#SO. i was thinking about making a little mascot for the pop up box | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

willalove75 · 2 years ago

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Can you write something where instead of Ted being the one who makes Rebecca's biscuits he actually gets them from a bakery that Reader owns? And Rebecca finds out and visits and reader and her hit it off but reader is unsure if Rebecca keeps popping by the bakery just because she likes the biscuits or cause she actually likes her? Please and thank you 🥹

I LOVE this!! I've been so excited to write this one! Thank you so much for the request!!! 💕

"Mornin' boss!" Ted says with too much energy for this early in the morning, as usual.

Rebecca looks up and her eyes light up as she sees the little pink box in his hands.

"Good morning coach Lasso." She says, reaching for the box.

She excitedly opens the box and pulls out a biscuit, bringing it to her lips and takes a bite from it. Her eyes roll as she tastes the sweetness of it, making her feel warm inside.

"Ted, please, tell me where you get these from." She begs as she chews the biscuit in her mouth.

"Sorry boss you know I can't do that." He says with a smile. "Oh! By the way, I thought up a great idea for a new outfit for our mascot," he says, digging through his pockets.

He pulls out a piece of paper "Aha!" and a receipt falls onto Rebecca's desk.

Ted and Rebecca watch it fall and they look up at each other, they both quickly go to snatch it and Rebecca grabs it first.

"I got it I got it!" She says.

Ted reaches over her desk to try and get it back and she stands up and moves away from her desk, turning around so he can't get the paper. She quickly unfolds it and reads the logo at the top.

"Norma's." She says out loud.

"Dang it!" Ted says, disappointed that she now knows his secret.

Rebecca turns around and sees Ted's very disappointed face, he looks up at her and she rolls her eyes.

"We can still do biscuits with the boss." She says, reluctantly.

Ted's face immediately perks up "that's what I'm talkin' about!" He exclaims.

On her lunch break, Rebecca slips out of the office and heads to the bakery. Following the directions on her phone, she stops at the address and looks around, thinking maybe she's in the wrong place. Finally, she spots it, a small, hole in the wall-type place, sandwiched between flats. A small bell chimes as she opens the door and walks in. She's immediately hit with the scent of freshly baked goods, cupcakes, cakes, biscuits, brownies, pastries, everything you can dream of is here in this small shop.

You're wiping down one of the counters in the back of the shop when you hear the bell chime, you put down your rag and walk out to the front. You spot a beautiful, tall, blond haired woman walking in, she looks lost, or at least unsure of where she is.

"May I help you?" You ask with a smile.

The woman looks up at you, not noticing you had walked out from the back.

Rebecca looks up when she hears your voice, she would be surprised to see such a pretty young woman step out from the back if she wasn’t so focused on trying to find the biscuits Ted brings her every morning.

"Uh, I think so, do you sell biscuits in a little pink box here?" She asks, looking around.

"Yes we do!" You say, grabbing one of your signature pink boxes from under the counter. "What kind of biscuits are you looking for?"

You watch as the woman scans the display counter, you can tell she's looking for something specific.

"Um, they're these little rectangle biscuits, they're absolutely delightful-" her eyes light up when she sees the shortbread biscuits. "THESE!" She shouts, you're a little taken back at how excited this woman is over biscuits, but you find it endearing.

"Oh yes, our signature, and my personal favorite." You say with a smile. "Gram's shortbread biscuits."

"Yes, I'll take um," she thinks for a moment. "Half a- oh fuck it, I'll take a dozen."

"Of course! If you want to hang out for another few minutes, I have a fresh batch that's about to come out of the oven."

The woman's eyes flicker with excitement.

"Yes, sure, absolutely."

"Would you like a coffee or cuppa while you wait?" You ask.

"Sure, I'll take a cuppa, thank you." She says, eyeing the other desserts.

She takes a seat at the counter as you prepare the tea.

Rebecca watches you, fascinated at how your muscle memory seems to take over as you make her tea, noticing that you’re barely looking at what you’re doing but are doing everything perfectly.

"Milk and sugar?" You ask.

"No thank you."

You bring the tea over to her and place the cup on its matching saucer.

"Oh how lovely," she says, admiring the cup. "This is beautiful."

"Thank you! They were my grandmothers, all of them were actually." As you gesture to the stacks of teacups and saucers behind the counter.

"Wow, she must have really loved tea." She says, looking at the stacks, bringing the cup to her lips.

"She actually hated it, but loved collecting teacups oddly enough." You say with a smile.

She takes a sip of the tea and you see her eyes roll.

"Fuck me that's delicious."

You feel a shiver down your spine, you were not expecting that kind of reaction from her.

"Where is this tea from?" She asks.

"I grow it!" You say.

"You what?"

"Yeah, I have a little greenhouse behind the shop where I grow my own tea leaves."

She looks at you like she's trying to figure out a puzzle. She looks around the shop and back at you.

"Are you the only one here?"

"Yup!"

"And you bake all of these?" She gestures to the desserts. "All by yourself?"

"Oh god no," you laugh. "I have workers who come here in the mornings to help me with all of these, but they are all either my own original recipes, or family recipes, most of them are my grandmothers recipes actually."

"Wow. So you're here all by yourself the rest of the day? When do you sleep?"

"Well I do have a small handful of employees, but for the most part I'm here from about 3 or 4 in the morning until about 5 or 6."

"Oh my god." She says, with a little bit of a horrified look on her face. "I sure hope your commute isn't long."

"It's about a thirty second commute, it's quite convenient actually."

She gives you a confused look and you laugh, you know she's definitely thinking that you sleep on the shop floor.

"I live in the flat above the shop." You say with a smile.

The timer goes off and you excuse yourself and head to the back. Usually you cut the biscuits up in the kitchen, but you decide to bring the whole tray out to the front and do it there. You're enjoying your conversation with this woman.

Rebecca watches you as you walk into the back, she looks around the shop and notices a picture of you as a child with an older woman, who she presumes is your grandmother. A smile crosses her face as she continues to look around, enamored by the coziness of the shop.

You walk out with the giant sheet and place it on the counter behind the register. You hear her let out a small moan and you pretend not to notice, although your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"Those smell incredible." She says.

You cut a few strips and pull out two fresh pieces and put each one on a plate. You put the plate in front of her and she looks up at you.

"This one's on the house. But it's still hot so be careful." You say, holding your plate in your hand with a smile.

She looks like a kid on Christmas day, a sharp contrast to what you would expect her to be like since she seems very put together and business-like. You take a bite of the biscuit, and you're immediately transported back to your grandmothers house, her house always smelled like freshly made breads or biscuits. Memories of her teaching you how to bake flood your mind, a smile comes across your face, relishing in your treasured memories.

You're brought back to the shop when you hear the woman moan accompanied by another "fuck me." You open your eyes and look over at her and can't help but let out a little laugh.

She looks back at you, a little embarrassed, but is enjoying the biscuit more than she is embarrassed.

"These are the best biscuits I've ever had in my life, and I thought that before I had one fresh out of the oven." She says.

"Well I'm very glad you like them!"

"Where did this recipe come from?"

"It was my grandmothers, well, I think it was her mothers recipe, but she made a few tweaks and perfected it in my opinion."

"Well, tell your grandmother that they're divine." She says.

You give the woman a small smile, trying to hide the sadness in your face, but she catches on anyway.

"Is your grandmother still with us?" She asks.

"Uh, no, actually, she passed away last year, right before I opened the shop."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says, taking another small bite. "Was her name Norma?" She asks, looking at the sign with the shops name hanging on the wall.

"It was, she taught me everything I know about baking. Ever since I got the idea to open up my own shop I knew I wanted to name it after her."

"That's very sweet, you two must have been close."

"Very, she was my favorite person in the world." You turn and look at the small picture of the two of you hanging on the wall. "I miss her every day."

You make your way over to the counter and begin cutting up the sheet of biscuits.

"I was very close with my grandmother as well," she says, empathizing with you. "I was very young when she passed, she's been gone almost 30 years now, but I still have days where I miss her terribly."

"I think it would be much more difficult if I didn't have the shop, not only does it keep me busy, I'm also able to honor her memory every day by making her recipes and sharing them with everyone. It's something she always wanted to do but never got the opportunity to."

You finishing packing her order and close the box, placing a sticker with the logo to seal it. You set the box in front of the woman with a smile. She looks down and sees the logo.

"Hm." She says.

"Something wrong?"

"Oh, no, one of my, uh," she pauses for a moment "employees brings me these every morning but I've never seen this sticker on the boxes he brings me."

A smile crosses your face.

"Are you talking about coach Lasso?"

She lets out a sigh.

"Yep, that's the one."

"Ah, so you must be Rebecca."

She looks up at you and lets out another sigh.

"That would be me. I'm guessing he's talked about"

"Biscuits with the boss."

You say in unison.

She nods her head and you laugh.

"Ted is very sweet, he actually always requests for me to not put the label on the box, he wanted to keep this place a secret. It must be fun having him around all the time." You say.

"Oh it sure is something alright." She says, rolling her eyes when she hears you mention that he asks for you to not put the sticker on the box.

You ring her up and give her the total. She hands you money and you give her the change. She pulls out another bill, worth at least what she paid for the biscuits, and puts it in the tip jar.

"Oh, wow, thank you so much!" You say, surprised but grateful.

"Thank you very much." She says with a kind smile.

“I hope you enjoy your biscuits!”

She gives you a wave as she leaves and you return to cutting up the rest of the tray. An excitement in your belly rises, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’ve probably made a new customer or because she was incredibly beautiful, or both.

Rebecca leaves the bakery, missing the smell of freshly baked good as it dissipates the further away from the shop she gets. Excited about the big box of biscuits she acquired, she also thinks about you, how you were incredibly kind and very cute. This is definitely a place she is going to frequent often.

A few days go by and you’re in the shop again putting a few cakes into the oven after the early morning rush. There’s a light chatter in the shop, filled with a few regulars enjoying their morning coffees and teas. You hear the bell chime again and head to the front. You’re a little surprised, but also very happy to see the beautiful blond woman in your shop once again.

“Good morning Rebecca!” You say with a smile.

“Good morning, uh, oh my goodness, I don't think I ever asked you for your name.” she says a little embarrassed.

"Oh it's fine, it's more important for me to know my customers names than it is for them to know mine. But my name is y/n."

She gives a little smile of relief.

"Well then, good morning y/n."

“How can I help you? More biscuits?” You say with a smile.

“Just one, and a tea please." She says returning your smile.

"Of course! Did you want that to say or to go?"

"To stay."

She takes a seat at the counter and you make her tea and bring over a biscuit on a plate.

"Excellent, thank you." She says.

"So is Coach Lasso no longer bringing you biscuits every day?" You ask as you wipe down the counter.

"Oh no he is, speaking of, please don't tell him I was here. I'll never hear the end of it if he finds out I've been coming here."

"Your secret is safe with me." You say.

At first glance, Rebecca doesn't seem like a very approachable person, she's always dressed sharply, her hair always either perfectly curled or pulled back, she carries herself in a very professional way. Once you started talking to her you realized that yes, she is those things, but she's also very personable, she's kind and funny. Her appearances in the shop became more frequent, first only coming in every few days, then eventually coming in most mornings, and after a few months, she was coming in every morning to sit at the counter, have her biscuit and tea and chat with you.

You had other regulars that came in most days if not every day, but Rebecca was different, she seemed genuinely interested in talking to you, there are some days you wondered if she was coming in for the tea and biscuits or if she was coming in just to talk to you. Either way, you thoroughly enjoyed her company and looked forward to seeing her every morning.

Usually very punctual, one morning Rebecca doesn't show up and it strikes you as odd, what struck you more was that you found yourself concerned. Usually she would mention that she had a meeting or an away game when she knew she wasn't going to be able to stop by, not showing up with no warning was unusual for her.

Also very punctual, showing up usually about half an hour after Rebecca leaves, Coach Lasso enters the bakery.

"Good mornin y/n!"

"Good morning Coach! How are we this morning?" You really want to ask about Rebecca, but you restrain yourself, you did promise her after all that you wouldn't tell Ted that she was coming in every morning.

"Not too shabby, although I am gonna need something extra special for my 'Biscuits with the Boss' today."

"Oh, why did something happen?" You try to not sound too concerned but you're sure Ted catches on anyway.

"Rebecca's father passed away yesterday so we're all goin' to the funeral tomorrow."

The news hits you harder than you expect, she never spoke about her parents, but losing a parent must be incredibly difficult and you've grown to care for her. You hope she's okay.

"Oh no, that's horrible. You know what, I'll do ya one better, I'll send you with your usual plus a little extra, and I'll send some pastries and of course, the biscuits to her house as a little pick me up."

"This is why you're the best y/n!" Ted says.

You package up his usual order of biscuits plus a few extra ones you think she would like and you prep a tray of fresh biscuits and pastries. After getting the address from Ted, you have one of your drivers deliver them to her home.

A few more days go by and you don't see Rebecca, you can't deny your disappointment, but you also understand why she hasn't been able to show up lately.

Your last employee goes home for the day and you begin to clean up and close shop. As you're finishing wrapping up the leftover cakes and pastries from the day you hear a tap on the door, you look over and see Rebecca, she gives you a little wave. A smile you're unable to hide crosses your face and you let her in.

Rebecca was a little nervous showing up to the shop so late, she was hoping you were still there by the time she got there. She was relieved when she saw you behind the counter, a bundle of nerves formed in her belly as she tapped on the door. There was a rush of relief when she saw your face light up when you saw her, she can't help but think how cute and beautiful you are, inside and out. It really touched her when she got the delivery, it made her question how much she really likes you, and how much you really like her.

It's a little strange for you to see Rebecca in jeans and a t-shirt, you've only ever seen her in her work clothes, but there's something about her dressed down that makes her look maybe even more attractive than she usually is.

"Hi! How are you? I'm so sorry to hear about your dad." You say.

"Oh thank you, I'm doing well actually. I just got in from my mums but I wanted to drop by and thank you for the tray, it was so kind of you."

"Oh of course, as soon as I heard what happened from Ted I knew that I had to do something, you're one of my best, and favorite customers. I couldn't not do anything."

Much to your surprise, she wraps her arms around you and gives you a hug. You wrap your arms around her and hug her back, you're not sure if it's something she needs or is doing as a thank you, but either way you're not in opposition.

The smell of biscuits and sweetness surrounds Rebecca when she hugs you, she isn't sure if the shampoo you use smells like vanilla or if it's just because you were in the bakery all day, either way it relaxes her. You two pull away and she looks at you with a smile on her face.

"Well, I don't want to keep you, I just wanted to stop by and say thank you."

"Oh you're not keeping me from anything, I'm just about done here anyway." You look at her for a second, you don't want her to leave. "Do you want to come up for a drink?"

She stands there for a second, looking a little shocked, but smiles.

"I would love to."

You shut off the lights to the shop and the two of you walk out. You lock the door to the bakery and unlock the door next to it, leading into your flat. You walk up the stairs, Rebecca following behind you and you walk into your living room. Flicking the switch on, the room illuminates, lighting up the photos and small pieces of art on your walls.

"Welcome! Please, make yourself at home. Do you want wine, mixed drink, anything?"

Rebecca looks around intrigued at the room she's standing in.

"Uh, I'll take a wine, red please."

"Coming right up!"

You walk into the kitchen and grab wine glasses and the bottle. Rebecca walks around the room looking at the photos scattered across the walls. Photos of you and your grandma, your family and friends, places you've visited. You walk into the living room and pause, watching her as she looks around. You can't help but be enamored at how she's looking at everything, almost like she's looking at art in a museum, carefully studying the photos on the walls and knickknacks on the shelves.

Rebecca can't help but smile as she sees pictures of you and your friends and family, just from the pictures alone she can tell how close everyone is. It's something she envies, but seeing the photos hanging on your walls makes her happy. She's able to see different sides to you she's never experienced, that you can be silly, funny, it's like she's secretly figuring out the little things that make you, you.

You put the glasses on the coffee table and fill each glass, the two of you take a seat on the couch and take sips of your wine.

"Your home is beautiful." She says, looking around some more.

"Thank you, it's not much, but I love it." You sit back and look around, proud of the home you've made for yourself.

"It's so cozy here." She says with a smile.

"Aw, thanks."

You two make small talk for a few minutes before you feel your stomach growl. You both giggle at the sound as you put your hand over your belly.

"I'm starving, are you hungry at all?"

She thinks for a second. "Yeah, I could eat."

"Great."

"Do you want me to order something?" She asks.

"No you don't have to, I'll just whip something up, if that's cool with you?"

She looks bot surprised and impressed.

"Yeah that's totally fine with me."

"Great, come on!"

You lead her into the kitchen and she takes a seat at the island, you begin to pull things out of your refrigerator.

"Is there anything you don't like or are allergic to?" You ask, combing through the fridge.

"Nope." She says.

"Awesome! Is chicken good?"

"Yeah, sounds great."

You start slicing the chicken breasts and seasoning them, you prep a pan on the stove for the chicken and prep another pan for vegetables on another element.

"Wow, so you can bake and cook?" Rebecca asks as she watches you wide-eyed.

"Yup! My grandma taught me to bake, my dad taught me how to cook. Do you cook or bake or anything?"

"Oh god no, I can barely boil a pot of water."

"Do you wanna learn?" You ask as you look over at her.

She thinks for a second and then sighs "sure, why not."

She walks over to you and you give her instructions on what do to next. She starts cutting the vegetables and the knife slides a little.

"Can I show you a trick?" You ask.

"Yea absolutely."

You gently adjust her grip on the knife. You feel sparks when your hand comes into contact with hers. Knots begin to form in your belly and you do your best to ignore them. You also show her how to curl her fingers on the vegetables so she doesn't cut herself. You hold her hands and show her how to make slices without raising the tip of the knife off of the cutting board. There's something so comforting about having your arms around her as you show her what to do. You let her take over and you watch her, it hits you that you have such a beautiful person in your kitchen and you're showing her how to cook. You get lost looking at her and you nearly forget about the chicken in the pan. You put more pieces in the pan as Rebecca finishes cutting the vegetables, you saute the vegetables as the rest of the chicken finishes cooking. Finally you set out two plates and put dinner on the table.

"This smells amazing." She says, her mouth nearly watering.

"I hope it tastes as good as it smells." You say with a laugh.

She playfully rolls her eyes at you and takes a bite.

"Fuck me," her words send chills down your spine. "This is amazing."

"I'm glad you like it!" You say as you take a bite. "Not too bad." You're pretty pleased with yourself.

You pour more wine into your glasses and continue eating. You two chat about your favorite foods, foods you can't stand, and what foods you could eat every day without getting sick of.

You two finish up eating and you put the two plates into the sink.

"Do you want me to help clean up?" She asks.

"Oh god no, that's a tomorrow problem." You say with a laugh.

You grab the bottle of wine and head back into the living room, Rebecca takes a seat on the couch next to you, both of you stuffed and satisfied from dinner.

You don't know how you got on the subject, but Rebecca talks about Rupert and his new baby, how the funeral went and goes into a little about her divorce.

"No offence, but he sounds like such a dick." You say laughing, your cheeks flush from the wine.

"He really is." She says laughing.

"You know, you're not what I expected." You say.

She looks over at you.

"What does that mean?"

"I mean, when you first walked into my shop, you looked so, professional, I had a feeling there was more to you when you moaned at the biscuits" you laugh as you tease her "but you don't look like that kind of person. Does that make sense?"

"I guess."

"But I'm very happy that you're not what I expected, you're much more fun. I really like that you like me and the shop so much you're willing to come every morning. It means a lot. Plus, I like hanging out with you."

You look over at her and you feel your cheeks get red and you look down into you glass.

"I was worried when you didn't show up the other day, I thought either something happened or that I did something wrong. But then Ted told me what happened and my heart broke for you. I'm so sorry Rebecca."

You look up at her and she looks at you, your eyes meeting for a moment before she looks away.

"Thank you. My dad and I didn't have the best relationship, so it was strange, but my mum and I got the chance to get close again, so it was kind of nice actually."

She looks back up at you and you meet her gaze.

"Well I'm glad it ended up being a somewhat positive experience then." You say with a smile.

The knots in Rebecca's stomach tighten as your eyes meet. You slump into the couch and rest your head on her shoulder, you feel her relax as you lean into her, your body relaxes as well.

