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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 134

Since I am queueing this chapter the same that I queued the last one, I just want to say:

If you have found my story in the last week, and liked it, thank you. It makes me smile when that happens.

If you shared my story with others, and they liked it, or even found a little bit of themselves in it, I’m very glad. Thank you for sharing something with your friends that they enjoyed.

As always, thank you to @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, @baelpenrose, and @charlylimph-blog for being my ports in all storms and the family everyone deserves to have.

Annnd the podcast. Don’t miss the podcast! I don’t profit from it in any way, shape, or form, but the idea of a version of this story that is more accessible for people who would struggle to read it is something that should always be supported!

A week later, I was wincing and out of breath when I reached my office for the day. Tyche had enthusiastically agreed with Arthur’s suggestion, and after some tests from Maverick showed that I could apparently kick hard enough to break a grown man’s pelvis - although not without also breaking my foot - I had been expected to be in the gym for nearly two hours every day. My legs hurt and my feet looked worse than the time I tried to learn ballet en pointe. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I was also apparently very slow in reacting with my legs as a result of years learning to fight with, you know, my hands. Like a normal person. This meant I was also wearing five pound weights on each ankle, all day, including when sparring.

So far, the only thing I had noticed was a demonstrably shorter patience and a reduction in how much I bounced my legs. Or sat comfortably.

I was so absorbed in my bad mood and how badly my legs hurt that I had already gotten coffee, greeted my mentees, and sat at my desk before I noticed something out of place. As usual, Parvati and Hannah were across from each other at the table they typically sat at, but Parvati was standing and demonstrating something.

While using the table emitter, which they only ever used for my benefit.

Tilting my head in what probably looked like what Sparkle’s expression when she was denied a treat, I watched as Parvati picked up a vaguely pen-shaped object - it really looked more like a sonic screwdriver than a writing implement - and started making neon pink lines of various widths, swirls to test the slant it would make, and using it at various speeds before closely considering the color of each line.

“What in the world is that?”

“Paint testers,” Hannah explained. “Charly dropped them off with Vati last night, along with the programming to simulate how they work so we could test them with an emitter and not a wall.”

“Paint?”

“For the Festival. Charly designed these for us to use instead of trying to get permission to use actual spray paint. The fumes of spray paint are apparently very caustic to Noah.”

I shuddered. “Yeah, no spray paint, clearly.”

Apparently satisfied with the pink, Parvati keyed her datapad to clear the emitter and picked up a different pen. This one was a beautiful lapis blue. “She’s quite brilliant,” she murmured as she tested the pen. “The pens work like an airbrush, but she took some inspiration from something Arthur Farro gifted her several years ago and ensured the pigment will only last three Ark-days. It also only appears under certain lighting.”

“And it’s non-toxic, of course,” Hannah added with a smile. “Because, you know… Charly.”

I hesitated before asking the next question. “How non-toxic are we talking?”

To my utter horror, rather than respond, Parvati opened her mouth and used a different button on the pen to paint her entire tongue blue. “They’re edible.” She closed her mouth with a smile before her eyebrows shot up. “Oh! That one is pomegranate!”

Hannah furiously made notations on her datapad before looking back up at me. “Vati already tested them on canvas in her quarters, but we also wanted to make sure the simulation software works so that we don’t waste pigment trying to figure out the design elements.”

“We’re also rather curious about what flavor each one is,” Parvati admitted before swapping to a toxic-looking green. “This one is peach, I do remember that. The pink was popcorn.”

I shook my head. “Do you want people licking the walls? Because this is how you get people to lick the walls.” I walked over as I was speaking and idly picked up one that was labelled as Titan Black.

Hannah snatched it away quickly. “That one is scotch bonnet flavor. I found that out the hard way.”

“I get making them non-toxic, but why are they flavored?” Hannah arched an eyebrow at me and I held my hands up defensively. “Other than the obvious application. Why design flavored paint pens for the Food Festival murals?”

