into Diego’s car. As Diego walked towards the driver’s side and got in, Monica grabbed his attention before he started the car, “Hey, Diego.”

“What?” he said as he looked at her.

“Since we’re on a date, can I call you papi?” she asked, batting her eyelashes pleadingly.

“No.”

The Date Venue

Knowing how much Monica loved pizza Diego couldn’t have thought of a better place to take her out than a popular pizza parlor. Another thing is, the parlor wasn’t just popular for its pizza goodness, it was in an arcade too. 

“I hate you.” Monica said, before taking in another big bite out of her favorite pepperoni and cheese pizza. 

“Do you admit defeat?” Diego responded confidently in between bites. 

“Well since we agreed we’d be honest with each other and we did sign a contract…” she started after swallowing. “You had me the moment we walked in and I smelled the cheese.”

“And I thought you were ‘hard to impress’.” Diego said, laughing.

“Oh shut up.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say that Diego Hargreeves is the best date you ever had. No wait… Detective Diego Hargreeves.”

“Really feeding your ego there huh?” at this Monica raised an eyebrow at Diego. “How ‘bout I say papi is the best date I ever had?”

“I didn’t agree to you calling me that.” 

“Well, we didn’t write in the contract that I would say that either.”

“Fine, why don’t we make another wager then? We are at an arcade, after all. We play the same games and whoever gets the most tickets wins.” 

“I think you have a gambling problem since we’ve been making some deals and bets lately.” Monica said with a chuckle.

“I don’t have a gambling problem, but she probably does.” Diego said as his gaze went towards an overweight, middle-aged woman who had been sitting at one of the machines ever since they got there - she was probably even there before they arrived. The machine was shaped like a vertical, transparent cylinder with another tube inside at the far back. On the bottom there was a revolving circular plate with holes that had numbers labeled on each hole. Outside the bigger cylinder was a big red button right above the slot where you put in a token. 

The concept of the game was simple, you put in a token and press the big red button. Afterwards, a red ball comes out of the smaller tube inside and bounces around, landing in either one of the random holes on the circular plate. Depending on the number labeled on the hole the ball gets in, that’s the number of tickets you get.

Now this woman had a whole bag of tokens she just kept jamming into the machine and pressing the red button. She had already accumulated a significant mound of tickets it was a wonder why she hadn’t been called out by the staff yet. 

“No, I think she’s just trying to curb one.” Monica commented as the two found themselves staring in awe at the woman. Feeling two pairs of eyes on her the woman turned to the two and gave a mean look.

“Mind your own business!” she yelled which prompted Diego and Monica to look away awkwardly.

“All right, Diego. What game do we play? And don’t say that basketball game since it would be totally unfair with you controlling what you throw and shit.” Monica said.

“Why don’t we both pick games? Ladies first.” Diego responded.

“Hmmm… well I know just the game. Let’s go!” Monica said excitedly, taking Diego’s hand as he pulled him to where they can buy tokens and ignoring the fact she had felt the tiniest flutter in her stomach at touching his skin.

Game One

The pair found themselves standing in front of a Just Dance console, the machine’s lights pulsating to the beat of its standby music as it waited for players to insert their tokens and start playing. 

“Really?” Diego said in disbelief.

“No turning back now! Fair warning, I got the moves.” Monica said confidently as she pumped her chest, making Diego snicker.

“And you think I don’t?” he responded.

“Oohhh… I like a challenge. Okay I think this machine allows three songs, and since you appear to be confident, we’ll just keep selecting random and let the machine decide for us.”

“All right with me.” 

The two then put in their tokens and Monica selected the random option, and after a few seconds of spinning across the song selection the game chose a version of Shut Up and Dance With Me for couples.

“Not bad for a first song, you ready?” Monica commented.

“Are you ready?” Diego taunted, at that Monica just responded with a scoff as she started up the song.

It was a fun and upbeat song which had them mostly dancing individually. There was a part where Diego had to put his arm around Monica which was manageable, and though it was brief it made the two a little bit conscious. This resulted in them fumbling in the next partner move, where they each had to hold the other’s leg up at a time and pretend they were strumming a guitar. Finally at the last pose they had to hold each other’s hands as Monica spun towards Diego’s direction where the latter was supposed to catch her, but this caught Diego off guard as he caught her a little too late that she almost hit the ground, resulting in a helpless yelp from Monica who was fuming.

“HARGREEVES I SWEAR DROP ME AGAIN AND I’LL KNIFE YOU.” she yelled as she slapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, I still caught you.” Diego retorted.

“MERELY INCHES FROM HITTING MY HEAD! Pull me up before I hit you again.” she demanded and Diego obliged, helping her stand up straight. “All right, so this game is probably going to keep giving us couple songs so if none of us want to get hurt we have to take this seriously. Or else the bet is off and I will officially not enjoy this date.” she added, folding her arms and glaring at Diego.

“All right, all right. I’m sorry. Chill.” Diego said, putting his hands up in surrender but fighting back a chuckle seeing how angry Monica was. He thought she looked cute. 

“Okay, you select random this time.” Monica said, and after Diego selected the random select option and another few seconds of the game spinning, it had stopped on Mambo No. 5. “Oh my God I love this song! It has my name on it!” Monica exclaimed, her mood switching instantly to being like an excited little girl.

“Title reminds me of my brother…” Diego muttered underneath his breath.

“What was that?” Monica asked, not catching what he said.

“Nothing, let’s just get this going.”

Just as they both promised, they started taking the moves more seriously for not just the individual parts, but the partner parts as well. Despite that, Monica was still surprised that Diego actually followed the male role in kissing the female role’s hand. Although she convinced herself it was an act to get more points, she could’ve sworn his kiss stayed a bit longer than the actual one the male role did in the game. This time they nailed the final pose, and their faces ended up a little close but that almost didn’t bother them this time.

“Seems like you do got some moves in you, Hargreeves.” Monica complimented in between pants.

“That? That was just a warm up.” Diego said with a smirk, which made Monica blush though she tried to hide it with a smile. Diego supported her as she straightened herself up from the last pose in preparation for the next dance, Monica feeling a tingling in her skin where Diego held her. 

“Last song.” she declared, letting the machine do its work again as they waited for it to land on their third and final dance number, turning out to be Bailando. At this Monica couldn’t help but laugh and Diego knew all too well why she was laughing.

“Don’t say it.” he said threateningly.

“What? I didn’t say anything.” Monica responded innocently.

“I know what you’re thinking and you want to say it.”

“Do you want me to say it then?”

“No.”

“All right, all right.” at this Monica had stopped laughing and started up the song, but before they started dancing she whispered, “It’s the song of your people.” to which Diego just rolled his eyes.

This song was pretty different from the previous two songs they danced to. It had more partner moves which meant more times they were holding hands, holding each other, looking at each other, touching each other… it was more sensual. However, instead of making them feel awkward it just got them more into the dance, the awkwardness replaced this time with a different feeling - one that had them wanting the moments when their skins touched even for the briefest of moments. 

It was at this point when instead of keeping a decent distance for the partner parts their bodies were basically pressed up against one another. During the parts where the male role had to hold the female role from behind, Diego had the opportunity to take in the sweet smell of Monica’s hair. During the parts where they had to face each other and Monica had to put Diego’s face in her hands, their faces seemed to be getting closer and closer each time until Monica would nearly forget about the next move, getting lost in his deep brown eyes. 

Finally when they got to the final pose, instead of Monica arching her back like the female role as she held Diego’s face in her hands she couldn’t keep her eyes off of Diego’s. The two were both sweating and panting. Their cheeks were flushed and their skin burned from the places where they held and touched each other. It could possibly just be from the effort of dancing, but they both knew it was something a lot more than that.

They were just staring at each other now with Monica’s hands gently placed on the sides of Diego’s face and Diego holding her with one arm. A million thoughts were running through his head, mainly on the previous moments he spent with Monica up until this one. She was unbearable at first but after making peace he had to admit, she was good company to keep around. She is annoying, but she understood him. 

Was he ready to do this again, though? He knew he would never truly be over Patch, but he acknowledged that perhaps… it was time to start anew.

For Monica she felt just the same. She also thought about how he was unbearable at first, but she admitted he was one of the persons she looked forward to seeing everyday at the precinct. Her constant teasing may have just been her way of getting his attention. Their random conversations at work and even just greeting each other everyday at work made her feel that maybe the precinct wasn’t the shittiest place in the world after all. 

But that didn’t change the fact that he is a Hargreeves, and Jessica’s nagging at how getting involved with him would not be a good idea for her was holding her back from these… feelings.

Then, as if he was doing this subconsciously, Diego found himself leaning in closer to Monica, who stood still as she too noticed their faces getting closer and closer. 

When they were practically inches apart and could feel each other breathing, Monica stopped him by giving a slight push to his shoulders. 

“I-I think I want to go home.” she said softly, forcing herself to pull away from Diego’s gaze as she looked away.

Diego felt his heart sink but he kept his composure. Taking his arm off of Monica he cleared his throat and said, in a voice as soft as Monica’s, “I’ll get the bill.”

[selphiahaven]

Rune Factory 4 is my favorite game ever. The only thing I'd change is to have more interactions with Venti before she goes comatose. Like I'm supposed to give my life for her when I'm barely at 2 hearts? Really takes away from the story to me.

LET’S! TALK! ABOUT! VENTI!!

Dude I love this game like 5,000 percent but it does definitely have its flaws. I especially think there’s a l o t of lot potential that was lost with Ven and her relationship with the plot, but let’s focus on the issue you’re addressing: her going comatose without much a relationship with her. I totally agree. Let’s talk about it. LET’S A L L TALK ABOUT IT.

I’ll start with my long-ass opinion, but I wanna hear how y’all think about this. Because anon’s criticism is juicy. I wonder if other people would have ideas on how this could be better handled / if it even could be better handled than it is now.

Spoilers down below, so… Yeah, be warned about that.

I could make the argument that RF4’s plot is inherently flawed in design for the emotional weight that it’s trying to convey. Rune Factory 4 has an interesting dynamic where the “filler” is pushed into town events, where we can learn about all the different characters and their interactions before, after, or even during important scenes of the plot. Hell, you can participate in a festival and then decide to kick Ethelberd’s ass just to pass some time.

For some, this might be a good thing. On the other hand, you can clear through the game pretty quickly if you’re not dedicated to witnessing all the town events and hearing all the dialogue and participating in all the activities. Keep this in mind: the game expects us to believe that Frey/Lest would friggen sacrifice their life so that Leon can escape the Forest of Beginnings at the end of the first arc. This is how deep our relationship with Venti is supposed to go. Venti, however, remains comatose at the end of Obsidian Mansion until that moment. So given that, our relationship with Venti is supposed to be deep enough that we would sacrifice ourselves by the end of Obsidian Mansion; as we cannot converse with her after this point up until Leon is rescued. Frey/Lest refers to Venti personally after they have sacrificed themselves too, so it should be assumed that Frey/Lest did this act primarily for Ven’s sake, not necessarily for any other specific person in Selphia.

This immensely strong relationship doesn’t really seem warranted with such a quick plot in place. Keep this in mind: the first few playthroughs on Youtube finished Obsidian Mansion on the dates of Summer 4, Spring 29, and Spring 15. You COULD try and just mill around or experience the town to avoid the plot, but there are barriers: 1) At first, you’re only allowed one request a day, so you can’t occupy much time with that 2) Town events actually take a long time to trigger; you could wait uneventful day after day and not trigger anything at all. 3) Things like crafting and forging need objects that you can only find in dungeons as you progress the game, so you can’t bide your time trying to level up / get cool new armour/weapons either. At the same time, this game really, really shouldn’t push us to slow down by making some of these “extracurriculars” mandatory (Imagine the frustration if you could only progress the plot via way of “Memories” again and again).

So here’s the difficult question: How do we make Ven interact with the player more, earlier on in the story, without making the plot too long or too boring?

I was super interested in trying to think up with potential ways to fix a problem like this, so they are listed below. They may come with their own set of problems, but hey, it was fun to think about what could have been. These are all just casual suggestions, not meant to be taken seriously at all.

1) Trigger a town event with Venti early on. Like, within the first few days of playing. Remember “Shiny Memories”? Funnily enough, that was one of my first events triggered in my very first playthrough of this game. Seeing Ven save Doug from being a fukkin dork and falling off that roof really made me feel closer to Ven early on in game. It was definitely confusing later on though, when Doug got all pissy about Ven killing his village or something. I couldn’t believe Doug for a second because Ven had already shown kindness to him without need of recognition, so… Maybe making different, very casual, town events that don’t make me doubt the plot would be a plus.

2) Make a sidequest or two. What if Amber’s dungeon wasn’t the first dungeon you could go to? Or, even better, what if there was some kind of dungeon / area / plotpoint in the first arc that hints at what’s to come in the second arc? (Another big complaint of mine about this game is that Ethelberd seems to come right the fuck outta nowhere. But that’s a complaint for another time.) I’m just spitballing here, but having a few dungeons that are “just for fun” or even just to slow down the plot a bit could be a benefit; as long as they aren’t used in excess. Benefits could include rare crafting materials, or strong pets to use in plot battles. This might give players a few more days of interacting with Venven, thus, getting closer to her over time.

3) Swap the “Freeing Guardians” plotline with the “Finding Rune Spheres” plotline. In the first arc, we seem mostly concerned with saving the guardians, and then finding the rune spheres, and then saving Leon and finishing the first arc. What if you searched for the Rune Spheres first (Perhaps with a, hint hint, few more dungeons instead of using the ones the guardians are in?)? Picture this: Frey/Lest finds a sphere, and feels that it’s…very familiar, and very important, for some reason. But…What’s that? The sphere looks as if it’s kind of broken! As if there are other pieces missing… Aha! Maybe if you find the missing pieces, you could remember something! You go a-searchin’, and by exploring new dungeons, you have more time with Ven, and eventually stumble upon Amber by mistake.

4) Be risky with Ven’s relationship to the town. What if Venti resting on her ass and deciding not to be involved with the town’s affairs causes some unrest in Selphia? Not suggesting blatant fighting or anything, but basically like… People wondering why she can’t use her powers to help out people and make her town prosper? Maybe not having everyone like “Omg Ven!!! We love Ven, Ven’s so nice and loooove her 1000%” in the beginning. It’s cute and all like this, but like… What if Doug used her “laziness” to form a basis to his flawed logic? What if Venti was rumoured to have the power to, I don’t know, cure Blossom? Ven knows she totally can’t cure Blossom. If she was more powerful, maybe the runes in the Earth would make Selphia a healthier living space for Blossom?? I don’t know. But like. What if. What if Venti used to do all this shit to help the town, but slowly stopped. What if people think she’s just lazy. What if people don’t think she’s an angel 24/7. I mean, I get it. She’s a god. Before she was revealed to have a “cute side” to her, everyone thought she was this hard-ass or smth. But I mean. You can view your bosses or your teachers or your parents as people to admire, but still have complaints with them. You can love someone and still not understand some of their quirks. Ven could be a mysterious figure early on. Generate some interest about who she is or why she is. Then, when we actually are told “oh ye lol I was getting weaker all this time” it’s not completely out-of-the-blue because we WANTED to know more about her, because so many things already seemed strange about her.

5) Add some drama. Speaking of Blossom, why don’t Venti and Blossom have a tragic relationship? A heartbreaking relationship where only time will tell which one of them lives longer than the other? Make. Venti. Weak. Why CAN’T Venti show signs of weakness even before Amber is released? Picture this: In the beginning scenes, Ven shows off some of her power to Frey/Lest. Could be something fukkin basic; I dunno. Let’s use what’s shown in Shiny Memories as an example: Ven can use the wind to make people float a lil bit. Cool. That’s established. Few days pass, and the event Shiny Memories triggers. Ven DOES NOT help Doug, and he gets hurt. Frey/Lest confronts Ven, and wonders why she didn’t help him?? Ven tries to make up a lie, to show off that she isn’t as weak as she seems. When, in reality, she’s losing power and couldn’t help him at that time. Don’t want Doug getting hurt? What about an event where Frey/Lest just simply asks Ven to use her powers to help them reach a cup or smth from a high shelf. Ven grows weak, starts breathing heavily and struggling to maintain herself just by trying to use that simple magic, even though she claims to you that she’s fine. Here, Frey/Lest makes a promise to help Ven with whatever they are suffering with, but then Ven admits there’s nothing in Selphia that can help them recover. Frey/Lest acknowledges that this means that there must be something outside Selphia’s walls that could help Ven, and THAT’S when they decide to go to Amber’s dungeon.

6) Slightly change some of Ven’s dialogue. Venti has always seemed like a best-friend type of character to Frey/Lest. This would make sense if she was a goddamn marriage candidate (which she isn’t, ugh, I might get over this, one day), but since she isn’t, why not change her dialogue to be more motherly? “Frey/Lest, you’re doing such good work on the farm! I’m so proud of you!” or “Are you sure you’re eating enough? Please, take this.” or even like “I know this is a lot of work for you, please take some days to rest.” These are really cliche lines, but like, I hope you get the point I’m trying to make. A lot of Ven’s dialogue is really playful, which kinda makes sense since Frey/Lest is the only one to see the “real her”. But…at the same time, I can imagine us getting way more protective over someone who actively has been telling us to take care of ourselves over and over again. Ven kinda tells you to take care of yourself, sometimes, but there are times when she seems to be a bit… I dunno. A tsundere type, for lack of a better term? I mean, I think tsunderes are cute and all, Dylas’s dialogue is some of the funniest in game, but it’d be hard to convince someone to sacrifice their life for Dylas and only give them a month to get to know him, you feel? Meanwhile, I would murder ten people for Clorica. That’s not really on topic but it’s definitely a fact.

Who knows. Maybe the developers thought of these options and decided on this route because the other directions this plot could’ve taken had their own issues that couldn’t be solved. It’s fun to think of what could have been though. Highly recommend trying it.

[theshapeshifter100]

Guess What? I’m Not A Robot Ch16

Summary: Megan manages to convince Paul to come to the meeting. Also, it’s the date when the game starts.

Chapter Warnings: implied anxiety

Word Count: 1.704

19.00 Friday 5th November 2038

“I still can’t believe you agreed to this,” Megan said, passing Paul his jacket.

“I’m seriously considering backing out,” he added, putting on the navy rain coat. He was wearing his ‘Response Loading’ shirt and jeans. His black shoes didn’t look completely out of place with the outfit, but another thrift store foray might be in order soon.

“Then why are you still getting changed?” Megan asked as she passed him his beanie.

“Like you said,” he put the beanie on, tucking his blonde hair underneath it and double checking that it covered his temples. “Sometimes you need to be pushed.”

He took a step back and opened his arms. “How do I look?”

Megan took half a step back and appraised him.

“You’re wearing your jeans too high. I can see your ankles.”

Paul huffed and pushed the waistband down from where it had been sitting. “It’s supposed to be this low?”

“According to my dad on guys it’s supposed to sit on the waist.”

“It feels like it’s going to fall down,” Paul complained, pulling the jeans up a bit higher.

“We’ll add a belt to the shopping list. For now you’ll just have to cope.”

Paul huffed again, but settled down. “What about everything else?”

“Looks good,” Megan confirmed.

“What about...?” Paul gestured to his face.

“What about it?”

“I’m hardly an uncommon android model. What if someone recognises my face?”

“Er, just say, you get that a lot?”

“Very encouraging,” he pulled off the beanie and grabbed the baseball cap instead, shoving it on. “Better?”

“Certainly harder to see your face,” Megan agreed, and Paul relaxed.

“Good,” he shoved the beanie in his pocket. “Anything else we need?”

Megan checked her bag and pockets for the third time that evening.

“Notebook and pen. Phone, bus pass for me, bus fare for you, keys. We’re good.”

Paul took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

The two of them left the apartment and took the stairs as usual. Paul stiffened as they got closer to the bottom, but Megan nudged him.

“Relax.”

“How can I possibly relax?” he hissed back.

“Pretend to relax then.”

Paul barely broke stride as he forced his shoulders to slump and put his hands in his coat pockets.

Rain battered down outside, making Megan and Paul pull up the hoods of their coats, even as they sheltered underneath the bus stop.

There was a slightly hairy moment as Paul started to walk towards the android boarding section. Megan grabbed his hand and gave him a brief questioning look, as they weren’t the only ones at the stop.

“Ah, er. Wasn’t thinking,” he excused, and Megan let a sigh of relief, eyeing the other traveller warily.

“I could tell, ya big goof,” Megan gently elbowed him and Paul went to stand next to her.

The bus pulled up a few minutes later and the two got on, Paul paying the fare that Megan had passed him before she scanned her pass. The automatic machine spat out his change and ticket, which he folded carefully and put in his pocket.