After a minute of you two sitting in silence, you look up at her and your eyes meet once more. Her eyes sparkle as they look into yours, the knots in her belly turn into butterflies as a flutter erupts in your chest. She slowly leans down and you meet her halfway and your lips meet for the first time. You feel a rush of energy in your heart while a sense of calm washes over your body at the same time. You reach up and place a hand on her cheek, stroking her soft, smooth skin with your thumb. You sit up more and she holds onto your waist, your other hand resting on her chest. You gently suck her bottom lip when it slips between yours and she lets out a small moan, you smile into the kiss as your tongue slides into her mouth. Your tongues dance around each other, exploring each others mouths. The kiss slows and you finally part.

You look into her emerald eyes and can't help but let out a small giggle.

"What?" She asks, her lips curling into a smile.

"Nothing, I just never thought in a million years this would have happened."

She smiles and pulls you in, placing a kiss on your head.

"Well, you do know I have a sweet tooth."

#rebecca welton x reader #hannah waddingham #rebecca welton #rebecca welton fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #willalove75 #wlw fanfic

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opticfile · 2 years ago

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝, 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡

—✦ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 // you hate him, he thinks you're the best of friends. what happens when one interaction dissolves the irritation and you're left hopelessly falling for him?

✧ inspired by @lonelyrosegold's post

—✦ 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 //Alfred F. Jones (APH America)

—✦ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 // cubicle office work, halfway enemies to lovers, swearing, slight angst if you squint, fluff

4.5k words

Alfred F. Jones.

The F stands for Freedom.

The poster boy for American charm, the devout former boy scout with a wide, toothy grin that screams Hollywood, the man with a voice that sounds the way butter melting on hot pancakes feels (and God when it dips into the slightest southern drawl when he’s talking to someone from the south).

The man of your dreams, the man of your nightmares.

Your coworker.

Him and his overzealous joy, the oblivious airhead attitude that he sports with pride as he obnoxiously babbles on about this or that while you're trying to get paperwork done. Alfred seemed to have a knack for getting on your nerves, making the corners of your lips twitch downwards and your heart speed up as your anger and irritation build. He’s the only man you’ve ever known that could get you so worked up and ready to explode in annoyance within 5 minutes of a conversation.

And his cubicle was right in front of yours. You shared that thin little barrier wall that did nothing to muffle his sickening giggling, not to mention the fact that when he stood up he could lean right over the top and look down at you. If you had a nickel for every time he’s tossed some paper over the top, you’d be retired and vacationing in the Bahamas, reveling in your life being free from the infection that Alfred proved to be. He was like a computer virus that you accidentally downloaded while trying to pirate a movie, the one that you just can’t get rid of no matter what you tried, you just can’t shake it and it always comes back to haunt you. Alfred F. Jones was your personal virus.

When you were trying to scan documents, Alfred always seemed to be peeking his head around the corner before breaking into that grin that made your skin crawl every time you saw it. He always just wandered over to you, one of those little paper cups that you get from the water coolers in hand, probably empty but still held tight as if it was glued there. He’d languidly stride into the room and greet you, too oblivious to see—or just outright ignoring—the way you exhaled sharply the moment he opened his mouth. Your brows furrowed together and your fingers tapped the machine in front of you waiting and waiting until the moment you could excuse yourself.

You wondered if he was dumb on purpose or just genuinely that 0blivious to every sign and every signal you’ve sent him to indicate “Hey, leave me alone!”. You wondered if he even noticed the way you frowned or fiddled your fingers in impatience, the way your voice snapped back at him when he said something you didn’t like. You wondered if he even cared, he took everything you did in stride, he tilted his head and smiled a little wider, and laughed at your snarky remarks.

You wondered why you cared. Or why you hated him so much in the first place. Everyone loved Alfred. He was the office’s good boy, he was the mascot, the star player, and the coach. He had friends worldwide, and his charisma and humor captivated everyone who he interacted with.

Everyone but you, it seemed.

Alfred was intrigued by you, in a “I wonder what they’re all about” kind of way. The day you plopped your beat-up cardboard box down on your desk and he popped his head over the wall to see his new office neighbor was the day he vowed to get to know you as more than just that. At the very least, he wanted to be on good terms.

That's why Alfred took every glare and snarl and jab like a champ, that’s why he stood there like a stone wall, refusing to crumble under your pressure as he kept that dreamy airheaded grin right on his face. That’s why he asked you all those stupid questions that annoyed you like “What’s your favorite insect?”—for the record, he remembers you said it was bumblebees—until you’d give in and answer so he’d leave you alone (he never did). The two of you were friends in his heart, in his mind, and in his ideal little world that he dreamt about when he went to sleep.

He made little doodles of your favorite things, the things he saw you smile at and collect and look at the most, he balled up the paper and tossed it over between tasks. He wondered if you collected them and unraveled them and looked over them fondly, he wondered if his artistic skill was chipping a crack into the stone walls you’ve challenged him with. He hoped that you took them home and put them up on your fridge like moms do with their 1’st grader's art—because let's be real here, Alfred is not drawing a hyperrealistic rose, he’s drawing a circle in the corner of the paper with sun rays and glasses because it's silly and makes him smile.

He hopes it makes you smile too.

He wishes he saw your smile more often.

Maybe he should become funnier to get you to smile more.

So when he’s on call with Gilbert and Matthias playing Call of Duty and he makes them laugh he thinks back to you and wonders if the same joke would make you laugh. And so the next day at work he busted out with a joke that felt just slightly out of context and made you scrunch your nose in confusion because what does that even mean? That’s when Alfred cackles because he really butchered that and the way you stopped in your tracks to process what he said made his heart smile.

He thinks you’re cute when you're mad, and you think he’s irritating when he’s happy. Your coworkers wonder what cruel plans fate had when it set up this office drama like it's a Sims 4 playthrough and its “Flirt” interaction just got waved off. Seeing Alfred standing up with a knee on his desk and his arms folded over the barrier, looking down at you fondly and you returning him with a cold shoulder and a roll of your eyes was almost comical.

“Are you excited?” Alfred chirped.

“For what?” You muttered, clicking and clacking at your keyboard as you made a spelling error every 5 words—why are you having a hard time typing, Alfred is just so distracting it hurts.

“The party!” His smile grew, pearly whites on display.

“You mean the banquet,” You glanced up at him with a judgemental look, “the work event that is mandatory. It’s basically just another work project.”

“Awww, c’mon, I know you’re excited.” He winked at you, “Have some fun with it, sure it’s for work but there’s free food and people and we get to dress fancy!”

“We dress formally for work too. You’ll probably just wear the same outfit, tie and all.”

He looked down at his pizza print tie, “What’s wrong with my tie?”

“Back to work, Jones.” A voice echoed from the other side of the room.

“I’ll see you there.” Alfred whispered, slowly sliding down the wall for dramatic effect.

The clacking of your keyboard became more aggressive as you finished out your email, hitting send and unclenching your jaw as you took a deep breath. You rested your chin in your palm and idly scrolled through your inbox full of already read emails, mind flooded with thoughts about that damn banquet that you just had to go to, the one that Alfred would undoubtedly be tailing you at all night.

A ball of paper landed right on your keyboard.

You’d be damned if you let Alfred F. Jones ruin your night and get in the way of your career. You worked so hard for this, to be able to have this opportunity at the banquet and to be able to hopefully impress a certain someone with your practical skills, maybe then you could get a different job and be free of your office nightmare.

You tossed it in the small bin beside your feet.

You brought the rim of your glass to your lips, sipping slowly as your eyes scanned the crowd. Where is he? Wandering from place to place, conversating with group after group, your social battery was draining and wow these shoes are not as comfortable as you thought they were. You rocked onto the balls of your feet as you downed another glass of water—drinking anything else would put you out of your conscious misery and probably create a problem bigger than you were equipped to fix.

Alfred’s loud, imposing voice could be heard through the noise of the crowd. He was making those stupid business jokes with old people from other branches again, the ones that were so bad that the 60-year-old man dressed in all black thought were the funniest jokes he’s heard since his 30s. You snorted to yourself and rolled your eyes before feeling guilty for being so judgemental and bitter.

His baby blue eyes—the ones that seemed to hold all 50 of the stars in the American flag—made their way to you, you who was standing there holding an empty cup as you itched your shoulder and looked around in anticipation. What were you anticipating? Who were you anticipating? Was it him? What if it's him? Ok, time for him to make his way over.

“Hey! Fancy seeing you here~.” He nudged your shoulder.

“Alfred.”

“The one and only!”

“I’m um,” Your eyes flittered from Alfred’s form to the black hair on the back of his head, “I’m kind of waiting for someone, it’s important so I can’t really-”

“Dude, have you tried those cookies Elizabeta brought?” Alfred interrupted giddily, “They’re crazy good, let me grab you some, yeah?”

“Sure, whatever.” You muttered. Anything to get him out of your hair, “Excuse me.”

Your shoes tapped against the smooth floor as you made your way to catch up to the black-haired man. You slid your glass onto one of the server’s trays like a scene in a movie, that felt cool, did that look cool?

“Sir?” You called, “Sir, it’s Y/n L/n!”

The man stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel, eyebrow raised as he scanned you up and down.

“Ah, yes, hello.” He hummed, “I’m in a bit of a rush so if you could make this quick.”

“I just was wondering how you liked my report.” You smiled eagerly, “I emailed it to you last week, I was wondering if you were able to look over-”

“Let me be straight with you. You’re a bright employee, but that report was just… messy.” He glanced at you with disgust, “It wasn’t what I’m looking for, it was amateurish, I don’t see a future for someone like you in this field.”

“What?”

“I don't see a future for you in this field. Maybe you should stick to your… whatever it is you do.” He grimaced, “I think it’s best we leave it at that. Please contact me through my assistant from now on, my personal business email is for my real business inquiries.”

Meanwhile, Alfred was wondering where you had gone. You followed that guy pretty eagerly, who was he? Alfred caught a glimpse of your form slithering out of a door sneakily, your hand brought up to your face, and this look in your eyes that made him frown deeply in his place. He clenched the napkin full of cookies in his hands just a bit harder and- Geez, he always was a bit stronger than he realized. That’s fine, he’d eat the broken one and give you the whole one. Crumbled or not, a cookie is a cookie.

He hummed to himself as he made his way to the same doorway, an unsettling worry pricking at his heart. Alfred doesn’t recall ever seeing you look so defeated. Generally, you kept a straight face throughout the entire day he saw you. Sure, sometimes you’d scowl but that’s just how you were, you must just be having a bad day or maybe you’re irritated with some work stuff. Maybe he was bothering you a little, it’s in his nature to be excited. He wondered if you preferred chocolate chip or oatmeal—don’t worry, he got both—as he turned the corner and followed the tap, tap, tap, of your shoes.

You weren’t oblivious to the person walking behind you, you heard their heavy steps and cheerful pace and you rolled your tear-filled eyes because wow you hated the idea of people being happy right now when you were feeling so miserable. Your dream, your way out, your life’s work, destroyed by a man who wouldn't even spare you more than a glare and a huff. You continued until you found yourself in a quiet, secluded hallway with no one around but a janitor far off in the distance too busy mopping to notice your slight sniffs and sobs.

The quiet was interrupted by footsteps getting louder, were they following you or something? You scowled as you slid down the wall and plopped your ass on the cool tiled floor, knees to your chest, arms holding them there securely. Secure was the last thing you felt right now, but that’s beside the point.

“Y/n! Finally caught up to ya, I got the cookies you wanted and-” Alfred stopped his sentence the moment that he rounded the corner and saw you glancing up at him looking so hurt and sad and just the slightest bit confused. “...Oh, geez, I didn’t mean to uh…”

“...” You looked away from him, wiping your eyes, “I’m not in the mood, Alfred.”

Ignoring that, he plopped beside you.

“What’s wrong?” He looked at you through his crystal clear glasses, the ones he treated with such care because the last time he cracked them he had to wait a month before getting a new pair and his vision was constantly spiderwebbed or blurry.

You remember him walking into the office that day, that wide child-like smile plastered on his face even though the entire left lens of his lifeline to sight was practically shattered. How did he always stay so positive?

“Alfred, I’m not gonna vent to you about this.”

“Why not? I’m a great listener,” He nudged you, “C’mon, tell me.”

“It’s- I just,” Your browline creased, “I worked really hard on something and it got rejected, like, painfully rejected.”

“What was it?”

“I wrote up this whole report to impress Mr. Wilson and he probably barely even look at it and trashed it.”

“What? That sucks, why’d he do that?”

“He said it was amateurish.”

“But you worked so hard… I remember you stayed late a few times working on something, I read it over your shoulder, and,” He smiled sheepishly, “I thought it was good. Mr. Wilson should just buzz off!”

“Yeah, well, Mr. Wilson doesn’t share the sentiment. He just brushed me off and glared at me and spat his words at me like he’d rather be doing anything else than even look at me…” You sniffled, a fat, pathetic tear sliding down your cheek.

“I’m sorry, I know what that’s like.” He sighed.

He knows what that’s like.

You snapped your head to him, he looked down at the cookies in his hands with this distant, bittersweet look in his eyes and oh you were a piece of shit.

“Alfred…” The tears welled up like the water in a dam, threatening to break through and flood. “I’m so sorry.”

“Huh?” He looked over at you, eyebrows furrowed, “For what?”

“For everything. I’m such a jerk.” You sobbed.

“Hey, hey hey hey, don't cry!” He leaned over to wipe the tears from your cheeks, his hands gentle and fingers calloused and rough, “I didn’t mean it like that, really, I’m sorry for making you feel bad.”

“No, I’m sorry for making you feel bad! You’ve been nothing but nice and I just… I can’t believe how much of a dick I am!” You dropped your head into your hands, waves of grief flowing through your veins, you were utterly distraught. It felt like you just gained consciousness and realized how you were treating him.

“It’s not your fault, c’mon, don’t beat yourself up.” Alfred frowned, pulling your hair behind your ear in a cliche manner and resting his hand on your knee. “I think you need some fresh air and a cookie.”

After everything you did and every jab you threw, Alfred was still right next to you, comforting you and rubbing your knee, and caring for you in such a genuine way that it made your heart ache.

You sobbed even louder.

“Can I get two pork tacos and a beef burrito?” Alfred rocked from heel to toe as he stood at the food truck window, his breath visible in the cold air. You rubbed your hands together to generate heat, a futile attempt not to freeze to death while waiting.

You smiled at Alfred as he walked over with the receipt, his own smile growing at the sight.

“I come here all the time after work,” Alfred said as you both slid into the bench seats, “The food is crazy good.”

“Cool.” You hummed, “Is this the place you were telling Arthur about last week?”

“Yeah! You heard that?” He grinned, “Honestly, I doubt Arthur could handle the heat. I don't think he eats anything but beans on toast.”

You giggled, “He is pretty bland, huh?”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve known that guy practically my whole life and the only time he gets any ‘flavor’ is when he’s drunk, and even then his ‘flavor’ is still vanilla.”

“That’s crazy!” You snorted, “Drunk Arthur sounds like a nightmare.”

“Oh yeah, but the stories I get to hold over his head make it a dream come true.”

You took a bite of your taco, face scrunching at the sheer intensity of the heat from the spice. You didn’t exactly expect it to set your entire mouth on fire, and you sucked out the water from your straw like you were a dehydrated man who’s spent weeks crawling through the desert. Alfred stifled a chuckle as he took a bite of his own, his face not changing from that dopey smile.

“This is way more spicy than I was expecting- How are you just eating this like it's a cupcake?” You sounded horrified.

“My spice tolerance is peak, what can I say.” Alfred downed the taco in two more bites. “Trust me, the more we come here the more you’ll get used to it.”

We.

You kicked a rock along as you and Alfred walked down the street, basically just walking around the block of the office building where that stupid banquet was probably still going on. You snuggled a little deeper into Alfred’s coat. The bomber jacket he loved and cared for and probably would still be wearing in 40 years, the one he lent you because you looked a little cold and he swore he had a good temperature tolerance so he’d happily freeze his nips off if it meant you kept cozy.

“This was nice, thank you, Alfred.” You stopped by your car door, fiddling to find your keys and unlock it.

“Of course! It was really nice to actually spend some time together,” He laughed, “I’ll see you at work on Monday, yeah?”

“Of course.” You opened the door, standing behind it and smiling one last time at him. “Call me.”

Alfred’s grin couldn’t get any wider.

You were curled up on your couch, Alfred’s coat still hanging over the back of it from your little outing Friday night.

You were consumed with conflict.

The sitcom on your T.V. did little to distract you from your thoughts. What was happening to you? How did one night make you go from hating him with your entire soul to suddenly looking forwards to seeing him? You used to dread seeing his name in your notifications, but now even just his last name being mentioned in any emails brought this fluttering feeling in your heart. You looked forwards to seeing what tie—the ones you used to hate for being so childish—he would wear on Monday, would it be that one alien print one or the hot dog print one? You looked forwards to seeing his blonde hair pop over the barrier and his blue eyes beaming down at you. “Hey, neighbor!” He’d say, it used to make you groan, but now you were smiling goofily just thinking of him saying anything to you and what is happening?

You ground your teeth together as you stared blankly at the T.V. screen.

Your Sunday morning conflict grew into a Monday morning crisis. As soon as you sat down at your desk and you heard Alfred shuffling you immediately thought “He’s here!” like you were a housewife hearing your husband’s keys jingling at the door. You needed help, you needed therapy, and you needed to be sedated because this is not normal.

The way you smiled up at Alfred when he popped his head over the wall was not normal. The way you laughed at his dumb jokes that you’d usually roll your eyes at made your coworkers stop in their tracks because Y/n L/n is laughing at Alfred F. Jones’s jokes and this is real. The way you caught the paper ball in your hands and saw a little bit of sharpie marks on it and unrolled the paper to reveal a doodle of a bumblebee and you smiled down at it made you think you needed to check for brainwashing. The worst part? You folded it neatly and put it in your pocket and took it home.

Elizabeta glanced at you as you both were getting a cup of coffee. You yawned as you stirred your cup with one of those wooden stir sticks and swayed back and forth. She was dumbfounded, you’d never looked so at peace at work and especially not after talking to Alfred.

“What’s with you?” She giggled.

“What’d’ya mean?” You hummed, looking up at her, eyes practically sparkling.

“You’ve been acting so weird. Where is the Y/n I know?” She gaped at you in amusement.

“I don't know what you mean,” You giggled, “I feel fine, great even.”

“That’s the thing! You of all people never feel great when Alfred is within a 12-mile radius.”

“I um, I guess I’ve had a change of heart.” You smiled.

“More like you grew a heart,” She rolled her eyes, you swatting her shoulder in offense. “I swear it has to be opposite week.”

“Oh come on Liz! Like I can’t be nice to someone, hm?”

“But Alfred? The guy you hated the moment you saw him? The guy who makes your skin crawl.” Her tone was teasing as she looked at you accusingly.

“He still makes my skin crawl, ok, just… Differently.”

“Gross! You’re in love with him!” She gasped.

“Keep it down!” You scolded.

“Y/n, it’s obvious.” Elizabeta smiled, that warm motherly smile that she flashed at you when you were down, that knowing smile because Elizabeta just seemed to know you better than you know yourself.

“I guess, I’m still just figuring it out, ya know?” You sighed, “I don’t really get why I feel like this after hating his guts.”

“Well, how did he make you feel back then?”

“Like… Every time he spoke to me my heart sped up because I was just so irritated with him, and I hated hearing his voice because it just made my skin crawl, and his stupid face was so distracting, I just wanted to punch it so badly.”

“Right… and how do you feel now?”

“...Every time he talks to me my heart…” You mumbled, “speeds up. And his voice…and his face and-”

“Are you sure you ever hated him in the first place?”

You clicked away at your keyboard, staying late at the office to do this or that—definitely not to avoid going home to your fridge full of Alfred’s doodles. You rubbed your face and groaned, your life turned upside down because two weeks ago he really cared for you and made you swoon and now you get heart eyes when you think about him.

A knock on your desk snapped you out of your trance and you were met with- Speak of the devil, Alfred F. Jones. Mr. Jones. How does Mrs. Jones sound… no, stop that. Don’t be like that now.

“Hey, I can give you a ride home since your car is broken down.”

“Alfred, you’re a lifesaver.” You smiled dreamily, “I hate that stupid bus. I just can’t believe my car really just gave out on me like that.”

“I can take a look for you! I have a knack for that kind of stuff.” He smiled. You remembered the callouses adorning his palms and realized that yeah, this guy definitely works with his hands. What was he doing in an office cubicle?

“You don't have to! I appreciate it though.”

“Nonsense, anything for a friend.”

A friend.