Parvati blanked the emitter again and swapped pens. “That is going to be part of the design and experience,” she started to explain. “We originally wanted them non-toxic in case of the non-zero event that Else tries to eat the paint off the walls.” I nodded since ‘non-zero’ was putting it lightly. “Then I had the idea to include the possibility of Else eating the mural into its design. Rather than worry that Else will eat it, I am planning on it: I am going to create a piece that changes as the various colors are devoured.”

“Annnnnd how do you plan on controlling what order Else eats everything in?”

She waved to the row of pens on the table. “These are each in a flavor that we know Else likes. I am currently testing in my quarters what the order of preference is.”

As my mind started to catch up, I started nodding. “Your test swatches last night.”

“Precisely. I have them laying out in a grid, easily accessible to Else, and they are being monitored. We will take the recording and determine what the order of preference is from there.”

I shook my head with a huge grin. “That’s one hell of a performance art piece.”

Hannah straightened her posture in an imitation of Pravati’s normal ramrod-straight demeanor. “There is nothing more fitting for a celebration of how humanity persists in surviving, despite how transient and brief life can be, along with a clear showing of how we intend to welcome and embrace the differences between ourselves and those most different from us - even those who once nearly destroyed us but wished to make peace.”

“That’s frighteningly good,” Parvati praised nonchalantly as she squirted a fluorescent yellow into her mouth. “It makes no sense for that one to taste of something spicy.”

I took the pen and forced myself to spray it in my mouth. I perked up when it was actually very familiar and delicious. “It’s gochujang…” They both looked at me skeptically. “Apparently Else likes spicy food?”

“I’m starting to think this is how she flavors her popcorn,” Hannah murmured.

My head shook on that one. “No, all her popcorn is decidedly popcorn-flavored. The coloring is added while it is being made, along with the flavoring. Same thing with her ice-cream, and with the candy bars.”

“I agree,” Parvati added. “This pigment is quite wet, it would never work on something like popcorn.” Pausing in her testing, she turned to me. “She has made popcorn in your quarters before, did you notice how she colored it?”

I thought back to the movie night, fighting through how nostalgic and relaxing it made me feel. “It has to be a high-saturation powder. Other than the actual oil she used to pop it, everything she put in was powdered.”

“But it was toffee popcorn,” Parvati argued. “I remember because it was such a lovely shade of purple.”

Hannah and I both glanced at each other before turning concerned looks to Parvati. I was the one who eventually spoke. “You make toffee popcorn by adding sugar and salt while it’s being popped, Vati. Both are powders.”

“And how am I supposed to know that?” she demanded with a scowl before picking up a pen.

I looked back at Hannah, who was as baffled as I was. “Vati? Do you cook?”

She scoffed. “Of course not. Xiomara is a brilliant cook, why would I give that up?”

“But you know how, right?” I prodded. “We always have cooking classes going on here.”

She decidedly ignored us. I gaped at Hannah, who eventually crowed with laughter. “Oh my god! We found something Vati doesn’t know how to do!”

“Xio does make a wicked roti with veg curry,” I tried to defend her. If she was deflecting, Parvati clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

“And I can cook,” Parvati argued. “I can roast meat, and forage edible plants, and clean them both.”

“Works for me!” I chirped, trying to defuse the situation before Parvati actually got upset. “If you can cook enough to feed yourself in an apocalypse, I consider that a solid fundamental basis.”

Hannah finally took the hint. “Well, if you ever want to learn more, gods know you have plenty of friends who can teach you. Hell, Sophia taught Maverick to cook, and when they first met he had a very iffy relationship with the concept of food in general.”

That got me a look. “He had been through a lot, okay? You spend thirty years with everyone blaming your sensory issues with food on just ‘being picky’,” I used air quotes for emphasis, “and yeah, you start living on the three foods you like and a lot of vitamins and protein drinks.”

Parvati stopped in her tracks and slowly turned her head toward me before taking a seat. “How did someone who doesn’t even eat to live end up with two people who live to eat?”

I felt my face heat up, but managed to limit my reaction to a shrug. “If he said he didn’t like something, I took that at face value and didn’t make him eat it. If he never had it, I thought really hard about how similar it was to things he did or didn’t like, and offered it to him - or didn’t - based on that. I never took it as a challenge I needed to make him overcome, just as a challenge I needed to rise to.”