The two sat next to each other, and Paul couldn’t help but look around, especially at the back, in the android compartment.

Megan patted his hand a little awkwardly, unsure how to comfort him on this one. He looked back around at her and smiled at her, although, the smile was a little wobbly.

“It’s alright,” she assured, while being aware that anyone else on the quiet bus could hear. “You’ll like them. Alex gets on with everyone.”

“How will I know who is Alex?”

“Trust me, you can’t miss them. Unless they’re doing their cloak and dagger thing. I think they’ve watched one too many spy movies.”

Paul snorted in sudden laughter and doubled over in his seat, confusing Megan.

“It wasn’t that funny.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Paul had his hand over his mouth to muffle his giggles. “Just, savouring the moment.”

Megan shook her head and looked out of the window, watching Detroit flow past as Paul recovered.

Once he had calmed down he joined Megan in looking out of the window, and little else was said for the rest of the journey.

The bus dropped them off with five minutes until the meeting, so Megan wasted no time power walking for their destination. Paul was taken by surprise, but quickly caught up. He easily kept up with her frantic pace, having longer legs and being almost a foot taller.

“Are you going to get into trouble for being late?” he asked, concerned by her speed.

“Probably not,” Megan slowed down a fraction. “I just don’t like being late.”

Megan navigated the Humanities building with ease, knowing the way to this meeting room like the back of her hand. Paul was constantly tempted to stop and look at the displays, but Megan was on a mission and unlikely to stop for him. He didn’t want to get lost in here.

Megan paused in front of one of the doors, which looked no different from any of the other doors in the hallway beside the number. Her hand was half outstretched to push the door open, but something was stopping her.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asked, and Megan seemed startled, like she’d forgotten he was there.

“Just bracing myself. Alex knows I’m not exactly sociable, so I don’t know how they’re going to react to you.”

“You told them about me, right?”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Alex thought I was making you up.”

“Okay,” Paul was rather concerned by that but decided not to add anything. He instead walked over and put his hand on the door. “Ready?”

“I should be asking you that,” Megan grumbled, “But yeah.”

They pushed open the door to reveal that Alex was already in there. They had dispensed with the neutral clothing this time, instead looking like the personification of the Ace Pride flag.

“Megan!” they grinned, putting down the chair they were holding. “Good to see you!” they turned their gaze to Paul, smile becoming slightly more mischievous. “And this must be your friend?”

“Er, yeah. Alex, this Paul. Paul, this is Alex.”

“Nice to meet you,” Paul held out his hand, and Alex shook it.

“A gentleman as well. You don’t see that very often.” Alex commented, and Paul looked away for a second, embarrassed.

Alex let go and took a step back. “Want to help me get some chairs set up? Ivy and Lucas managed to get a few more people interested.”

“Sure,” Megan said, and Paul nodded wordlessly, just going over to the chairs. “Where’s Julia?” Megan asked, suddenly remembering.

“She’s running a little late. Her taxi got stuck in traffic,” Alex grabbed a stack of chairs from the side and started depositing them in a rough semi-circle. “Anyway, with any luck we could have as many as ten people tonight!”

“That many?” Paul couldn’t seem to decide whether he was being sarcastic or curious.

“Oh hush, we had six of us the other night. Any new people is a massive bonus!”

Paul looked at Megan, who was already helping with chairs. She met his gaze and shrugged slightly, making her thoughts clear.

“What’s up people?!” the door burst open, startling Megan enough to drop the chair she was holding and make Paul whirl around. Coming in through the door was a pair of students so brightly dressed it made Megan’s eyes water.

The one at the head was Ivy, sans the beanie, making her short blue, yellow and pink hair much more obvious. Her green eyes stood out beneath elaborate makeup, which somehow matched her red and yellow jacket and trousers.

The woman behind Ivy was slightly more muted, with their longer hair natural colours, brown streaked with blonde. Although, purple pink and green seemed to be order of the day with her, going all the way to neon green leather boots.

Alex greeted them warmly as Paul reeled from sensory overload.

“Ivy! Good to see you! Who’d you bring?”

“This is Maggie,” Ivy introduced, and Maggie waved, smiling. “We’re on the same floor in our dorm.”

“Great to have you. We’ll do full introductions when everyone gets here,” Alex put down the chair they were holding. “Take a seat.”

Maggie and Ivy sat next to each other on the far right just as Oscar walked in.

“Hey Oscar!” Alex greeted, and the football player nodded.

“Hey Alex, sorry I couldn’t get anyone over.”

“No worries man,” Alex’s smile hadn’t deteriorated in the slightest. “Take a seat. You guys as well,” they nodded to Paul and Megan, who was still standing up.

Megan sat herself on the far left chair, and Paul sat next to her as she pulled out her notebook and pen.

Nathan walked in next, quickly followed by Lucas and someone else Megan recognised from her History classes.

She were small and slight, a little taller than Megan and a little bit bulkier, but in a healthy way. She wore a leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers, and her blonde hair hung over her shoulders.

“Hey Nathan, Lucas,” Alex greeted warmly, and their smile actually faltered a little bit when they saw the new girl. “Hi Allison,”

“Hey Alex,” in comparison Allison was pretty calm. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not here to cause trouble. I am actually interested, Lucas told me who was running this and I came anyway.”

“Thanks,” Alex looked unsure for the first time Megan had known them. “That’s, very mature of you.”

Allison nodded and took a seat roughly near the middle as Alex recovered. Paul shot Megan a confused look and Megan shrugged; she’d never heard anything about this before.

The door opened one last time and the last person walked in. An African American woman a little older than Alex, dressed casually with a large rucksack stopped a little at the door, and Alex remembered how to greet people.

“Julia! Glad you made it!”

Julia smiled a little quickly in response, clearly nervous. “Hey Alex, like I said, issue with the taxi. Everyone here?”

“I think so,” Alex looked around, and everyone nodded. “Great! Quick introductions then Megan can start on minutes!”

Paul's getting braver! I'm so proud of my little android boy.

I also kinda imagine the bit where he walks towards the android boarding compartment as a side fun thing, if this was a game.

So, Alex and Allison have a history. I might talk about it more, another time. Other Options Flowchart

(Paul) Keep the beanie

(Megan) Pat shoulder. Do Nothing

(Paul) Do Nothing. Open the door for her

Tags! @nightmarejim @septicart-appreciation

[forumsblog858]

Homeworld 2 For Mac

Homeworld 2 For Macbook Pro

Homeworld 2 For Mac Catalina

Homeworld 2 Mac Download Full Game

Homeworld 2 For Mac Iso

Homeworld 2 For Mac High Sierra

Gameplay Sound Graphics Value

Publisher:Aspyr MediaGenre: ActionMin OS X: 10.2.6 CPU: G4 @ 800 MHz RAM: 256 MB Hard Disk: 1600 MB 8x CD-ROM Graphics: 32 MB VRAM

Nov 24, 2004 Hi folks, So I picked up homeworld 2 for mac having played it on a friend's PC, but really missed the ability to add mods for multiplayer games when i played it on mac. I even emailed Aspyr, but they were no help. Then the other day i came across a an explanation for how to do it, at least.

Homeworld 2 November 1, 2004 | Michael Yanovich

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Secondly Homeworld 2 was written and ported to the Mac in such a way that you can take advantage of many of the great game mods out there. I've run the version of the game wherein all the ships are Legos, for example.

The Homeworld Remastered Collection introduces Relic's acclaimed space strategy games Homeworld and Homeworld 2 to modern players and operating systems using the newest sophisticated graphics rendering technology, plus a fully remastered score and new, high fidelity voice recordings by the original actors.

Click to enlarge

I never played the original Homeworld – it didn’t make it over to the Mac and I don’t own a PC – so I wasn’t sure what to expect when I got this game. I’d just heard lots of positive buzz, and something about a real time strategy game set in outer space. So I wasn’t surprised when that’s exactly what I got. What did surprise me is how exceedingly cool this game is.

But first, a few words about most RTS games in general. In my experience, single player campaigns start off fairly slow and easy and gradually introduce new units as the storyline progresses. Many players finish up the single player campaign and then move on to multiplayer battles over the internet, where experience levels really matter. That is to say, most of us can beat a single player game with enough save points and a couple of tries. You just don’t have to be an especially good player. But multiplayer games tend to fall into two categories. The first, games with a few friends, all of whom know the game basics but aren’t particularly amazing. Then there are those players you frequently run into in online ladder games, opponents who are really great players. They know the ultimate build sequences, unit locations, rush strategies, resource gathering patterns… they have the entire battle plan in their head before they even start a game.

Well, maybe it’s just me but Homeworld 2 seems to require you be the second kind of player – the highly skilled one – to really get into this game. This is clearly not meant for casual gamers, and frankly I felt a bit overwhelmed at times. But even in the midst of a heavy battle where I was getting my butt kicked, I loved this game!

There seems to be a decent story here, which is told in stylized animated cutscenes with top notch voice acting. I confess to not fully understanding the major plot points, mainly because the “Here’s what happened in the last game” intro wasn’t particularly clear. But whatever. Seems like humanity’s survival is in jeopardy and you must lead a ragtag fleet of ships through space on a lonely quest for a planet known as Earth. Oops, that’s Battlestar Galactica. Sorry! Anyway, change the word Earth to Homeland and you’ll be relatively close to this game’s plot.

I know I’m in the minority when I say stories aren’t that important in many games. If I wanted a plot I’d watch a movie or read a book. Gamewise, the only story points I care about are the ones I need to know in order to play the game. But I will admit that these cutscenes were entertaining enough that I actually paid attention to what was going on, which seemed like a lot of “we’re getting our butts handed to us, let’s run before we lose more ships,” followed by a brief, “Whew, we’re safe! Let’s rest. What? Drat! They found us! Quick, fight them so we can run again!”

Homeworld 2 For Macbook Pro

And that’s fine by me. It kept me focused on the end goal of saving our species from the alien hoards. But in all seriousness, there does seem to be enough of a plot to keep story fans satisfied in between epic battles. And that’s what this game is all about. Epic. Freakin’. Battles!

Pages:123Gallery

In 1999, Relic Entertainment’s groundbreaking Homeworld took the gaming world by surprise. Still widely regarded as the gold standard of space real-time strategy games, it successfully coupled lush graphics with a sleek interface that made manipulating camera angles and toggling between build and formation menus in 3D space incredibly easy. Homeworld 2 takes the original and upgrades it. With a new game engine, especially during massive battles of all ship classes, you can’t help but admire its finer points, from its lovely dynamic lighting to its chilly “realism.â€

The Homeworld universe is “hard†science fiction, as opposed to, say, StarCraft. The large, complex battles it depicts have an austere, clinical feel that’s more admirable than immersive, regardless of the camera angle. But it’s great hard sci-fi, and the visuals really suck you in —literally—as you zoom in closer like a jeweler with a loupe, and the distant flashes gradually coalesce into thousands of stories unfolding. For a game totally devoid of visible living organisms, Homeworld 2 compensates by making you care about simulated husks of flying machinery. Your people live inside those fragile husks, fly them, die in them—the exhaust trails become their souls. As in Homeworld, you feel for these poor trusting bastards scrounging for asteroids out in the middle of genuine nowhere.

Which is partly what makes much of the martinet story campaign such a bummer. Homeworld’s poignant air of cosmic mystery is largely absent; here everything’s all grueling puzzle and puzzling grind. Instead of offerings like Homeworld’s wonderfully eerie Garden of Kadesh, the sequel gives you exhausting debacles like the fourth mission, in which doing things in sequence directly opposite from what’s suggested is not only possible but proves a tenth as ulcerous, and the outright sadistic red herring of the tenth one. There’s no let-up, just an overriding sense of attrition and hopelessness as you watch your entire “persistent†fleet get persistently pulverized many times over.

It’s not just the difficulty either, but the logic. The third mission introduces marine frigates, which “capture†enemy ships in multiplayer, but in single-player only give the misleading impression of being able to do so (including attaching to the ship and displaying a steadily increasing “capture barâ€). Also annoying is the automatic collection of resources. The lack of such an option was, ironically, one of the few valid criticisms leveled at Homeworld. Here, automatic collection occurs the second you’ve completed your mission goals, which entails starting the next level short-handed.

The storyline has its moments, but after Cataclysm’s strange, daring waters, Homeworld 2’s scavenger-hunt plotline feels for most of its length like an almost spitefully conventional rehash, top-heavy with extra-galactic ancient races that no longer exist except as convenient plot devices. (The whole thing’s an anthropomorphized riff on David Brin’s Uplift novels, which take space combat imagery to heights Homeworld 2 can only dream of). Your new enemies, the Vaygr, have swanky vertical missile launchers but don’t seem inherently distinct as a culture from your own Hiigarans; they are supposed to represent a “conglomeration of races.â€

Homeworld 2 For Mac Catalina

Homeworld’s interface involved toggling to separate screens for building ships and researching technologies, but there were few options, it never seemed cumbersome. Here the menu takes up a third of the screen, obscuring your view of the luscious space graphics, and you can’t move or shrink it. Hitting R minimizes the research menu, but B doesn’t minimize the build menu. For all their bigness, the menus don’t seem to use their space wisely; it makes you long for the minimalist simplicity of the sensors manager.

Many basics feel harder, although you get used to them. You now build the smaller ships in complete squadrons, presumably to make the battles bigger and more spectacular, but clicking on an individual ship gives you the relative health of the entire squadron at the bottom of the screen, which is less precise. Why not an AI setting to have ships auto-dock when they’re near death? Why can’t collectors auto-repair? Why no patrol? How about being able to assign docked craft to groups? Alt-bandboxing a group of ships that includes hostiles doesn’t show a list of all those selected, as it did in the original and Cataclysm

The beloved formations such as sphere and claw have been abandoned for new, more efficient “strike groups,†fleets that can include multiple ship types but move at the speed of their slowest unit. Familiarity with these is a major factor in combat, but the rock-paper-scissors consequences of using each type are barely touched on in the slender manual, itself a mockery of the original game’s thick, detailed documentation.

For all its clumsy new baggage and rushed feel, Homeworld 2 takes itself seriously, designed from the ground up as a reward to the faithful rather than an olive branch to the casual newcomer. The lucky few up to its Sisyphean challenges will find themselves rewarded for their loyalty.

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[josai]

through the ages

Happy birthday @amalasdraws! I love getting to be your friend, I hope you have an amazing day & a great upcoming year! <3

As a kid, summertime is Tooru’s favourite time of year for two reasons.

The first reason is that his birthday is in summertime. It’s one of the few times he’s allowed to have multiple people over, and he doesn’t have to bug his parents to let a friend stay the night, laughing and playing games and enjoying themselves.

The second reason (and what he likes even more) is when his parents take him and his sister out to spend long weekends at the lake house. Now that they’re old enough - and after much pestering - Tooru’s parents allow him and his sister to each bring a friend along, and Tooru has so much that he wants to share with Hajime.

After a long day of playing out in the sun, catching crayfish and splashing each other in the cool water, Tooru can already feel exhaustion pulling at him, but he brushes it away as he climbs into the futon set up in the living room for him and Hajime. The blankets are cool, but he knows they won’t be for too much longer.

Hajime’s rummaging through their bin of movies, pulling out a tape that he likes and sliding it into the player. He pads back to the futon after turning on the old television set up for them, climbing in beside Tooru without hesitation.

Tooru slides over to give him some more room, laying his head back on the pillow and rubbing at his eyes.

“Tired?” Hajime asks, propping himself up on an elbow. He ignores the trailers for new movies playing on the television and reaches over, brushing some hair out of Tooru’s face.

His fingers feel cool on Tooru’s probably sunburned face. It’s nice.

“A little,” Tooru admits, blinking slowly. Hajime drops back down on the bed and Tooru slides a little closer so that their shoulders are touching. “What did you pick?” He asks, turning over towards the television.

Hajime shifts to move his shoulder so that he can tuck his arm under Tooru’s neck. “That magic one that you like so much.”

“Really?!” Tooru turns towards him and grins, excitement evident in his face.

“Yeah,” Hajime responds, turning to face the television set. “You were sayin’ you wanted to watch it again… so…”

Tooru laughs and shoves Hajime a little, who retaliates by jumping back on him and pushing him back to his side of the futon. They both end up in a pile on the floor with a thump and this starts a tickle war, the both of them laughing and trying to best the other, neither wanting it to end until Tooru’s fighting tears from laughing so hard-

“I give!” he chokes out the words between laughter, clutching his stomach; Hajime’s grinning a mile wide when he pulls back, trying to quiet his laughter so that they don’t wake Tooru’s parents.

“That makes thirty-two for me,” Hajime says, pushing himself up to his knees and offering a hand to help Tooru up. “And-”

“Yes, twenty-eight for me! Don’t worry Iwa-chan, I’ll catch up.” Tooru takes his hand and they both stumble back to their feet. Hajime pulls Tooru back into the futon by the hand, flopping down on top of each other as they catch their breath.

Tooru cuddles up next to Hajime and doesn’t even care that he misses the rest of the movie when he falls right to sleep, happy and warm and safe.

Middle school is where everything starts to change.

Tooru becomes so aware of the fact that his relationship with Hajime isn’t… normal.

Other boys their age don’t hug.

They don’t hold hands.

They don’t cuddle up together when they watch movies, they don’t share a bed when it’s late and someone wakes up from a nightmare in a cold sweat, shaking and afraid-

They just don’t.

And Tooru doesn’t know if he and Hajime are supposed to keep doing these things, either, so he starts to… pull back.

He doesn’t reach for Hajime as soon as they’re in the same room to pull him into a tight hug. He doesn’t reach for his hand when he’s scared, and he stops cuddling up him during their sleepovers.

Well, he tries to, anyway.

Having Hajime over for a sleepover after school now means more awkward silences, more hesitation and more questioning everything that he does.

Frankly, Tooru hates it, but he doesn’t know any way around it.

He sighs as he flops out on the couch after they finish up their homework one evening, the week of school long and arduous. Volleyball practice has been getting tougher and he feels it in his every movement, in the way that his arms ache and his legs are so much more sore than usual. He wasn’t sure if Hajime was going to want to come over for their weekly sleepover-

But he does.

“Move over,” Hajime says, nudging Tooru with his foot before flopping down next to him. They’ve finished dinner and their homework so they now have a few hours before they’ll need to crash. He sighs loudly, leaning his head back on the couch and closing his eyes. “Your couch’s so much comfier than mine.”

“Well I’m pretty sure yours is a thousand years old, Iwa-chan,” Tooru says, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

Hajime snorts in laughter. “Yeah, probably. Oh, hey - I brought that new game that my mom got me. Wanna try it out?”

Tooru nods, pleased with the suggestion. “Yeah! I heard it was pretty fun.” He slides off the couch, heading to the television to set up his console. He gets it all plugged in before Hajime’s walking over, opening up the game case and pulling out the disk-

He’s so close , Tooru can feel how warm he is, damn it he wants nothing more than to just cuddle up next to him like they used to, wrap his arms around him and snuggle up to his chest-

He feels so, so stupid.

Why does he miss someone who’s right here next to him?

He misses him, them - how they used to be - desperately.

Hajime’s close, and he could just reach out and feel him-

The moment slips through his fingers. Hajime lifts himself back up and returns to the couch, flopping down and grabbing a controller from himself. If he noticed anything off about Tooru he doesn’t say anything, instead throwing him a confused look.

“You comin’?” He asks, holding out a controller for Tooru.

He blinks slowly, takes a deep breath and collects himself.

Hajime isn’t gone.

“‘Course,” Tooru responds, flashing him a smile and making his way back to the couch. He steals the controller from Hajime’s hands, flopping himself out next to him.

It’s not the same as before, not by a mile - but sitting next to Hajime, feeling their shoulders brush, and knowing he’s here -

That’s comforting.

It’s something. 

 “Iwa-chan, wanna come over tonight after school?” Tooru leans against his locker in the volleyball club room, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. “My mom’s in Tokyo tonight for work and she left some money for takeout.”

Hajime looks up as he pulls down his shirt, tossing his gym clothes into his bag. “Overnight?” He asks, zipping it closed.

“Yeah, if you want to.” Tooru shrugs casually.

Hajime grins. “Sure, so long as I get to pick the movie for tonight.” He slams his locker closed, ignoring Tooru’s noises of protest.

“If you are making me watch some shitty car chase movie again, Iwa-chan, I swear to God-”

“Do we have a deal?” Hajime offers a hand to Tooru, his grin only growing in size.

Tooru sighs. “Fine.” He takes his hand, shaking it, resigned.