You bopped your head to the music in Alfred’s car, said man loudly singing California Girls like he is a California girl himself. You giggled with him as he pulled into the McDonald’s drive-through, another place he frequents after work. He placed the bags on your lap and grabbed both drinks, setting them in the cupholders. The smile that was plastered on his face perpetually made you melt a little every time it was directed at you, and the way that he subtly rested his hand over yours while you drove home made your stomach do backflips.

The jingle of your keys was all that was heard besides Alfred’s light humming as he held the food and drinks and followed you into your home. You told him to just set them on the counter, and after Alfred took one look at your fridge—or rather, what was on your fridge—he was filled with this sense of pride and happiness. Few thoughts bounced around his head, but right now he felt like he was jittering up and down from the sheer force of the rapid-fire thoughts going through his mind.

Alfred liked this, he liked you, maybe a bit more than he should. The way your knees brushed as you ate your burgers side by side on your couch and the way that you smiled over at him after a funny moment on the T.V. and the way that it felt so right to be there next to you. All of it was so much, so fulfilling for Alfred.

“We’re pretty great together, huh?” He grinned over at you.

“I guess so, yeah.” You leaned your head onto his shoulder, arms wrapped securely around his. This is not just coworkers being coworkers anymore.

“Maybe we should be together more often then.” He blurted, your head snapping up to look at him, “Uh- Sorry, I meant-”

“Maybe you’re right.”

✧ navigation.

#opticfile ✧༺࿐#hetalia world series #hetalia world twinkle #hetalia world stars #hetalia axis powers #hetalia #hws #hws america #hws america x reader #aph america #aph america x reader #aph hetalia #hws hetalia

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kohakhearts · 1 year ago

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randomly thinking about pikachu's popularity as a mascot but also like in-universe imagining how many little kids would see ash and pikachu win the world championships and decide that they simply Must have a pikachu. you could take this from the angle of like, ash's championship win indirectly dramatically changes the viridian forest ecosystem and other pikachu habitats, but also, imagine how many young trainers + pikachu partners ash starts encountering on his journeys after that who are all clearly awestruck by him. i like to think he would be like "huh weird we've been battling a lot of pikachu lately" and not make the connection that this is His Impact

i'm OBSESSED with this concept and if i had more time/energy i would have immediately written a fic when you sent this because it's so funny to me but alas :p but i'm seeing this with like...all of the above implications like

ash visiting home sometime down the road and crossing paths with gary or tracey maybe, who is/are currently trying to figure out why there's a sudden influx of rattata in the viridian forest area. ash might even help them investigate a bit, you know, 'cause he's helpful like that. he doesn't get the implications. he hears "pikachu and rattata don't tend to make their homes in the same areas" and thinks the reason rattata are popping up suddenly is just that they've gotten over some territorial difference. "i mean obviously there are still pikachu in the forest - we just fought like three of them!"

so he leaves his friends at the oak laboratory absolutely flabbergasted and moves on. he keeps seeing trainers with pikachu, which is great. they ask for a battle and he obliges and it never even registers to him the starstruck look in those trainers' eyes has anything to do with him. he's just like, yeah my buddy's great, isn't he? your pikachu's great too! keep training! :)

when he hears from misty about all these new gym challengers with pikachu, he doesn't think too much about it. i mean, come on, it's a water-type gym. of course they're gonna bring an electric type. when he hears from brock that his brother said the same thing is happening in pewter city, well, that's just new trainers trying to think outside the box. forrest is probably exaggerating a bit anyway, maybe he's just embarrassed that his rock types got beaten by a pikachu? there are simply no dots to connect

of course, this isn't only happening in kanto, though. he hears from cilan about seeing more pikachu than usual in unova, a concerning trend considering pikachu aren't exactly native to the region. ash figures it's just more visitors from outside regions, like he was. it's so cool to see more people embracing inter-region travel! that's probably the one thing he does know he motivated others to do - i mean, surely being the kanto-native champion of alola would inspire a few trainers out there to tackle far-off leagues of their own? he inspired his friends to do it, so it's only fair that trainers who caught his big championship win on tv might have felt similarly!

except he's got the whole thing wrong, of course. one of his more research-oriented friends (i'm betting sophocles) has absolutely been crunching numbers and can 100% confirm that new trainers taking on the league challenge in most regions are about 20457x more likely to have a pikachu in their active roster this year than any year before. ash doesn't have a response to that one, because he's simply too baffled by the metrics of this study to digest the implications of it. he's really hung up on the idea that somehow sophocles met all these people as opposed to acknowledging the more likely scenario that he hacked into the league's database, because how would he even do that? ash isn't thinking about ethics or anything. he's just wondering how he can meet all these trainers too because he'd really like to battle them all, wow!

so basically, everyone else has figured it out...except for ash. he keeps getting approached by strangers asking him about training methods specific to pikachu, which he has no answer for other than "uhh rubber gloves don't really work i guess?" (and then ofc he'd say something very Ash about how no matter what kind of pokemon you're training you just have to believe in them etc etc) because the thing all those people don't realize is he never set out to train a pikachu in the first place. arguably, his pikachu trained him. and that pikachu? absolutely knows what's going on, and finds it hilarious. but he won't tell ash. he's having fun meeting all these different pikachu, anyway :p

#answered #ash ketchum #pokemon #anipoke #i maintain ash is NOT stupid. hes just so accustomed to being Some Kid that he cannot adjust to the idea that he has Celebrity Impact #and dont give pikachu too much credit...he only figured it out because he overheard some of ash's friends talking about it #on the other hand thinking about pikachu's popularity as a mascot #and how much pikachu plush sales mustve increased after ash won the championships...or just toys and such in general #how often he probably sees them out in the wild or gets asked to sign things - THAT might be the thing that makes him realize #and then he'd be stumped because how can he explain that he and pikachu won not because pikachu is a pikachu but because hes HIS pikachu?#his bestest buddy forever etc. i actually think on a more serious note he might have a tough time grappling with that #since we know from his interactions with certain rivals he doesnt believe that evs and ivs matter. but thats a whole other post hehe

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its-ya-girl-phoeni · 1 year ago

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I Can Do It Better

(based on @awesomegamer1's suggestion that Plitvice [the Gametoons Player victim, as well as Bonnie's self-proclaimed rival] became Fake Peppino in the PT/PX's world)

Bonnie didn't quite know what to expect with this one.

After she'd paid Mr. Stick like usual, the door leading to the guardian of the elevator key rose straight out of the ground, revealing a door bearing her face. Or, rather, Peppino's face.

Letting out a small sigh, she walked through the gate, not knowing what was in store.

PEPPINO

VS.

Peppino...?

Was this going to be a fight against... herself? After encountering her own, empty body in the depths of Downbeat's world, she was hesitant to deal with something like that again.

Nonetheless, she creaked open the tiny door, leading her into a dilapidated, abandoned-looking pizzeria eerily reminiscient of her vessel's own establishment.

On a nearby wall hung a sign with backwards text and a cartoonish chef giving an "A-Okay" gesture. After a moment of reading, she realized it said "PEPPINO'S PIZZA 2".

What the hell was going on here?

Her mind stirring with questions, Bonnie stepped forward, and froze.

Someone else was in there with her.

The lanky, hunched-over figure before her spoke in strange, mumbled sentences that she could barely make out, but she managed to hear bits and pieces.

"I'm better than her... I'm better... I'm better..."

The thing stopped upon hearing her footsteps, and twisted its head around at an inhuman speed.

She screamed.

It laughed.

The entity appeared to be a copy of her vessel, but was oh, oh-so-very wrong. Its limbs were stretched out of proportion, its eyes seemed too small for the large, vacant sockets, and its skin looked like it was straight-up melting.

Then, it spoke.

"Quite the transformation, don't you think, rival?" It grinned sinisterly, spreading its arms.

At that moment, she realized.

"Plitvice?"

"Who did you think it was?!" She jarringly snapped, jabbing her chest with long, gooey fingers. "Of COURSE something like this would happen to me!"

Attempting to grab her, Plitvice lunged forward, only for Bonnie to leap out of the way.

"You always get to be the hero, and everyone loves you for it. I'm always stuck with the LEFTOVERS!" She yelled. "You get to look all cool and pretty, but I-"

She tugged at her face in frustration, and to Bonnie's horror, it came clean off with an odd popping sound.

"-HAVE TO LOOK LIKE THIS!" She roared, now nothing but an exposed brain and a pair of eyes.

"Look, look!" Bonnie reasoned, sidestepping her rampage. "Is this about that 'cutest couple' thing again? Because if it is, I want you to know that I don't even care about that! It was just a dumb little award, and you're acting like it's a personal attack on you or something!"

"That's because it IS!" She cried, landing a successful hit on her. "You're just rubbing in my face how much better you are than me, but guess what?"

Her entire body sloughed and melted into the floor, reforming right behind her.

"You. Aren't." She whispered coldly, once again doing damage.

As Bonnie laid there, chunks of Plitvice's skin fell away, twisting and shaping themselves into perfect replicas of herself, aside from their darker clothing.

She soon found herself becoming overwhelmed by the sheer amount of projectiles and clones attacking all at once, but she still managed to pick out Plitvice from the crowd of copies every time.

The restaurant itself had become distorted, with clones crawling out of anything and everything they could hide in. Arms and legs stuck out of the walls, kicking and flailing around uselessly. Old takeout boxes filled with slimy flesh dripped their contents onto the floor. The signs became pure gibberish, the mascot faces twisted into nightmarish grins with bulging eyes.

Eventually, she landed the final blow, sending Plitvice flying back-

-And herself through the floor.

The fall itself wasn't very long, and she found herself in a dark, dim tunnel.

"Oh, Bonnieee..."

Plitvice's voice had changed. It was now much deeper, and echoed through the seemingly endless hall.

"You just don't give up, do you..?" She rasped. "But don't think you've won just yet..."

The sound of squelching, wet footsteps began to grow louder and louder.

"THIS BATTLE BETWEEN US WILL NEVER END!"

A massive, monstrous Plitvice clambered towards her on all fours, her eyes rolling in every direction within their cavernous sockets.

She ran like her life depended on it (which it did).

"Peppino...! Come over here, NOW!" The beast roared, using her vessel's name to mock her.

However, she was able to outpace her rival, making it to the exit, and to freedom.

Plitvice clawed and bit at the boarded-up door in a desperate attempt to reach her, but she was trapped.

Her large eyes glared daggers at her.

"Don't think this is over, Freeman." She hissed. "I'll find a way to win and when I do, I'll never have to see your stupid face ever again!"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever, dough-head." Bonnie dismissed. "Now, where is that-"

BONK!

"...Key?" She drawled woozily, stars circling her head. Shaking them away, she reacted with glee. "Oh, there it is!"

Bonnie picked it up in both hands (it was quite heavy), and began dragging it away. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got more important things to do first."

She gave her a wave. "See you later!"

Even from far away, she could still hear Plitvice's angry, incoherent yelling.

#pizza tower #exe oc #exe #creepypasta #body horror #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #bonnie freeman #plitvice garner #fic #my fic

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popculturebuffet · 2 years ago

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Aqua Teen Hunger Force MC Pee Pants Retrospective (Comissioned by WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people. So this one's a bit of a breather after some very intensive exausting reviews, some major schedule slippage and before even more intensive reviews. Today we're looking at Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

Having gleefully covered Sealab 2021, Mission Hill, and having a whole Venture Bros retrospective on this blog (That I assure you IS coming back, my schedule is just like living in a living nightmare sometimes), and planning to cover home movies at some point after I realize I hadn't because it's purespun gold, observe…

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It's probably not a suprise to Kev who comissoined this nor anyone reading whose been with me a while that I fucking love Aqua Teen Hunger Force. It fit the mold for the other williams street shows at the time like Space Ghost COast to Coast (also another one to cover), Brak Show, or Sealab itself: dialouge heavy but entirely bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-anas to compensate for a budget of a paper cup. It's also the longest lived of them by far, going on for most of Adult Swim's lifespan till being abubtly cancled and even THEN i'ts recently came back with a series of web shorts and the first DTV movie from Warner's new adult swim based intitative.

Aqua Teen will never be canceled, Aqua Teen Won't be Dismantled, Aqua Teen Gonna Be Together, Aqua Teen Gonna Be forever! And honestly it's easy to see why it's lasted this long as given the very simple yet inherently weird nature of aqua teen, three fast food mascots with super powers living in new jersey and having weird shit happen to them and their perverted asshole neighbor carl, means you can do just about anything with it from have Shake cause nuclear armageddon to reboot a flintstones pastiche, to the gang unearthing an evil sandwitch, to evangelical fruits showing up in thier house and one going on an alchoholic spiral, to carl getting himself shoved up a trolls ass as part of a metal band's performance, it can be anything. And while the later seasons are a bit weaker, I do think they still have their gems ala the simpsons.

So I was more than happy when asked to chronicle the rise and explosion and rise and slaughterhouse and rise and vamppiric explosion and rise and rise and squashing and rise and swatting and rise and elder fraud of mc pee pants aka sir loin aka little brittle.

MC Pee Pants came about due to Willams Street at the time making good use of comedian and rap god, MC Chris, a nerdy as fuck rapper with bars for days who I REALLY need to listen more of. When doing Improv one night osme of the williams street execs saw Chris, and asked him to come to atlanta nad while hesitant at first, the part of Hesh for sealab, who I assure you will get his own specail one of these days, maybe a heshtober fest, appealed to him and soon Hesh wanted sex and Adult Swim wanted more of him. So i'ts not a huge shock he popped up on adult swim's latest show Aqua Teen Hunger force and would make yearly apperances before vanishing entirely. Why he fell out with the company.. no one knows. He gladly came back for the 100th episode so there appears to be no real bad blood.. he might of just moved out of altanta. Whatever the case while Hesh made MC Chris' voice acting career, MC Pee Pants is easily just as memorable. As for who he is.. well tha'ts best left under the cut as what he is.. is a lot.

MC Pee Pants MC Pee Pants first debuted in season 1 and our journey begins with him as all his episodes do: with Meatwad blasting his jam box to high heaven and pissing everyone else off. What makes this one special besides being the first is Master Shake is trying to jam a new romantic ballad on the guitar. It can't be undestated how hilarious Dana Synder is and i'm pleased as punch he's still getting work to this day, including a starring role in Ghost and Molly McGee and voicing half of Jellystone.

Naturally Shake's response is to smash his guitar in rage and plan to ram the neck down meatwad's….. uhhhhhhh….. huh. You know I don't think ramming something into meatwad would actually kill him. Maybe HURT him, but i'm not sure ANYTHING can actually kill meatwad short of destroying every last molocule. As long as there's one cell left it'll still be sapient.

Shake CAN still beat the piss out of his hapless roomate though so Frylock, always anti child beating, tries to talk Meatwad down instead. Every attempt is objectively funny. The first is my faviorite: Frylock tries to get Meatwad to listen to classical music. He has such high school band teacher energy here trying to convince Metawad that these were the "real gangsters" while Meatwad looks on in abject horror and just switches back to MC Pee Pants after. Frylock still tries to be patient despite Meatwad having done this for days and does the obvious: has Meatwad use earphones. And I love his happy tone as he says "So master shake won't want to kill you with a guitar neck". I also like the Meatwad hearing loss gag after. Good sound mixing there. Eventually Frylock just tell shim to fuck off with it or he'll let shake beat him which is'nt great parenting but he tried good parenting. Now it's "don't make me let your roommate/brother/tormentor beat you".

Meatwad then tries to get him some candy as the dope new drop from mc pee pants h'es been blasting, I want candy tell shim to. We get a great him as elvis gag (Shake's "Are you the fat elvis" is comic gold as is his casual attempted murder), and ends up getting his fix form carl who true to form has a bunch of easter bunnies he got from the dumpster they just have to wipe off which would be gross but we don't see them actually EAT the things nor what's on them, so it works, especially with Carl's later ask of "Wipe me off another rabbit"

They end up doing this long into the night, and washing Carl's car for some reason. Probably cocaine. I wouldn't put it past carl to have put some on the bunnies and told meatwad they were sugar. Or done so by mistake. It's carl, he's either going to be sad, sleazy, deeply incomptient or all of the above. How is a crapshoot.

Frylock has concerns. Not about the cocaine, he has a snow mountain in his closet, no he's worried about the lyrics which talk about using the hyper active energy of those who eat the candy to power a drill straight to hell to unleash demons to help mc pee pants with a diet pill pyramid scheme.

So with the address given in the song, everyone heads to 612 wharf avenue. Which is ana ctual place in new jersey. It's even near Kevin Smith's store.

Turns out that's EXACTLY Mc Pee Pants scheme and instead of the child on the cover, he's a grown man whose also a giant spider in a diaper and shower cap who talks about how he's insane. Chris unsurprisingly is great in the rolll as MC Pee Pants really makes little sense with his plan, an dis only doing it because he can't get a job.

The resolution is one of the series best: the aqua teens set mc pee pants up for a job interview…. and then blow up an abandoned building iwth him inside. It's just so hilariously cruel and there's no real reason for it. They could just.. take meatwad and leave. He can't really do anything to them. I mean he did domestically abuse dr. weird though.. so fair enough.

MC Pee Pants is a solid episode.. and I got paid TO WRITE THAT. I love my life. It's got plenty of great jokes, chris is terrfiic and I want candy will get stuck in your head guaranteed

Super Sirloin While the first ep was decent, Sir Loin is even better. With this one Frylock hasn't quite caught onto the formula despite Meatwad once again blasting a song at all hours.. in this case instead of a sugar high he can't sleep because he's worried about the starving children.. and how he goes about helping "the shorties" is also hilarious, grabbing every bit of food and stuffing it into a garbage bag. I also like the runner about Master Shake somehow affording steak and eggs and Duck Alaronge, as well as despite Frylock saying it perfectly, him bitching about Frylock butchering the prounciation. I forget how much subtle humor is dotted aroudn the weirder shit. Carl also spits in a bag and Dr Weird grafts a dear antler to his groin to fit in with the heard so it hasn't gotten too subtle. "Sigh" I really miss Dr. Weird. And C. Martin Croaker.

I also like the runner with meatwad eating sand, which starts with Shake just .. getting him to eat it on a regular basis.

Despite Frylock being worried about it even though Meatwad is clearly a highlander, and later escalates to meatwad expecting everyone else to for the shorties and Shake trying it with ketchup and deciding this sucks and they need to go see sir loin. Naturally Mc Pee Pants, now sir loin is the best part of the episode. This time he's a cow whose renting patio furniture and is amassing flies to melt down a bank. Once again I got paid to watch a man explain all this and then write about it.

My faviorite bits are Mc Pee Pants slowing down explaning things because he thinks frylock is dumb, chris really nails the condesnion and the bizzare ness of him talking about the farmer asking "gimme the milk, gimmie the milk" and frylock's deadpan "There isn't a farmer is there. " He's way too used to the nonsense that is his existance at this point. They naturally use a slaughterhouse this time which tops the previous finale as last time it was at least plausable that building was a buisness… I mean not very but he's a giant spider in a diaper man. It dosen't tak emuch. This time it's very transparently a slaughterhouse and the SECOND time they've casually murdered him and will not be the last.

Sir Loin is another great episode, taking the same basic premise but finding even better jokes for it. The result's a classic.

Little Brittle

So we're onto the final focus episode for MC, and honestly when I was a teen and until this rewatch I hated this one, feeling it was too slow paced and not nearly as entertaning as the first two. On rewatch I expected to still hate it and dreaded getting to this one

Little Brittle.. is the BEST of the trilogy, and after wondering why MC hadn't come back for more than a cameo till Aquadonk Sidepieces, this gave me the answer: there was no where to go from here. THey already took the formula as far as they could. While other recurrers could be crammed in wherever, MC's episodes relied on him doing the same brainwashing raps and reveal of some stupid plan every time and with this one tearing that formula up they likely just.. couldn't think of a new spin on it. Brittle has the same inciting incident: Meatwad's playing MC's latest rap on loop, only after two times Frylock catches on instantly. Though instead of 612 Wharf Avenue he's at a decaying old folks home, presumibly next to elvis and jfk.