She considered this for a moment, glancing to Hannah who nodded in confirmation, before speaking. “This is why you cook.” It wasn’t a question. Parvati stated it as a fact.

And I confirmed it was, indeed, a fact. “One of the few things Huynh and I agree on is hospitality. I don’t want anyone to come to my table and feel they can’t eat. It’s how I was raised. There will be food they like, and plenty of it.”

I heard a popping noise from Hannah’s direction, and turned only to realize that it was her neck popping when she turned from Parvati to me. Eyes wide, she was barely audible when she whispered, “That’s why the Food Festival is so important to you…”

It took several attempts and a lot of nodding to swallow the lump in my throat. “We were all scared, and all strangers in this insane reality that we weren’t even sure was actually real. I thought - knew - it would ground us, and even start uniting us. If we could all see that arroz con pollo, paella, chicken biriyani, chicken etouffee weren’t all that different? What’s more familiar than chicken and rice, or fried puffs of dough, or pancakes?” I shook my head. “I remember my first day on the Ark. I was in a mess hall, and even with my sister and cat, I knew I was luckier than most but so lost. I just - “ I gulped and fought back tears. “I wanted shepherd’s pie so bad it hurt my soul. And I tried and tried to get it from the food consoles, and it was never the right thing. I must’ve tried eight times. It was so frustrating!” I didn’t catch myself in time to keep from slamming my fist a couple times on the table. “I felt even more lost. Someone came up to me and asked what I was doing.”

I took a deep breath to banish the concept of Arantxa from my head. “And dragged me to Conor because she realized that what I was saying and what she was hearing weren’t the same thing. That’s how I actually met him. And, bless his face, he knew exactly what I was asking for and got it for me if I promised to help him get French toast, of all things.” The memory made me smile. “Believe it or not, that moment mattered more to me than even waking up on the Ark when I should have been dead. Just… the idea that this person who knew nothing about me except what I wanted for dinner, was able to fix that lost feeling. I want everyone to have that.”

Parvati was staring at me like she was watching the most romantic story in the world, but at least Hannah nodded seriously. “Steak and ale pie. I always want that when I’m stressed.”

I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. “Exactly. And multiply that by every type of steak and ale pie anyone can possibly make on the Ark? I know I don’t have to convince you two to keep the Festival anymore, but yeah. That’s why it matters so much to me.”

I turned to Parvati, who was drumming her fingers and looking down somewhat sheepishly. “Most cultures have a kind of curry, so I never really thought about it,” she admitted. “But it makes sense, from that perspective. I never thought about it.”

Reaching out to pat her hand, I gave her a serious look. “That doesn’t mean you have to learn to cook anything more than what you already know,” I assured her. “It’s my motivation. No one else’s. If you ever want to learn to make something you don’t know how to, I’ll be happy to teach you. If you never want to learn how to make anything you don’t know how to, I will be happy to cook for you. Just… don’t ask me to bake? That’s a Tyche thing.”

She groaned. “Those mini black forest donuts….”

“Exactly. Don’t ask me to make them, I’ll ruin them ten times out of ten,” I laughed.

“She should make donuts for the Festival,” Hannah suggested wistfully. “Do you think we could talk her into it?”

I held up my hands in surrender. “I’m not asking her to do it, so have fun.”

“But you’re her sister.”

“How the hell do you think I know not to ask?” I gave them both a flat stare that set them giggling. “Donuts for the family? Fine. Donuts for the whole entire Ark? Not touching it.”

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#the miys #found family #charly #food festival #humans are weird #aliens #apocalypse #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #hfy #earth is space australia #science fiction #sci fi #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing #my writing

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bookandcranny · 4 years ago

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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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bluepenguinstories · 3 years ago

Text

Remoras Full Chapter XLIV: Sting Ray

Exhaustion set in as soon as the form before us faded. Vague shapes of the people around me blurred further until they were just airbrushed silhouettes who swayed from side to side. They were both close to me while also being further away. Miles away, even as they stood in place, next to Sunny and I. Even without exhaustion, I would have felt the same, thanks to the high setting in.