Hajime laughs as he pulls Tooru out of the club room, letting go of his hand as they start the walk back home.

It’s familiar.

Tooru loves it.

They walk back together, laughing and talking, trading jabs and jokes, hashing out parts of their day. Hajime laughs when Tooru tells him about how Makki face-planted walking into their math class that morning; Tooru loses it when Hajime tells him about how his dog ran into the house last night with muddy feet and got pawprints everywhere .

It’s their last year of high school and they’re finally getting back to where they used to be.

When they get back to Tooru’s house, Hajime walks in first, dropping his bag in the living room and going straight for the kitchen.

“What are we ordering?” He asks, dropping himself down on one of the kitchen stools and reaching for the stack of take-out menus that Tooru’s mom always keeps tucked in a shelf for safekeeping. “Indian?”

Tooru wrinkles his nose, following Hajime in and dropping his elbows down on the counter. “Mh, I’m not really feeling it. How about Chinese?” He picks a menu out of the stack, flipping it towards Hajime.

“Nah, I had that just a few nights ago at home.” He starts to thumb through the menus, ignoring Tooru’s whine of protest.

Tooru closes his eyes, deep in thought, clearly taking this very seriously. “Okay, okay - how about-”

“-Pizza?” Hajime interrupts, flashing him the menu from their favourite takeout place.

Tooru smiles. “You read my mind, Iwa-chan!”

“Okay, you order.” Hajime passes him the menu, which Tooru shakes his head at.

“Uh, no, I distinctly remember that it is your turn to order.”

Hajime makes a face, “There is no way in hell, I called the last time when we had tacos-”

Tooru stands up straight. “I know just how to solve this problem.”

Hajime eyes him carefully, sliding off of the stool, barefeet on the linoleum. “I hope you know what you’re starting,” he says, lips curling into a smile.

He gives Tooru all of two seconds before he’s jumping towards him, playfully grabbing his shirt, pulling him in close. Tooru fights back; both of them desperate to get the other to give in, to hold them still for a couple of seconds to find out who is going to win.

“Not- fair- Iwa-chan, you’ve gotten stronger-”

Hajime laughs, ruffling Tooru’s hair as he wraps his arms around him, trying to get him to stop struggling without the both of them hitting the floor. “I’ve gotta do something, you and your damn long limbs-”

Tooru snorts with laughter, letting all of his weight drop and going completely dead weight in Hajime’s arms.

“Tooru! Don’t you go boneless on me!” He groans, gritting his teeth as he struggles to hold him up, dropping down to his knees but still keeping Tooru restrained. “I swear, you are gonna get it-”

“Okay! I give!” Tooru laughs, wiggling to get out of Hajime’s strong grip. “I’ll call, okay? Let me get my phone.” Hajime gives him a hard look before pulling back his arms, letting Tooru drop to the floor with an unceremonious thump .

All of this, it’s exciting and nerve wracking - but in a good way.

A positive way.

Tooru finishes laughing. He digs his cell phone out of his bag and makes the call; it’s not long before they have food, which they make quick work of at the table before retreating for the living room. Hajime takes pity on Tooru and picks a movie they’ll both like, much to Tooru’s delight.

“You’re being nice to me today, Iwa-chan,” Tooru says when he sees the selection, dropping some drinks down on the table for them.

Hajime shrugs, settling back on the couch. He props his feet up on the table and makes himself comfortable. “Yeah, well, I like this one just as much.” He shifts a little when Tooru flops down next to him, letting out a contented sigh.

Tooru stretches his legs out in front of himself before settling them across Hajime’s lap. He feels warm and nervous, knowing that he’s testing their limits a bit, stretching the boundaries-

But Hajime settles his hand on top of his legs, posture relaxed, eyes focusing on the screen in front of them.

Tooru smiles as he settles in, happy to watch anything Hajime’s picked for them.

He doesn’t miss the way that Hajime draws circles with his thumb across Tooru’s knee.

Even when they make it to college, Tooru is too stubborn to give up their weekly sleepovers.

And, well, - like hell Hajime would let him, anyway.

Their colleges are only a half an hour apart, an hour by train at most - they rotate who’s place they stay at, someone always brings food and they make a night of it. Even when they’re both exhausted from exams, their part-time jobs and putting up with annoying roommates-

This one night a week is their solace.

Their solace where they don’t have to communicate through text messages or rushed phone calls where Tooru always falls asleep once he’s comfortable in bed, Hajime following suit shortly thereafter-

Tooru’s waiting, excited, when he hears a knocking at his door before it swings open wide.

“Tooru? Hey, I’m here,” Hajime calls from the door. Tooru gets up to greet him as Hajime steps out of his shoes, tucking them away in the closet.

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru grins as he steps close, not hesitating in pulling him in for a nice, tight hug.

Hajime squeezes him back, laughing softly. “Good to see you too,” he says, pulling away only after they’ve both gotten their fix. “I brought food.” He holds up the brown paper bag in his hand, grinning widely.

Tooru returns his smile. “My hero.” He takes the bag from his hands, leading him back to the couch where he’s already set up a couple of plates, drinks and his favourite big fluffy blanket.

“We get the living room to ourselves today?” Hajime asks, shrugging off his coat. “Where’s the roommate?”

“Oh, Koushi’s off spending the weekend back home with his boyfriend, so we do!” Tooru sets out the food, kicking off his slippers as he drops down on the couch. “In perfect time, too, because as much as I really do like him, I could not stand another day of listening to that shitty K-Pop of his - he listens to it all the time when he’s stressed, which I get it, exams, but the music was starting to stress me out, and it’s hard enough to get to sleep with everything else going on-” Tooru pauses, taking a deep breath. “Sorry. Yes, we have the apartment to ourselves tonight.”

“No need to apologize,” Hajime says, shaking his head, “I get it. I’m glad we could still get together tonight even though things are so crazy.” He drops himself down on the sofa, settling in next to Tooru.

“Me too. This is one of the few things keeping me sane at this point.” He chuckles, sighing and leaning against Hajime’s shoulder.

“Things been alright?” Hajime asks, reaching up to run a hand through Tooru’s hair, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of his neck.

“Just a lot going on. You know how it is. Work, school - I’m sure it’s the same for you.” Tooru sighs into the touches, finally starting to relax, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

Hajime smiles.

“Yeah, but only a few more exams then we have break.” Hajime slides his hand down to pull Tooru close by the shoulder, squeezing him. “And we’ll get a couple of weeks where we don’t have any responsibilities other than feeding ourselves and putting on pants.”

Tooru laughs. “Pants are optional, by the way.”

Hajime snorts, pulling away to reach for some of the food. “Fine by me, but the food is a necessity.” He opens up one of the containers, scooping out a portion of rice for himself, and then one for Tooru on his plate. He grabs the mixed vegetables and repeats the process. “Good food, too. Not just popcorn and pink Starburst.”

Tooru nudges Hajime in the ribs, “And here I thought you were being nice to me today.”

Hajime just rolls his eyes, finishing dishing out the food and handing Tooru his plate. “I am. Now eat up, I brought the movie you wanted to watch.”

“You did!” Tooru grins, accepting the food; he pulls up his feet on the couch so that Hajime can get up and go put in the movie. He takes a few bites of the food, sighing appreciatively. “I take it all back. You are being too nice to me. You know how much I like shrimp rice!”

Hajime starts up the movie, chuckling as he turns back to Tooru. “Yeah, and you know how I don’t eat shrimp.” He returns to his spot, settling back in and pulling the blanket around the two of them before lifting up his plate.

“So I can have them?” Tooru asks, smiling mischievously before stealing one of the shrimps right off Hajime’s plate with his chopsticks.

“All yours,” Hajime clarifies, chuckling under his breath as he passes Tooru another piece, putting it on his plate for when he’s ready for it. Tooru’s smile widens and he takes a few more pieces as the movie starts up.

They settle back into their routine seamlessly. Once they’re done eating, Hajime piles their plates on the end of the coffee table so that he has room to put his feet up, letting Tooru stretch his long legs across his lap, relaxing against his side. Tooru wiggles his hand in behind Hajime, resting his arm behind him and moving his fingers in soft circles across his arm.

They’re so much more free now. Tooru’s not quite sure how he’d define their relationship, but really-

That’s the beauty of it.

He doesn’t feel the need to - and neither does Hajime. They can just do what feels right and figure the rest out along the way.

Right now, it’s what they both need.

The end of college bring about change after change for Hajime and Tooru.

They both graduate, and take different career paths. Hajime goes for an apprenticeship in the city while Tooru accepts a position abroad where he’s given the chance to continue his learning and travel.

Tooru thinks a lot about how he feels about Hajime, how much he cares about him, and he almost doesn’t take the job-

But of course, it’s Hajime who encourages him. And he knows, knows that he has to find out who he is on his own before they could ever have a chance together.

It’s hard, being away from each other for so long. They go months and months without being able to see each other in person, their only form of contact grainy Skype calls and endless texts of a conversation that never really has a clear end or beginning - they just pick it up whenever they have time to grab their phone, between hours of work or time spent at leisure.

Tooru learns a lot during his time away, but what he realizes the most is how much he misses Hajime.

Hajime.

His best friend.

His support system.

The person who has been there for him through everything .

Hajime was there when his father was sick, and all they could do was wait to see if he would pull through.

Hajime was there when they lost their final chance at going to the National volleyball tournament, when their hopes were smashed yet again.

Hajime has been there for as long as Tooru can remember - from the time they were small all the way through college. He has helped Tooru come to terms with who he is, figure out what he wants to be, who he wants to be-

Hajime’s his best friend, but that’s never all he’s been.

It’s taken them some time to get here, but Tooru’s sure it’ll be well worth the wait.

He did tell Hajime that he was coming back, but he didn’t expect his flight to get bumped up, landing him in the airport back home at three in the morning, six hours before he was supposed to get there.

Standing in the airport, Tooru thinks about calling Hajime, but-

His feet move before he even has the chance to think about it.

He’s heading out the door, jumping into the first cab that he sees. He gives off the address to Hajime’s place - he hasn’t even visited it yet, Hajime moved while he was away but he knows the address like the back of his hand from all the letters he’s sent there, all the parcels.

He knows there’s no way Hajime is even awake yet, but. He doesn’t let that stop him.

Tooru hurriedly pays the cab driver and stumbles out of the car, slamming the door shut behind himself. It’s dark, and even with the light on in front of Hajime’s house, he can’t see much of it but from what he can see-

It’s perfect.

It’s just what he would have imagined for Hajime.

It’s small, one-storey; but there’s a small garden out front, the steps to the house looking like they’ve recently been fixed up, carefully patched to avoid any cracks. Tooru steps down the path slowly, taking in his surroundings, when it all hits him at once.

He’s here, he’s here, he’s here-

He’s knocking at Hajime’s door with urgency, his fingers trembling with anticipation. His stomach is flopping with nerves because what if he’s not here, what if Hajime didn’t wait for him-

The door swings open and Tooru freezes in spot.

Hajime’s blinking at him, looking sleepy and confused, taking in the sight of him before his eyes go wide.

“...Tooru?” He whispers, pushing the screen door of his house open, stepping out in his bare feet, “But- you- it’s too early-”

“My plane got in early,” he explains, fingers catching on the edge of the door. “I was going to call, but I- I couldn’t wait, I had to come-”

Hajime interrupts him with a hug, throwing his arms around him and pulling him in close, fitting him tight to his chest. Tooru can feel how fast Hajime’s heart is beating like this, and he squeezes Tooru so tight it makes his heart ache.

“Tooru, Tooru, fuck, I- I thought I had time- to figure out what to say-” Hajime mumbles, face pressed against Tooru’s neck.

“I did, so let me,” Tooru says, pulling away enough so that he can look Hajime in the face. “All this time we’ve spent like this has been so, so important, Hajime… You helped me figure out who I am… what I want. You always made me feel safe and cared about, and I… I really appreciate our friendship…” He clenches his jaw, steeling his resolve. “But I - I’m selfish… I want more… I want all of you- I love you, I love you- ”

He gasps when Hajime pulls him in again, hands grasping his shoulders, fitting him in tight to his chest. Hajime’s laughing, he’s laughing , shoulders shaking and eyes wet-

“Me too,” he says, still laughing, “Me too, I- I love you too, Tooru, love you so much-” He’s cut off when Tooru presses in close, finally, finally , pressing their lips together in a kiss.

God, it’s so much more than Tooru could have ever imagined.

Hajime kisses him back fiercely, with so much passion that it leaves Tooru breathless; he holds him tightly, pulling back only to whisper against Tooru’s lips, “Sleepover with me, tonight?”

Tooru catches his breath, shaky hands gripping the front of Hajime’s shirt. “Please, Hajime.”

Hajime smiles, dipping down again to kiss him once more before pulling him in. “Bed’s already warm…”

Even when they’re been married for a few years and living together for even more, their weekly sleepovers (“We should just call it movie night, Tooru, we sleep together every night” ) are still a carefully enforced tradition.

Tooru settles himself in on the couch after they’ve had dinner, flicking through their options of movies to stream, humming as he makes his selection.

“Anything good on?” Hajime asks as he enters the living room, having finished washing the dishes. He drops himself down on the couch next to Tooru, snuggling in close instinctually. Tooru chuckles when Hajime noses against his neck.

“Yeah, I picked one. Are you ready?” Tooru asks, moving on the couch to make more room for Hajime, who settles in behind him to draw Tooru up against his chest and snuggles him in close.

“Mhm,” Hajime nods, nuzzling Tooru. “Go ahead.”

Tooru starts the movie, settling back into Hajime’s touches. He relaxes as Hajime moves his hands down Tooru’s sides, sliding up the hem of his shirt, hands warm. His touches are slow and soft, sensual and romantic - Tooru tilts his head back and rests it on Hajime’s shoulder, sighing softly when Hajime starts rubbing circles against his hips with his thumbs.

“Hajime,” Tooru whispers, chuckling when Hajime starts to kiss down the back of his neck, soft and sweet and slow until right at his ticklish spot-

“Hajime!” Tooru laughs now, wiggling in Hajime’s grip but he’s being held tightly; Hajime keeps pressing hard kisses against his neck, tongue running out and tickling him. Tooru laughs and tries to break himself free, lacing his fingers with Hajime’s and pulling, but Hajime’s got him in too good of a spot and he can’t break free. “Mean, mean, mean- ” Tooru snorts, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“You know what you have to say,” Hajime whispers in his ear, chuckling as he nibbles on Tooru’s earlobe, another ticklish spot, damn him he knows him so well- “I give!” Tooru laughs, managing to squirm around when Hajime finally lets his grip go slack. “You win.” He only pouts a little as he turns around to face Hajime, sliding his legs around on either side of him.

Hajime grins at him, leaning forward to give him a small kiss of apology, but Tooru’s smiling into the kiss. “How many is that for me?”

The corners of Tooru’s lips tug up into a smile and he drapes his arms around Hajime’s shoulders. “How did you know I was still keeping count?”

That earns him a kiss to the nose before Hajime rubs their noses together. “Because I am too, love.”

Tooru’s still smiling as he squeezes Hajime tighter. “A hundred and seven?” He settles himself back against Hajime, turning so that he can see the screen again. Hajime waits until Tooru is settled and comfortable before wrapping his arms around him and kissing the top of his head.

“To your hundred and five,” Hajime says, lacing their fingers together.

Tooru knows he loves Hajime, he always knows it-

But in moments like this, he can feel how much Hajime loves him back.

Their journey might have been long, and it wasn’t always easy - but it was so incredibly worth it. One thing that will never change through the ages is Hajime and Tooru - and how much they care about each other.

[themusesofmars]

Fanfiction Posted - Final Fantasy XV

@ignoctweek IgNoct Week Day 1, Prompt A: (Simple) Falling in Love Title: “Boys Will Be Boys” Rating: Teen+ (PG-13) Warnings: alcohol and tobacco use, strong language, mild sexual themes Synopsis: Noct is tired of being told what to do and sneaks out of the guys' hotel room to attend a midnight rave party. But he has unexpected company that leads to an unexpected romance. Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12593731/1/Boys-Will-Be-Boys Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11656380

Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio sat on a cushioned bench in their hotel lobby, waiting for Prince Noctis to join them. They were in Lestallum for the first time—just a pit stop on their agenda—and were planning to see the sights and enjoy some R&R before getting back on the road the following morning.

At last Noct appeared at the top of the winding staircase, dressed casually in a T-shirt, his jacket, and jeans. His boots resonated on the polished wooden steps as he descended at a leisurely pace.

“Ugh, finally!” Prompto was the first to leap to his feet. “Let’s go get some eats!”

Noct reached his friends near the landing and was surprised to be greeted by angry looks. “Were you guys waiting long?” he wondered.

“Oh…only about forty-five minutes or so,” Ignis answered with sarcastic indifference, following Prompto as the freckled boy bounded for the exit.

Noctis shrugged, scratching the back of his head. He hadn’t bothered to comb his long, dark hair before coming downstairs and it was still tousled from where it had been pressed against his pillow for the last two hours.

“Get enough beauty sleep, Your Highness?” Gladio asked mockingly, rolling his eyes at the prince.

“Sorry, jeez!” Noct grimaced as Gladio gave him a hearty push toward the door. “Seems like you guys could have used a longer nap, yourselves,” he muttered.

“Maybe we wouldn’t be so hangry if you had gotten ready for dinner a little bit faster,” Gladio growled back at him.

Noct ignored him this time and shoved the front door open. He and Gladio were instantly assaulted by the humid evening air as they met up with Prompto and Ignis. There was a large sculpture fountain in the plaza just outside of the hotel, but it was bone dry and coated in a layer of dust.

“Damn!” the prince remarked, “This place is hot!”

Gladio shrugged. “Just take your shirt off.”

Noct shot him a glare, noticing that Gladio had left his own shirt unbuttoned and hanging wide open. “Like you?” he scoffed. “No. Way.”

“What? Too embarrassed to show off your scrawny little body?” the brawnier man snorted.

“Hey—I’ve got muscles. You just…can’t see them.”

Gladio walked away from him, muttering under his breath, “If you say so…”

“It is rather sultry this evening,” Ignis agreed, wiping away the steam that had misted his glasses upon exiting the air-conditioned hotel lobby with a handkerchief he promptly tucked back into the breast pocket of his perfectly-pressed dress shirt. “Well, shall we see if we can locate a pub? Or visit the city market, perhaps, to sample the local vendors’ dishes?”

“Any food is good food,” Prompto said quickly, his stomach rumbling in chorus.

Ignis appeared to be personally offended by the remark. “It most certainly is not! Have you learned nothing from my catering during our travels? ‘Any food,’ indeed!”

“I vote we find a pub,” Gladio decided. “I could really throw back a cold one right about now.”

Prompto grinned. “I’m with ya, big guy.”

“There will be no underage drinking on this excursion,” Ignis sternly corrected him.

As one, the two junior members of the group cried, “What?!”

“Prince Noctis,” Ignis admonished the youth, “His Majesty entrusted me with your safekeeping. At the very least I intend to see that you obey the law. Gracious!”

Noct crossed his arms irritably. “Hey, I’m on my way to be married, you know.”

“And you’re welcome to drink champagne at the wedding ceremony,” Ignis sighed, “but at this moment, you are my charge, and I won’t have you overdoing it in a public place and causing a scene where the press may be watching.”

Before Noctis could ready another retort, Gladio interrupted. “Less whining, more walking,” he snapped, “before I starve to death.”

The four men headed down the street to see what they could see. At the end of the block they heard an unexpected commotion. Looking up the street from the corner, the group spotted a large crowd swarming around covered stalls.

“It appears we’ve located the marketplace,” Ignis said, his eyes lighting up. “Quite the bustle!”

“Looks like chaos,” Gladio argued dismissively. “Let’s find a bar.” He kept walking.

Ignis stared at the entrance to the farmer’s market for just a moment longer before conceding defeat. “I suppose I could rise a bit early and purchase fresh produce in the morning,” he consoled himself.

They continued on their way. “This place gets pretty lively at night!” Prompto commented, looking back over his shoulder at all the people spilling out into the streets, talking and laughing.

“You can party when we get where we’re goin’,” Gladio scolded. “Just remember, tonight y’all are gettin’ your asses to bed good and early, cause we’re getting back on the road at daybreak.”

Noct was getting angrier by the minute. He didn’t like being treated like a little kid—especially not by Gladio. They were practically the same age, but the other man sure acted like he had seen and done it all. “Ugh, you’re taking us the wrong way!” the prince complained. “This is just an alley. And it stinks.” He wrinkled his nose at the stench clinging to the trash bags littering their path.

“Would you be quiet?” Gladio retorted. “Just hold your breath until we get up these steps. I see lights; there’s gotta be something ahead.”