Two things really make this one pop: the subversion of things, which is not easy to pull off: there's a fine line between playing with a formula nad audience expectations and getting good laughs or drama out of it and pulling a swerve bro. It's what seperates the rian johnstons from the vince russos and they pull it off here. Instead of a zany plan MC instead genuinely seems to be a sad old man who just happens to also have a diaper, shower cap and yellow eyes , who misses his grand kids and is dealing with how horribly we treat the elderly. And that's the other sauce: the episode is suprisingly well done satire about how we treat our elderly: the place MC is stuck is GENUINELY awful, wether he's pulling a scheme or not, and Frylock mostly goes along to feel good about himself then abandons Meatwad there with a strange old man because "someone has to" and he dosen't want to be around the elderly because they smell. Shake and Frylock represent the most common ways society treats the old: Shake is just an asshole and is fine with leaving them to die while Frylock is only fine with actually treating elderly people like human beings as long as it's comfortable. Meatwad is only sympathetic because he not only came iwth good intentions but is basically a child unless the episode says he isn't. Little Brittle is a lot and hte fact he powers thorugh and genuinely seems to befriend him again is great.

As is the reveal that of course this is another stupid scheme, this time to have a vampire bite him to become immortal. The reveal he ONLY released come visit me yo in Transylvania is gold, only topped by Meatwad revealing "the import fees were a bitch". What caps it off though and likely sealed this trilogy off.. is that it ACTUALLY WORKS FOR ONCE. No really, Dracula shows up, bites him, and MC actually gets to be a vampire. He dies again, but only because he goes out into the sun and explodes. The ending's also something that grew on me: originally I felt it was random as hell, and while the explosions are, now I can see the setup: after two episodes of a stupid scheme tha tmakes no sense he has one actually work.. and then dies anyway because of the stupidity that got him killed the last two times. Truly brilliant. Shake is also low key great. Carl.. I don't think is in this one much. Dr. Weird is sadly absent altogether as we'd gotten to spacekataz at this point, which was fine and I get stopping the weird bits once they ran out of ideas but god do I miss them.

Side Pieces

So while they only make the three starring episodes, MC still got to show up a few more times.

First was The Last One that united all the villians legion of doom style… where they procede to get nothing done but adopting a highway by clickclickclickclickclick. MC Pitches a scheme and then dies. It's still nice to have him for this one. Then we have the movie, which like the last one I didn't watch in full, but thankfully youtube had his scene which has Meatwad calling on him to make a rap, and MC coming back as a fly, eating a dog turd and giving us a great rap to stop the insano flex.. before shake kills him because he's needlessly cruel and self destructive. It's a great scene honestly especially the oepning where he has choclate unicorn backup dancers because it's awesome. Chris himself also returned for the 100th episode though rather than play mc he simply did a rap.

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Given they played this in all the commericals, it's imbeded deep in my brain… and was also the best part of the episode by a wide margin. So finally we have last year's aquadonk side pieces episode. ADSP was a series of web shorts adult swim did focusing on thet villians, with Carl and the others still showing up. It was great, with this one being tied with the dumber dolls sequel for my faviorite of the batch. It's MC teaching people who to rap the elderly out of their homes. BUT HOW IS THIS LEGAL MC

Since it's so short I recommend watching it yourself bellow

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It is truly fantastic and pure comedy gold.. and also strangely heartwarming? Like this is the happiest ending he's gotten… being adopted by an old man whose house he planned to steal with his original body again. So if you have HBO about to be Just Max, I highly recommend these episodes. MC Chris is the best and I felt it was only right to play us out with one of his tracks and since it is may the 4th.. hit it youtube! Thanks for reading.

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#aqua teen hunger force #master shake #meatwad #frylock #mc chris #mc peepants #sir loin #little brittle #carl brutananadilewski #adult swim #Youtube

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hika-pluto · 6 months ago

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FanimeCon and How Artist Alley Made Me Wanna Draw My OCs More

A Brief FanimeCon 2024 Review

FanimeCon… felt kinda alright for (MY) first con back after being gone since COVID (my last visit was Fanime 2019. Fanime had 2023 and 2022, I just didn't go.) Something felt, off and different since the last time I'd been, though. And I wouldn't be able to properly describe it to you, even if I tried. So, instead, I'll direct you to the homepage for the #FailedByFanime movement. TL;DR there are problems with attendee safety, and creeps being on staff despite being reported, along with money/tax issues, a lack of an Accessibility Department, and poor treatment and compensation of staff. I implore you to go take a look at their website.

That said…!

Though I didn't catch anything, I wish they kept the mask mandate up, had maximum room occupancies, and did things to prevent like, crowding & hanging around in the main hallway. If not for COVID, for flu or con-crud, at least? I also felt like the dining spaces in the main hallway and Dealers' Hall had people sat together too close. Like, if it weren't for my dad's box of KN-95s I would have been breathing strangers' hot breath for sure. There was no floor tape in the registration line or anything like that either, like, the way the con was managed had very "COVID's over, protect yourself if you want" vibes, and I didn't like that.

Artist Alley was a rough shopping experience. The flow of movement was just… bad. People standing around in the aisles & whatnot… I feel like people sitting on the sides for too long should be discouraged, and that there should be maximum (non-staff, non-artist & non-helper) occupancy. A customer exits AA, another one is let in. Something like that. Tbh it may have not been that different in 2019, and it's just that my sensory tolerance went down, but still. Like, I don't think the overcrowding does anything to help the people vending, cause it caused me to skip tables I would have shopped at otherwise.

I wish there were more panels, but I can't blame people, what with the #FailedByFanime movement. (If I hadn't had preordered my ticket as soon as they went up, I probably wouldn't have been this year, tbh.) I think Fanime needs to take more advantage of the rising amount of anime & manga inspired creators and make more panels on indie animation and comics. There were 2 on comics this year. Give me more! But also, give me some more intermediate ones. I feel like the one I was able to go to was very… beginners-of-beginners and, with the amount of information freely available online, I'd like to see more creative panels than just beginner panels, or, panels made to give a little something to people of all experience levels.

My area of solace was the manga lounge. I was very happy to see lots of hand sanitizer around, but they needed bigger and better signage that the area was meant to be a low volume space. A small, 12pt font line on a rules list board won't do. Such a rule deserves a sign to itself, with custom chibi art of one of the mascots shooshing, and "Keep Your Voices Down" in big bold font. My space to regulate from the sensory overwhelm of con became a source of sensory overwhem itself when people were waiting for some panel or other area of con to open up, and that's bad. Give the sensory-avoidant neurodivergents (me) a place to cool off.

My Artist Alley Experience, Fandom-wise

Hoo boy, was there a big difference between my experience this year, and the last year I went. (FanimeCon 2019). In 2019 I was into so many things that were popular in the space at the time. BTS, Mob Psycho 100, CardCaptor Sakura (had a resurgence due to Clear Card Arc), Pop Team Epic, Demon Slayer… Some webcomic artists I liked had tables too, so it was fun to support them and get merchandise of their OCs!

Dawg, it's no one's fault or anything this year but I felt so out of it. I… do not care about Genshin. The only character I like from Honkai Star Rail is Boothill, and I don't even consume any content from that game unless it involves him. All the VTuber agencies with their IdolTubers… HoloLive, VShoujo, NijiSanji and the rest: not for me, respectfully. I haven't fully sunken my teeth into either version of Dungeon Meshi yet. My friend just recently managed to successfully get me into Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint post-con, so it meant nothing to me while I was there. (Means quite a bit to me now! Shoulda gotten into it sooner, lol.)

I was able to get some loot of stuff I liked, but I felt really off-the-pulse this year. But those feelings were cleared, and my spirit was lifted, when I found tables OC items… OC sections, or even the rare majority-OC table. 😭✨

The power of OC-items? I can buy them without feeling like a fake fan, lol. I can just buy them cause I think the art is neat. I don't have to name 7 different runs of Batman, I can just think the character's cool looking and buy the merch, and if there is some kind of webcomic or indie animation attached to the character, the barrier to entry often feels lighter, and I can just go home and consume the content right after con.

I think the most powerful thing I learned is that, any OC is marketable as long as you can pair them with a good/trendy/relatable aesthetic. The OC becomes a vehicle for the aesthetic or motif, people get curious about the character, people get attached to the character, ???, SUCCESS!!

I've already started thinking about what aesthetics and motifs I can pair my characters with for prints and sticker sheets, tbh. Just, y'know. Gimme a minute.

Another thing I like about Artist Alley is the more human interactions I have with the artists. It just feels way more person-to-person than the person-with-smaller-numbers-(me)-to-person-with-bigger-numbers-(you) interactions I have online. Maybe I'd do a better job promoting my work IRL… and I'd feel less like a little gnat.

And yeah, that's how the few OC merch artists in a sea of fanart merch artists made me feel like I could be a little OC merch artist too.

#fanime 2024 #fanimecon #blogging #pluto.doc #pluto.jpg

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lynxgriffin · 3 years ago

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DELTARUNE Chapter 2 Thoughts!!!

WOOO OKAY I stayed up WAY too late trying to finish Deltarune Chapter 2 last night!! It took me awhile because I suck at video games, but I finally did it!

While I normally type up commentary as I play first time, I didn’t get the chance to do that here, so I’ll get down all my general thoughts here!

Unspoilery thoughts: loved it, knew I would, will need to replay soon to see what all I missed, and am excited for whatever’s next!

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 2 under the cut!!

(These are just as I think of them, not in any particular order!)

Okay overall I can see why this took two years and a much larger team to complete, the second chapter is SO much more expansive and heavy on scene-specific animations! It all looks SO GOOD

I already love Susie but now I love her even more, her expressions were SO GOOD

Susie has a (little nubby) tail confirmed?? That’s adorable

Okay this game is definitely reading the chapter 1 data, which I find interesting because I didn’t obtain it through Steam last time

But like, I gave the “Susie eats chalk” response to Noelle last time, and in chapter two she gave Susie the box of chalk, so awwww!

Also I missed Onionsan in my initial computer playthrough, so they didn’t show up this time, just got a moment of Susie and Kris sitting by the river together!

I find it REALLY interesting that while Ralsei is a Darkner, apparently he can jump around to other Dark Worlds whereas other Darkners like Lancer and Rouxls can’t so much…hmmm!

It was so nice to see everyone filling out the town now, though!

Noooo Susie probably doesn’t have her own room at home, awwww

Kris just casually jumping up to the classroom and bringing everyone back tho, perfect

Was right on there being multiple dark worlds in other locations, but honestly that part’s the least surprising to me, that always seemed like a pretty standard path to take!

The werewires were creepy and great; difficult to battle tho

QUEEN IS MY NEW FAVORITE

EVERY LINE OF HERS WAS A+

I’m so glad that I didn’t really go anywhere with Jevil’s line about the Queen in PT; nothing I came up with could’ve topped Queen being an absolute acid trip of an antagonist in this chapter

NOELLE SO SWEET

Her lil’ robot disguise! Her being afraid of mice at first!

I kinda wish we could have had her in the party more? She was super useful as a party member, honestly!

But sadly I guess we’re not gonna get more than the three-person party, awww

B E R D L Y

I cannot believe Berdly basically became incel Falco but also had a sympathetic backstory

Like I laughed a lot at all of Berdly’s expressions and dialogue while also going BERDLY YOU ARE THE WORST

Noelle’s WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? part = A+

I feel like Queen’s relationship with Noelle definitely had some uncomfy parallels with probably how she is dealing with her real mom

I AM NOT GOOD AT PUNCH-OUT AND THERE WAS A LOT OF THAT

I somehow missed the part where Susie is wearing Ralsei’s glasses??? Where is this

Also in general there was a LOT of puzzles and gameplay in the overworld map, which I was bad at but was also very cool

KRIS GET THE BANANA

The dolphin pop-up ads…

I DID NOT LIKE THE SPAMTON GUY

DISCOMFORT THE WHOLE TIME

Apparently he’s also the secret boss for this chapter?? That’s at least if the soundtrack is anything to go by. Maybe I’ll go back and try it on another playthrough, but aaaaagggghhhg

SO MANY GOOD SUSELLE MOMENTS

MY LIL SHIPPER HEART HAS A NICE SERVING AND WANTS MORE

The whole deal with the ferris wheel conversation and just awwwwuuuuuuh

Needs more Susiezilla now too (I picked the “something romantic” option because of course)

MORE PLZ, LET’S DIG DEEPER HERE

Also I cannot believe Susie has (at least) two people crushing on her and is just totally oblivious to it

There’s SO Many interesting HMM moments with Kris and that definitely included the entire acid tunnel of love scene with Kris and Ralsei

Interrupted of course by an appropriately silly Rouxls battle

But man the more we see (or often DON’T see) of Ralsei the more intriguing it gets

LET NOELLE RIDE IN THE TEACUP RIDE WITH SUSIE

I just knew going back to get that chest without Noelle would be something dumb

OKAY I ended up dying a lot to 1) the Mauswheel, and 2) the color-changing butlers?? So I ended up having to do the whole sequence with annoying dog blasting through everything in his path multiple times

I DID feel bad for Berdly during that boss battle where he was werewired; that was nice and body horror-ish

That said… “I NEED A KISS FROM A GAMER GIRL”

The giant mecha boss battle absolutely kicked my ass, though

Like it WAS badass but that took me a LOT of tries to get through

My thrash machine was very GUN’S

Overall the difficulty curve was definitely stepped up from chapter 1!

LOTS MORE DARK WORLD AND KNIGHT LORE FROM RALSEI HERE

And lots of talk about Noelle being pretty important to it, too!

I’m glad I got to bring Susie on the walkaround this time around town!

I AM GOING TO BE YOUR WACKY ROOMMATE NOW

King and Queen’s entire conversation was so hilarious

King just slides over to suck on that sweet, sweet giant hamster water bottle

BUNKER STILL BEIN SUSPICIOUS

Aww the pizzeria is not a creepy mascot Chuck-E-Cheese’s style, tho

Confirmation that Gerson was Alvin’s father! And I feel like there’s a lot we’re missing there, too

Still not allowed to see Papyrus…

Catti’s parents…

I wasn’t expecting this at all, but it feels like they may be introducing way more Lightners to the Dark World with each chapter, since both Noelle and Berdly ended up there?

And if that’s the case, I feel like it’s hinting that Catti and/or Jockington may be next

SUSIE STAYING AT KRIS’S PLACE FOR A SLEEPOVER WAS SO SWEET

IMMEDIATELY UNDERCUT BY KRIS GOING FERAL AGAIN

Like I dunno the whole scenario somehow managed to be both REALLY sinister and very funny at once??

Susie and Toriel are busy laughing and making a pie together, meanwhile Kris just sneaks the hell out and slashes Toriel’s tires because it’s KNIVES OUT TIME

Please let Susie watch more giant monster (and giant human) movies with her friends, she needs this

THAT SAID, THAT ENDING

HMM HMM HMMMMMMMMMM

SO THIS SEEMS TO BE INDICATING THAT KRIS IS THE KNIGHT

Which like…is in fact making SOME KIND OF SENSE in my head overall, but I definitely need more context to see how exactly

Like I’m all “THIS FEELS RIGHT BUT I DON’T KNOW WHY, I NEED MOOOORE”

Considering Ralsei’s reaction to Noelle and Berdly trying to make a new fountain, this definitely seems to be setting up some kind of future confrontation between Kris and Ralsei, which! HMMMM

I THINK IT’S TIME FOR THIS GIF AGAIN

Basically I HAD A GRAND TIME, I NEED TO REPLAY, EXCITED FOR THE REST WHENEVER IT COMES

#deltarune #deltarune chapter 2 #deltarune spoilers #deltarune ch 2 spoilers #also of course we get another BANGIN SOUNDTRACK #which I get to have on repeat until the remixes comes out #and I put those on repeat for another two years

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grahamcarmen · 2 years ago

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RedCrackle week: Day 3: Future

1100- ish words on a quiet little moment in the RED building

“And here I thought we’d both been the only ones in our graduating class to avoid the animal nicknames,” Carmen laughed at Gray, sitting on the couch in what seemed to be a new panda hoodie. At least that’s what it must have been; black sleeves, white torso, and what looked like 2 little black ears on the hood that didn’t quite make it onto his head, which was resting on the back of the sofa.

Gray looked away from the ceiling to give her a wary look. “Ha ha. ‘Rora chose this for me. Wanted to match and-”

“You couldn’t say no.”Carmen sat down, leaning back into the open shoulder of his arm stretched out on the sofa, letting a small grocery bag slide to the floor. “and now?”

“Somewhere in this house are two little red pandas hiding with the rest of team red.”

“You’re definitely not a RED panda.” She gave the ears on the hood a little flick with her fingers.

“Well she changed her mind about matching, wanted something red,” his lips almost twitched into a smile before he grimaced instead. “So she suggested I be a koala.”

“What? Why?” Carmen said in a half baffled breath.

Gray gave her a flat look. Ah.

“She thought I should live up to my nickname in some way. She got so excited about it. Barely convinced her I was fine with the original plan even if she was a red panda instead.” He raised a brow at her. Carmen had never been able to shake the nickname she gave him. It suited him too well and after everything she’d taken each and every opportunity to say it, safe in the knowledge he thought so too now.

Even in the good-natured tiredness that he’d almost been made a different type of mascot for Aurora.

“Don’t think you’ve escaped either, they made sure to get you one too.” Carmen chuckled.

“So, you mentioned them being with the rest of team red?”

Gray gestured to an open box next to the couch, propped up with a makeshift slingshot. A plate of rice krispies with sprinkles in the center of the trap.

“Zack set that up when I told him I was actually having trouble finding those little ankle biters. However, he and Ivy have seemingly been recruited.”

"What makes you think that."

"Zack screaming 'sorry Gray we've been recruited' with one of the treats in his mouth before running off might be the reason." He sighed.

Carmen clicked her tongue “After making those rice krispies with you too?” She jabbed a thumb in the direction of the messy kitchen.

Gray preferred eating out or convenient foods. However, meeting with Antonio more often however had opened him up to a couple recipes as long as they were quick and straightforward.

“Mole promised me it was only like 3 or 4 ingredients, kiddos said they wanted to MAKE rice krispies for some reason and the redheads promised to help as long as we got other snacks.”

Gray looked at the box trap resentfully. "So yeah. Still knowing those two that still might work. Maybe."

Carmen nodded at the mountains of bags surrounding, in front of, and on the counters. “But what do you need pie crusts for?”

“I don’t know, I think Ivy said she was gonna help them make a pie.”

“And the water balloons?” she said with a sneaking suspicion already forming in her mind.

“It's summer.” Gray shrugged.

“It's winter.”

“I don’t think that makes a difference here.” He said matter of factly and rightly so, the weather here was always warm. Still...

Carmen glanced at the bag of pop-its fireworks she’d left on the floor after having been sent an emergency text asking for some by Ladrien. She thought she was starting to get the picture.

“And you’re making yourself comfortable here because?” She pushed the bag under the couch with her foot before propping herself up on Gray's arm.

“They said I could wait for backup.” He turned his head towards her and gave her a lazy soft grin. “As long as I gave you this.”

He handed her a small vanilla colored business card. The kids had insisted on getting professional looking stationary on which to write schemes and “calling cards” like any self-respecting thieves they’ve seen on their cartoons. They’d hastily assured her that they were talking about good thieves like her.

[Hey Carm, Ivy and I are hiding too :D You should find us fast kids are getting restless and this’ll probably turn into prank war 2.0 and we really should get started on our marathon soon. It's like 8 movies. Good luck!]

Carmen narrowed at the slight warning in the middle of the happy sentences. “Gray did you…read this by any chance.”

“Told me I couldn’t if I wanted backup.” He hated to be left in the dark but the extra help, her presence, had been more important. “And I thought as long as I knew what OUR plan was going to be…”

“Well, you’re really gonna need it so…”Carmen rested her forehead on his temple. “I guess I could help you out.”

“You guess?” He turned his head to look at her with joking irritation.

Carmen leaned in and kissed him softly, grinning when she felt him smiling into the kiss. She could forgive his current incurious mood when she knew he actually had them working together in mind.

“Guess I made the right choice then.”

She nodded to the red hat bobbing gingerly behind the couch. “Look I even found our first team red member,” She said, lifting the hat to reveal a sheepish Ivy in what seemed to be a green- blue t-rex onesie complete with a tail.

“Ivy.” Gray said flatly, craning his neck to the side to meet her eyes.

“Graham Cracker.” Ivy said, still crouching.

“Ivy, we were just about to go find you guys.”

“Yeah well ‘rora insisted on sending a messenger. They wanted to make sure to give you fair warning, so they asked me to deliver this.”

Carmen eyed the hat in her hands and then the onesie.

“Ladrien insisted. He’s got good taste huh.” Ivy said with a broad smile, handing over another professional vanilla colored business card with red chicken scratches on it.

Carmen squinted at it and read aloud.