“I can’t believe it’s over...”Sunny muttered as she puffed the last of her joint. I think we were all shaken by the experience, even if none of us were naive enough to believe we were rid of such a monster.

Before we were ready to move on, Remora stepped out in front of us and lowered herself down to one knee.

“Aw, are you about to propose to someone?” Sunny leaned in and teased. Remora looked up and tilted her head.

“...What?” She asked, perpetual confusion. “No. I just...well, I do have a proposition.”

“Well, out with it!” Sunny urged.

Remora lowered her head, then continued:

“I left you all at a time when I suspected we weren’t rid of the one who sought to harm us. Thus, I put you all in danger. For that, I am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I tried to reassure her, “I don’t think any of us knew Cronus could conjure up a fog like that.”

“Even still...I left and I shouldn’t have. For so long, I wanted a home, some place I felt right in. Maybe this place wasn’t what I would have considered ‘home’ at first, but over time I found you guys to be important to me. Yet I left you all behind, because I was scared. Because I didn’t understand what you all meant to me. So, even though I know I have no right to ask this of you, I will do so anyway: may I be a part of your lives once more? If you refuse, we’ll part ways once we reach the surface and you’ll never have to see me again.”

We all stood in silence. Despite the haze which was taking over, I took the initiative and cleared my throat.

“Oh my. I wasn’t expecting this,” I remarked.

“I’m serious,” Remora replied.

I can’t do serious. Not when I’m starting to feel the buzz kick in.

“I know. It’s just that you should know by now that at least in my eyes, you’ve always got a home here.”

“Yeah, I don’t see why you’d need to worry about something like that,” Sunny added.

“Still,” Remora turned her head away from Sunny and I, “I want to make sure it’s okay with everyone.”

Tigershark stamped her feet as she marched up to Remora, then tapped her on the shoulder.

“I still don’t like that you used to kill people. That’s not a very nice thing to do. But the you that I know is a good person now, so that’s what matters to me. Besides, you’re still one of my precious older sisters!”

“I…” Remora sounded ready to object.

“If you don’t stay, I’m going to be mad, so you have that to think about!” Tigershark roared, hands on her hips.

“I guess I do, huh?” Remora chuckled a humorless chuckle, awkward smile to boot. Afterward, she turned her attention toward Demetria, to which, the rest of us did as well.

“What? Why’s everyone looking at me for?” Demetria stammered, then on the defensive, took a step back and crossed her arms, “what do you need my opinion for? It’s not my decision to make.”

“Everyone means everyone,” Remora told her, insisting on an answer.

“Sure...Yeah. Whatever.”

“Is no one gonna ask me how I feel?” Tigershark jumped up as she asked.

“How do you feel?” Sunny looked down to humor the child, still with enough energy to jump in place.

“Terrible! Thanks! This whole thing has been a nightmare! First, there was that other you,” Tigershark looked over at Remora, “who turned out to be a monster. Then we fight rock monsters. We’re all bleeding and getting hurt. Then we fight another guy who’s a monster and apparently he’s the one who killed my parents? It wasn’t a blizzard, but a scary guy? And now...I’m ready to wake up.”

“Aw, we’re sorry, dear,” Sunny pursed her lip.

“No, I agree, though,” rasped Demetria’s rough voice. Odd, ‘rough’ when I had known her to have more of a mouse-like voice. “What else could it be called other than a nightmare?”

She didn’t speak another word after that, opting instead to hobble her way closer to me, and further from Remora. It was remarkable, that even in my high state, I could notice such subtleties. As we made our worn-out strides out from the room of Cronus’ design, I noticed little pebbles fall into my messy black hair. I ruffled through my hair, trying to shake the flakes out, all while more fell onto my head.

Of course. This part of the tunnel is one of his own design. Once he’s faded away, so too do his illusions.

“Don’t mean to rush any of you all, but I think this place is about to collapse,” I dropped the hint, and being the smartypants that they were, they looked at each other, eyes bulging, then in a panic, began to pick up their pace.