Noct put his arm across his face and stalked up the stone steps after the others, his expression dark.

Prompto couldn’t help letting a laugh slip. “Dude, you look like a vampire,” he snickered. “Bleh! I vant to suck your blood!”

The prince lowered his arm. “Okay,” he grumbled to himself, “maybe some of us are too immature to have a drink with dinner…”

Gladio had been right—of course, damn it. At the top of the alley steps they found themselves in a court surrounded by food kiosks, cafés, and restaurants, many with outdoor seating areas. And business was apparently booming. Musicians played homemade instruments on the corner, filling the air with samba music as street performers danced and twirled fire batons to the beat. The city was like a carnival, and it was inviting them in.

“Whoa!” Prompto gasped, whipping out his camera to take a few shots. Photography was his new favorite hobby. “Aw, man! That guy’s selling balloon animals! I’m gonna get one.”

“Don’t fall for the tourist traps,” Gladio warned. “Besides, that thing will just get in the way. Iggy won’t let you ride up front with him if you’ve got one of them things obstructing his view while he’s driving.”

“Okay, okay…” Prompto sighed. “You’re such a buzzkill.”

A group of teenage girls walked by, chattering loudly. One of them bumped elbows with Noct as they passed, causing the prince to scowl. It had kinda hurt, and the girl that did it didn’t even apologize, but he was quickly distracted by their conversation and forgot about the tingle in his funny bone.

“I can’t believe we’re seriously going to a party in the tunnel!” one of them squealed excitedly.

“It’s not like there’s going to be any traffic using the bridge, what with all the daemons roaming around at night.”

“So what’s to keep them from attacking the rave?”

“Duh! The lights, silly?”

“Oh, yeah!”

The conversation faded with the girls’ laughter.

Noct was intrigued.

“Check that out over there,” Gladio said, nodding his head toward a corner pub bearing a sign that proclaimed its name to be The Shady Frond. The pub had a menu stand advertising hot wings and cold beer in front of its doors, which were propped open and oozing delightful scents.

“Think they have fries?” Prompto wondered.

“I’m certain,” Ignis replied with a nod.

“Woohoo! Let’s go!”

Gladio was already on his way, and Prompto quickly chased after him.

“Coming, Noct?” Ignis called.

The prince had been preoccupied, thinking about the conversation he’d overheard. “Uh, what? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.”

The Shady Frond was filled with loud conversation and the sounds of sports on the large televisions scattered throughout the bar.

“I’ll go find us a table,” Ignis offered, weaving through the crowd.

“Find one next to the tube!” Gladio shouted after him. “I wanna watch the derby.”

Prompto’s eyes widened with excitement. “Chocobo racing! Yay!”

“I’m gonna have a look around,” Noctis announced, eyeing a corner filled with arcade games…and teenagers.

Gladio slapped him in the chest with the back of his hand, just below the collar bone. Noctis winced. “Don’t go disobeying Ignis, you hear me?” he warned. “No beer.”

“Whatever!” Noct turned and stormed away furiously. He was tired of that guy acting like he was the only grown-up in the group.

There was a jukebox in the corner with the arcade machines, and young people were drawn to its flashing neon lights like fireflies. Noctis fit right in with his young face and the way he was dressed—which suited him just fine because he was bored out of his mind, fed up with his self-appointed babysitter, and craving some action.

Two girls and a guy that looked about his age were standing in front of the jukebox, dancing crazily to a song he’d heard on the radio a lot lately. He thought it was called “Real Emotion.” They were holding colorful drinks with little decorative umbrellas sticking out of the glasses, and seemed like they were having too good a time to be interrupted.

Instead Noct found a couple guys standing at the back of a group circled around an arcade machine. While everyone else seemed entranced by the player, who was clearly kicking some serious Monster Hunter 5 ass, the pair of boys were holding an animated conversation of their own and laughing loudly.

“Hey,” Noct greeted them.

They stopped laughing and turned to face him. “Heya,” one of them greeted.

“What’s the score?” Noctis asked, jerking his head toward the arcade game.

“Pssht.” The shorter of the two boys, who was sporting a red T-shirt, gave a snort. “The real name of the game is ‘Impress a Girl.’ Mark’s just hoping to show up at the party with an actual date.”

Hello, opening! “Oh, yeah,” Noct said smoothly, “I heard there’s a rave tonight in the tunnel.”

“You heard right.” Both boys grinned.

“So what’s the deal?” Noct asked.

The taller of the guys—wearing sunglasses even though they were indoors—shrugged. “Dress for dancing, bring some drinks to share. Oh—and don’t tell your parents.” He enumerated the last rule with a smirk that made it obvious he hoped he didn’t really need to say it.

Noctis grinned. “Trust me, I won’t. What time does the party start, anyway?”

“Midnight! Are you going to make it?”

The prince nodded without hesitation. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

When Noct caught up with the others, they had found a small table within viewing of three different television screens. All of them were tuned in to the chocobo derby.

“There you are!” Ignis said as Noctis approached their group, sounding relieved.

“I told you he was checking out the arcades!” Prompto grumbled. “Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me?”

“You lost that quick, huh?” Gladio taunted. He had a beer bottle in his hand, condensation streaming down its sides. At least there were plenty of ceiling fans in the packed pub, so Noct didn’t envy his refreshment too much.

“Nah,” the prince said, shrugging and claiming a seat of his own, “the line was too long so I just bailed.”

“Right,” Gladio sneered across the table, clearly in disbelief.

Noct bristled. But then Ignis said, “Erm, Noct—the server has already procured our order. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering you the house burger.”

The prince backed down, his shoulders relaxing. “I hope you told them to hold the tomato. And the lettuce.”

Ignis shook his head and heaved a sigh.

Noct echoed the sound. He couldn’t even choose his own meals with these guys around. But at least Ignis patronized him because he gave a damn; Gladio was constantly trying to one-up him and put him down. Noctis consoled himself by thinking he probably did it because something didn’t quite measure up to the size of his ego.

Prompto cheered as his favorite chocobo, a bright green fowl with enormous plumage, pulled into third place in the races.

“There’s no way that bird’s gonna win, Prompto,” Gladio said, criticizing the younger boy’s choice.

“You don’t know that! Look at those little legs go! He’s so cute…” There were stars in the young blond’s eyes.

Gladio snorted. “And those pretty tail feathers are gonna help him drag his ass across the finish line last!”

“Who gives a shit about the details?” Noctis snapped. “If he likes the fucking green bird just because that’s his favorite color, let him like the goddamn green bird!”

“Hey!” Gladio slammed his beer bottle down on the table. “You’re supposed to be representing the royal family of Lucis. You’d better watch your mouth, you little shit!”

“Gentlemen, please!” Ignis put a hand on Noct’s shoulder and waved another in front of Gladio’s chest, though he didn’t touch him. “Let’s just enjoy a quiet meal and try not to argue, at least for an hour. Agreed?”

Noct wanted to say a lot more, but Gladio was staring him down, just waiting for him to do something childish, so he refused to. “Fine,” he agreed instead. He pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and loaded up his favorite game, King’s Knight, and went about his business harvesting zell trees.

Gladio turned his attention back to the TV screen, jamming the mouth of the beer bottle between his lips.

Only once the two men had settled for ignoring each other did Ignis release his gentle hold on the prince’s shoulder. Prompto took turns staring at each of them until he finally regained his interest in the derby, only to see his precious lime green chocobo slip to sixth place before finally finishing last.

The pub was packed so it was a while before their food came, but when it arrived, it was in huge portions and piping hot.

“Oh, goody-goody-goody!” Prompto sang, rubbing his hands together when he saw how large his side of fries was. “Yummy in my tummy!”

“Now this is what I call a steak!” Gladio grinned, eyeing his meal hungrily.

Noct watched Ignis remove the bun from his own burger then look around for a bottle of ketchup. “Oh! There it is… Gladio, would you mind passing me that ketchup bottle? It’s at your elbow—no, on Prompto’s side.” The prince seized the golden opportunity to remove the bun from his own burger, pluck off the offending lettuce and tomato, and place them inside Ignis’s burger.

But he wasn’t very sneaky about it, and he hadn’t quite finished by the time Ignis was aiming the open ketchup bottle at his sandwich. Noct didn’t care; he just replaced the bun on his burger and lifted it to his mouth without another glance. And Ignis didn’t say a word to him about it.

After dinner, the four men strolled out of the pub in far better spirits and much improved tempers. Prompto gushed about the races in spite of the green chocobo’s disappointing loss while Ignis praised the local cuisine. Gladio trailed behind the others while he enjoyed a quiet cigarette and Noctis secretly made plans for escaping to go partying later that night.

Gladio checked the time on his phone. “It’s only nine o’clock,” he announced. “I think I’ll just say goodnight here then hit up another bar.”

“If you’re certain…” Ignis seemed hesitant to split the group, but he knew it was really none of his business what Gladio did in his spare time—so long as he reported for duty in the morning.

“Yeah. I’ll meet up with you guys tomorrow for our continental breakfast.” Gladio tucked his phone into his back pocket again.

“All right, then,” Ignis said agreeably. “We’ll head back to the Leville and get to bed early.”

“Hey!” Prompto argued, “I want to see the street performers. And I might still want a balloon!”

“You’ll see plenty of performers—and better ones—at His Highness’s wedding,” Ignis soothed.

“How come Gladio gets to stay out?” Prompto pouted. “Maybe I wanna go to the bar, too!” He appealed to the prince’s heavily-tattooed bodyguard. “Can I go with? Please?”

“Heh.” Gladio tossed his cigarette butt to the ground. “Where I’m going, kids ain’t allowed.”

“Aw, come on! I’m not a kid, Gladio! Please? Pretty-please?”

Gladio shook his head. “You probably ain’t ever seen a real—”

“Ah-ah! That’s enough,” Ignis quickly interrupted. “We’ll go back to our hotel suite, and perhaps the prince would like to play a video game with you before bed. Yes, Noct?”

Noct could not even believe this conversation. “Fine,” he agreed, throwing his arms up in the air. “Whatever.” He started walking toward the hotel.

“Sweet! King’s Knight!” Prompto skipped after him.

Ignis watched the boys for a moment, then bade Gladio goodnight. He didn’t feel it necessary to warn him about staying out too late or drinking too much, but he thought he might soon ask him to tone down the condescension a bit, because it was clear it was having an effect on Noct. The last thing the prince needed to be was sour and spiteful on his wedding day.

He walked briskly until he caught up with Prompto and Noctis, noticing the way the freckled blond kept prattling excitedly and how the prince barely even paid him any mind. Just what was going through his brooding, royal head?

Back in their hotel room, Prompto could tell Noct wasn’t really into King’s Knight and let him off the hook after just fifteen minutes. Once they’d returned, Ignis had relented and said they didn’t have to go right to sleep, so they turned on the TV to see if anything good was on. Prompto wanted to watch cartoons, but after just one segment of Adult Swim Noctis stole the remote and changed the channel to a nature documentary about the mating rituals of spiracorns.

“Urgh!” Prompto whined when Ignis said it was the prince’s turn to choose a program. “But this is booooriiiing!”

“So? Go to sleep, then,” Noctis told him.

Ignis cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t have a choice,” Prompto muttered on his way to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. “If I have to listen to this for five more minutes, I’ll pass out!”

Ignis likewise thought the show an unusual choice for the prince. But Noct sat attentively in a chair positioned right in front of the television, hardly blinking, even after Prompto had climbed into bed and fallen asleep. Ignis was growing understandably suspicious, but he couldn’t argue against letting the younger man expand his mind, even if the hour was growing late. Perhaps he was using the program as some sort of vengeance, but it wasn’t as though he were out with Gladio, spending money on…less wholesome activities. So Ignis permitted this one indulgence. Eventually he, too, turned in for the night, leaving the prince to view the documentary by himself with the volume down low.

Noct sat in front of the TV for more than an hour before he was satisfied that Ignis was asleep. He left the television on as he rose from his lounge chair and quietly tip-toed over to his bed, carrying a pair of decorative pillows from the sofa with him. He turned down the blankets and stuffed the pillows between the sheets before covering them back up. It might not fool anyone looking closely, but he was satisfied that at a passing glance it would appear as though he were the one bundled up under the blankets.

With that, Prince Noctis pulled on baseball cap to help mask his identity and then quietly left the room, gently closing the door behind him. He had cash and a spare room key in his wallet, so he figured he was good to go. If he beat Gladio back to the room, great. If not, the other man would probably be too drunk to notice anything amiss.

It was only a few blocks’ walk to the tunnel, and Noct figured it would be near enough to midnight by that point that he’d be just in time for the party. Along the way, he remembered that one of the kids he’d talked to at the pub arcade had told him the party was a B.Y.O.B. Fortunately there was an open convenience store along the way—one that sold mostly junky souvenirs to tourists, but that also carried cold drinks and cigarettes. He figured those would pay his cover charge to the rave.

Noct put on a mean face when he got up to the counter—thinking about Gladio helped do the trick—and hoped he looked the right age. He was 20, just a year shy of legal age to make the kinds of purchases he was about to attempt, but if he was asked to provide his ID he’d be in for it. Nobody would believe that Prince Noctis of Insomnia was trying to illegally buy contraband, all alone in a strange city with no guardians. And his dad would probably kill him if he got arrested.

Noct browsed around a little, partly to kill time. It was tempting to pick up a few snacks, but he decided against it; for one, Ignis wouldn’t like him spoiling his appetite with cookies and chips, and secondly, he didn’t have all that much spending money on hand. So finally he chose a beverage and carried a case up to the register, then pointed to the cigarettes behind the counter.

While the cashier grabbed a pack of Marlboros for him, the prince noticed a rack of photo albums. They were thin, meant to hold about twenty postcards or vacation photographs, but one of them was bright yellow and had a flock of colorful chocobos on the front cover. Noct warred with himself for a minute before adding it to the pile. Prompto had better love the thing, cause Noct had a feeling it was about to get him into trouble.

The middle-aged man waiting to ring up his purchases suddenly braced his hands on the counter and leaned forward with mistrust evident in his eyes. “You aren’t looking to get yourself into trouble tonight, are you, son?” he asked warily.

Noct steeled his jaw and swallowed back the kind of retort his tongue was used to giving—the kind that would have been fine to use on Gladio, but not necessarily on a suspicious shopkeep. “Just heading back to my hotel room to relax,” he replied, raising a hand to his hip casually.

“Mhm. And this?” The clerk held up the photo album.

Noctis shrugged and said, as coolly as he could manage, “It’s for the kids.”

The man sighed and frowned. “Right,” was all he said, though, and rang everything up. “That’ll be three-hundred and fifty gil.”

Noctis paid the man, trying not to sigh out loud with relief. He accepted his receipt and dropped it into the bag. “Thanks.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” was the response he received.

Stupid? Noct thought, exiting out onto the street. Was it stupid for the Crown Prince of Lucis to sneak out of his hotel room without telling anyone and without an escort to go to a midnight rave out in the open, where daemons—or worse: the paparazzi—could attack?

Maybe so, but by the end of the week he’d be married, a pawn of the Empire. He figured he owed it to himself to live a little while he had the chance.

Noctis could hear the pounding rhythm of techno music echoing from the bridge from a block away. He could see the lights, too, though he wasn’t quite so confident as the raving teens that neon pink, green, orange, and blue glow sticks would keep the daemons at bay. But maybe the strobes would do it, he reconsidered as he stepped through the tunnel entrance and into the party.

The music was earsplitting; if anyone was talking and laughing now, he couldn’t hear them. The beat was pounding so hard it felt like it was thumping in his chest, and Noct found he couldn’t help but walk to its pulse as if in some hypnotic trance. He’d never seen so many young people in one place at one time before. Locals and vacationers mixed to make up the throng, packing the tunnel wall-to-wall. The prince wove his way through the crowd, looking for some place to set his beer case down. Finally he found the apparent Central Station, where a DJ booth had been turned into a bar by surrounding mismatched tables. At least a couple people were trying to tend bar, more or less pouring whatever they found in bottles into plastic cups, hoping to earn some tips. Noct reached into his bag and removed the photo album, tucking it into his jacket. He set the beer case down next to some other drinks and turned the bag upside down so the three cigarette cartons he’d picked up dumped out, too. The DJ, sporting spiky blue hair and sunglasses, gave him a thumb’s up. Noct waved, the wadded up the plastic bag, and tossed it into a dumpster before snatching a bottle of water off the table and making his way toward the edge of a dancing mass.

Noct bobbed his head to the music as he watched the dancers, considering approaching someone. At least if they turned him down he wouldn’t be able to hear any harsh rejections, he thought.

That was when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Noct turned, his eyes widening when he saw Ignis standing directly behind him. If the heavy bass hadn’t been in total control of his pulse, his heart would have skipped a beat.

“Are you having a good time?” was the first thing out of Ignis’s mouth.

The question caught Noct off guard. “What are you doing here?” the prince asked, less irritated than he would have thought to discover he’d been followed.

“Oh, the same as you, I expect,” Ignis answered nonchalantly, adopting a casual stance.

Noct was skeptical. “Oh, yeah? Well, I came here to dance.”

“So what are you waiting for?” Ignis challenged. Before Noct could shoot his mouth off, the older man said, “Come along, then,” and grabbed hold of the prince’s wrist.

“Wait—what?” Noct stammered as Ignis pulled him into the mob of dancers.

Ignis spun around to face the prince, looking as confident and composed in a rave full of teenagers as he did in the king’s audience chamber at the Citadel back in Insomnia. “Dance with me, Noct!” he shouted to be heard over the music, already beginning to move.

“Are you serious?”

“Isn’t this what you came here for?” Ignis reminded him, shimmying his shoulders as his hips got in on the action.

“Not…exactly.” Noct was sure he was flushed from more than the tightly-packed body heat trapped inside the tunnel.

“Come on!” Ignis encouraged. “You’ll look foolish if you’re the only one standing there. Don’t you want to blend in?” he taunted, tugging the bill of Noct’s hat down over his eyes.

Noct squinted as his bangs covered his line of vision. He lifted the bill of his cap, only to see Ignis waving his arms in the air, his feet stomping to the beat as he moved closer.

He no longer had any choice; the rhythm was resounding throughout his body. And with everyone around him jumping and writhing—even Ignis getting down—his limbs started moving of their own accord.

“That’s it!” Ignis cried, his body rocking to the beat.

Noct grinned as he watched Ignis move as freely while dancing as he did when slicing through their enemies on the field of combat. “Who knew you were fun?” he mused in wonder.

“You’ve yet to see what I’m capable of,” Ignis responded with a sly look in his eyes. Suddenly he was unbuttoning his dress shirt, revealing a peek of the smooth chest beneath it. He slipped his glasses off his face and tucked them into the V at his neck, then rolled up his sleeves, revealing the glowing neon bracelets strapped around his wrists.

“No freaking way,” Noctis laughed. “I do not even know you.”

Ignis danced into him, bumping his chest so hard with his shoulder that Noctis dropped his water bottle and had to reach out and grab hold of him to keep from stumbling backwards into someone else. Ignis took hold of his hips, steadying him. The beat of the music had slowed and deepened. One of the taller man’s legs was pressed between Noct’s, and he was dancing close.

Noct looked up, holding onto Ignis’s shoulders tightly as their eyes met—the prince’s wide and curious, Ignis’s fiery and bold.

“I know why you came here tonight,” Ignis said, bending his head so he could speak directly into the prince’s ear and be heard by him alone. “Why you really came here.”

Noct’s arms wound around Ignis’s neck in an effort to keep himself upright, because the other man was leaning into him so hard he was forced to either hold on or fall over. His throat went dry and he lamented having lost his grip on his drink. There was no pretending he hadn’t heard what Ignis had said, so the prince tried to make light of the situation. “You caught me,” he confessed, “I’m just here to piss Gladio off.”

The corner of Ignis’s mouth turned up in a disbelieving smile. He shook his head, his dark emerald eyes burning into Noct’s cloudy blue. “I know you, Noctis. I understand the heavy burdens you’ve felt weighing you down: the pressure from Gladio to train harder, to become stronger; the responsibility you feel toward others, particularly in regards to taking care of your friends; the royal demands His Majesty has hoisted upon your young shoulders…such as this wedding.”

Noct’s mouth was dry as a desert. Ignis was still dancing so close. Too close.

He knew too much. Noct had never told anyone—especially not Ignis—how he really felt about his political betrothal to the foreign princess. Now Ignis was reminding him why the discussion had never been necessary; they’d known each other for a long time, and some thoughts and feelings could be shared between them without ever speaking a word.