[Dearest adults! SHADOWSAN HAS JOINED OUR TEAM AND YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES BEFORE THE FIRST-]

smack

Carmen’s eyes widened, feeling some drops of water hit the side of her face.She turned to see Gray and Ivy, stunned and soaked, bits of balloons clinging to their hair.

Both of their stunned looks quickly shifted into determined frowns.

“Prank happens?” Carmen offered the next words on the card awkwardly.

“You little anklebiters!” They said in unison as they darted after the peals of laughter from the hall.

Carmen took her commlink from her pocket.

“Player, hope you’re not busy. Gonna need some help evening some odds. Seems some members of team red have declared war.”

“Prank war 2.0?”

Carmen grinned, secured the red hat still in her hand onto her head and followed.

#red crackle week 2022 #red crackle #carmen x gray #carmen x graham #fic #no pop its were used until the debacle was over #forgive the messy stitching of the sentences I don't usually write all my hodge podge ideas

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years ago

Note

Hello again, can I please have King Arthur with 🍔🥂🍨 Thankyou 😍😍😍

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! 💗

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The Once and Future Burger King

Pairing: King Arthur x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, stupid drunk sex, like seriously idiotic and ridiculously chaotic 🙃 Word Count: ~1.1k Emoji Prompt: 🍔🥂🍨 (key words are in bold)

Note: This fic takes place within the universe (the multiverse?) of Five Shades of Hunnam – this can also be read as a standalone, but for context, that’s a fic in which reader has the power to summon incarnations of Mr. Hunnam from other dimensions ✨

King Arthur has come to enjoy very much his occasional interdimensional visits to your ‘little magical mystery realm’ as he calls it.

Every so often you’ll summon your king on a whim and he’ll pop out of your bedroom closet.

While most of these visits are focused on good hardcore fucking, he’ll typically stay for a bit to indulge in some other things. Modern-day junk food appeals to the king—he loves it. Modern-day alcohol as well. Arthur’s addicted as hell. He just can’t get enough of it.

You two are currently watching TV on your sofa while feasting on burgers and fries, when you pop out a bottle of fancy champagne that you got for him as a surprise. He thanks you with a spark of delight in his sapphire eyes.

Ends up drinking perhaps a bit more than he should. “Love, this bottle of bubbles is so fucking good.”

Laugh as you fetch a pint of vanilla ice cream since you know Arthur has a big sweet tooth. He still thinks your freezer is powered by little snow fairies and can’t be convinced of the cold technological truth. “Don’t get too full on bubbles my king. I’ve also got some of that ‘sugary snow’ that I know’s to your liking.”

Before Arthur goes for dessert he sees something on screen; he’s confused by the scene. A commercial for Burger King starring the chain’s classic mascot. That dumb plastic mask and the big golden crown that he’s got. For some reason this is displeasing to your friend (with benefits) the born king of Camelot.

“Who crowned this bearded bastard the damn King of Burger??” Art growls, with a furious scowl; he’s outraged to the point of murder. He does not like the look of this fool. Can’t allow him to rule. Not for one moment further.

When he’s in a drunk state, Arthur tends to forget how TV operates—he forgets that the people on screen aren’t actually present. Imagines that he can throw hands at this man he so fiercely resents. “Fight me, peasant!”

“Oh my God no, Art!” Wheezing from laughing so hard, you fear for your TV’s fate and reach out to stop him before he can start. “Burger King isn’t really here and if you try to fight him you’ll just break my ‘magic vision box’ apart.”

“The bastard makes my blood boil!” Art fumes, suddenly stripping out of his jacket and shirt and flinging them across the room. Punching his fists into the air to let off steam about this imbecile he deems sorely unfit to be a royal.

It’s tempting to just sit and stare at the bulge of his glorious muscles… the gleam of his gold hair as it gets all tousled… but if you don’t stop him your TV is sure to come under assault.

So you frantically grab your remote and power the thing off, before shit gets a little too rough.

What you do want of course, is for Arthur to channel his rage onto this slutty body of yours, just the way that you love… and do you rough.

Now as the screen instantly shuts off to darkness, Art pauses. He sweeps the sweat off of his brow as he takes a few seconds to process. He doesn’t remember a thing as to what you’d once taught him about electronics. He’s too goddamn drunk to be honest. All he knows is that his foe has just simply vanished and that you’re the one who caused this.

“Is he gone?” he asks, once a few seconds have passed. Still in shock at how the King of Burger disappeared into oblivion. “I see you’ve worked your otherworldly magic and I can’t begin to fathom how you got it done!”

You’re still cracking up at how Arthur is so out of touch; he is too fucking much. “Yes, the Burger King’s gone.”

“Then the battle is won!” the king shouts out triumphantly, sweeping you up in his arms suddenly. “You’re my queen and my champion! You’ve singlehandedly sentenced the enemy to his damnation; this calls for celebration!”

It most certainly does and there’s one way you both know to celebrate victory best: fuck each other to pieces in a filthy mess.

The champagne is all finished, so now Arthur thirsts for just you and devours your cunt like it’s his royal business. And it is, whenever he visits. His Highness’s talented tongue makes you cum undone twice in two minutes.

Each time he does this he keeps his blue gaze fixated on your face—to watch how your features contact, how your body reacts, as if it’s the most gorgeous thing he’s ever witnessed. As if you’re the picture of beauty and grace. You don’t see yourself that way but Arthur won’t let you think otherwise, when he’s facedown between your parted thighs, making you squirt all over the place.

Then of course you’ll return the favor, for His Majesty’s big dick exists to be savored. You can’t get enough of his rich royal flavor. So salty and sweet… all at once like a fine cut of meat, and a nice creamy treat… after all burgers and ice cream are two of your favorite things to eat.

Then of course he’ll throw you down onto the floor, to pound you like a whore—raging hard even after you let him explode, down your deep desperate throat—because he’s always hard when it’s time to drive into your dripping wet heat. To fill your pulsing cunt with his powerful load. He fucks you like a boy cast out onto the streets, yet also like a man who has forged his own road. Like the born king who earned his birthright to the throne before he took his seat.

You don’t know how you came by such luck, to have these special powers to summon King Arthur to come by to fuck. The two of you hail from entirely separate dimensions yet somehow it feels as though you make each other complete.

You wish someday he’d take you back with him to Camelot—whether it’d make sense or not, you just find yourself craving that fortune a lot—but for now you’re content to host him in your world and to let him prove that he’s the king and that nobody else can compete.

In your dimension Arthur has been called the once and future king and it’s certainly true. Here today with you, he’s claimed his title as Burger King too.

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#charlie hunnam #king arthur #king arthur legend of the sword #arthur pendragon #king arthur smut #king arthur imagine #king arthur fanfiction #charlie hunnam smut #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #king arthur x reader #king arthur x you #arthur pendragon x reader #arthur pendragon x you #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you #emoji fics

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xbunnybunz · 4 years ago

Text

Weak Hero University (2/?) [Reader x Weak Hero]

Summary: I know you assholes are crying now that the first season of Weak Hero is over. But you’ve got other things to focus on, like where the fuck you’re going to live after getting kicked out of your old dorm. Luckily, you’ve found one last open room on the other side of Weak Hero University. What could possibly go wrong?

Genre: Romance, Humor, Slice of Life

Date: 6/1/2021

A brief introduction of everyone later, you haul a suitcase into the room while Ben noisily and clumsily pulls on his shorts, after much persuading from his friends.

“You’re living… Here? In the boys dorms?” Eugene asks, tagging beside carrying your schoolbag. “Isn’t that against the campus policy?”

You park the suitcase beside by your room and sigh, popping your back briefly.

“I’m just as confused as you guys are, but the keys here seem to be for this room here.” You allow a single gold-hued key to dangle from your fingers on a cheap polyester lanyard, Eugene’s eyes follow the menacing stare of the school mascot printed on the side until you pull it out of his sight.

“Let’s see just how fucked up this school is when it comes to money extortion.” You put the key in the door and hear a tell-tale metallic ‘click.’

“Wow.” A voice says from the couches. “Pretty fucked up.”

You sigh, shoulder slumping forward. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

Most of the items go into your room without much hassle at all. A suitcase full of cute PJs you and your nonexistent best gal roommates could rave over, a plastic box full of face masks you’d probably never be able to use without being made fun of, and a waterlogged ziplock baggie half-full with notes (and corn chips) from last semester.

What? A folder? What the fuck is a folder?

A boy with silver hair passes by and begins to say something to you, but seems to debate better options when he sees the plastic baggie on the floor.

Feeling slighted somehow, you ask Eugene who he is once he’s out of earshot.

Eugene laughs and begins to speak but an arm looping around his neck cuts him off.

A pair of shimmering emerald eyes meet your own, but it’s clouded with a shadow of mischief. “You haven’t heard? That’s the white mamba of E-quad. He’s fearlessly beaten bastards so bloody with belts that we have metal detectors installed at the dining hall entrances now!”

“Stop exaggerating, Alex.” Eugene chokes out, sounding mildly discontented while desperately trying to pry the arm from around his neck.

“Wait, that was because of him?”

Eugene and Alex both freeze, brows furrowed. “Wait, you weren’t kidding?” Eugene asked.

“I was.” Alex says.

They both fix their gazes on you, and you’re suddenly struck with the memories of needing to surrender your lockpicking kit in front of several dozen freshmen behind you, and the hot desire to bury that memory consumes you.

“Haha, me too.”

They don’t seem convinced.

Before the conversation about buckle-assisted homicide can continue, a large shadow descends upon your form and a great arm reaches out from the heavens above. “Here, I grabbed this from the kitchen in case you needed a snack.”

You look up and see Gerard, the tallest and blindest of the group. You accept his gift of a single (1) lunchables capri-sun with much adoration in your heart.

“Thanks Gerard.”

He gives you a smile to remind the audience that he is, simply put, cool as fuck.

“No problem.”

Well, one problem. You eye the last bit of your luggage sitting at the doorway like a heaping pile of hot flaming garbage. It’s an amalgamation of the extraneous bits of your personality you’ve collected over the course of the past semester at Weak Hero University and maybe a forgotten bagel. Despite your previous roommate’s pleads for you to throw some of it out, you’d be damned if you weren’t a treacherous little hoarder. Simply put, it was a huge box of insignificant trinkets that made for a very significant problem. You had gotten lucky to cross paths with a cute but gullible junior earlier, who you immediately marked as prey and flirted with before unceremoniously dumping your crap on him to carry across campus. But now you’d have to pick up the box of crap yourself, which would prove to be a challenge with how little you actually wanted to be responsible for your own items.

The three boys see you eying the box and you perk up immediately, eyes glimmering with the possibility of wooing the fine gentlemen into helping a oh-so-meek lass like yourself.

You twirl a piece of hair between your fingers and bat your eyelashes at nothing at all, pouting your lips and hoping they weren’t too crusty. “Oh, I’m so tired. How am I ever going to move that big and heavy box?”

You stare dismally into an off-corner and attempt to look forlorn, grimacing when you see a weird construction of a human-sized dorito-chip statue made of empty dorito bags beside the television. This was the moment your main love interest would swoop in and offer his servitude to you, dewey roses blossoming on convenient parts of the screen. Here it was, your very own shoujo moment!

But there’s no offer. In fact, you stare so long at the doritos statue that you begin to get spots in your vision.

When you turn back, the boys are by the box in question, though they are not attempting to move it at all. Instead, they lament over the problem with you as opposed to offering a solution.

“Ah, that thing looks so heavy. Sucks to be you.” Alex laughs.

Euguene shakes his head. “Right? I wouldn’t even be able to get a corner off the ground.”

Gerard places a thoughtful hand on the back of his neck. “You should probably save the capri-sun for after moving everything.”

Ugh.

Just when all hope seemed lost, Ben meanders out of his room. This time, all his articles of clothing are intact.

“Hey, what are you guys staring at?”

Yes! This was your movie-moment after all!

“Oh Ben! Thank god you’re here.” You resume your maiden in distress pose. “I was just so tired from the trip, my feeble heart and body can’t bear to-“

Alex pokes his head up when he hears Ben approaching, waving him over. “Look at all this shit she has. She’s like those people on My Strange Addiction!”

Irritated that he’s cut you off, you try to continue. “I won’t ever be able to lift all that on my own-!”

“Aren’t you talking about Hoarding, Buried Alive?” Gerard asks, clearly already losing interest in the luggage.

“Actually, I think that would be Hoarders, the reality television show that aired a little before My Strange Addiction took flight! It’s actually really interesting how that all started out, if you want to hear about it.”

You scowl at the back of Eugene’s head and stop quickly when Ben shoots a grin at you.

He puffs out his chest in a stupid himbo way and thrusts his thumb into his chest. “I can move this for you! No sweat! Just tell me where you want it!”

Sweet! You were about to resort to desperate begging, but those plans are cancelled!

You clasp your hands together and sigh, envisioning a world where men with muticolored hair fall in love with you.

“Oh, anywhere in here is fine, thank you so much Ben!”

As he goes in to lift it, you can see his muscles straining against the well-fitting fabric of his shirt.

Oh yes, this is definitely worth the dorming fee.

“Ben, you’re so sweet for helping me with this!” He ambles past you while struggling to hold the lid of the box closed. A strained voice comes from beyond the green rim of the bin. “Yep, no problem at all.”

You follow him into your room, tailing him while rambling about how grateful you were.

“You know, there was a junior who I met by the campus square on my way here. He helped me move everything to this building, but he struggled with that box a lot longer than you! I’m actually not sure how you’re even getting it off the ground without a wedge and trolley, but boy am I glad!”

Ben stops at the foot of your bed, barely able to peek over the edge of the bin. “Erm. Is here okay?”

“Hey I mean, as strong as that guy was, you’re definitely cuter than him. I was almost sad to see him go, but that’s the life of a busy woman!”

“Pleasemyarmsareshaking-”

“As great as all this is, I’m actually really excited to make friends with everyone! Given these strange circumstances that usually only happen to indulge borderline psychotic fans, we should take advantage and-”

Ben drops the box on the floor and you screech, a pain shooting up your leg and pumping adrenaline into your veins.

“-FUCK! Shit!”

Ben freezes and realizes the absolutely fuckery he has just caused, but before he can react, you grab the corner of the box and throw it off your foot in a show of brute gorilla strength, crumpling to the floor in agony.

The boys have their heads poked into the doorway, curious after hearing two cuss words successively. They blanche when they realize the situation.

“Oh fuck. My bad?” Ben wants to comfort you but is frankly quite scared to after seeing your display of power.

“Did she just throw that thing with one hand?” Gerard asks.

Alex stares at the scene before him. “What the hell happened to her foot?”

Eugene titters about nervously, playing with his fingers “Do we have first aid?”

From the kitchen, a deadpan voice is heard. “Where’s my capri sun?”

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #weak hero x reader #weak hero university

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x0401x · 4 years ago

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #14

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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Santa Invasion

“What’s this?”

“Ice cream.”

“Well, I can tell that much just by looking, but...”

“To be precise, it is an ice cream cake.”

A gigantic ladybug was sitting on the low table. Its vivid red and dark brown-like black shades were definitely berries and chocolate. The back was decorated with flowers like marguerite. It was adorable. And huge. It was a hemispherical cake that looked like a basket ball cut in half, the name of a store from Dogenzaka printed on its box. It was 7PM. The last customer had left, I was done with the cleaning and all we had left to do was closing the store. It was still the second week of December, so the mayhem of making provisions for winter presents was a few ways ahead, but the number of clients was increasing little by little.

Just what on earth would this beautiful jeweler come up in such times?

Due to a habit of his from whenever he had something that was hard to say aloud and thus failed to speak up, Mr. Richard Ranashinghe de Vulpian had a serious crease forming just slightly between his brows. It made me feel at ease. This guy didn’t make a face like this when he was burdened with something that was actually difficult to say. He would speak more bland and expressionlessly instead.

“This is a little souvenir.”

“Are you going to a customer’s place after this?”

Richard’s reply was a gentle “no” in English.

He’d been often speaking a mix of Japanese and English lately. When English-speaking customers came by, he would switch completely to English as if for practical assessment, so I was desperate just to keep up with listening to them. I was grateful for having him as my English conversation teacher.

“A certain good-for-nothing who works with finances is currently in Japan, so...”

“Ah, Jeffrey-san, is it? He seemed so busy last time... Sorry, forget what I just said.”

“No need. That is a correct interpretation, so it is nothing to apologize about.”

Despite saying this, Richard’s facial expression did not seem even remotely satisfied as he swiftly took an indigo envelope out of his pocket. It had no seal, so it must have been handed over to him. The content was a pop-out card, and under a paper-craft cake colored with gold leaves and uneven printing, it was written in very tasteful Japanese: “I’m going to hold a party at the hotel, so come over. I’ll be waiting.” The date of the party was today and the place was the room of a luxury hotel in Tokyo. A home party? No, a hotel party.

The title was “Richard’s birthday party”. The plate of the pop-up cake didn’t say “Merry Christmas”. It said “Happy Birthday”.

Christmas Eve on the 24th was this beautiful shopkeeper’s birthday.

As I returned the card to him, a crease once again formed between Richard’s brows as he said with an unsparingly decisive tone, “How very embarrassing.”

“Doesn’t seem so much like it from your face.”

“Because I practiced making it. But this is extremely embarrassing. I think it is not something that warrants going through the trouble of arranging a plane ticket.”

“I wonder if anyone else will be going.”

“It seems Chieko will attend. I received an e-mail yesterday saying, ‘I am going to show up as a surprise so please take care of me’.”

“Is that even a surprise? Well, okay.”

Chieko-san was Richard and Jeffrey’s private tutor in the past and I was acquainted with her to some degree. I wondered if Homura-san, who had married her daughter, was also coming. No, not happening. He was a customer of Etranger, so Richard would probably feel abashed if he did so.

“If it goes on like this, the people lying in wait in that room will just gang up into an assembly to celebrate me.”

“What even is ‘ganging up to celebrate’?”

“They are ganging up on me. I likely will not be able to say anything other than ‘thank you very much’. I need reinforcements. If you would like, could you come with me?”

“Me too? That okay?”

“Of course. The party starts at 8PM probably because it coincides with Etranger’s closing hours. That British safe-like man is not narrow-minded enough to leave you out.”

It was written there that the party would begin at 8PM. We had 30 minutes. There was no spare time to make a pudding. What to do? What should I do?

Richard was apparently unable to let my groaning an “ngh, ngh” while deep in thought go unnoticed. “If it is impossible for you, just say so right away. I know that you are at the final stage of studying for your exams.”

“That doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me a bit earlier about this? If I knew, I could’ve made preparations for it... Aah, is that why?”

“It is. I recall saying that you should refrain from being overly distracted.”

“I don’t think a ‘celebration’ is ‘overly distracting’, though.”

“Anything is fine, so please answer. Will you come or not?”

He didn’t have to go as far as asking me something like that.

I bowed in a way that wouldn’t cause any hairs to fall onto the ice cream ladybug. “I shall humbly accompany you.”

“Very well.”

“Sorry, but before that, I gotta go to the toilet for a bit.”

I hastily rushed to Etranger’s restroom and unlocked my phone in a flash. I then tapped on the e-mail app. Of course, the destination could only be one person.

“Help. I’m sorry but I just got informed about the birthday party, so I have no present.”

Jeffrey-san.

The contents of the message were not at all on a level that someone should send to the person they owed their life to, but he would understand.

The reply came in a matter of seconds. As expected, he worked fast.

“Good evening. I have everything, so there’s no problem if you come empty-handed. There will be champagne, canapés, chicken pie and cake, and I plan to have chocolate fondue coming up at the end.”

There was a proud smiley emoji at the end of the text. It seemed this was going to be a big deal.

Richard would probably have work tomorrow, and he wasn’t the type to get wasted or stuff his face with sweets in the middle of the night. It seemed I also wouldn’t have to worry about dinner. It made me feel sorry. This was the same old pattern. This course of eating and seeing good stuff amidst the confusion of the moment made my stomach hurt when I thought better about it.

“Don’t you know anything that Richard wanted?”

The response came after a moment, “My bad, but nothing comes to mind. How about you give him what you want most?”

What I wanted most. I could only think of refill shampoo and new socks. I’d be ashamed of giving things like that to Richard. After all, this was a mixture of birthday and Christmas party—

Just as I was thinking this, a genius inspiration sprouted in my head. It wasn’t the best solution. Not at all. But I felt it could work. This was too obvious, but if only I had the necessary materials for it, I could do it immediately.