“Demetria, if you find it hard to walk, you can hold onto the side of my suit,” I offered to her. She scowled, though the scowl dropped to a more relaxed frown. As if to say, “fine. If it comes to that, I’ll allow it.”

“Good, and Sunny,” I added, then turned to my wife, my life, “you can do the same with Remora. If either of you need to lean on each other, that’s totally fine,” I gave the thumbs up. Sunny winked.

It was more like a game of hopscotch than a race of peril. Really embarrassing, if I were to be honest. If I had thought to bring a video camera, or even just record them on my phone, I’d look at the footage of us running for our lives and I would laugh. As it stood, I didn’t have that luxury. Any reason to laugh had to be put on hold as my breaths grew short and shallow and the collapsing rocky ground continued to close in behind us. Its pace picking up alongside our own increasing pace.

Other short breaths followed my own as if the other four were a barbershop quartet with stage fright. Hell, with me alongside them, it may as well be a quintet.

Remora and Sunny were both tall ladies. Tigershark was somewhere. Demetria was not a tall lady and I was a Short King (OK. So actually, I am Average Man height. Like 5’7”-(on my good days) 5’9”. Probably). Together we made up a group of people trying to get by with our lives.

I felt a little pull against my arm sleeve. I looked down and saw the orange jelly bean, Tigershark herself, held on tight to my sleeve.

“Hey! Look at you! Good job!” I congratulated her as I tried to work up a smile. If not for myself, then for the kid. She still looked ready to cry. Maybe when we got back to the diner, I could make a cake. If we even still have enough ingredients. Dammit Cronus (because the fog, not because he stole our food, which in an indirect way, he may as well have).

“Fancy weather, innit?” Sunny tried up a Parisian accent.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re underground,” Remora replied in a non-emotive shout, partially muffled by the rumblings around us.

Out the false tunnel and into the original tunnel as we slid our way through as the collapsing illusion. As it shut behind us and became a wall once more, it caused a miniature quake and had us all jump into place before we fell into the ground.

“Worst trampoline I’ve been on in a while,” I remarked as I rubbed my sore bum.

Tigershark was the first to stand back up and made cymbal crashing motions as she danced around with an angry chicken look on her face.

“When I get back, I’m going to bang pots and pans, because I deserve to!” She roared.

“Yeah, can’t argue there,” Sunny murmured. Then her and I laughed.

When we struggled back up and continued walking, I decided to break the ice:

“So, anything you wanna talk about?” I peered at the Demetria beside me. She didn’t say a word.

“Ah, the quiet game. I see,” then I turned to Remora who had a confused look on her face, but also said nothing. “You’re playing too, I see.”

“You’ll have to excuse my Ray of Sunshine, he’s a little high right now,” Sunny waved her hand around in a fanning motion.

“High?” Tigershark looked up. “What’s that mean?”

“He’s ascended,” Sunny then fluttered her hands to the side, like she was breaking out of her cocoon and becoming a beautiful moth fairy.

I tried to keep quiet. I knew I should. There were rules, and if all the world was a stage, then I was a character just as much as anyone else around me. Which meant, there were rules. One of those rules was that I was to stick to the established personality traits of my character. Any deviation was forbidden.

Oh, but much like someone who drank a gallon of tea needed to pee, if we walked through this long tunnel with neither Sunny nor I saying a word, I think I’d be in throbbing pain.

“A word,” Sunny took one for the team. “That’s all I’m going to say, though.”

Wow. Do we share the same mind?

“Thank you, dear,” I told her.

“Any time. Just remember: you’re my wife.”

I chuckled in response.

“I’m your wife, just as you are mine.”

“Wife and Malewife. We’re a gay male and female couple,” Sunny snapped her fingers and remarked.

“That’s what I’m saying!” I exclaimed in agreement.

Collective groans were made from the other three ladies.

Much of our trip back from then on was a blur, other than the fact that at one point, Demetria remarked, “gee, I bet everyone else back at the diner’s wondering what’s taking us so long.”

Although I was still a little outside of my mind, I let out a chuckle.

“Yeah, they’re probably thinking, ‘it can’t possibly take this long just to turn the lights back on’.”