“You’ve been yearning for freedom,” Ignis continued, “but that’s being snatched away from you before you even have the chance experience it. You came here tonight because you’re craving release, like a wild animal caught in a trap.”

“You’re the one who’s acting like a wild animal,” Noctis panted breathlessly. At first he wasn’t sure Ignis had heard him; the music was so loud he couldn’t hear himself.

But Ignis had. “Perhaps we’re both seeking release,” he said in Noct’s ear again, his voice so deep and husky the boy shivered in spite of the warmth of the body pressed tightly to his. Then Ignis drew back, staring the prince down. “Well?” he prompted for a response. “Am I wrong?”

Noct stared right back up at him. How did Ignis know? How did he always know?

Slowly, the prince shook his head.

Ignis did not seem surprised by his silent admission. “Then, Highness,” he said, leaning down until they were nose to nose, “allow me to set you free.”

The prince gasped and held his breath. For some inexplicable reason, he suddenly thought Ignis might kiss him. But instead the taller man pulled out of his arms and stepped away. Noct let his breath out in a shaky sigh. Ignis smiled and caught hold of his hand, leading him towards the bar.

“…Are you going to let me drink?” the prince asked in surprise as he watched Ignis flag down the impromptu bartender.

“Let you?” Ignis scoffed. “Did I say you could attend a party in the first place?”

“No.”

“Did I grant you permission to be out at all hours?”

“…No.”

“Well, then, I suppose it’s not up to me to decide whether or not you’re going to have a drink,” Ignis said with a shrug, “but I certainly am.” To the kid tending bar he said, “One cosmopolitan, please.”

The boy looked at him blankly.

Ignis sighed heavily and muttered, “I forgot we aren’t in a proper club.”

Noct gave him a look. “When have you ever been in a ‘proper club’?”

“Never mind, Noct. Er, I’ll have some of that,” Ignis said instead, accepting a substitute drink. He leaned an elbow on the counter while the kid poured. “It’ll be a bit strong, but a little won’t hurt. One drink tonight and I can still drive in the morning.”

“I’ll have one, too,” Noct called, aware of Ignis’s eyes on him and feeling both self-conscious and grown-up. Ignis didn’t berate him, though, and he felt almost as proud as he was nervous as they each accepted a plastic cup half-filled with a clear liquid. He sniffed his cup, trying to imagine what it was going to taste like.

Ignis raised his drink and touched the rim of his cup to Noct’s. “Cheers!” He threw his head back and downed the fiery liquid in a single swallow. “No, no—don’t sip,” he gently corrected the prince. “Trust me, you don’t want that taste lingering in your mouth. Just toss it back—there you go.”

Noct choked as his throat burned.

“One more to wash it down with,” Ignis decided, beckoning to one of the boys behind the bar again.

The prince’s eyes were wide as Ignis accepted two more clear plastic cups and offered him one. He waved Ignis’s hand away. “Nah, I’m good.” He coughed.

“Noct!” Ignis seemed put out. “Are you a peasant or a prince? Have another shot.”

“Are you serious?”

Ignis pushed the cup into his hand and looked at him sternly. “Would you accept if it were Gladio challenging you?” he asked.

Noctis frowned. He would. They both knew he would.

He took the cup from Ignis and this time drank without choking on it.

Ignis followed suit, then slammed his cup down on the counter. “One more for the road.”

Noct licked his lips then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Ignis, are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Whatever for?”

“I dunno…” Noct shrugged. “To teach me a lesson or something?”

“A man’s first drink shouldn’t be on his wedding day,” Ignis said decisively. “You should know your limits. And your preferences.” He gestured for the boy behind the bar again, this time pointing to various ingredients and instructing him in making a proper cocktail.

Noct grinned. He kind of liked it when Ignis was all take-charge and bossy. “You want to get back there?” he kidded.

“Not for what they’re paying,” Ignis muttered. He corrected the teenager on the other side of the counter another time or two, but finally they each had a plastic cup in hand. Ignis’s drink was red and smelled strongly of cherries; Noct’s was faintly yellow. Ignis draped an arm around his shoulders and steered him away from the crowded DJ booth and bar, leading him in no particular direction.

“What is it?” Noct asked, holding his drink up dubiously. “Looks like piss.”

“It may taste like it, too,” Ignis warned. “Whiskey sour. Or,” he corrected, “a reasonable facsimile thereof.” Noct started to raise the cup to his lips when Ignis added, “Don’t chug that.”

Noctis assumed that meant it was safe to sip this time and drank a mouthful slowly. It was pretty gross. But Ignis seemed to be enjoying his own cup, taking slow sips and nodding his head in appreciation, so he pretended to like it.

“Would you care to dance some more?” Ignis asked.

Noct shook his head. “Not really. I like this better.” His face felt hot again as he realized all he was doing was strolling through the tunnel with Ignis’s arm around his neck.

But then Ignis said, “So do I.”

To be honest, Noct was pretty much finished with the party. He didn’t know anyone here besides Ignis—which was a plus in his book, but it meant there wasn’t really anything to do other than to dance or drink. This excursion had been more about rebellion and—as Ignis had guessed—freedom. He’d just wanted to make a decision on his own for a change and act on it.

But he wasn’t ready yet to call it a night. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent time alone with Ignis. When they were kids, Ignis had been his sole companion, but they’d drifted apart in high school. Ignis had been prepping for college, since he was two years older than the prince, and Noct was coming to realize how attractive his looks and royal title were to the opposite sex. They had just grown too busy to go star-gazing like they used to.

“What are you thinking about, Highness?”

Noct turned his head to look up at Ignis. The taller man was gazing at him with eyes that sparkled with mischief. “You,” he answered, hoping to shock Ignis. Ignis’s ash blond brows shot up with surprise and he couldn’t hold back a laugh. “You used to be such a square. I can’t believe you brought me to my first party.”

“I didn’t bring you here,” Ignis reminded him.

“Yeah, I know…” Noct shrugged. “But we’re here together now.” He realized with dull surprise his tongue suddenly felt thick. Had he just slurred his words together?

They passed by a barrel being used for waste and tossed their empty cups away. Now that his hand was free, Noct wasn’t sure what to do with it. Perhaps emboldened by the alcohol, he finally slipped his arm around Ignis’s waist.

They were walking along the fringes of the party. It seemed the teenagers of Lestallum were unwilling to round the corner of the bridge and venture into the darkness beyond for fear of daemons. The music was still loud on the far side of the rave, but the flashing lights were dimmer and the crowd had thinned out. Ignis took advantage of the privacy to pull Noct around the side of a concrete column. He wrapped both arms around the prince’s shoulders and leaned in close, breathing in his scent as he pressed him gently against the stone wall.

Noct’s arms wound around Ignis’s waist in a warm but unsure embrace. Had it been his imagination, or had Ignis kissed his head? What were they doing right now?

It felt like an eternity passed as they stood there. Noct’s heartbeat alternated between racing anxiously and beating in a comfortable, steady rhythm. Ignis felt like home to Noct, but he’d never held him like this before. When he realized he could feel Ignis’s heart beating against his own chest, he tried to slow his breaths to control his pulse. He didn’t want to give anything away. But what was there to reveal, exactly?

Ignis hugged him a little tighter and began to sway. Noct felt dizzy. He laughed without meaning to. He just felt like he was on a rollercoaster at an amusement park. He was enjoying himself.

“What?” Ignis asked. Noct could hear the smile in his voice. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Noct said, laughing again. “I just don’t know what we’re doing right now.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I—” Noct’s heart went back to hammering. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you?” Ignis nuzzled the bill of his ball cap with an angular cheekbone, lifting it so he could look into Noct’s eyes. “Tonight, you’re free. You can do anything you wish.”

“Is that true?” Noct stared up at Ignis. “Is that even possible?”

“There’s no one here but us,” Ignis said, silently promising to keep all Noct’s secrets.

“Well… What about you?” Noctis pressed, his fingers digging into the taller man’s back. “Are you free to do what you want?”

“No, Noct,” Ignis said, his voice deep and breathy. “You are my prince; I am but your humble servant. I will do whatever you wish.”

Noctis found his breaths growing labored. All at once he did know what he wanted to do, but he couldn’t be sure it was what Ignis wanted. He only needed to determine whether or not that mattered.

The fingers gently stroking the back of his neck helped him decide. Ignis had never looked so attractive before, with his collar undone and his sleeves rolled up and his glasses resting against his chest. Noct angled his chin slightly as he tilted his head back, his lips pursed. He was nervous and a little afraid, but he would never in his life have another chance like this.

But he didn’t dare. What he was feeling was something he knew was forbidden, maybe even unwelcome. The alcohol hadn’t made him that brave. All he managed to do was softly whimper. “Ignis,” he breathed, clutching the other more tightly.

He did not have to speak the words. Ignis knew what he wanted. He had always known him best. He had taken care of Noct all their lives, whether the prince had been picked on by the bigger kids at recess or sick with a cold, or hurt by someone’s unkind words. And like all those times before, Ignis knew just how to soothe the pain he was feeling without his ever needing to ask or explain himself.

The older man leaned down to capture Noct’s lips with his own in a kiss that relieved his fears and shattered his expectations. It was not a gentle kiss, but Ignis’s lips were immeasurably soft under their passionate pressure.

Noct’s eyes widened with shock as he watched his best friend kiss him. Ignis’s eyes were closed and his brows were furrowed in an expression of concentration. He’d never seen him look so intense before. And the way he was holding him now was exciting, one arm cradling him and the other wrapped tightly around his waist.

He had never been kissed before. There was no one he had ever wanted to kiss. He hadn’t even been sure he’d wanted to kiss Ignis until this moment, but he was certain now.

The pressure of Ignis’s mouth against his slowly waxed and waned, like a boat rocking on the ocean. Noct felt dizzy and his knees grew weak. In the split second before he passed out, the prince realized he’d been holding his breath the whole time Ignis was kissing and caressing him. He fainted with an amused smile on his lips, then everything went dark before he even heard Ignis call his name.

It was dark, but the boat never stopped rocking. Noct became gradually aware he was on his back. He could feel a gentle weight above him. It slowly dawned on him that the weight was Ignis. They were the source of the motions that caused his dizziness, but what they were doing felt so good he didn’t want to stop. The disorientation of it just made him feel carefree and light. The pleasured sound he made was partly a laugh, partly a moan.

Then he heard the sound of a door slamming and suddenly a bright light blinded him.

“What the hell are you doing?” someone demanded.

Noct’s eyes flew open. His hand was down the front of his pants and Gladio was standing five feet away in the foyer of their hotel suite.

The prince scrambled into a sitting position from where he’d been reclining on the couch. Luckily there was a blanket covering his body so Gladio hadn’t, he hoped, seen him in a completely compromising position. He felt sweat prickling along his forehead but thanks to Gladio his hard-on was quickly softening.

“What are you still doing awake?” Gladio wanted to know.

Noct wondered the same thing. He was lying on the couch by himself in front of the TV. And on the screen was a nature channel documentary about the rare and elusive rainbow frogs.

Had he fallen asleep watching this crap and never made it to the rave? Had he never danced with Ignis? Never had his first real drink? His first— Had everything been a dream?

“Get your ass to bed, kid,” Gladio grumbled, peeling off his jacket. He reeked of booze and cigarette smoke and something worse.

He didn’t need to tell Noct twice. The prince scrambled off the couch, nearly tripping as he kicked the blanket free of his legs. He didn’t remember having that… His best guess was that he had fallen asleep watching the show about spiracorns and Ignis had left him on the couch to sleep, dutifully covering him up to keep him from getting chilled. That was the only explanation; the decorative pillows he could have sworn he’d hidden in his bed were still on the sofa where he’d imagined finding them earlier.

Noctis sighed and hauled himself into bed. So it had all just been a crazy dream… It figured. Of course, it hadn’t been his idea to get engaged to a princess he’d met one time when he was just eight years old. But he’d gone along with the arrangement because he was the prince. It was what he was supposed to do.

But his dream had granted him a vision of what life might be like if he had a choice. It had shown him what he had been afraid to admit to himself he wanted. And now he had no idea how he was going to get Ignis out of his head.

The next morning, true to threat, Gladio had the guys roused by the crack of dawn. Noct and Prompto, the youngest but least morning-inclined of the group, stumbled all over each other trying to shower, brush their teeth, and pack up their belongings. They loaded up the car while Ignis made a quick trip to the market as he’d wanted, then had a rushed breakfast at a local diner before finally piling into the Regalia.

Before they got well and truly underway, Ignis pulled up to a pump at the Lestallum gas station to fill the tank. The sound of the driver’s side door slamming after he climbed out made Noct’s ears ring.

Noctis had never experienced a hangover before, and if last night had really been a dream then he couldn’t be having one now, but he did have a splitting headache and the morning sunlight was making it a million times worse. He pulled the bill of his hat down low over his eyes and closed them, intending to catch a few Zs in the back seat. But before he could doze off next to Gladio, who was reading over the morning paper, Prompto leaned toward him from the front passenger seat and tapped his leg.

“What?” Noct grumbled.

“Can I see your CDs?” Prompto asked hopefully.

“Sure,” Noct answered through gritted teeth.

Prompto could tell Noct was in a bad mood, but he couldn’t reach the prince’s backpack. “Do you mind handing them to me?” he asked timidly.

With a heavy sigh, Noct opened his eyes and leaned forward so he could pick up the backpack he had half-crammed under the driver’s seat in front of him. He didn’t bother digging around for the CDs, but shoved the entire bag at Prompto before flopping back into his seat, pulling the bill of his hat down low again.

“Thanks, buddy!”

Noctis cringed as he listened to the backpack being unzipped. It was like the sound of glass smashing in his ears. He groaned painfully and squeezed his head. “Prompto!” he snapped as the blond rummaged through his bag.

“What? Oh—hey! Where did you get this?!”

Noct didn’t care what Prompto was looking at and he didn’t care to answer, but he did find himself growing curious at the excitement in the younger boy’s voice. Finally he took off his hat and leaned forward again to see what the fuss was all about. “What is it?” he asked, squinting his dark-rimmed eyes.

Prompto was holding a thin yellow photo album.

“Dude!” he wailed, heedless of Noct’s migraine, “I can’t believe you got one of these and didn’t show them to me! You know how much I love chocobos.”

Noct stared in confusion at the item in Prompto’s hands. That was the photo album he’d bought for Prompto last night, when he made a beer run for the party. But hadn’t he dreamed all that? He’d never left the couch.

“That’s a dick move,” Gladio commented, turning the page of the paper with a rustle that might just as well have been a hurricane.

Noctis winced. “Actually, I bought that for Prompto,” he snapped back at the older man.

“Really?” Prompto was grinning at him with shining eyes. “Dude! You’re the best!”

Ignis returned from paying for their gas and climbed into the car, reaching for his seatbelt.

“Ignis, look what Noct got for me!” Prompto chirped excitedly.

“Yes, I see that, Prompto. Oh, Noct?” Ignis turned around in his seat and handed Noctis a can of frozen juice and a small bottle of Excedrin.

“What’s this for?”

“Your migraine.”

Noct accepted the cold drink and the pills. “How did you—?” he started to ask, then caught Ignis’s knowing look in the rearview mirror. He shut up and opened both the can and the bottle gratefully.

Ignis turned the key in the ignition to start up the Regalia, checked for traffic, and then pulled out of the gas station parking lot and got them on the highway.

It was then Noct noticed something peeking out from beneath the sleeve at his wrist as his hand took a steady hold of the steering wheel: a neon bracelet.

[bbusallday]

BB19 NIGHTTIME UPDATES - 7/12 - DAY 22 (COMPLETE)

Updater: Ryan

Recent evictee: Jillian HOH: Paul Nominees:  Alex, Cody(renom) & Ramses(curse) POV players:  Alex, Paul, Josh, Ramses, Elena & Matt POV holder:  Paul Have nots: Jason, Jessica, Cody & Matt Den of Temptation: Christmas

8:00 PM

Cam ½ is on the living room where Mark, Elena, Raven, and Kevin are hanging out.

Cam ¾ is on the HOH where Dom and Paul are chatting casually.

After a few minutes, Jason and Kevin find their way to the money room on cam ½ where they talk about possible scenarios for the coming weeks.  Nothing meaningful.  Almost like Kevin is trying to put Jason at ease.

They agree Alex is a good player and they like her.  Kevin says he’d put Jason ahead of her though.

8:25 PM

Cam ½ on small talk in the living room with Matt, Raven, Josh, Ramses, and Elena. 

Cam changes to Elena, Mark, and Jess talking about Jess crying and saying she’s sick.  They think she’s overreacting.  Apparently Raven is feeling sick too.

Cam ¾ on Cody and Jess playing chess.

8:51 PM

Cam ½ is on Kevin and Jason talking in the money room where Alex and Josh are too.  Planning Jason’s trip to Kevin’s place.  Kevin wants to be his manager.

9:04 PM

Kevin announces that the show is starting in an hour.

Kevin goes back to the money room and they talk about having celebrity guests like Kanye and Eminem.

People are slowly prepping and getting dressed for Dom’s show.

10:00 PM

The houseguests gather in the apple room for the show.

Alex gets interviewed first

Talking game and eviction votes which is…kind of odd?

They discuss Megan.

10:20 PM

Ramses is the next guest for the night.

Discussion of how Ramses thinks Raven and Mark would spend prize money.

Talk about Ramses coming out.

10:35 PM

Cody is on now. 

Dom jokes about how hard it was to get Cody on the show.

Discussion of Jessica.  They say it isn’t a showmance.  Dom calls it an “unofficial showmance”.

They ask about his issues with Megan.

He won’t go into detail but said she said that she hates Marines.  Apparently at some point she told people to be quiet.  Dom says he responded “Megan, this is the Big Brother house.” Cody says “I’d never yell at a woman.  But it’s Megan…so…whatever.”

Dom calls him out on not communicating with his alliance next week.  Paul pushes the question but Cody dodges.  Finally, Cody agrees to talk privately with Paul later.

10:49 PM

He’s saying a lot of the original plan that his alliance had and a few people look nervous.

He tries to get people to treat Jess okay because she’s just been loyal.

Paul asks about last week’s lack of communication and Cody says 1 or 2 people knew and Mark is pissed about it.

Josh asks a question and Cody says Josh doesn’t exist.

Mark asks if saying a couple people knew his plans is supposed to help Jess because he said Jess didn’t know.  Mark thinks he’s trying to help Jess.  Cody says that Mark is gunning for Jess now.

Cody thinks the temptation this week went to someone close to Paul.  Paul throws out that he doesn’t know who got it.

Everyone claps at the end…except Mark.

Kevin shouts out Jason’s bday and says everyone did great tonight.

11:04

Cam ½ Cody and Jess hug in the have not room.

Cam ¾ is on Paul, Raven, and Matt wondering about Cody’s odd answers.  He called a lot of people the outsiders.  They don’t want to do Dom’s show because that show went way to deep.  They agree Cody did it to help Jess and target Christmas and Paul.

They weren’t comfortable with questions about Ramses sexuality.

Raven and Matt no longer trust Dom with their game.

11:10

On cam ½, Jess asks Mark to talk.  Mark says that shit was crazy.

They sit in the apple room.  Jess wants to know why he won’t talk to her.  Mark recaps the past week and feeling separated from them.  She says she felt bullied.  Mark says he loves her and Cody.

Jess understands he couldn’t save them.  She’s more upset on a personal level.  Mark says she has avoided him too.

Mark is mad about what was said during the interview.  He says that Cody has to tell Paul that Mark didn’t know anything about the plan last week.

Jess says she’s the scapegoat in this game.

Mark says he’ll target Jess if the air isn’t cleared by Cody.

Jess is honestly, making it about her and Mark is confused how it’s relevant.  Sounds like victim noises.  I’ll let you know if anything substantial happens.

They hug at the end of the convo and Mark apologizes.

At 11:16, Cody went to the HOH to talk to Paul on cam ¾.  Cody says Mark knew the plan last week.  He says he targeted Christmas after Dom and Mark mentioned her name.

11:26 PM

Dom goes to the bathroom to apologize to Jess because she knows things went an unexpected way.  She thanks Jess for encouraging Cody to go.

Dom explains her logic on why she let things happen.

11:30

Jess is helping to pack Cody’s bag in the have-not room.  She’s upset about what happened tonight because every time things settles down something comes up.  Jess tells Cody that Mark is mad and Mark and Paul are close to each other so they’ll talk about what happened.

At 11:38 Jason is talking with them.  Jason asks what he should do if he wins HOH.  Cody asks him to protect Jess.  Jess says she wants their safety blankets ripped from them.  Jason says Paul is scared so he’s questioning Mark upstairs.