Making up my mind, I came out of the restroom, apologized for making Richard wait, and as we rode to the designated address on the jaguar, I had him stop the car in front of a mass retailer for a moment. I told him I wanted to buy refill shampoo for my home. Richard was exasperated, but didn’t have any suspicions in particular.

We arrived at the hotel, got into the elevator, and on the way to the party venue, I made sure to walk a bit behind Richard. Staying out of his sight was essential.

When he opened the door to the suite, sure enough, Jeffrey-san and Chieko-san were waiting inside. Giving off a relaxed atmosphere, a room-service feast even bigger than what I had imagined from the phone call was waiting on the table for the main guest.

“Happy birthday, Richard. Chieko’s here too. Surprised?”

“Of course. Very surprised. Extremely.”

“Hmm, by the looks of it, I guess there was some information leak. Well, that’s okay! Where’s Nakata-kun?”

“What do you mean ‘where’? He’s right here. Seigi... Seigi?”

My eyes locked with Richard’s. I had locked them with Jeffrey-san’s before that. I was grateful that he had done me the favor of not laughing.

I politely shook my head at my boss, who was making a flabbergasted face. “My name is Santa.”

What I had bought at the mass retailer was a handy Santa makeover set. The three-piece set consisted of a hat, a put-on beard and a Santa costume, but I hadn’t had time to change into the costume, so it was folded up in my bag. I intended to borrow the suite’s bathroom to put on the costume. If I at least had my face ready, I could somehow make it work.

Richard was dumbfounded. It was the obvious reaction. But I wanted him to forgive me for this. After all, it was December and today was a party day.

“I’m Santa Claus! I came from the North Pole. Please take care of me for today!” After introducing myself, I thought that maybe this wasn’t an exemplary self-introduction for Santa, but it was already too late.

Jeffrey-san, who completely livened up the mood whenever he got excited, went along with the joke, saying, “Wah, Santa-san, thank you for coming from such a faraway place!”

I was grateful for that one. And that was how I got away with playing the role of a worldwide mascot-like old man character from the Arctic for the day. The ice cream cake brought by the star of the party was a success, and we had a toast with both champagne and royal milk tea. Chieko-san was wearing a kimono, the remade peridot brooch on her chest.

It had already been more than half a year since then, but to my body, it felt like even longer ago.

My location had moved from Japan to Sri Lanka, as one would expect, and I was busy fully enjoying a spring in which white temple flowers were blooming in Kandy, my new home. But for some reason, Santa was here. A beautiful blond, blue-eyed man slipped in and out of sight, but his outward appearance was that of Santa Claus. It was the kind of Santa costume that you could buy at the costume section of any mass retailer. One of the sad things about unmatched beauty was the fact nobody could actually claim that his natural beauty was ruined by the look. The brilliance of his blue eyes, which looked like they could suck you in, was the same as ever.

“I am Santa Claus. I came from the North Pole.”

“But now’s a hot time of the year.”

“Santa Claus is a symbol of summer in the Southern Hemisphere. I do not think it is particularly strange.”

“T-That might be true. Well, then... what’re you doing?”

“Santa does what Santa does. The tradition of Santa Claus, much like the language of jewels, has a wide variety of legends to it depending on the region, but either way, the role of a saint who grants blessings to little children, women and those in need is a guise commonly demanded in society. And for you, here it is.” Saying this, “Santa” offered me a plastic, loose stone display case that I was all too familiar with. There was a red stone stuck between the cushion and transparent lid. “Can you identify this gemstone?”

“Tourmaline, I guess. Red tourmaline.”

“Good for you. Did you know that it has one more name?”

“Rubellite.”

“Perfect. Large, pinkish-red tourmalines are called by that name, and it is a stone of which huge carved crystals have been loved as works of art, such as the amulet of Empress Dowager Cixi and the Romanov royal treasure, the ‘Strawberry Pendant’.”

As I peeked at the stone inside the case, humming that it was pretty, the beautiful jeweler cleared his throat and started over.

“Just as people’s feelings dwell within beautiful stones, this one is filled with the feeling of celebrating the start of your new life, from your family back in Japan, your friends and your superior at work, with whom you have a relationship other than the aforementioned and that neither of us knows how to define. Santa is wholly thankful for being in the position to bestow you with such a gift. I forgot to say it, but happy birthday. Nakata Seigi-san. I sincerely pray, all the way from my home in the Arctic, that this year will be a fruitful one for you.”

“Thank you. Seriously, thank you for always, Richa...”

“Santa. I am a passing Santa.”

“Then let’s go with that. By the way, if you’re Santa, where are the reindeers?”

When asked this, the man in disguise answered with a cool gaze that the reindeers were using stealth technology nowadays so that they wouldn’t be found by radars, hence they couldn’t be seen. He had it down to the details.

“It’s been about ten years since the last time Santa-san came around. I’ll take good care of this. Santa-san, you take care of your body too. I’ll ask my boss next time I see him about the person who gave you this stone.”

“You should. Well, then.” With a bow, Santa left for a car parked in the courtyard. I probably wasn’t supposed to see him off. I’d feel bad for the stealth reindeers.

The red stone stayed in my hand.

I had told a white lie. It hadn’t been ten years since Santa had last showed up. This was the first time ever since I was born. In my home, there was always someone playing the role of “Santa”, such as Hiromi, Grandma and Nakata-san, so they never tried to tell me nice lies. Nakata-san probably just followed Hiromi’s way of doing things, though. The fact I thought up something like that last December, when Jeffrey asked me what I “wanted most”, might not have been unrelated to this. At any rate, to me, not even once was there any supernatural existence who would leave toys by my bedside if I were a good kid. Until this day.

After a while of standing by the garden, where it was always summer, and listening closely to the cries of birds with my eyes closed, I unlocked my phone. The Wi-Fi range of the house seemed good, and so I could send e-mails immediately. The contents were simple. The destination was my boss, Richard.

“Santa came to my place. But he left so quick that I couldn’t make him tea.”

The reply soon came: “Are you half-asleep?”

If he really thought that I was half-asleep, then maybe I should delay the reply for a few more minutes, I thought, but I didn’t write anything further. The house’s cleaning was half-assed and I had to check the security. I also wanted to know as many of my neighbors as could.

Together with the feeling that I had suddenly been given something I had forgotten, and that I didn’t even know I had forgotten, I put rubellite in the jewelry safe and stepped out into the Sri Lankan provincial city. I had nothing to fear and no hesitation. The ill feeling that I’d be living here alone had disappeared. After all, Santa had come by. Far from elementary school, I was now an adult who had already graduated from university, and it currently wasn’t December but May, where the only anniversary I could think of was my own birthday, yet Santa had come by. Such an impossible thing had happened.

So I could do my best, I thought.

And so, I could be getting ahead of myself, but I began thinking about my plans for this December. Would there be a second chance for Santa to appear? If not, I wanted to make one. I decided to fuss over the outfit a little more and prepare proper gifts this time. Then I’d tell him stories about jewels and try to make him laugh a lot. That, too, was Santa’s duty.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinha de vulpian #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard #jr short story collection #jeffrey claremont #novel #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #my translation

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hatterstan-shameblog · 4 years ago

Text

The One With The Room Reassignment

Aguni needs a new room. For, well, reasons. Embarrassing reasons. Reasons that he’s trying not to disclose to anyone, least of all Takeru, who...well, you know how he is.

But it’ll all be okay.

Right?

(Because I simply could not have read this post by @missdrake without writing the Aguni prompt. I mean, come on, the opportunity for banter was just too good!)

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Rating: ‼️18+‼️ Do Not Interact If You Are Underage

Warnings: descriptions of sexual situations, referenced drug use, alcohol, threats of violence

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Of all the places Aguni could be right now, this has to be one of the worst.

It’s not that he dislikes Takeru’s room, per se. On the contrary, he actually enjoys the subtle opulence of the space, spelled out in caramel-colored woods and blue-green drapes.

It’s fancy, yes, but approachable. Comfortable, even.

But, in this moment, Aguni feels anything but comfortable. He feels antsy, he feels jumpy—he feels the angry little teeth of embarrassment nibbling at the ends of his nerves, and its making his palms sweat.

Are the lights in here extra hot, or is that just him?

...It’s probably just him.

It doesn’t help that Takeru is staring at him, those deep-dark eyes filled with their usual mix of subtle scrutiny mixed with glittering amusement and finished off with a dash of smug confidence—like a flourish of whipped cream atop a hot fudge sundae, if the whipped cream had the uncanny ability to see into a person’s soul and the hot fudge sundae was a lovable bastard whose modus operandi involved creating as much drama as possible.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Takeru says—and he is so very feline, stretched into a graceful sprawl along the black leather sofa, his lips curled into a serene, sleepy smile around the lip of a champagne flute.

Aguni doesn’t even like champagne, but he’s been taking small, nervous sips from his own glass all the same because that is infinitely more manageable than talking. Except, well...because he’s not talking, the situation is getting more and more awkward by the minute.

“Didn’t expect you to be alone.”

“I’ve decided to take the night off,” Takeru says, rolling his shoulders back in a slow stretch of spine, “The games, the meetings, the endless parade of unfortunates looking for guidance and reassurance? It wears on you, Mori-chan.”

As if to illustrate the point, Takeru heaves a dramatic sigh.

“There’s something wearing on you, too, isn’t there? You look...pained?”

“I, uh,” Aguni swallows nervously. This is the part he’s been dreading for the last hour, and now that it’s here...well. All he has to do is stick to the plan and everything will be okay.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“I...” Aguni gulps, “need a new room.”

Although his delivery leaves something to be desired in the “calm and collected” department, Aguni is quite pleased with himself for having managing to get the words out without blushing.

...Okay, he’s probably blushing a little bit, but Takeru hasn’t teased him about it yet, so it can’t be that bad.

“Oh? Why?”

Aguni’s jaw tightens. The problem with Takeru (one of the many, if he’s being honest) is that the man can be particularly difficult to read. Even after thirty-plus years of friendship, Aguni can’t tell what he’s thinking half of the time, which has left him in quite a few...situations. Difficult situations. Confusing situations. Awkward situations.

Situations like these, where Aguni’s brain is spinning like a high-powered carousel on a pottery wheel inside of a giant blender and someone keeps pressing the ‘pulse’ button with a giant hammer and it’s all very loud and very unpleasant.

“The bed,” he answers slowly, “uh, the bed is...broken.”

“Broken?”

Aguni takes another gulp of alcohol—too much for one swallow, and his throat spasms around the popping fizz of carbonation. He coughs slightly.

“Yes,” Aguni clarifies, “Broken.”

Takeru rolls his eyes.

“Always the brilliant conversationalist,” Takeru says, dripping with sarcasm and waving his champagne with a dismissive gesture, “We’ve established that the bed is broken, but you’ve failed to mention how it is broken, and since I do not know the extend of the breakage, I am unable to determine if you do, in fact, need to be moved to a different room. Space is limited, Mori-chan. I can’t afford to be frivolous about such things.”

Had he not been so focused on maintaining some semblance of composure, Aguni might have teased his friend for lecturing him about frivolity—but now is not the time for chit-chat. He is a man on a mission, and the success of said mission is dependent on his ability to, as they say, ‘get in and get out.’

“The frame. It, uh...snapped off of the headboard,”Aguni answers carefully, “It’s...I can’t sleep on it.”

Takeru’s eyes narrow.

“Ah. I see.”

Silence settles between them once more—only for a moment, but it’s enough to make Aguni shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“I can fix it,” Aguni adds, “I just...need a place to stay tonight.”

There is a flash of silver—Takeru is one of the only people Aguni knows under the age of sixty who uses a cigarette case, which is both charming and frequently inconvenient— and it’s only a second before the scent of smoke and nicotine fills the air.

“I suppose that’s reasonable,” he concludes—and it’s a weight off of Aguni’s mind and heart that Takeru hasn’t decided to ask him a million questions regarding the “why’s” and “how’s” of his current predicament.

Perhaps there’s a chance he can make it out of here (relatively) unscathed.

So, when Takeru offers Aguni a drag on his cigarette, Aguni doesn’t much read into the gesture and gladly accepts.

“Hm,” Takeru says.

“What?”

“That is...so interesting.”

Aguni hands the cigarette back to his friend.

“Not sure what you mean.”

“I’m just reminiscing, I suppose,” Takeru says airily, “about the last time we shared a cigarette. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Something blooms in Aguni—something bad and uncertain.

“I don’t—“

“Oh, it’s been years. Three, actually. And a half. Tell me, Mori-chan,” Takeru furrows his brow, “can you remember where we were three-and-a-half years ago?”

Remember the ‘something’ that bloomed inside Aguni just a moment ago? Well, it has a name, and that name is ‘intense discomfort.’ He knows where this is going. He knows he’s powerless to stop it.

“Don’t worry, my dear friend—I remember,” he says, closing his eyes and smiling to himself, “Halloween. Osaka. 2018. I was Freddie Mercury. You were Elton John. It took me ages to get all those sequins sewn on...”

Takeru takes one final hit from the cigarette before stubbing it out into a (decidedly lovely) teacup that happened to be conveniently placed on the coffee table in front of him.

“Isn’t that the year you threw the statue of Colonel Sanders into the river?”

Takeru sneers.

“You mean the year I threw Colonel Sanders into the river alone because...somebody ran off with the mascot from that mediocre takoyaki stand,” he snips, “and then had the audacity to show up two hours later asking for a cigarette. Do you know why you asked for a cigarette, Mori-chan?”

“Oh no.”

“It’s because you didn’t have any on you. Because you don’t usually smoke. Unless,” and Takeru positively relishes his dramatic pause, “it’s after sex.”

Aguni doesn’t say anything.

“You thought you could come into my house,” Takeru shouts, “after having mind-blowing, soul-shattering sex—the kind of sex that snaps bed frames clean in half—and I wouldn’t know about it?”

“But how did you—?”

“I heard you,” Takeru spits, “howling like...like some kind of demonic wolf in the light of a full moon!”

“I couldn’t have been that loud...”

“Loud enough to hear from down the hall,” Takeru adds, “frankly, I’m impressed. And a little jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Of your lover. Nobody’s broken a bed fucking me lately, which is a goddamn shame,” Takeru sips from his glass, “Don’t suppose you’ll tell me who it was, hm?”

“No,” Aguni snaps, perhaps a bit too quickly, “making fun of me is one thing, but I won’t you have you making fun of my...uh, my...”

“Paramour?”

“...Sure,” Aguni says, “Look, the point is, it’s important that I—“

“Yes, yes, you’re about to lecture me about ‘privacy’ and ‘boundaries’ and all the things decent people like you are oh-so-interested in preserving,” Takeru says, rolling his eyes, “Believe it or not, I am capable of discretion.”

“You are?”

“When the situation calls for it,” Takeru muses, “or if it’s simply more fun to keep my mouth shut and watch the drama unfold. You having a secret lover ticks both boxes.”

Takeru jumps up from his seat and claps his hands together.

“So! I have decided,” he announces with great panache, “that I shall, in fact, give you a new room. A nice one, too. Maybe even nicer than the one you’re in currently.”

Aguni huffs a relieved breath.

“Thank you.”

“But!” Takeru flops down on the couch next to Aguni with all the grace of a fleshly-flipped pancake, “You have to do something for me.”

“I don’t—“

“You have to answer three,” and Takeru holds up three fingers in front of Aguni’s face, “of my questions. Truthfully. No skips, no take-backs.”

This is...well. This is not ideal.

Aguni considers his options. On one hand, he’s entirely justified in slapping Takeru across the face and shouting ‘absolutely not!’—and, honestly, Takeru would probably understand because, while he is an asshole, he is a self-aware asshole.

On the other hand, it’s only three questions. Maybe, if he’s able to keep Takeru on topic (a Herculean effort to be sure), Aguni can make quick work of getting a new room and, more importantly, getting the hell out of here.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “but make it quick. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Takeru says, “nothing wears you out quite like an evening of dirty, nasty, animalistic—“

“Takeru!”

“—Depraved, disgusting fucking,” and he makes a very disgusted ugh-ing sound when he notices Aguni shooting him a pointed glare, “Fine. Lovemaking. Whatever. The point is that you got it in real good and that’s enough to make anyone tired.”

“Dealing with you is making me tired. Please, just...ask your questions so I can get a room and go to bed.”

“Fine, fine,” Takeru says, and he makes a great show of thinking the matter over, mouth puckering into a pouty little frown before snapping into a mischievous smirk, “Question one: did you shower before coming here?”

Aguni sighs and looks down at his shoes.

“No.”

“Oh, that is gross,” Takeru shouts, clapping him on the back, “I’m so proud of you!”

Aguni rolls his eyes, trying his hardest to look unaffected by his friend’s prying. But he can’t hide the blush from blooming on his face, because this is all very mortifying and he doesn’t particularly enjoy the way Takeru is looking at him with a devious little smile.

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” Takeru says, running a hand through his hair, “a less-handsome—but taller—mirror!”

“Got a good two inches on you,” Aguni says, and he relishes the way his companion winces. Although he is not a short man by any means, Takeru has always been just a bit shorter than him—which has led to quite a few jabs over the years.

“Maybe in height,” Takeru quips, “but certainly not everywhere else, hm?”

It’s odd, but somehow, Aguni has not yet gotten used to feeling his soul leave his body. He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s dying inside, letting the pain shine out directly from his face and hopes it slaps Takeru across the mouth so he doesn’t have to.

“I couldn’t resist,” Takeru says between chuckles, “You know how I am!”

“Unfortunately.”

But Takeru is too busy staring at him now to give one of his classically witty retorts. To the untrained eye, it would appear that he is carefully considering something. Because Aguni knows that the words ‘careful’ and ‘consideration’ are not part of Takeru’s vocabulary, he steels himself for whatever batshit-insane bullshit is going to come flying at him next.

“Now, I know the identity of your new squeeze is off-limits. Which I am sympathetic towards, because I am a sensitive and caring man—which, by the way, is something you should mention to any and all available singles you should happen upon throughout your travels...”

There’s just something about the way Takeru talks—and talks, and talks—that sets Aguni’s blood to boil.

“You know why it took me three years to get laid? Because you,” Aguni snaps, “wouldn’t stop fucking talking long enough for me to get away and meet someone.”

“Ooh, so bitchy! Seems like you could use a little more of whatever you just had,” Takeru runs a finger along the rim of his glass, smiling to himself when the friction creates a high-pitched hum, “if that’s a possibility, of course.”

Aguni feels a headache coming on. He runs at his temples in a (futile) attempt to stave it off.

“I don’t have time for your games, Takeru. If you want to ask me if this was a one-night stand, then ask me if it was a one-night stand.”

“Fine, then. Mori-chan,” Takeru places his glass on the table and turns to face Aguni. He pulls his legs up and hugs his shins close to himself, chin resting on his knobby knees—like a high school girl at a sleepover, “Did you give that mystery individual the fuck of a lifetime because you knew it was going to be a one-time thing...or because this is the start of something more?”

“I...” Aguni pauses, “I don’t know.”

Takeru’s brow furrows.

“Don’t look at me like that! I was, uh,” Aguni rubs the back of his neck uncertainly, “I thought we’d maybe have that conversation when I got back.”

Takeru tilts his head slightly to the left.

“Got back from where?”

“Here.”

“Mori-chan. Darling. Dearest,” Takeru places a hand on his shoulder, fingers gripping into the skin a little more with each passing moment, “do you mean to tell me that you...left your lover alone on a broken bed...to come talk to me?”

“No,” Aguni answers, “Left ‘em in the bath.”

“Oh my God...”

“What? I thought it was a nice gesture.”

“You are so cute and hopeless.”

Takeru scoots close enough to Aguni that their hips are touching, the arm that had been gripping his shoulder now slung around his mid-back.

“Picture it,” he says, reaching his other arm out in front of them as if grasping at a ghost of a dream, “your paramour—whoever they may be—sitting alone in a bathtub. Naked. Glistening.”

“...Glistening?”

“Sparkling, even.”

That is...oh dear. Aguni hadn’t thought of it like that. And now he can’t stop thinking about it. His mind’s eye is conjuring up a most hypnotic display, involving skin and steam and a crystalline droplets rolling down the length of a neck and—

“I put bubbles in,” he admits, voice soft and unfocused as he drifts in his daydream, “Lavender-scented.”

“That’s. Wow,” Takeru sighs, patting Aguni’s knee, “You’re a stronger man than I am, that’s for sure. I simply wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. I mean, you could be in there right now, but...you’re here with me instead.”