Speaking of lights, as weary as we were, the sight of the bright, yellow glow flooded into view the closer we reached the entrance back into the basement. I looked beside me and saw Tigershark blink several times and rubbing her eyes. The others might have been just as astonished to see light again.

For my part, I was just hoping I had a spare pair of glasses somewhere once we got back up to the surface.

We walked through and everyone’s astonishment was voiced through low “ooh”, “aah,” and “wow.” While they all looked around, I couldn’t help but notice little red streaks on the otherwise clean floor.

No doubt from the fight that went on.

Everyone else made it up to the ladder before me. When it was my turn, I noticed some red marks upon the bars of the ladder. Whether blood or rust, I couldn’t tell. I just hoped they were dry enough that none of the others had gotten it on them. Even without getting it on them, one thing was certain: all five of us were due for a bath (but not at the same time).

Once I made my way up into the kitchen, I closed the hatch behind me. Sunny dropped to the floor, a wide grin on her face, then shot her arms up.

“Whee! Let’s do that again!” She cheered.

“NO!” The rest of us shouted in unison. It couldn’t be helped, of course. She was still riding that high, even if I was starting to come down.

I half-expected for someone, or a few someones, to bolt through the kitchen door and check in on us. When that didn’t come, I expected to hear commotion from the dining hall. Then, when that didn’t come, I just had to investigate. My heart beat like a dog would wag their tail at the prospect of a treat. Though replace ‘treat’ with ‘mystery’.

So I strolled, or strode, whichever suited my fancy, out into the dining hall where I saw the crowd...that wasn’t there. Yes, despite my poor vision, I still couldn’t believe my eyes at the emptiness of it all. There were still plates and messes on each table, signs that life had been there. But where they had gone, that was still a mystery.

Everyone else came out from the kitchen soon after me. Behind me, I heard Tigershark ask, “where did everybody go?”

Yes. Good question. Just how long were we gone? What could have happened in the meantime? Were they all hurt?

“That’s a good question, pipsqueak,” Demetria replied.

“Hey! Who you callin’ pipsqueak? In a few years, I’ll be taller than you!” Tigershark shouted back with ferocious fury.

“Man, I love you all,” Sunny drawled out, an adorable smile spread across her face.

“Uh. OK? Thanks?” Remora didn’t know how to respond.

Two things caught my attention: one, though outside looked fuzzy and dark, it did not look foggy. Which could only mean that the fog was lifted. The other thing I noticed were a few sheets of paper spread out on a nearby table. Ignoring their banter, I wandered over to the table. Each sheet had our names written on one side, with a series of text on the back. Although I couldn’t make out the individual words of our names, I could tell who was who by the individual letters shown and the vague shapes that made them up.

I chuckled at the absurdity of not even being able to read a simple letter.

I hope I have a spare pair of glasses somewhere.

“Hey guys,” I motioned for the others. It was my own little way of obfuscating from the fact that I couldn’t see what was written, “come check this out.”

The others scrambled on over and noticed the sheets of paper on the table, just as I had.

“They’re...letters?” Demetria blinked, astonished, and just a slight tinge of confusion.

“Man, oh man! This is too much!” Sunny held one hand over her face while the other held the sheet of paper, “she spelled it ‘hoomin’! Like Moomin, but with an ‘H’!”

“It’s Astraea!” Tigershark gasped as she read her letter, “she said that everyone else went to the hospital and she followed them there! Apparently there’s someone in particular she wants to see.”

“What does yours say, Demetria?” I turned to her as she parsed through the page. Before she answered, she folded up the paper and put it in her pocket.

“Nothing important,” she answered in a dry manner.

“Same here,” Remora added with a shiver and a shifty look.

Nervous, much?

“In that case,” I smiled, still trying to save face, “I’ll keep my letter private as well. They are meant for the individual, after all.”

“Aw, I wanted to know what yours said,” Tigershark whined. I pat her head and chuckled.

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it later,” I suggested as a means to reassure her.

“...Heh...Hoomin,” Sunny mumured to herself and laughed a howling laughter.

Now that I think about it, she probably has less of a tolerance to that kind of stuff than I do.