Cody says to keep Paul and Christmas because they could come around but to target Mark, Elena, and Dom to get votes on his side.  Cody says to have a talk with Christmas.

Kevin wants Josh to go up.  He asks what they think about Kevin.  Jess and Cody say he’s playing safe but doesn’t like the other side of the house, specifically the girls.  Jason and Cody like Raven.

Cody is pushing Mark as a target.

Alex told Jason that the other side told her that Jason couldn’t talk to Cody and Jess.

He explains to Cody and Jess that he didn’t mean to clap after Paul won HOH.

Cody suggests to Jason voting out Ramses.  Jason is on board if they can get numbers.

Jason says he doesn’t trust Ramses about last week and wants to vote him out.  He still isn’t sure if he will.

Jason says Cody did well tonight and he hopes there’s a buyback for him to win.

Jason says he’s avoiding Jess but will protect her if he wins HOH.

Jason says he wants to win and doesn’t care about jury.

Jason leaves and they recap their convos with people.

11:49 PM

Cam ¾ is in the HOH where Paul is with Matt, Mark, and Dom.

Paul is upset about how the interview went because it was blowing up games.  Paul is concerned about if Christmas and others will flip next week.

Paul is saying Kevin, Jason, and others are talking now and Paul is worried.

They again express their dissatisfaction with how personal the questions were tonight.

12:00 AM

Paul is a little less sure about Kevin now, but the others are comfortable.

Paul suggests not talking game in front of a crowd.

They don’t believe that Jess didn’t know anything.

Talk turns to Christmas being a bit aggressive lately and whether they trust her.  They do, but only a little bit.

12:17 AM

Cam ½ is in the money room.  Alex says Ramses or Josh being HOH would be good because they’re dumb enough to walk the boat.  Jason says he’s dumb enough to rock the boat.  Kevin says he’d throw HOH to Jason.

Mark comes in with Raven.

12:21 AM

On cam ½ in the kitchen Ramses whispers to Jason that he shouldn’t mention Paul to Kevin.

Cam switches to Kevin and Mark playing chess and discussing not taking Cody to seriously.

Cam ¾ has Raven telling Dom and Matt that Jason is upset about the show.

Dom walks out and Raven and Paul that Dom can’t be trust and they can’t trust her and Mark.

Paul doesn’t want to start drama until Cody goes home.

12:30

Cam ½ is in the money room with Alex, Jason, and Ramses.  She’s making the rounds making sure things are cool with tonight.

Alex offhand mentions that Jess slaps people in the vagina and if Jess does it to her again she’s getting slapped in the face.

Cam ¾ is on Paul and Kevin in the apple room.

Kevin tells Paul that Mark knew Paul was going up.  He says Cody told him.

12:39

Cam ¾ shows Matt, Elena, and Raven discussing Dom’s questions being inappropriate tonight.  Elena says she wants to stay on Paul’s good side.

Cam ½ Dom and Alex start discussing the night but cams change to Paul, Ramses, Jason, Josh, and Kevin.  Paul says he still wants Cody out but he doesn’t trust Mark and Dom anymore.

Paul wants to target Jess still.

Paul and Josh talk in the bathroom and Josh tells Paul that everyone wanted Paul out except for him. 

Paul walks back up to the HOH.

12:45

Cam ½ is Dom and Alex in the apple room.  Alex is talking about not liking Jess.

Cam ¾ shows Paul telling Elena, Matt, and Raven that Mark is being name dropped everywhere down stairs.  I’m not sure if Paul is more bothered by Mark or by Dom letting Cody start drama.

Paul tells Matt that Cody said Matt was in on everything.

Paul is definitely more upset about Dom.  He mentions Dom asking people how they felt about the interviews.

Paul says people are buying this story from Cody.

Paul says he trusts Elena, Raven, and Matt still.  He says he still has Kevin.  He doesn’t believe what Cody said.  Elena isn’t sure.  Paul says that he still isn’t totally sure right now about Mark.  He cites Mark being weird before Paul went on the block.

If you would like to help us and become a live feed updater send us a message or ask!

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Mike’s Secret Girlfriend (Part 3)

Author: Nonexistantpup

Year: 2010

Rating: R

Pairing: Mike Fielding/ Other

Noel’s exploits achieved absolutely nothing. Mike hadn't said a thing, apparently, and their parents had been as oblivious as everybody else. Thus, Noel and Rich had seemed to come to the assumption that Mike had said he was taken just in order to escape an uncomfortable conversation. Satisfied with this conclusion, the whole issue became dull. Mike was single, and there was no point in looking too far into a single, misspoken statement. After a month - a month of recovery after the production and release of the movie, a month of occasional appearances in the press and a month of absolutely no indications that Mike had a love life - Dave was beginning to think the same way. Just a bit. A tiny bit. This changed one day when he was gathering material for his second book - second photography book, that was. The first had been unsurprisingly successful given that it was directly linked to the Boosh, but this one was not going to be. It was not to be related to the Boosh, that is. But it would, with any luck, still be a success, or at least stand strongly alone. Dave had some old shots he desperately wanted to do something with, and was taking the time to reconnect with his camera before whatever Boosh project Julian and Noel would decide to pursue next. He’d almost forgotten how absorbed he could become in photography. After having been dealing with moving pictures for so long now, the simple still-shot had started to seem lifeless. Just for a little bit though. A tiny bit. With (thankfully) healed elbows, Dave took the turn-off that led to Noel’s house. The man himself wasn’t here - away for the weekend, in fact - so there was no car and Dave could pull into the driveway. Something felt vaguely odd, even at this point, but he assumed it was just because he was here on his own. Not that Dave was breaking in, of course. Not really. He had only the back door key though, and something felt childishly exhilirating about sneaking around the building to get into somebody else's empty house, even if it was Noel's. Dave unlocked the back door and went inside through the laundry, kicking off his shoes automatically. He navigated his way to the kitchen with ease, but it was then that he stopped dead in his tracks. “You’re fucking insatiable, aren’t you?” said Michael Fielding, sounding vaguely amused. He was standing there with his back to Dave, stark naked, and seemed to be buttering a piece of toast. Of course, even from the back, and even without that lisp, Mike was utterly unmistakeable. His hair had grown longer over the past few months, almost to the point where he could pull off the Naboo look without a wig. Hours under the straighteners and oodles of product, of course, but no wig. Naturally, he very rarely did that, instead leaving it to look artsy and slightly frizzy. Dave personally liked the look, but Rich had been heard describing Mike as a ‘hairy little jungle boy’, and... there was some credence to that idea too. Dave blinked, taking in the love-bites on Mike’s neck and left shoulder - as well as a couple more which were located just below the back of his left knee. One of Mike’s hands moved down to rest upon his uncovered backside and squeezed it slightly. It was slightly reddened. How had Dave failed to notice that before? And there seemed to be some kind of irritation around the other man wrists, like there had been something tied- Oh. Oh. Dave suddenly felt very, very out of place. With his free hand, Mike picked up a piece of toast and bit into it. “Oi, keep standing there, you perv, and you can make your own-” He turned around and was apparently stunned into silence. Mike stared with so much shock, one might suppose he and Dave had never even met before. Then, he made an odd little sound in his throat and coughed, choking on the toast he hadn’t swallowed. Mike doubled forward and Dave automatically hurried over to help him regain his balance and to thump him on the back. “Fuck,” Mike mumbled, trying to catch his breath, and although he was still not completely finished coughing, broke away from Dave quite forcefully by shoving him in the chest. He quickly grabbed one of the aprons neatly hanging on the wall by the pantry. Interestingly, it was the one Noel had bought himself for Christmas the year before last. Fittingly, it bore the legend, ‘Kiss the Chef Here’, with an arrow pointing down. Noel had rationalised his choice by saying it would encourage him to cook for himself and eat more fresh food - which was true, as it happened, but he only did so when there was somebody around to see the apron. Mike stared at Dave again now and thumped his own chest once more - whether to help with what was left of his coughing fit or merely to play for time, it was hard to tell. His eyes had been watering, and Mike swiped the tears away self-consciously. Not that he really needed much more reason to be self consious... The silence was bordering on painful now, and Dave broke it. “What are you doing here?” he asked stupidly, realising how ridiculous this sounded the moment it came out of his mouth. Despite the situation he was in, the love-bites on his hip he was trying to hide and the stubbornly lingering arousal nudging at his apron, Mike snickered. “Isn’t it obvious?” “Exceedingly,” Dave said with a dry grin, nodding towards the prominent bump in the other man's apron. He didn't think he’d ever seen Mike blush so deeply. “What are you doing here?” Mike demanded, his embarassment forcibly replaced with a feeble sort of accusation. Dave raised an eyebrow. “Stealing the DVD player,” he deadpanned. Mike crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “I came to fetch the cheerleading outfits Noel didn’t like; figured I might as well get them back to the shop before I run up a fine.” The younger Fielding brother had been glaring as if he thought Dave was still being sarcastic. The anger in his expression faded though, as he seemed to realise that this wasn't the case. That had been one of the last scenes they’d filmed. Running out of time and budget, Dave had bought them himself from a warehouse. An interesting day that had been, deciding on Vince’s colour preference in little shorts and pom poms. “And there’s a box of old stuff I left behind which I'm going to salvage things from. Material for ‘ze arteest.” Mike gave a little nod of understanding and was quiet. The silence only lasted a moment though, as Dave’s eyes wandered back to a particularly colourful love-bight on the top of his young friend’s foot. “Seriously, what the hell's going on?” he asked. “Who's here with you?” “None of your fucking business,” snapped Mike, but he shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Is it the same mystery girlfriend?” Mike stared at him for a long moment. “Will you just get your stuff and leave?” “Oh, come on,” Dave whined, annoyed and more curious than he’d ever been before. “It is the same mystery girlfriend, isn't it? Is it getting serious?” The younger, smaller, mostly naked man was staring venemously, but Dave ignored it. “How long have you been seeing each other?” Mike continued to glare. “More than six months?” Dave asked, watching Mike's face closely, trying to work out the answers he knew the young Mr. Fielding wouldn't willingly give. “More than a year?” he asked, incredulous. Silence. “Fuck, Mike, this is big! I guess it would have to be; look at you.” He indicated the state of the other man’s body, the love bites, the scratches, the rope burn... “Just let me meet her. I won't tell anyone, I promise.” Mike’s expression didn't change. “No.” “Please?” No reaction. Dave scowled. “Fine. I’ll call Noel then.” Mike blinked. “Wait, what?” “Well, you have been playing kinky games in his house with an unknown and possibly dangerous woman; he might be concerned...” Dave turned, and was unsurprised when he felt Mike’s hand close around his upper arm hastily, pulling him back. “What do you want from me?” he demanded, now sounding a little bit nervous. Dave turned and looked at him, still bewildered. “Why can't I meet her?” He didn't leave a pause before adding, “It’s a him! Is it a him? Is that it?” Mike groaned, covering his eyes and shaking his head. “You sound like Noel,” he complained. “Why the hell did you have to tell him there was somebody? ‘Are they older, Michael? Are they famous? Ooh, are they underage; you little perv, that’s a criminal offence, you know’.” Dave had the good grace to look ashamed. “Sorry,” he said honestly. “I didn't really think it was a big deal. Noel didn't even seem to believe me when nothing came to light to support the theory that you had a girlfriend.” Mike sighed. “It’s okay,” he said, voice softening a bit. “Just... Fine, here’s the thing. I may be in a serious relationship. It may really be going somewhere; that’s never happened to me before, you know? I don't want any of my big brothers, adoptive or otherwise, fucking it all up.” Well. That didn’t make sense. Still, Dave was rather touched that he was classified as an ‘adoptive big brother’. “You little goon; why would we do that?” he asked, ruffling Mike’s hair fondly. “‘Cept Rich, I guess, but he can't help it.” Mike gave him a dark look, but his heart wasn't really in it. “Not on purpose, you dolt. I just want to... Have the opportunity to see if anything really transpires before putting that kind of pressure on him.” He shifted unhappily when he said this, but Dave was pretty sure it wasn't a slip of the tongue; Mike had worded that sentence deliberately. “Fair enough,” he said. This was the time to leave, of course. Right now. He was so curious though, so very curious. “So you... won't tell me anything about him?” he tried in an almost casual tone. Mike scratched his head, but seemed to finally be relaxing a bit. Dave actually got the impression it was a relief as much as anything else, to be sharing these secrets, even if he wasn't giving much away. “If I... If I was to tell you a bit,” Mike said slowly, “What would you want to know?” “Why are you guys here? In Noel’s house, I mean.” Dave wasn't sure why that was the first question in his head, but it was certainly a pressing one. Mike grinned. “Well, we could have stayed out and done it on the street, but you can get arrested for that now days, you know.” “Ha ha,” said Dave, poking out his tongue. “It was the only place close enough,” Mike said more honestly. “We were getting a bit desperate. Well, I was. I wasn’t allowed...” He cut himself off, turning pink. “You weren’t allowed what?” Dave pressed. Silence. Mike shook his head, and received a poke in the rib cage. “I wasn’t supposed to come until I’d been spanked,” he mumbled, cheeks glowing red. He was grinning impishly though. “So I couldn't just... take care of myself fast.” He scratched his head again, utterly unwilling to meet Dave’s eye. “You're... having fun with him though, right?” Dave asked carefully. The idea of Mike enduring hardships was slightly unsettling; it was easy for somebody to take advantage in that kind of sexual situation. Not that Mike was all that weak or naive, of course, but Dave had known him when he was both of these things. He was an ‘adoptive big brother’, after all. Mike rolled his eyes. “Yes, I'm having fun with him,” he said. “I... He cares about me. I care about him. That’s what I meant when... I said it might be serious, you know?” Dave nodded. “Mike,” he said very quietly and very, very seriously, “He’s not... a sugar-daddy, is-” Unsurprisingly, Mike kicked him in the shin. “Enough information for you,” he said. “You can fuck off now.” Withholding a grin as best he could, Dave touched Mike’s shoulder gently. “Does he make you do things, Mikey? Does he like to do bad things to you?” Mike scowled, but it lasted about three seconds. Then, he chuckled. Quiet. Honest. “Yeah. You wanna know about them?” And that really was Dave’s cue to leave.

[jae-bummer]

Cute and Fluffy

Request: #20 with Wonho from Monsta X please ❤

20) Your bias tries to teach you how to play their favorite video game.

Member: Monsta X’s Wonho x Y/N x (ft. Kihyun & I.M)

Type: fluff

You struggled out of bed and into the bathroom with hurried motions. You had hit snooze on your alarm at least four times, but nothing would stop you from starting your day. It was the first day without a formalized schedule for Hoseok in months and you refused to let it go by as a waste. 

You rushed through your daily activities. Shower, tooth brushing, mild makeup, and getting dressed. You kept a constant eye on your phone to make sure you hadn’t wasted too much time, considering it took you nearly half the morning to pry yourself out of bed. 

The sky was still a light purple by the time your feet hit the pavement. You stopped to grab a coffee carrier and at least a dozen pastries at your local coffee house before heading on to the Monsta X dorm. They deserved a treat for as hard as they worked. 

You managed to knock quietly with your elbow on the front door once you had arrived, struggling with all of the breakfast foods in your arms. After a few minutes of waiting you contemplated knocking again or sending out a text. You didn’t want to wake any of the members managing to sleep in, so you wondered if they hid a key under the mat for emergency situations. Just as you were about to place all of your bags on the ground and begin a search, the door sprung open, revealing a perturbed Kihyun. 

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his aggravation melting away. “I didn’t think you were coming over this early, come in!” 

“Good morning Kihyun,” you smiled, navigating through the door. He took the coffee from your hands, setting it on the table outside of the small kitchen. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re happy to see me and not all of the food I’ve brought.”

“Well, I suppose it’s good to assume in this situation,” Kihyun said with a wink. “If it makes you feel better, I’m equal parts happy for both.”

You rolled your eyes and gave the small man a playful elbow to the ribs. “Are you the only one awake?”

He spun away from your jab, chuckling. “No idea. I haven’t made my rounds yet. I figured I’d let everyone sleep a little longer on their day off.” 

“What a sweet mother,” you laughed, now your turn to wink. 

“Yeah, yeah, quit wasting time with me and go to who you’re really here for,” Kihyun sighed, digging around in the bag of pastries. 

“Kihyun!” you gasped, placing your hand on your chest. “I’m offended. I am just as excited to see you as I am to see anyone else.”

“Beside Hoseok,” he grinned. “Don’t lie to appease me.” 

“Well...” you grumbled. “At least you recognize the truth. Don’t tell Minhyuk, he thinks I love you all equally.” 

You shuffled down the hallway toward Hoseok’s shared room with Shownu and Hyungwon. Peaking your head in, you noticed one of the boys had covered the window with a blanket to really keep any light out. You illuminated your phone screen and stumbled through the darkness, only the small amount of light guiding you. After a few moments, you navigated to Hoseok’s bunk and began to pat idly at it, only to find he wasn’t there. You furrowed your brows and checked the other bunks, confirming each member was where they were supposed to be. 

You quickly left the room and walked back down toward Kihyun, confused as to where your boyfriend could be. Was it possible you had missed him in the brief moment you had went into his room? Along the way, you placed a light knock on the bathroom door, the light inside streaming from beneath the door crack and into the hallway. 

“Hoseok?” you whispered, waiting with bated breath. 

“Changkyun, but close,” the voice said on the other side. 

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at the youngest member as he pulled open the door. 

“How are you close?” you laughed. 

“Well, if you think about it. It’s relative. You may not think I’m a close option, but I do. I am in the same group after all and equal amounts of good looking. I just need to work on how I look naked and we’re practically twins.”

“Aish, Changkyunnie,” you groaned, putting your hand over your eyes. “Too much.”

“Once again, that is relative,” Changkyun smiled. “Did you bring food?”

“Of course I brought food,” you sighed. “Do you know where Hoseok is?”

“No longer in your dreams because your awake,” Changkyun chuckled. “But no. I’m not sure.”

“Go get a croissant, dork,” you grumbled, heading back down the hallway. 

You continued across the hardwood, halting as you saw a dim light radiate from the den. You furrowed your brows, sticking your head in what you had assumed to be the empty room. You nearly choked as you noticed the back of Hoseok’s head, set firmly in front of the computer screen with headphones on his ears. 

You slowly shuffled into the room, careful to make as little noise as possible as you appeared behind him. You rested your hands on his shoulders, causing him to jump and let out a high pitched squeak. 

“Aigoo, jagi!” he gasped, pulling the headphones to sit on his shoulders. “You scared me!”

“So is this what you have planned for our day today?” you chuckled, looking past him and to the screen. A game of Overwatch was active before him. 

“Well...I mean...” he stuttered, spinning in the chair and  resting his hands on your hips. He pulled you in close and set his forehead on your stomach. “You can watch if you want?”

“Shin Hoseok!” you gasped, stepping backwards and slapping his hands. “You seriously are going to play Overwatch the entirety of your day off?”

“I...I uh...had planned on eating some ramen eventually?” he tried with a slight wince. 

“I can hardly stand how romantic you are,” you grumbled with a pout. 

“Jagiiii,” Hoseok whined, pulling you in close to him again. “Won’t you play with me?”

Your heart stopped for a moment, venturing off into inappropriate places by the simple statement. You quickly shook your head, attempting to keep off the imagery flooding the corners of your mind. “You only have one computer Hoseok, I can’t...um...play with you...”

“No, come here,” he grunted, pulling you to sit you on his lap. It always caught you off guard when Hoseok was forceful like this, considering how gentle he normally was. “Let me teach you.”

“Hoseok,” you muttered, becoming overly aware of his hand around your waist. You used his name in an attempt at an argument.  

“No, during Overwatch I’m “badbitch93,”” he chuckled, pointing to his screen name, and giving you a casual side eye. You furrowed your brow and pursed your lips, causing him to immediately drop his smile. “Or Hoseok...Hoseok is good.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, flattening your expression again. “Is this really what you want to do on your day off?”

“If I said yes...would you be mad?” he whispered. 

“No,” you grumbled. “Maybe disappointed. But it’s your day off and you should be happy with your plans. Now...what do I have to do?”

Hoseok immediately perked up at your statement, straightening up behind you, and readjusting his hand on your thigh. “Okay, this is Overwatch.”

“Overwatch, right,” you nodded. 

“It’s a competitive, fast-paced, multi player game. First person shooter,” Hoseok nodded. 

“Meaning I do the shooting,” you confirmed. 

“Correct,” Hoseok nodded. “So what we’re going to do is start you off with training versus AI.”

“Which means...” you hummed. 

“Artificial intelligence?” Hoseok chuckled. 