Something breaks in Aguni. Something he hadn’t been aware of before now, but was apparently a very important piece of whatever was keeping him from grabbing Takeru by the lapels and shaking him with all the strength and rage that has been building up for the past twenty minutes.

Because that’s what he’s doing right now. He’s grabbing Takeru by the lapels of his weird robe thing and shaking him within an inch of his life. He’s also yelling, something like ‘give me the goddamn room’ but it’s hard to hear over the deafening rush of blood in his ears.

“Not...the...silk,” Takeru begs—well, as much as a man being maliciously jostled can beg—while his hands attempt to loosen Aguni’s own from his outfit, “She didn’t...do anything...wrong!”

Aguni stops shaking him, but not because he wants to—no, he very much wants to continue shaking this annoying man until his head snaps off and flies out the window—but because Takeru has started to take on a bit of a sickly greenish tinge and Aguni is not in the mood to deal with that on top of everything else.

“I will tear that tacky thing to shreds if you don’t give me a new room,” he seethes, releasing his grip on Takeru altogether and enjoying the way the other man falls back slightly as he’s let go, “I snapped a fucking bed frame an hour ago; I could tear that and you in half without even trying.”

“Okay, but,” and Takeru winces, “I just...there’s a bit of a problem. Not...a ‘problem’ problem, but...I’m very worried about how you’ll react after that little outburst you just had.”

Great. Of course there’s a catch. There’s always a catch with Takeru—but Aguni had been naive enough to think that his frustrating questionnaire had been it.

“There’s only one room available,” Takeru continues, as if he’s trying to calm a very angry horse or convince a toddler to do literally anything, “and it’s...well, it’s...the one next door.”

“You mean,” Aguni says very flatly, “the room next to this one?”

“Yes.”

“With the adjoining door?”

“Hit me if you want,” Takeru says, pressing himself against the arm of the couch and, therefore, as far away from Aguni’s anger as possible, “just...please don’t shake me again. My delicate constitution couldn’t possible take it.”

Aguni is reminded of a poem—the Robert Frost one about two roads in a wood or something like that. The way he figures, he’s got two roads in front of him right now: the ‘scream at Takeru and maybe shake him a little more and also refuse the room’ road versus the ‘it’s only one night and things couldn’t possibly get worse than they already are so take the room and maybe try to salvage the evening’ road.

Both are tempting.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it was nicer than your current room. Good view, spacious, well-decorated,” he says, “Except for the credenza under the TV, that’s hideous. Wouldn’t be mad if you, y’know, decided to break that in the heat of the moment...”

Aguni must look positively murderous, because Takeru immediately switches into grovel mode, which includes various assorted platitudes and exclamations of ‘it was just a joke!’ and ‘please don’t kill me!’

It’s kind of funny, actually.

“Listen,” Takeru half-pleads, “I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m over here. Hell, if I smoke enough weed, I won’t know I’m here, which will work out just great! I slip into a light coma, you slip into a comfortable bed with your sweetheart, and everybody’s happy.”

“You just want an excuse to get high.”

“No,” he answers confidently, “I want you to be happy and I want to get high. Use my mind-altering substances for good, not evil. You know, like a superhero. Or maybe even Jesus.”

Aguni decides not to bring Takeru’s half-joking-but-not-really God-complex into question, because that would launch him into an hour-long tirade about the importance of self-love and how he would be an excellent choice for the next mayor of Tokyo. And maybe he wouldn’t be the worst mayor Tokyo has ever had, but...well. He might not be very good at it, either.

And maybe it’s because he’s incapable of staying too horribly angry at his best friend for very long, but Aguni concludes that it’s best just to take the room and let the situation go. He’s had enough drama for one night.

“Fine,” Aguni finally says, “I’ll take it.”

And he moves to stand before Takeru can suck him in to another conversation.

“You know,” Takeru calls casually as Aguni begins to walk towards the door, “I still haven’t asked my third question...”

“You have got to be kidding—“

“But,” Takeru quickly interjects, “I don’t have to ask, because I already know that the answer is ‘yes.’”

“Hm?”

“Yes,” Takeru concludes with a wry smile, “you are happy. Even when you were about to about to slap me, I could see it written all over your face.”

Aguni feels...embarrassed. Again. He’s truly been on an emotional rollercoaster since stepping foot into Takeru’s room, and it’s almost poetic that he has managed to start and end his journey with a begrudging blush.

“Now, go,” Takeru says, shooing him off with a roll of his wrist, “get out of my sight and into bed with that sexy little secret you insist upon hiding from the rest of us!”

Aguni doesn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly makes his way towards the exit, his legs taking slightly-larger-than-normal strides as he attempts not to appear too giddy at the thought of returning to his lover. Maybe they can test out the bathtub in the new room. Or the shower. Or maybe just hang out in bathrobes and talk?

Honestly, he’s just excited to see them again. A nice, soothing presence. Something to help him decompress after...whatever the hell that just was with Takeru. There’s a seventy-five-percent chance that he’ll stay true to his word and be stoned out of his mind by the time they switch rooms, and a twenty-percent chance that he’ll spend the night pressed up against the door trying to listen in. The other five percent? That’s what Aguni likes to call the ‘wild card allotment’ because Takeru is...well, he’s just the kind of guy to do something completely unpredictable, and he likes to plan for that.

“Remember,” Takeru calls out just as Aguni is stepping out, “Break the credenza!”

And Aguni has never been happier to shut a door in his life.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

PS: the thing with throwing the statue of Colonel Sanders in the river is a thing that actually happened and I think it’s really funny so that’s why I put it in here. Plus, like. Takeru totally would.

#alice in borderland #danma takeru #hatter #spicy boy #alice in borderland netflix #aguni morizono #writings and such #this took so long omg but it’s DONE wow what a time what an adventure #listen. I just. we need more of them being actual buddies.#like. just guys being dudes.

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bookandcranny · 4 years ago

Text

Shortwave Radio

Why he decided to leave behind a perfectly good astral cluster and go sight-seeing on a spinning ball of dirt in this great cosmic nothing of a solar system is a mystery to the entire family, but it’s been almost ten years now and so they’ve all had no choice but to conclude that he’s not coming back any time soon.

The right thing to do is to support him in it, so says tender-hearted big brother Hercules, and if that means jumping through a few hoops to attend some strange human ceremony in this hot and lifeless wasteland, then that’s simply what they’ll do.

summary: Five siblings from the stars come to earth by invitation of their estranged little brother, who’s only request to them is that they take a road trip across the American southwest and try to learn to see this planet the way he sees it.

content warnings: dysfunctional families, carsickness, strong language, fear of abandonment, and accidental misgendering of a nonbinary character

length: about 7k words

also, have a playlist!

🛸🛸🛸

On a particularly sticky day in late July, a black minivan rolls up outside Gruber’s Convenience somewhere in the vague liminal world of the i-110 out of El Paso. Shimmering like a mirage the vehicle comes to a stop and five figures shuffle into the station. Working the counter is a greasy-faced teenager who calls himself Benj, though according to his nametag he’s Benjamin until the end of his shift.

If he weren’t intentionally ignoring the group that just walked in, resenting the loss of quiet and the cool air that just escaped with the chime of the door, Benj would notice a few things about them. For one thing, while they all look quite different, all five of them are wearing the exact same clothes: pale blue t-shirt, gray jeans, plain white sneakers, not a toe scuffed or sullied by the dust they kicked up coming in. They’re perfectly inconspicuous outfits, but too new, too deliberate in their banality.

The people in the clothes have much the same effect. They’re collections of ordinary, aesthetically pleasing parts assembled as if at random, almost uncanny at the wrong angle. Not supermodel pretty, but perhaps stock photo passable. One of them keeps touching things. Just, touching them. He trails his fingers over snack cakes and little pouches of corn nuts with an unreadable expression. Three of them are clustered together in front of the drinks fridge speaking in hushed tones.

The last one of the bunch is hovering in the corner making eyes at the shop’s resident mascot, Garfield, an uncreatively named tabby cat who’s taken to sleeping on a box underneath the AC unit. The cashier does notice her (he thinks she’s a her) if only because she’s kind of cute, in a straight-laced camp counselor kinda way. He’s already building up an idea of her in his head, every atom of it more false than he realizes.

The Christine or Sydney or whoever reaches down and gives the cat a poke, which turns into an experimental stroke.

“Mrph?” says Garfield, like cats do.

“Mrph?” parrots the... Liz maybe? No, not quite, he thinks. Garfield blinks at her, yawns. She withdraws, looking half offended by his indifference.

“Don’t take it personal,” Benj says. “He’s not very social.”

She looks at him for the first time and he reevaluates his earlier assessment. Eyes too pale, too far apart-- not ugly per se but definitely not worth the possible write-up he’d get for flirting with a customer.

“He’s the owner’s cat,” he babbles, scratching his chin and looking anywhere but at her. “Or so they say. Honestly I think he just showed up here one day and no one could get him to leave.”

Before she can reply, one of her matching buddies comes up to the register and dumps an assortment of snacks onto the counter. It’s a baffling, eclectic pile, but like any good retail worker Benj has long since learned not to examine anything too closely.

“Road trip, huh? Where are you guys headed?”

The radio behind the counter has gone all staticky. He fiddles with the antenna.

“Visiting family,” says snacks guy. His voice is soft and monotonous, a stark contrast as the guy’s built like a US SEAL.

Benj looks from face to face. “All of you?” He’s having a hard time believing any two of them are related.

He nods, once. A stiff, decisive shake of the head. The crackling of the radio is getting worse. Benj turns it off.

“Will that be everything, sir?”

Another nod.

“Herc, wait!” One of the man’s supposed relatives comes up behind him and shakes him by the shoulders. “Hercules, look at this.”

He slams a book down on the counter, one of the cheap paperbacks Gruber’s pedals between the condoms and the first-aid kit stuffings. The cover reads, “The Chest from The West” and features a heavily airbrushed model in a cowboy hat and unbuttoned flannel shirt.

“What am I looking at?” Herc asks.

“Get this too. I want to read it.”

“Why?”

He opens his mouth but whatever he’s about to say, Benj doesn’t really want to be present for it. He quickly scans the book and throws it cover-side-down into the bag. Let them work this one out on their own, hopefully somewhere else.

“Your total’s $29.75” He spins around to shake the radio, which is somehow now back on and blaring louder. When he turns back, the register is telling him everything’s been bought and paid for. Guy must be lightning quick with a credit card, he thinks.

“Huh. Guess you’re all set, man-- sir.” He hands them their bags. “Have fun at your family thing.”

He flashes the big guy a thumbs up. He looks strangely staggered by the gesture and replies haltingly, “Thank you. You also, have fun.”

“Come on, sibs,” the more energetic one chirps. “Cass? Cass, come on.” He drags his sister away from the cat, who’s just starting to warm up to her. “That’s you, remember? Let’s go.”

They don’t get any gas from the pumps outside. Benj is pretty sure he saw the testy looking one with the ponytail shoplift a bottle of off-brand cola, but he isn’t paid nearly enough to care. At least after they’re gone the radio starts working normally again.

Hercules drives, though it’s not so much driving as sitting in the driver’s seat and telling the van to go. Earth machines are simplistic and easy to manipulate. Slow though. Cass is riding “shotgun”, as is apparently customary for the navigator. Andromeda, Zeta, and Camelopardalis share the backseat, where the formermost is rehashing the same tired debate with the latter.

“We need to work out a better earth name for you,” he insists. “Myself, I’ve been doing some research and I’m thinking about going by ‘Andy’ from now on.”

“I’m not calling you that,” says Zeta.

Camelopardalis asks, “What’s wrong with the name I have?”

“It is a bit long,” Cassiopeia agrees. “A shorter one would help you fit in better.”

“Speaking of fitting in, something else has been bothering me. What’s your gender supposed to be?”

“My what?”

“You know, your gender. We all picked one.”

“It’s almost like you didn’t read the brief,” Zeta says, instigator that she is.

“It’s almost like none of you read the brief, that I took the time to write specifically to help you all acclimate to earth culture.”

“Zeta, don’t upset Cass,” Herc scolds.

“I’m not upset.” She turns in her seat to stare pointedly out the window. There isn’t much to look at, just miles upon miles of rolling desert interrupted by the occasional billboard or truck stop, all crawling by at a snail’s pace compared to the sort of travel they’re used to. Not that she’d recognize the analogy. She misses the cat.

Camelopardalis fiddles with their seatbelt. “Which one are you again?”

“I’m a ‘man’,” Andromeda recites. “Earth men are known for their physical prowess and carnivorous diet, they live in cave environments, and often congregate in packs called ‘fraternities’.” He waves the gas-station novel in the air. “I’m going to research their habits and perfect my persona. By the time I’m done with this I’ll practically be a local.”

“I don’t know… Zeta, what made you decide to be the other one?”

“Flipped a coin.”

“Women,” Cass informs them. “Can be most commonly identified by their long hair, fastidious hygiene habits, the use of traditional face paints to accentuate the eyes and lips, and by fleshy protrusions of the upper torso. Any of these traits can indicate an earth woman, though none are necessarily required.”

They throw up their hands. “How is that helpful at all then! Zeta?”

“What do you want me to do about it? I didn’t invent them. Hercules, are you sure these ‘snacks’ are safe to eat? They have a strange texture.”

“If you don’t like it, don’t eat it.” He punctuates the point by reaching back and grabbing a cream-filled cupcake off the pile. He tears the plastic with his teeth and eats half of it in a single bite. He barely tastes the thing, but he’s hoping if his siblings follow his lead their mouths will be too full to whine at him.

“Yeah, Zeta, don’t be a bitch.” Andromeda opens a pack of mini donuts, albeit more gingerly, and pops one into his mouth.

Cass whips her head around. “Where did you learn that word?”

He holds open the paperback and points to a page.

Austin hesitated. “I’ve never ridden a horse before. What if I fall?”

Derek chuckled manfully. “Don’t be a bitch, city boy,” he teased. Then he placed his large, calloused hand upon the small of Austin’s back. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t ever let you fall.”

The navigator leans over the center console and tries to snatch the book away but he dodges swiftly, clutching it to his chest.

“That’s foul language, Andromeda Alpheratz.”

“Earthers use this kind of speech with each other all the time. It’s a sign of familiarity and affection. You guys need to be less formal if you want to blend in.”

“If it’s meant to be an insult,” Camelopardalis wonders. “Why would they use it to convey affection.”

“Because they’re brutish, unevolved lifeforms,” Zeta sneers. “‘Blend in, blend in’. The rest of you can worry about blending in with the apes. I’m only doing this for Perseus.”

“We’re all doing this for Percy,” Hercules says in a chastising voice that makes even Zeta shrink down in her seat. “So can we please agree to be somewhat civil and not make this trip more painful than it needs to be?”

There’s a murmur of general agreement and peace is restored, however temporarily. Camelopardalis clears their throat.

“I still don’t really understand why we couldn’t land directly at Perseus Nine’s coordinates.”

Cass huffs, blowing a dark curl out of her face. “For the last time, Percy specifically requested we partake in the human ritual of the ‘road-trip’ for this last portion of our journey. It’s the same route he traveled the first time he came to earth, and apparently holds some sort of sentimental significance. It’s important to him we experience the same pilgrimage. For some reason.”

She adds the last part under her breath, knowing full well the others will still hear her. They can hear one another when separated by countless miles of empty space, their voices resonating from star to star, clear as a bell. Compared to that, the close proximity of a rented minivan is stifling. There’s an uncomfortable intimacy to it, these crudely assembled physical forms pressed together, bloated and heavy with all the trappings of humanity. Sweat and road dust and gravity cling to Cass like an over-warm coat and she longs for the cool estrangement that comes so easily in the void of space. It’s tough to be a star-dweller away from her star.

“The reasons don’t matter,” Herc declares, and his word is as good as law here. He is the eldest of them, though the concept of seniority is abstracted somewhat by the literal millennia they’ve all lived through.

Percy is the baby, as well as the black sheep of the family, so to speak. (His actual moniker among their kinfolk roughly translates to “the dissonant note”, a scathing insult for those who knew what it meant.) Why he decided to leave behind a perfectly good astral cluster and go sight-seeing on a spinning ball of dirt in this great cosmic nothing of a solar system is a mystery to the entire family, but it’s been almost ten years now and so they’ve all had no choice but to conclude that he’s not coming back any time soon.

“At least we can check one more stop off the list,” Zeta quips. “What’s next?”

Cass checks her itinerary. “We are to visit one national historic landmark, one ‘tourist trap’-- whatever that means-- followed by a stop at ‘Diane’s Diner’, home of the world’s best pie. After that, we can head straight to the meet-up location.” She glances at the clock on the dashboard. “We’re a little behind schedule but we should make it right on time as long as there are no unexpected delays.”

An hour and a half of driving later, Andromeda throws up corn chips and mini donuts all over the back of Herc’s seat.

They pull over on the side of the road. The desert sand is just beginning to give way to sparse yellow grass, brittle from the sun. Herc steadies Andromeda, looking viscerally displeased as he finishes emptying out his recently manifested stomach.

Camelopardalis frets through the whole episode. “We’ve all been eating the same food, except for Zeta. If it’s poisonous, one of us will be next.”

“It’s not poison, it’s carsickness,” Cass sighs. “Honestly, I’m starting to think none of you even looked at the brief.”

“Zeta, look in the back for something to clean up with.”

“Why me?”

“We’re going to lose so much time…”

“Would you rather hold him?”

Andromeda retches.

“Do you think Percy would care if we skipped a couple stops?”

“Cassiopeia Sigma,” Hercules begins sternly.

“Alright, alright. I’ll figure something out.”

Fortunately they’ve happened to stop within walking distance of something called The Trinity Site, according to the map. Camelopardalis and Cass go ahead to check another stop off the list while Zeta and Herc clean up the van and make sure Andromeda isn’t actually dying. (How embarrassing, to be a quasi-immortal astral being only to perish at the hands of a tainted twinkie.)

They wander from the roadside, following the map and occasional signposts, and shortly find themselves standing in front of an ominous looking stone obelisk with a bronze placard affixed to one side.

Trinity Site: Where the world’s first nuclear device was exploded on July 16th, 1945

There’s more but Cass stops reading. Camelopardalis asks her to explain what the plaque means by nuclear device-- they’re familiar with nuclear power as a concept, fission and fusion, ideas not far departed from the system of energy exchange that sustains their natural bodies in the heart of their stars-- but goes pale when she goes into the relevant applications of said devices.

“Wonderful,” she grumbles to herself as she snaps a few photos of the monument with a disposable camera. “I’m sure Percy will be thrilled.”

“Excuse me.”

The pair turn to see a man in a colorful button-up and khakis and a woman with a day-old sunburn peeling off beneath the straps of her tank top.

“Boy are we happy t’see the two of yous. Couldja take our picture real quick?”

The woman holds out a camera, a significantly more professional piece of equipment than the one Cass is holding.

“Oh, sure,” Cass replies. She’s nervous as she takes it from her hands. She’s never encountered this sub-species of human in her research before, and finds it difficult to parse the woman’s peculiar dialect. Both of them are smiling, but they’re also showing a lot more teeth (and a fair bit of gum) than she thinks is normal. A subtle threat?

Nevertheless, she fumbles with the camera for a moment before managing to take a decent snapshot. The man wraps an arm around his wife’s waist and she slots herself in against his side.

“Ope, wait, let’s do a silly one to send to Marsha and the kids. Were my eyes closed? No? Perfect, you’re a doll. We’ll leave you kids alone now.”

“Sure,” she says again, feeling out of pace.

“My nephew wears his hair like that,” the man says without segway. He’s talking to Camelopardalis, they realize. “It’s very… hip.”

They touch their hair. They hadn’t given it much thought before, might not ever have if he hadn’t pointed it out. It’s nice, they think.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

His expression flinches into a puzzled frown. Cass smacks their arm.

“Sir! Thank you, sir.”

After they’ve walked away Cass gives him another jab for good measure.

“His hair was longer than the other one’s,” they complain. “And the chest was sort of fleshy. How was I supposed to know?”

“We’re lucky you didn’t cause an incident. Earthers carry weapons in this part of the world.”

They rub their arm. “I don’t know, they seemed nice.”

Still they give a fleeting glance at the plaque behind them and argue no more.

They return to the van, now blessedly puke-free. Andromeda is looking better too. They all pile in and almost immediately Camelopardalis misses the freedom of being able to move without touching somebody. It may be their imagination, but the car seems to be moving slower than ever.

“How was it?” Zeta asks, despite her obvious disinterest.

“Uninspiring,” is Cass’ reply.

The other nods and doesn’t force her to elaborate. “I wish I knew what Perseus intended for us with this… chore list.”

“It’s not important, we just do it.”

Herc is always a steady presence, but even he is starting to sound annoyed with repeating himself. Zeta, of course, can’t leave well enough alone.

“If we just knew what he wanted us to do or say we could do it and go back to how we were before.”

Cass snaps. “Maybe you should stop complaining and make an effort for once.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The car erupts into a heated four-way argument. Only Hercules resolutely abstains from comment, though his hands tighten into fists on the steering wheel. The fight doesn’t end in resolution so much as exhaustion. Everyone’s too miserable to keep hurling accusations and insults for the next hundred miles, and at length they lapse back into tense silence.

Zeta rests her head against the window, taking the arythmic rattle into herself, breathing it out in silent, frenetic melodies. She dislikes fighting with her siblings, no matter what they might claim to the contrary. It doesn’t happen often, or didn’t, but things have been different since Percy left home. The littlest star-child had a natural soothing presence to him, one that she’d long taken for granted. Earth is so noisy, she thinks. She strains to listen but she can’t hear a trace of him anywhere.

She tries to imagine what he’d say, if he were here.

“What are we even doing?”

Probably not that, but she already has everyone’s attention now so she figures she might as well keep going.

“I mean, we’re still behind schedule, we can’t stop bickering, Andromeda can’t even eat right apparently, and I’m pretty sure half of us didn’t even look at Cassiopeia’s brief.”

“Are you getting to a point?” Cass asks irritably.

“I’m just saying we’re all… bitches.”

“Zeta!”

“Get comfortable with it! We’re all bad at this. Me, you, all of us. So can we just stop blaming each other and have a truce in the interest of getting this over with?”

Cass opens her mouth, then lets it fall shut, sinking back into her seat. For a moment it seems they’re heading for another long awkward silence, when Andromeda sits up and points out the window with a sudden urgency.

“Look!”

Herc slows down and they see a billboard lit up in eerie green neon light, directing them to the next off-ramp.

Must see attraction! Visit the one of a kind Ancient Aliens Exhibit!

The star-folk look at one another.

“Is this what they call a tourist trap?”

“It seems likely.”

Andromeda is glowing-- in a very literal sense-- with excitement. “It’s an exhibit about us.”

“‘Ancient’? Speak for yourself, I’m still only in my six-thousands.”

Needless to say, they do stop at the roadside museum. Cass takes pictures aplenty and, to her surprise, actually enjoys it. Andromeda is disappointed to find there isn’t actually a display dedicated to their kind. Instead there are a lot of grainy photos of some squat, bug-eyed species called “greys” and diagrams of the Egyptian pyramids for some reason. He gets over it by the time they get to the gift shop.

By unanimous decision, they do not buy anymore snacks, though Zeta’s eye does linger on a cooler in the corner advertising “the ice cream of the future!”. Herc does however buy a number of souvenirs. (Rather, he convinces the automated register to record a purchase that didn’t technically take place, and bumps up the number in the bank account of one very nice tour guide while he’s at it.)

They leave with a mood ring, a handful of polished stones in a small velvet bag, a “gravity defying” purple yo-yo shaped like a UFO, and Camelopardalis sheepishly lays claim to a friendly looking martian figurine with bendable limbs. Overall, spirits are much higher by the time they make it back to the van.

“Hercules,” his meek younger sibling ventures. “Could I try driving? I’ve been curious about it.”

Feeling generous and more than a little tired of staring out at the road for hours at a time, he agrees. He shows Camelopardalis the basics and makes sure they know how not to veer off the road or into other drivers and then he climbs into the middle backseat and stretches out his arms so the siblings on either side of him can tuck in against him and rest. Eventually even the diligent navigator Cassiopeia begins to doze. It’s been a long day and none of them are quite accustomed to the burden of having earthbound bodies.

When Andromeda wakes up the first thing he registers is that it’s getting dark, the day reduced to a slim red band sinking over the horizon. The second thing is the yelling.

“What do you mean you don’t know!”

“I thought I could read the map myself--”

“What about you, navigator? What were you doing?”

“--didn’t mean to--”

“As if you’re one to talk! I can’t believe--”

“--and you were the one who--”

“Shut up!”

Hercules’ normally subdued baritone booms through the van. The windshield wipers begin swinging as if in indignation, while the passengers wince and cover their ears. Andromeda can’t remember a time when his brother’s frequency had felt so violent. The shivering resonance it leaves behind makes his teeth ache.

There’s a pregnant pause, then Cass slams open the door and begins to pace.

“Shit!” she yells at the empty air. They’re parked in a field somewhere, no sign of life save for the buzzing of insects and the rumble of a train somewhere off in the distance. Cass kicks at the ground and screams again. “Shit fuck bitch hell! We are so fucking lost! And so fucking late!”

Andromeda winces again and gets out to try and calm her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It is not! We’re probably missing the ceremony right now. Percy will never forgive me for this.”

“It wasn’t your fault…”

“I’m supposed to be the navigator!”

“Well, yes, but…” The words come out strangled. He touches his chest and realizes he’s breathing rapidly. His eyes are beginning to water as well. “I should’ve… I didn’t…”

Zeta hurries over to him. “What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick again?”

Without warning he doubles over and begins bawling.

“Hercules, do something! Something’s wrong with him!”

“Don’t… don’t… don’t…” he gasps and stammers.

Herc clutches his brother. “Don’t what? Talk to me.”

“Don’t fight,” he finally chokes out. “I don’t want to lose anybody else.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Percy,” he sniffles miserably. “He doesn’t care about us anymore. He has earth now, and all his new earth friends, and we can’t even do this one thing for him. It’s my fault. I knew he hated when I called him a dissonant note and made fun of his earth music but I did it anyway. Now he probably hates me and all of us and this whole thing has been for nothing.”

The eldest braces his arms on Andromeda’s slumped shoulders. “Percy doesn’t hate us. He invited us here because he wanted to see us.”

“Herc’s right, Andromeda. Percy doesn’t have it in him to hate anyone.”

“It’s not easy, but he chose this. He chose earth. We have to respect that.”

Zeta grumbles, “And just what is so special about this stupid planet anyway?”

“It has cats,” Cassiopeia says quietly. Her sister glares but she stays firm. “Well it does. And… people.”

“Strange, silly earth people,” Camelopardalis adds, nervously fussing with their hair. “Confusing and contradictory and fascinating.”

“People who hurt each other for no good reason.”

“People who are kind for no good reason too.”

Andromeda wipes phosphorous tears from his eyes and takes out the rumpled gas-station paperback. “In this book Austin leaves his job as a big city lawyer to follow the cowboy he’s in love with.”

“You think Perseus traveled to earth for cowboy love?”

“It’s a possibility!”

Cass scoffs. “I honestly don’t think he was thinking that far ahead. You know Percy. He probably crash-landed without any plan whatsoever. Or, he probably thought he knew what he was doing, and then when he actually got there he was terrified. And then he probably didn’t want to say anything because he was afraid his siblings would think less of him once they realized he was actually just as clueless about earth stuff as they were. That would probably be really, really stressful for him.”

“Are we still talking about Percy?”

She makes a wordless noise of frustration and kicks up another patch of grass.

Andromeda puts an arm around her. “If… Percy was worried about that, I’d tell her-- him! I’d tell him that he shouldn’t be, because there’s nothing he could do that would make us stop believing in him.”

She exhales. “Thanks.”

“I was talking about you, Cass,” he whispers. “It’s you I believe in.”

“Thank you, I got that.”

“I just… miss him, I guess.”

Herc hums in agreement. “Barely a millennium old and he’s already grown up and gone completely terrestrial. This past century has been the longest of my existence.”

“Hercules, it’s only been ten years.”

That news causes him to make such a face that Zeta starts laughing. It’s the first time she’s so much as cracked a smile the entire trip.

“So… what do we do now?” Camelopardalis asks.

After a moment, Cass grabs the map off the dashboard and holds it open.

“A little more light please?”

They step up behind her and hold a glowing hand over the paper. Her brow creases in concentration.

“Alright, I think we’re somewhere around here,” She gestures. “And we need to be here. There’s no way we’re going to show up on time, but we can still show up. We owe him that much.”

They get in their seats, Herc back at the helm, and begin trying to reclaim the distance they lost with the unplanned detour. Cass breathes a sigh of relief when road signs start to reappear. A driver honks at them as they pick up speed and Herc steers closer and makes their radio start playing at top volume. Zeta opens the window and a cool night breeze tickles her skin. The stars are bright and beautiful above them, and looking up, suddenly home doesn’t feel so far away.

All at once they slow to a near stop.

“What’s going on? Why are we stopping?”

“Traffic,” Herc says like it’s a curse. “Looks like there was an accident.”

“Take this exit,” Cass commands. “We can cut through the next town and get ahead of it.”

So he does and soon they find themselves driving through the quiet streets of Kismet, Nevada. That is, quiet until Zeta catches sight of something out the window and yells, “Pull over!”

“What! What is it now!”

She points, and they see. The sign ahead reads, “Diane’s Diner: Home of the World’s Best Pie”. They pull in so fast they nearly end up colliding with a stout aproned woman who’s pushing a teetering hand cart across the lot.

“What do you maniacs think you’re doing?” she demands as they clambour out of the van.

“I’m very sorry, ma’am,” Cass says in a rush. “It is just very important to my siblings and I that we get to this establishment.”

The woman huffs. “You’re a mite late then, I’m afraid. We’re closing up early tonight. Got a big catering order I have to deliver.”

Herc asks, “Are you Diane, of the diner?”

She laughs. “Close. I’m Maddie Finkle of the diner. Diane’s my mother’s name. It’s a family business. But what brings you folks here looking for Diane at this time of night? I don’t think I’ve seen your faces around town before, and I always remember a customer.”

“Do you remember a customer named Percy? It would’ve been years ago, but this place was very important to him. He’s our brother.”

Maddie’s eyes light up. “Why didn’t you say so! Of course I know Percy. And if you rowdy lot are his siblings, then I’ve got a message for you.”

“A message?” Percy hadn’t said anything to them about a message. Maybe this was his way of ensuring they actually made it to the last stop on his list.

“Well, sort of. Come, come, help me load up all this grub and I’ll tell you everything.”

Herc and Zeta go to either side of her and help push the wobbly cart to a truck with the diner’s logo emblazoned on the side. As they load the boxes, Maddie speaks.

“I first met your Percy when I was just a waitress, mama still working the kitchen. One day this kid walks in, looking as lost as can be, comes straight up to the counter and tells me he’s just fallen from outer space and could use some assistance.” She barks a laugh. “I didn’t go for the whole alien thing but that second part was a lot more believable. He looked a mess. I asked if he needed something to eat but he just said he needed a safe place to rest for a moment. He’d been on his feet all day, walking and hitchhiking his way clear across the desert.

“Of course I wanted to know where he was going that was so important, but he said he didn’t know for sure yet. Said he was following a melody, a song he’d heard from very far away that had drawn him to this place. I told him I couldn’t help him there. The only music we had in the diner was this old stereo system mama had put in when she first opened the place and it was long broken. Mama was too sentimental to get rid of the old thing and the repairman couldn’t do anything for it so broken it stayed.

“He asked me to show him so I did, figuring it couldn’t hurt anything. Then that kid walked up to the busted speaker and just like that it started playing again like it was new. I told him, ‘For that, I owe you more than a place to rest your legs. Stay in town for a while, let us put you up and get you back on your feet, or at least let me drive you to the train station so you can get where you’re going.’ But he refused, and before long he was gone again.

“Then, not a couple days later, spaceboy comes back traveling with this other kid, heading in the opposite direction. I ask him what happened and he says he was going one way but he changed his mind and turned around. He leans in like he’s sharing a great big secret, like we’ve been friends all our lives, and says, ‘I found it, Maddie. I found the song.’ Weirdest kid I’ve ever met! But they make a cute couple, him and that boy, and they’re some of my best customers to this day.”

They finish packing up the truck, Maddie leaning leisurely against the fender as she reminisces. Herc frowns, confused.

“Was that the message?”

“Yup.” She pops the P. “He just told me to tell you the story. Not sure why. I mean, it’s a good story, I think. But you already know all about it, right? You’re his family after all.”

“No, he never told us,” he admits softly.

“Huh. Weird. But then, he’s kind of a weird kid, yeah? I always wondered, is it all you aliens who talk in riddles like that, or just him?”

“I thought you said you didn’t believe his claims.”

“I didn’t the first time, but if your Percy’s one thing it’s… Perc-istent.” When no one laughs, she pushes onward. “Well, that’s all of it. We’d better get a move on, huh?”

“‘We’?”

“Sure, aren’t you folks on your way to Percy’s place too? I figured you’d be staying over, and I gotta get everything set up for the wedding tomorrow.”

A palpable shock ripples through the star-folk. “Tomorrow?”

“‘Course, what did you think all this was for?” She pats the truck. “I wanted to get everything ready ahead of time so we’re good to go in the morning. It’s not easy being the caterer and providing my lovely self as a guest on the same day, but I couldn’t let those sweet boys down.”

Andromeda slumps over, leaning on Herc for support. “Percy told us the wedding was tonight.”

The chef raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone’s been having a little fun with you. Nah, they’re doing some sort of get-together tonight since neither one of the bachelors wanted a bachelor party, but the actual wedding ceremony’s definitely not until tomorrow.”

“I’m going to end him,” Cass mutters under her breath.

“Hurry up now,” she says. “I’m sure the groom-to-be’s expecting you.”

The five follow Maddie’s truck away from the main drags, away from the buildings, the scenery becoming gradually greener as the road turns from asphalt to gravel. At last they find themselves pulling up in front of the house that Percy has come to call home. It’s a raised ranch, flanked by evergreens and patchwork plots of small white and yellow flowers that Percy’s fiance must have planted, and a tower of plastic chairs and tables covered by a tarp.

It’s a nice place, large and somewhat secluded, set apart from the noise of traffic or threat of nosy human neighbors. Percy’s sensitive to loud noise and, after all, still an alien living in secret amongst humanity. Yet as they get out and follow the caterer where she’s cutting around back through the garden, they’re struck by the sounds of laughter and music and lively chatter.

A group of earthers are gathered on the patio, smiling faces lit by a string of twinkling lights. A man with a guitar strums along with the music coming from inside.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Andromeda whispers.

“You think there’s a second Perseus Nine about to be married in this town?” Cass shoots back.

Zeta hisses, “Quiet, I can hear him.”

To his surprise, Herc can too. Above the noise, laced into everything he touches, there is a resonance, his baby brother’s unique personal frequency. To describe it as sound alone would perhaps be inaccurate; it’s a vibration, an echo. Percy is everywhere in this place: his whispers and his shouts, his twinkling laugh, but also the part of him that no human being can detect, the part of him that is still, and will always be, of the stars.

He must sense them too, because in that moment he appears standing in the doorway, bathed in its yellow light. His face breaks out in a glowing grin and he runs to greet them, bolting like a comet being pulled into his siblings’ orbit.

“You made it!” he exclaims.

Zeta snorts and allows him to throw his arms around her. “No thanks to you and your list of demands.”

“You brat,” Cass accuses. “You told us the ceremony was tonight.”

Percy tilts his head to look at her, his expression not half as guilty as it should be. For a moment she reels at the sight of him; the body he’s constructed for himself has aged since the last time they crossed paths. It’s subtle, the way his dimples have deepened into true laugh lines, and his hair has grown ever longer, though it also isn’t as tangled as she remembers. He is still himself, underneath, the light of his true being faintly visible beneath the skin.

“I was worried if I told you the real date you wouldn’t make it in time. You’re not used to traveling the human way. It can be messy.”

She grimaces. “You’re not wrong.”

“You’re actually here way earlier than I thought you’d be.” His smile falters, only slightly. “This is… everyone?”

Herc swallows. “The others…” he begins, but quickly finds he doesn’t have the words that should follow.

“Well, it’s not like I had enough chairs for all two-hundred-ninety-seven of them anyway.” He reaches out and squeezes his brothers tightly. “Hercules, Andromeda, It’s so wonderful to see you. Camelopardalis, Cassiopeia, it means so much to me that you came. I know it probably wasn’t easy. Zeta…”

She scoffs. “The only hard part was putting up with these bitches.”

Hercules interjects, “We shouldn’t keep you from your party. Go on, I need to get some things from the van.”

“You didn’t bring presents, did you?”

“It’s customary for weddings, is it not?”

Percy grins. “You’re becoming a real expert on earth customs.”

He shrugs and looks at Cass. “I just read the brief.”

Percy invites his family in, along with Maddie, who is perfectly tickled by the siblings’ awkward affection. After helping her bring in the food, Percy beckons over the man with the guitar.

“Adam!”

The man looks up. He has a boyish, freckled face and a head of dark curls that spill over his brow. He sets down the instrument and comes to slot himself against Percy’s side, thoughtlessly, as if that was always where he was meant to be.

“I’d like to formally introduce you to my fiance, Adam. And Adam, this is my family.”

His smile broadens. “Hey, great to finally really meet you guys. Percy talks about you all the time. Did you have a long trip?”

They look at one another for a moment until finally Herc shrugs and says, “Only about twenty-five trillion miles, give or take.”

The happy couple linger for a moment longer, sharing stories and talking about honeymoon plans. Adam is especially thrilled when Andromeda and Zeta begin to co-narrate an embarrassing tale from Percy’s childhood in the Alpha Persei Cluster. Eventually though the pair wander off together, leaving the star-folk to their most harrowing challenge yet: mingling.

“Sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Camelopardalis.”

The guest, one of the couple’s mutual friends, goes a bit bug-eyed. “Wow, okay, that’s really cool. Kind of a mouthful though. Got a nickname?”

“Nick… name?”

“Like, something that your friends call you for short. My friends call me Dee, but my highschool nickname was Dent.” They point to a scar on the side of their head, just above their left ear. Their fair hair is buzzed short, making it easy to see. “Long story. What if for now I called you ‘Cam’?”

They consider it. “I think I’d like that.”

“Cool, nice to meet you, Cam.”

“Nice to meet you, Dee.” They hesitate. “Would you say you’re a man or a woman?”

Dee frowns.

“Nevermind! I’m so sorry, I just don’t understand the earth gender binary at all. Everything about it just seems so arbitrary and senseless.”

Oddly enough, their new friend perks back up at this.

“Honestly, same,” they laugh.

Andromeda joins shortly, having struck up a conversation with Dee’s partner who is deeply intrigued by his review of “The Chest from The West”. The three of them spend a while swapping book recommendations. Meanwhile, Zeta gets hit on by a slightly intoxicated young woman with an undercut and an eyebrow ring, although the star-dweller vastly misinterprets her none-too-subtle questioning about alien biology. Cass meets Adam and Percy’s pet dog, Chowder, and deems him as good a companion as the convenience store cat.

Herc catches Percy alone in the kitchen and the two have a long overdue talk. It’s clumsy but earnest, and when Herc mumbles something out about possible future family visits, Percy throws himself into his brother with such vigor that he momentarily forgets about gravity and starts to float off the ground.

“I’m sorry too, by the way, for the whole thing with the list,” he sighs. “It probably seems pretty stupid, I just kind of hoped I could get you to see this world the way I see it. Full of life and love and adventure.”

“And music,” he finishes, catching the way his gaze flits back to the patio. To Adam, singing softly and dancing with one of their friends.

He nods. “I thought maybe then you’d understand why this is so important to me.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to see earth the way you do,” Hercules confesses. “But I don’t think it was stupid of you to try either, and I don’t think it was for nothing.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the mood ring. The friendly prismatic face of a cartoon alien glints up at him. Perseus takes the gift with an understanding chuckle and slips it onto his pinky finger.

“No, not for nothing.”

Tomorrow, there will be a wedding. Percy and Adam will stand in front of their friends and family and exchange their vows. Adam’s mother will complain about them not booking a proper venue for just short of an annoying amount of time, Maddie will bring out a ridiculously tall tier cake that will taste almost as good as one of her mother’s pies, and for once Percy will not be the worst one on the dance floor.

Tomorrow, there will be a bright silver band around Percy’s fourth finger, neighbored by a smaller ring in the shape of an inside joke, and with all the weight of a promise.

#aliens #original fiction #writeblr #short story #original writing #road trip #me? posting my writing again? its more likely than u think #lgbt #my writing

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