‘Right...AI,” you nodded. 

“Right,” Hoseok smiled, he gripped tighter to you and shimmied to glance over your shoulder. “Right now we’re going to pick your character. Tank, damage, or support. If you want damage, we can do Soldier:76, Roadhog if you want to be a tank, or Lucio if you want to be support.”

“Alright, first thought...” you trailed. “None of those are girl names. You know, in general, I’m about girl power. Second off, Roadhog looks disgusting.” 

Hoseok sighed as he eyed the screen quickly. “How about Mercy? Or D.Va? Maybe Mei...”

“I’ve heard you talk about her before!” you gasped. “Let’s play as her.” 

“Mei?” Hoseok grumbled. “No one really likes Mei...”

“Well, why not?” you asked, exasperated. 

“Cute and fluffy, but actually a threat,” Hoseok nodded. 

“Like you,” you squeaked, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. His ears turned a bright red as he looked to the floor, giving you a small squeeze. 

“She’s just kind of annoying. Her two core abilities don’t really give you much of a chance to counteract. You just have to sit and take it,” he sighed. “Freezes you, then a headshot, and you’re done for.”

“Sounds like my kind of girl,” you laughed. “Let’s go.”

Hoseok shook his head and laughed as well. “Why do I feel as if I’m creating a monster?”

“When I begin initiating web cafe dates, that’s when you worry,” you nodded. 

“Or fall more in love,” he grinned. “Right click, icicle shoot. Left click is spraying ice from her gun. Shift is to heal or to make you immune. Ultimate is going to be throwing a blizzard in the designating area and incapacitating your enemies.”

“Got it,” you nodded, focusing on the screen as the game began to load. You waited patiently for the numbers to count down, signaling the beginning of the game and attack on the designated checkpoint. This wasn’t your first foray into first person shooter games, so you were fairly confident that you would impress Hoseok. 

After what seemed like only moments filled with quiet cursing and furious clicking, your first game of Overwatch had ended with immense amounts of coaching from your boyfriend. He was hyping you up from beginning to end, being immensely supportive with every decision you made. 

“Holy shit jagi! Holy shit!” Hoseok gasped, bouncing up and down, causing you to jump around on his lap. 

“What?” you choked, your eyes searching the screen. 

“You got play of the game! I’m so proud! Minhyuk! Wake up! My girlfriend got player of the game! Changkyun! Kihyun! I’m so excited!” Hoseok shouted as if he had won the game himself.  

“I’m dating an Overwatch prodigy,” he whispered. “Hold on, I’m getting dressed. We’re going to the internet cafe.” 

[awishturnedwell]

Today’s dream

Today was weird.  I went to bed at 2am, but didn’t wake up until 5pm.  I guess I was tired.  My dream kept restarting like eight hours past the time I was in when I woke up.  I’ve tried to fill in the gaps.  It was also a lot harder to write than normal.  I guess I’m out of practice writing in general.  Anyway!  Here it is:

When they woke up that morning they all knew something was seriously wrong. Arthur, her father, was missing.

This, in and of itself, was not really a concern. Arthur disappeared with disturbing frequency.  However, it was rarely from a hotel room in the middle of the night when his daughter was in the adjoining room and his partner was across the hall.

Scratch that, Aerna couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t taken Miranda with him.  She didn’t know all the stories, but she Miranda was the reason her father was still alive.  He’d never even bothered protesting his need for a partner.  Arthur was very good about admitting he had limits.

She found Miranda sitting on her father’s bed the next morning.  They were supposed to meet at the crappy continental breakfast downstairs.  When neither showed up she’d gone looking for them.  Miranda seemed…

Aerna had never seen Miranda with that look.  It took her a moment to place it.  She looked helpless.

But that was ridiculous.  Miranda was a trained agent in her own right.  She had all the training she needed to not only go find Arthur, but wreak vengeance the people dumb enough to have taken him.

She felt a quick spurt of anger.  Her father had specifically tried to keep her from this lifestyle.  She appreciated that.  It was not for her.  Yet, here she was, about to take her father’s life in her hands.

She crushed her feelings and sighed, sinking onto the bed next to Miranda.  “I got this.”

Miranda’s head whipped up and she stared a moment in surprise.  Her mouth opened in what was obviously about to be an objection.  It closed again a second later.

Aerna didn’t wait.

As she left the hotel she felt a prickle between her shoulders blades.  She hated being in the open like this when she knew there could be a target on her back.  It put her on edge.  But it also made her a wary and that was probably for the best.

She had to make a quick stop at the basement they’d rented to store their stuff and then she was heading straight for the airport.

As she turned down the alley that would take her to basement’s entrance, she heard a soft whump and saw a movement in her peripheral vision.  Thinking it must be a stray cat she tensed, but didn’t turn.

A moment later she realized her mistake as an arm wrapped around her waist and lifted.

She squeaked loudly and took a half second to wish she was more of a screamer before her self-defense classes took over.  Thank god her father had insisted.

She dug her fingernails into the soft skin of his wrist and aimed a kick at his knee.  His grip loosened, but didn’t release.  She bared her teeth and remembered something from a movie: “S.I.N.G.”

Well, she could easily reach his solar plexus with her left elbow.  He gave a soft grunt and stumbled back.  But not far, not far enough.  She thought about going for his nose and groin like the movie said, but decided it would be safer to run.  The end of the alley was only a few feet away.

She darted into the public street and glanced behind her.  He hadn’t followed, but she knew it was better to be safe than sorry.

Giving up on the alley entrance to the base Aerna knocked on basement owner’s door.  The lady opened the door with a confused smile.  “Well, hello there dear.  Can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you.  My father and I are the ones renting your basement.  My father left on a business trip this morning and took the key with him.  We left my portfolio down there and I have a job interview on Thursday.  Is there any chance you could let me in so I can get it?”

The woman, not too suspicious but careful, checked her ID to make sure their last names matched and took her down.

Aerna grabbed her emergency bookbag from its corner and flashed the woman the black binder inside.  “Thank you so much!”

As the woman walked her back to the front door Aerna paused as if debating something.  “I don’t know if it’s a big deal, but I wanted you to know.  I saw a man lurking in the alley next to your home.  He looked kind of suspicious.”

The next day she was in Tennessee.

Her foot tapped impatiently as she stood in line at the rental car desk.  Her bookbag was slung over her shoulder and her wallet bulged with her emergency cash; though it would get hidden away again as soon as she got the rental car.

Finally the very picky jerk in front of her got whatever car he was going to get and went outside to get it.

Aerna put on her best pleasant I’m-not-going-to-be-troublesome smile.  The girl behind the counter didn’t even blink.  “Um… h-hi.  This is my first time away from home and I really, really want to try driving something different.  Back home my dad makes me drive an SUV because it’s the “safest” option.”  She paused to roll her eyes.  “Could I rent something, like, sporty?”

The girl laughed a little, “We’re not exactly big on her sporty here.  They prefer safe here too.  But would a Mustang be different enough?”

“Oh yes!  That would be great.  I love Fords anyway.”

A small amount of paperwork later and Aerna was dangling the keys to a shiny dark green Mustang.  She grinned a little mockingly at herself as she thought “camouflage.”

Jenny was waiting for her at Starbucks.  Some not-nearly-sugary-enough drink in hand.  “Is that… is that black coffee?”

“I added one sugar, just for you.”

“Eww.”

Jenny grinned almost evilly as she wrapped her arm around Aerna in a somewhat awkward hug.  “So, you’ve got a plan for that favor I owe you?”

Aerna returned the hug just as awkwardly.  Neither were the type for being touched.  “Do you still have your fingers in the rumor mill?”

A few hours later they both had duffel bags in the back of the Mustang and Jenny was driving them over the border into North Carolina.  Aerna couldn’t stop closing her eyes as they went around the corners.  North Carolina might be home, but she wasn’t comfortable with how fast Jenny took the mountain turns.

Jenny had insisted they pick up some muscle but wouldn’t say who.  Aerna had a bad feeling.  There was plenty of muscle in her home state, but there was also her ex.

Seth had broken her heart when he’d told her they couldn’t be together.  But she knew it was because her father had talked to him and explained that she should be kept out of the game.  Even at nineteen Seth had been heading that direction.  The last month they’d dated he’d been working to negotiate a bodyguard contract for a major player.

Didn’t stop her from being hurt.

She sighed a little at her own childishness and decided to try to take a nap.  It would be a good excuse to keep her eyes closed on this hell-ride.

When she woke up several hours later it was in a very recognizable parking lot.  She was pretty sure she’d only been to this place three times, but it was practically a city landmark in her head.

The bowling alley on the way to the mall.

The letters glowed down at her.

But then, she tried to tell herself, didn’t all bowling alleys look alike?

A quick glance to her left showed her that, nope, this was Greensboro.

She let her head thump against the dash.

Now the only question was, should she go inside?  Jenny was missing, but her duffel was unzipped in the back seat.  She bet Jenny had stripped and changed right here in the open parking lot.  It was a miracle Aerna hadn’t woken up.  She must have been more tired than she’d thought.

After waiting ten minutes Aerna couldn’t stand the suspense anymore.  She made sure Jenny took the keys and locked the car doors behind her.  Her skinny jeans, boots, and t-shirt would be fine for this place.

She didn’t see Jenny talking to anyone at the front desk or at any of the lanes visible from the front door.  She’d have to venture in farther to see the rest of the lanes, the arcade, and the concessions stand.

She didn’t even make it to the corner where the entryway opened up into the rest of the building before she saw him.

He was leaning casually against the concession stand.  His hip pressed against the countertop and his back to her.

Her heart dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach and butterflies began fluttering around it.  It was a weird sensation.  Maybe like one part giddy excitement and five parts dread.

He couldn’t see her yet, right?

She smoothed her hands down her jeans.  She couldn’t tell if her palms were sweating like in the stories, but she thought they might be.

It wasn’t until Jenny’s head leaned out to look around him that she realized she’d been frozen there for at least a solid minute, probably embarrassingly longer.

Jenny smirked at her and stood back up straight.  Aerna started to back up, but felt like too much of a coward.  Instead, she tried to work herself into a small temper and headed their way.  She was always more assertive when she was angry.

She watched him turn to see what Jenny was looking at as if in slow motion.  The butterflies got more agitated and she thought it was nine parts dread now, but maybe two parts excitement.

There was his jaw in gorgeous profile.  And his upper body shoulders first.  God, why hadn’t she been working out like him.  She’d probably gained eighty pounds since the last time she’d seen him.  Stupid “freshman fifteen.”  More like junior fifty.  Now his nose and… crap, he could see her.

Not slowing her stride even a little she pretended to be unaffected.  Especially when he gave her a definite once over.  Inside she was screaming.  His face didn’t change expressions even a little.  Couldn’t he at least look surprised to see her.  Stupid fucking Jenny.

She slid over to bump her hip against Jenny’s, then kept her gaze steadfastly trained over his shoulder ostensibly to watch the door for anyone following her.

It seemed Jenny had been here longer than Aerna would have thought.  The two were already negotiating prices.  Aerna flicked her gaze to Jenny, then to Seth.  Both were staring intently at each other as they haggled.  She hated to interrupt, but this was silly.

“You owe my father.  Consider this him calling it in.”

Seth stopped and looked at her.  Making eye contact like it was no big deal.  Asshole.  “How do you know he hasn’t already called that in?  Or that he wouldn’t want to save it for something else?”

If he could be casual about this then so could she.  She looked right back up at him - his stupid 6’5” frame meaning she actually did have to look up - and shrugged.  “My dad wants to keep me safe.  This is the best and easiest way.  Besides, if you don’t owe him anymore then now he’ll owe you.”

Seth tried to give her his best probing stare, but she’d helped him practice that look.  Even his success at perfecting it didn’t perturb her.  She just raised a sardonic eyebrow and waited.

It wasn’t like she was thinking particularly deep thoughts anyway.  She was being up front with Jenny and assumed Jenny had been equally up front with him.  Otherwise he wouldn’t be very effective.  There was nothing to be probed.

Oh, she wished she hadn’t just thought that.

She didn’t need this.  She needed food.  As she turned to the concession stand she saw his look turn introspective.  What did he want from her?

A moment of perusing the menu, and pretending Jenny and Seth weren’t whispering together, had her determining that nothing on the menu looked even remotely appealing.  If she recalled there was a Japanese steakhouse nearby.

Two hours later Jenny and Aerna were in the parking lot of the steakhouse waiting for Seth.

Jenny had filled her in on what she’d missed.

Apparently Seth was working at the bowling alley part-time for some job or other.  They’d caught him on his last week at the place.  He’d needed to finish his shift before coming with them, but then he was free.  A buddy of his could take over his last couple of shifts later in the week.

Also, Jenny had barely made it inside and told him the situation before he’d agreed to help.  She’d been working to make a deal less than a minute or two when Aerna had walked in.  She was glad to know she hadn’t slept quite as deeply as she’d thought, but more disconcerted that he’d agreed so quickly once her name was involved.  Neither of them needed that complication.

Now they were waiting for him with a takeout bag.

He pulled up in a cute little Honda Civic.  Though she wouldn’t dare call it cute to his face.  He’d probably modified it to be a hell beast, but it looked like a broke teenager’s car.  Considering he was quickly approaching his thirtieth birthday Aerna was pretty sure she had every right to the giggle she stifled.

She was shocked when she saw what looked like a mock glare from him.

It was gone in an instant and he was all business.

“I need to head out towards Jamestown on an errand.  You guys wanna follow me or head to my parents’ house?  I’ve been staying with them while I’m in town.”

His parents’ house?  They’d dated for four years and he’d never taken her to his place.  He’d been to hers and they’d met each other’s parents.  He’d even taken her to fancy - and not so fancy - hotel rooms.  But she’d never been to his house.

Not trusting herself, Aerna let Jenny make the decision.  They would follow him for now.

He stopped in a tiny parking lot practically at the edge of the city and slid a manila envelope through the half-open window of a seemingly empty car.

As Jenny followed Seth from the parking lot Aerna turned to see if someone would pop up from a shadowy corner and dart for the car.

After a moment she realized they were heading for Guilford College.  She mentally mapped the area, wondering which subdivision his parents lived in.  She used to live near the library that was only a few miles north northeast of the college.

Her mind was wandering so much that she didn’t notice Jenny had slowed to well below the speed limit until Jenny hissed at her to check out her side mirror.  Aerna did, but didn’t see anything except that it was a nondescript black Kia.  Jenny sighed in exasperation, “That car was parked next to us at the bowling alley.  And the woman driving looks like the woman who ordered food at the concession stand right before you came inside.  She’d got Illinois plates.  It’s what made me notice her car earlier.  Call Seth and tell him all that.”

“I-i don’t have h-his number,” Aerna stuttered.

Jenny rolled her eyes, “Oh please.  Just use my phone.”

Aerna wasn’t lying.  She really didn’t have his number.  She’d deleted it to keep herself from being tempted years ago.

She grabbed Jenny’s phone and told him everything Jenny had said.  He grunted and had her put him on speakerphone.  Good thing.  Jenny was much more prepared for this sort of thing.

They formulated a plan.  Seth would pull off for a moment and let Jenny lead their stalker a little further before coming up behind her and cutting off her escape route.

It was a great plan.  They even determined where Seth would be able to pull over and merge back into traffic quickly.

Unfortunately, life often scoffs at plans.

The minute Seth turned off the road into the McDonald’s parking lot, the woman following them zoomed past Jenny and Aerna.

Aerna could hear Seth growling and his engine revving through the speaker.  Then she heard another engine revving under her.  Jenny was gunning it to chase the woman.

Aerna quickly mapped the roads ahead of them.

“Slow down here.  Speed trap.”  Jenny eased off the gas, but slowed little.

“You’re clear.  No cops for a while probably.” Jenny gunned it, easily going twice the speed limit.

A moment later Aerna noticed Seth’s little gray car pulling a little ahead of their own.

“Traffic zone.  Slow cars past the next light.”  Jenny grunted and let Seth pull ahead of her for the traffic.

“The cars all turn at the next light.  You’ll be clear again.”  Jenny grinned ferally and shot past Seth.  Their bumper was almost touching the rear end of the Kia.

“Shit, shit, shit!!  Speed trap.  Jenny!  Jenny!  There’s always cops here!”  Jenny ignored her.  She was too caught up in the chase.  Aerna noticed Seth had already slowed before she’d given the warning.  As teenagers they’d raced each other on other streets in town, but both had always known better than to do it on this one.

As they approached Quaker Village a car pulled out from a neighborhood road and Jenny had to slam on her brakes.  All Aerna could think in that moment was that she should be driving.  This was her city.  These were her streets.  Even more than Seth this was her home and she knew these roads and the people on them.

She watched the Kia in front of them slow by about ten miles an hour right as a cop passed going the other way.  Before Jenny had a chance to pass the slow civilian the Kia darted forward and blasted through a yellow light.

“Seth, she’s headed up New Garden.  Unless she gets on Bryan Boulevard there’s only so many places she can go.  Do we go after her?”

He grunted at her and she saw his car pull up alongside theirs at the light.  He took a moment and a long glance through Jenny’s window at Aerna before he said anything.  Then she saw him shake his head.  It looked like the action pained him.  “Not worth it.  Follow me.”

They turned down a very familiar road and then into a neighborhood that ran parallel to it.  She’d never been down here before.  It was between the college and the road.  She’d seen the road, but thought it was just a dead end with a couple of run down houses.  Instead it curved to the right and Aerna saw some of the biggest houses she’d ever seen in the city.

They all butted up to each other so that it was hard to see where one stopped and the other began.  Seth had them parking in a parking lot that looked dangerous, but was full of strategic lighting a video cameras.

Aerna and Jenny bundled themselves and their things into his tiny car.  Jenny insisted Aerna take the front seat.

As they drove down the road he pointed at the house dividers and explained who lived where.

Most of the houses, once she knew how they were split up, weren’t as big as she’d originally thought.  Until they reached the tallest section and Seth stopped his running commentary.  She looked at him expecting him to be grim-faced or distant, but he looked the same.  “What about… what about that?  How many families live in that section.”

He slowed to turn into a small hidden driveway and garage.  “Just mine.”

She swallowed.  Shit.

And elevator just past the garage took them to the second story of the house.  The doors opened into a lavish entryway complete with crystal chandelier and curved sweeping staircases leading to the next floor.

Aerna was pretty sure her mouth was open.  Seth grumbled something she didn’t catch, shoved his hands in his pockets, and hunched his shoulders.  Jenny grinned.  Aerna decided she was better off not knowing.

A woman in what looked like the mature, tasteful version of a white cocktail dress came around the corner of the living room with a teenaged girl in tow.  The teenager was wearing designer jeans and button-down plaid shirt.

Aerna jolted, “Emma!”

The teenager stepped around her mother and lunged to hug Aerna.  “Aerna!”

“Jesus.  I haven’t seen you in forever!  You’re, like, old now.”

Emma laughed, “No more than you.”

Seth’s mother came up to them laughing.  “If you two are old what does that make me?”

“Even more beautiful than the last time I saw you,” Aerna smiled.  She’d always liked Seth’s family.  She disentangled herself from Emma so she could hug Seth’s mother.

As she did she thought she caught a glare from Seth as he stomped up the stairs with her duffel and bookbag.

“I better go follow him.  I’m afraid I’ll get lost in this place,” she giggled nervously.  She grabbed Jenny, who appeared to be gaping into their dining room, and dragged her upstairs after Seth.

He was waiting at the top of the stairs.  He pointed at a door on the left, “ Emma’s room.”  Then the door on the right, “Jenny’s room.”  Then the door at the end of the hallway on this side of the stairs, “My parents’ room.”

Without another word he stomped the other way.  Aerna hesitated before following him.  He was careful with words.  If he wanted her to stay with Jenny he would have said so.

They passed two doors before he entered the last door at the end of the hallway.

Aerna stopped at the door, refusing to any farther until he told her where she was staying.  But he had her stuff and she watched anxiously as he paced to the far side of the room and opened a door that looked like it lead to a bathroom.

He disappeared inside leaving the door open.

Aerna dithered for a moment, her fingers twisting anxiously at her side.

When he didn’t reappear after a moment she gathered her courage and followed.

Inside the bathroom was another open door that lead into another bedroom.  Her duffel was sitting on the dresser and her bookbag was on the bed.  Seth was standing at the window opening the blinds.  It looked like he’d turned back the bedcovers for her.

Was he freshening the room for her?  This was ridiculous.

She looked around and noticed that the only other door in the room led to a closet.  The only exits from the room were the window and the one through his room.

“No.”

He stopped for a second, then continued what he was doing.

“No.  I will not stay here.  This is insane.”

“You need protection far more than Jenny.  Consider this part of my services.”

“Are you going to sleep in my bed too?  Is that part of your services,” Aerna was snarling now.  She thought she might regret her words later, but anger always made her burn hot.

Seth merely scoffed and turned back to the bathroom.  “I’m gonna hop in the shower.  If you want to brush your teeth or whatever that’s fine.”

His dismissal hurt.  It hurt a lot.  It hurt enough the it sucked the fight right out of her.  She dropped onto the bed and merely watched as he closed the door behind him.  She heard the tiny snick of the lock and had to swallow back a sob.

Why did this feel like him breaking up with her all over again?

She pulled off her shoes and jeans, but didn’t bother with anything.  She just curled up in bed and let a few tears leak out.  It was all she could allow herself after all these years.

The next day a loud thump woke her.  She hurriedly grabbed whatever bottoms were on the top of her duffel and ran for door.

It took her a minute to remember that Seth could be naked on the other side.  Or her could have locked her in like a child… or a prisoner.

Too late.  She was already through.

She swung the door open so hard it hit the wall.  She expected some reprimand, but the bedroom beyond was empty.  Seth was already up and moving.

As she entered the hallway she heard panicked voices from downstairs.  Seth’s mother.  She was crying while snapping orders.

It only took a moment for Aerna to realize what was wrong.  Seth’s father had gone missing.  A few minutes after that and it turned out that the whole family had been keeping the same secret from each other.  He was a spy.

Well, that was how Aerna thought of it.  It was some kind of espionage or another.  She didn’t really understand it very well.

Worst of all, she was pretty sure it was her fault.

His disappearance was exactly like her father’s.

And then I woke up the final time.

[justlookfrightened]

Second part of Neighbors AU, Chapter 5

Read it on AO3

Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 or Chapter 4.

Eric rinsed their plates and put them in Jack’s dishwasher while Jack browsed through the offerings on Netflix.

“What about this one?” Jack asked, pulling up a documentary about FDR. It had good reviews, and was focused on domestic history as much as on the military history of World War II.

Eric wrinkled his nose.

“‘Cooked’?” Jack suggested. “‘Michael Pollan tries his hand at baking …. et cetera, et cetera … and explores how cooking transforms food and shapes our world.”

“That sounds really interesting,” Eric said. “I mean, I think I’ll like it, but is it something you’d be interested in? I can always watch it later if you want something lighter.”

Jack shrugged.

“It’ll be fine,” he said.

The first episode, on fire and what that meant for the human diet, was just queued up when Eric’s phone buzzed with a text alert.

“Tater?” Eric said. “Why do you suppose he’s texting me? Did he forget the bakery is closed on Sundays?”

“No,” Jack groaned. “He said he was gonna do this.”

“Do what?” Eric asked.

“Just read the text,” Jack said.

Hello, Eric! Some of the team are to meet up at the Red Fez for drinks and food. We owe you drinks for pies, and for making zimmboni lighten up. Meet us at 6? I pick you up if you want.

“They want me to go for drinks with them?”

“Tater said something after the game yesterday,” Jack said. “You can go if you want. I think it’s Tater, Snowy, Marty, Guy and maybe Thirdy?”

“Do you want to go?” Eric asked.

“I don’t usually …” Jack started as Eric texted Tater.

Is it OK if Jack comes too?

The answer came within seconds.

Of course, he already invited, but he not like to come out. :(

“Jack, he used a frown emoji. He’s sad you won’t come with,” Eric said. “Besides, I should go. They’re your friends, and I want them to like me. But if I go on my own, you know they’re going to try to get me to talk about you. Or tell their own embarrassing stories about you.”

“What makes you think they won’t do that if I’m there?” Jack said.

“If you really don’t want to, I’ll say no,” Eric said. “I wanted to spend the whole day with you.”

“Don’t do that,” Jack said. “Not if you want to go. They probably just want to get you out of my boring old man clutches.”

“But I won’t be in them if you come with,” Eric said.

“Fine,” Jack said. “I’ll go.”

“Good,” Eric said, and flashed Jack a grin. “That means we can probably leave earlier anyway, because they’ll be so surprised you turned up at all. Do you know this place, the Red Fez? What should I wear?”

“You’re fine with what you’re wearing,” Jack said. “It’s pretty casual. What time are they meeting?”

“Tater said 6,” Eric said, typing into his phone.

I’ll meet you there. Looking forward to it!

“There,” he said. “I didn’t say you were coming, just that I’d meet them there. Do want to get an Uber or drive?”

“I’ll drive,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t drink much anyway.”

“You’re sure you want to go?” Eric asked. “Tater said you usually don’t.”

“I usually just feel awkward,” Jack said. “I mean, I never have more than a beer or two, and I don’t pick up, and don’t want to just talk about hockey the whole time. But I don’t know what else to talk about with them.”

“But you don’t have a hard time talking to me,” Eric said, “and you’ve known these guys a lot longer.”

“But all they know about me is I’m a hockey robot,” Jack said.

“You’re not,” Eric insisted.

“So what should I talk about?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know,” Eric said. “Religion? Politics?”

“Now I know you’re chirping me,” Jack said.

“Well, do what you did with me,” Eric said. “Ask about what they’re interested in. People usually like to talk about themselves. And you must know some things about them.”

Jack still looked unsure.

“Anyway, I don’t really know them, so I can ask questions,” Eric said. “You can follow my lead.”

He settled back against Jack’s chest.

“Do we have time for one episode before we go?”

“I think so,” Jack said, wrapping an arm around Eric’s waist. “Look at this way: It’s history and food. So it's important.”

******************************

Jack made up his mind to have a good time.

He still wasn’t sure this was the best way to spend an evening with Eric. He was happy cooking at home, cuddling on the sofa, making it an early night and heading to bed.

He supposed going out for a meal would be fine, too, but he didn’t really want anyone -- anyone outside his team, anyway -- to notice he and Eric were together just yet. This was Providence, it would probably be fine, but. But why borrow trouble when you didn't have to?

He and Eric hadn’t discussed the situation too much. There was one conversation, a couple of days after Eric had first called Jack his boyfriend, when Jack told Eric he didn't want to come out in any sort of public way, but neither would he deny his relationship with Eric or go to any great length to hide it.

“I think my plan is just to live my life,” Jack had said. “In terms of what the tabloids care about, it's a pretty boring life. But if -- when -- they figure out that we’re dating, it will probably get rough for a while. To be honest, it will probably be tougher on you, because people can find you and approach you at the bakery.”

Eric had huffed at that. “It’s not like I try to hide the gay, Mr. Zimmermann. The only difference will be that I have a seriously gorgeous boyfriend now.”

“A boyfriend that some people think shouldn't have a boyfriend at all,” Jack had countered.

Eric had sat back on the couch, a grimace of distaste on his face. “I grew up figure skating in Georgia, Jack,” he said. “Maybe I never came out when I lived there, but I'm pretty sure lots of people made their own assumptions. It's not like I've never dealt with people who wanted to express their opinions on what I should do or be.”

“I know that,” Jack said, remembering the way Eric reacted when he realized he was being followed on a run. It had turned out fine when he recognized Jack, but he made sure Jack knew that it had been a bad idea. “But -- look, I don't want to come across like I'm a big celebrity or anything, but you're not used to having people who don't even know you harassing you. God knows I'm not trying to talk you out of this, Eric, but you need to know.”

Eric had looked serious, Jack thought, but not scared, when he straightened up and said, “I'm aware, at least in theory. I know that I don't know what I don't know” (Eric’s nose had wrinkled at his own sentence) “but I'm not going to give up because of that.”

They had avoided any public displays of affection since then -- or, well, ever, since they hadn't actually been dating before then. Now they were going out as a couple with people who knew they were a couple.

And he was going to have a good time.

The thing was, he realized a half-hour after they got there, he was having fun.

Seated at a table in the corner between Eric and Alexei, he didn't find himself called on to talk about much of anything. Instead, he listened to Eric share his own stories with the Falconers, about hockey, about baking, about growing up in the American south. For his part, Eric had Alexei and Marty talking about the foods they missed from their childhoods, which somehow turned into a more general conversation of the youth hockey systems in their respective countries.

Jack found himself contributing to that part of the talk, from the perspective of a child who was expected to be an exceptional player from the time he stepped on the ice as a minor mite.

“Didn't you ever want to be something else?” Marty asked. “I think when I was 6, I wanted to be a firefighter. Or Superman.”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t remember,” he said. “As far as I recall I just assumed I would play hockey like my dad.”

There was a moment of silence, then Marty raised his glass and said, “And look at you now. What about you, Eric? What did you want to be when you grew up?”

Eric thought for a moment.

“Well, I did have dreams of being an Olympic figure skater,” he said. “But that’s not a long-term career, and I think I knew that pretty early on. Probably always something involving food, though.”

“You skate so good?” Tater said.

Eric didn’t look like he took offense.

“Not now, of course,” he said. “It’s been, what, seven years since I competed? And to be honest, I think I was close, but maybe not close enough. Maybe I could have done it if we lived somewhere where I could have gotten more comprehensive training. Katya was a marvel, but she was just one coach, and there really weren’t the facilities or the programs I would have needed to be really world-class, and I didn’t want to move away from my family on a chance, especially since they probably would have had to take a second mortgage to pay for my training.”

Jack felt a twinge somewhere deep inside. Sure, he’d moved away from home as a teenager to pursue hockey, but there had never been any question -- not in his mind, or anyone else’s -- that he would make it. Not when he first left for the Q, anyway. Those questions came later. And he never worried about how pursuing his goal would affect his family financially.

Eric was continuing.

“But that’s when I started playing hockey, and that was great, too,” he said brightly. “I was never like y’all, but it got me a scholarship and brought me to the northeast, so it was a pretty good deal all around.”

“To play hockey so small, you must be good,” Tater said.

“He’s fast,” Jack chimed in. “I can’t beat him in a race on skates.”

That brought approving looks, and Guy said, “Maybe we should all play a little shinny, then.”

“That’d be great,” Eric said, smiling brightly. “No checking, though.”

*****************************

“Do you think they meant it?” Eric said, in the passenger seat.

“Meant what?” Jack asked.

“That they would play with me?” Eric said. “I mean, y’all are professionals.”

“I think they’d take it easy on you,” Jack said. “It’d just be for fun.”

Eric was quiet for a moment and then said, “Oh, my gosh. Do you think they’d mind if some of my Samwell teammates joined us?”

‘I doubt it,” Jack said. “But for something like that, we’d probably have to wait for the end of the season. If it’s just you, we could invite a couple of guys next time you skate at our facility.”

Eric nodded.

“Yeah, that way it’s not a big deal. But Shitty and Ransom and Holster would absolutely freak. And Dex and Nursey only came downstairs last night because they wanted to meet Tater.”

“Tater, eh?” Jack smirked at him.

“Well, they know you’re taken,” Eric said. Riding the elevator upstairs, Eric admired Jack, in the way he wanted to before they started dating.

He leaned against the wall, just looking at Jack: the deep blue eyes; the jaw line that could cut glass, with just a hint of stubble to draw the eye’ the breadth of his shoulders filling out the casual leather jacket; the way his T-shirt stretched over his muscular chest. His hockey butt -- yes, Eric had played enough hockey to know that was a thing -- was only made more obvious by his narrow waist and thick thighs.

Jack, he saw, was looking back just as frankly, and looked like he liked what he saw. Or maybe he just liked the way Eric was looking at him.

“You’re beautiful,” Eric said, then was instantly embarrassed. Good lord, couldn’t he think of anything better to say? But Jack was beautiful -- not just hot, although he was that, or even handsome, but really and truly beautiful -- and he should know that.

Jack’s cheeks pinked, only adding to the effect, and Jack smiled.

“Now look who’s talking,” he said. “Look who I get to take home.”

“Jack, I --”

“Please, Eric, stay with me tonight,” Jack said. “I know you have your own place and your own life, but one more night? You can bring your bunny if you want.”

Now Eric felt himself blush.

As the elevator doors opened, he said, “You know about Senor Bun?”

“I saw him when I went to get your clothes this morning.”

“Well, I think he can stay home for tonight,” Eric said. “Wouldn’t want to corrupt him. And yes, I’ll stay tonight if you want. But tomorrow I have to spend at least a few hours working, to get things ready for Tuesday.”

“That’s all right,” Jack said. “I have practice, and then a charity thing. But I’m not quite ready for our weekend together to end yet.”

This time, when they entered Jack’s apartment, Jack led Eric straight to the bedroom and started removing his clothes.

“Getting a bit forward, aren’t we, Mr. Zimmermann?” Eric giggled, then took advantage of Jack pausing to tug his T-shirt over his head.

“I see how it is,” Jack said, pulling Eric close so their bare torsos were pressed together and running his hands up and down Eric’s back while he kissed at his neck.

He straightened a bit to claim Eric’s mouth, then used his hands to push Eric’s trousers and underwear down at the same time. He kept kissing him while his hands cupped Eric’s bottom.

Eric groaned into Jack’s mouth while he tried to work his trousers down.

In the end, he was profoundly grateful that Senor Bun was not there to see what happened next.

************************

Jack was just slinging his jacket into his locker stall when the first chirp hit.

It was, unsurprisingly, from Tater.

“Sure, Mr. Captain Jack, go out with team once then start coming late for practice,” Tater said. “Two beers too much?”

Jack hastily checked the time on his phone, then looked around, spying a couple of empty locker stalls.

“We don’t hit the ice for another half-hour,” he said. “Guy and Marty aren’t even here yet.”

Tater ignored his protest.

“Maybe not the beer. Maybe you spend too much time tasting sweet baking -- or the baker,” Tater grinned.

“Crisse, Tater, that barely makes sense,” Jack said. “Besides being so far from from any of your business that you’d need a plane, a train and an automobile to get there.”

“Don’t think we didn’t notice you’re not saying no,” Thirdy chipped in.

“Cut it out,” Jack said. “You’re embarrassing Poots here.”

Poots, indeed, was looking at the inside of his stall like his life depended on it. Jack wasn’t sure what that was about -- did Poots have an issue with him having a boyfriend? Or did he find the sexual innuendo in general too much? Or just think the way Tater was using it was an embarrassment, which, to be fair, it was?

Well, this wasn’t the time or place to address it, Jack thought. As long as Poots didn’t make an issue of anything, Jack thought he could let it lie at least until they had a chance for a one-on-one conversation.

But the talk about Eric didn’t end when they got on the ice.

Marty took off in a sprint and said, “Is he this fast?”

Then Guy tried to beat him, and said, “No, I bet he’s this fast.”

Jack just shook his head and smiled. He’d been around hockey players to see the teasing for what it was -- really a form of affection -- and to know the best way to stop it was to ignore it until they got bored. Besides, they’d have to stop once practice really got going.

They did, but they started up again when they left the ice and Jack, Tater and Snowy got ready for their visit to Hasbro Children’s Hospital. This time it was Snowy who said to Tater, directly in front of Jack, “Do you think they’ll recognize him? I mean, it looks kind of like Jack Zimmermann, but this one is smiling.”

“Oh, come on,” Jack said. “I smile when I visit sick kids.”

“Not like that,” Snowy said. “You’ve had a dopey smile on your face all morning. Usually it looks more like you’re forcing face to do something that someone once told you was a smile for just as long as it takes for you to sign something for a kid and beat a hasty retreat.”

“Really?” Jack said. It was true that he didn’t like hospital visits -- sick kids always made him sad, and guilty for what he put his parents through -- but he hadn’t realized it was so obvious. “I’ll try to do better.”

Now Snowy looked concerned. “You do fine,” he said. “No one feels comfortable there. We’re just a distraction, eh? No worries. It’s just, happy looks good on you.”

Jack drove over on his own, meeting the other players and Jamie from PR in the office of the child life specialists.

“We’ll start with some time in a couple of playrooms,” the hospital person explained, “then visit a couple of the kids who are too sick to leave their rooms. In the play rooms, just follow the kids’ lead. Do a puzzle with them, or play a game, or draw.”

It wasn’t long before Jack found himself in a chair so small that it felt like his knees were up around his ears. Sarah, a little girl of about 5 with a big white bandage on the side of her face, was kneading pink Play-Doh in her hands.

“Wanna make something?” she said. “There’s more Play-Doh.”

So Jack opened a can of yellow dough and started rolling it out flat with a miniature rolling pin. Within minutes, they were joined by Hank, a boy a bit older than Sarah, Jack thought, and Julissa, a girl who was a bit younger.

Jack kept his hands moving as he asked about the car Hank was making and the pink cat (maybe?) that was taking shape in Sarah’s fingers.

“I making cookies,” Julissa announced.

“You can’t have cookies,” Sarah said. “Remember, you have diabetes.”

“I can so,” Julissa said.

“She can have all the Play-Doh cookies she wants,” Jack said. “And probably real ones sometimes.”

He looked down at what he was doing.

“I’m making a Play-Doh pie because I have a friend who makes the best pies, but I’m not allowed to eat very much of them.”

At the end, Jamie took a picture of the four of them, each holding up their creations. With signed releases from the kids’ parents, the picture would go on all the Falconers’ social media pages.

“Any progress starting a Twitter or Instagram account, Jack?” Jamie asked. “I can send you the pic if you want to post it.”

“Uh, not yet, but soon maybe?” Jack said. “I think Eric would help me.”

Jack wasn’t sure how to feel about the way Jamie just nodded in recognition at Eric’s name. He knew PR knew; he’d told George he had a boyfriend just in case it blew up. But it was still a little strange.

****************************

Eric took a break after checking the inventory and prepping dry ingredients for the first baking jobs of the next morning.

He was scrolling through his phone when the notification of a tweet from the Falconers popped up.

He tapped it to find an image of his boyfriend surrounded by three adorable children, all proudly holding up their Play-Doh creations. Jack’s was a pie -- cherry, going by the red filling and lattice top -- while the others were, well, something pink, a heart-shape and a car (maybe?).

He quickly responded.

OMGCheckPlease: .@PVDFalconers too cute!

That was generic enough. People would think he was talking about the kids. But he would remember to compliment Jack on his lattice later.

He had turned to work out a schedule for getting the catering orders done when his phone buzzed with a text alert.

Jamie wants to know if you’ll help me set up Twitter and Instagram accounts.

He frowned at the phone.

Jamie?

From PR, Jack explained. I told George -- the AGM -- about us, and Jamie knows about you. I hope that’s OK. if I didn’t say anything, they still would have found out

That’s fine, honey, Eric responded. It’s not my reputation that needs to be protected. i just didn’t know who Jamie was. And I understand why you had to tell mgmt. But maybe next time give me a heads up?

There was a slightly longer pause … filled with the three undulating dots meaning Jack was typing … before he got a response.

I know I should have told you, but I talked to George just before we left for the roadie and I just forgot to mention it. She recruited me years ago, and she’s more like a friend. She’s always had my back. And no one is worried that dating you will ruin my reputation -- at least, I’m not. Neither are George and Jamie. I think Jamie is hoping you’ll pull me into the 21st century. She may have stalked your social media.

Twitter was fine, Eric thought. Facebook wasn’t even interesting, and Pinterest was only for dedicated bakers.

My vlog? he typed.

Maybe, Jack responded. I liked it.

Eric groaned, then remembered he was an actual adult, with an actual job, that actually involved baking, and his parents knew he was gay, and more eyeballs on his vlog was actually a good thing.

I’m glad, he said.

An hour later, he was on the phone with Derek Nurse.

“I don’t have a lot of hours to give you, but we could use someone to help with the register and cleanup on the days I have to go to Boston, and when we have big catering orders,” he explained. “Chowder and Dex thought you might be interested, since you’ve helped out before and you kind of know how things work here.”

“You mean, ‘Bitty’s the boss and what he says goes’?” Derek asked, the smile in his voice coming through over the phone.

“Pretty much,” Eric admitted.

“Do I get free coffee?” Derek said.

“Absolutely,” Eric said. “At least, while you’re working. Otherwise at the discretion of the management.”

“Sure,” Derek said. “Sounds good.”

“You haven’t even asked about how much you’ll get paid,” Eric said.

“It’s all good,” Derek said. “When do I start?”

“I have to go to Boston Thursday, so maybe you could come in for a couple of hours on Wednesday, just to fill out paperwork and learn how to work the dishwasher? Around 10?”

“See you then,” Derek said.

“But I still haven’t told you --” Eric realized Derek had ended the call.

He was still shaking his head when he saw Jack outside the front door, about to knock.

Eric hurried to open it.

“Hi,” he said. “We’re closed today.”

“I didn’t come for baked goods,” Jack said. “I came for the baker.”