I strolled over to each table and picked up each plate, ready to take it to the kitchen. As I held a stack in hand, I turned to the other four.

“Now, we’ve all had a long day, so how about we all relax? Go ahead, sit down, I’ll get you guys something to drink.

“I’ll take vodka,” Remora requested whilst lowering herself down to the booth next to her.

“What’s vodka?” Tigershark asked.

“Shitty alcohol,” Sunny answered, not seeming to care about the swear, “I’ll have whiskey, take it or leave it.”

“Both of those sound gross!” Tigershark stuck her tongue out. “I’ll just have some hot cocoa.”

“Whip or no whip?” I asked.

“Lots and lots of whip cream!” She roared and cheered, fist pumping into the air.

“How about you, Demetria?” I turned my attention to her and watched as she slumped over in her seat, next to Sunny, and sulked at the table.

“Coffee,” she stated, which I found interesting, as I never pictured her to be a coffee drinker. Then again, I didn’t know what kind of drinks she tended to like.

“And how do you take your coffee?”

“Orally.”

Her response left me no choice but to make my expression as dull as hers as I teased, “oh, really? And here I thought you took yours rectally.”

“Wha...no. I mean, black, I guess.”

Sunny cackled into a thunderous laughter and slammed her fist on the table, which shook the poor thing every which way.

Sheesh. It’s like I’ve got my own laugh track. Thanks hun.

As I worked my magic in the kitchen, washing dishes and preparing drinks, I thought it over and decided that what Sunny really needed was water. As for everyone else, it went over just fine: I didn’t have to venture back down into the basement to get some vodka (thank goodness) as there was a bottle in the fridge. After I poured a shot, I filled another shot glass with water from the tap. Next, I brewed a pot of coffee, boiled a kettle of water on the stove, and as I waited for each one to heat up and fill up, I took off to the back of the diner to search for a pair of glasses.

There were none in my desk drawer. Next, I ascended to the upstairs bedroom. Sure enough, on the night stand, there was a box for glasses. I opened it up, half-fearing that it would be empty, but my heart fluttered upon seeing that there was indeed a pair for me.

Thank my lucky stars. Feels like things are finally starting to turn around.

As soon as I put them on, the world opened up to me.

“I can see clearly now the rain is gone,” I hummed and made my way back down.

Before I went back into the kitchen to prepare the final three drinks, I unfolded the paper and read its contents. For the sake of posterity, I will transcribe it without so many spelling errors (trust me, just about every word was misspelled):

Dear Ray,

Thank you a lot for letting me be a waitress. I appreciate what you taught me about humanity, just as much as I do with the things Sunny and Tigershark have taught me. Tigershark is my friend, you know. Also, I liked asking people what food they wanted to eat. I learned so many names of foods.

I think we’re a lot alike, because we’re both curious about things. It’s good, I think, because there’s always more to learn. While I didn’t understand what was going on at the time, I know a lot of people weren’t doing too good and you looked a bit sad. But I think even if bad things happen, you’re still very nice. I also want to be very nice! But I think I like tricking people too. That’s fun (Tigershark taught me about tricking).

As for how I managed to write all this after everyone went to the hospital it’s because I can write fast (Tigershark taught me to read and write). I’m very fast! Maybe not running but I can do things fast!

Also everyone left because someone called the doctor and the doctor mobile picked them up. I was in my room but I heard that someone fell over. It sounded interesting, so I’m going to walk to the hospital now. I might come back, but it also might take me a lot of days. I can’t always tell where I’m going.

P.S. I think you would like Animal Crossing. Tom Nook is kind of like you. He’s a nice man and maybe human.

I smiled and folded the paper back up, placed it into my desk, and strolled back into the kitchen. There were still some missing pieces, some gaps that needed to be filled in, but I’m sure they would be explained in time.

Actually, I’m growing a little impatient on that front.

After pouring in the hot cocoa mix into the boiling water, I stirred it. Then I filled it sky high with whipped cream. The coffee was easy, since it was all automatic. Really, needed no explanation. As for my tea, I chose a nice cup of ceylon and jasmine tea, and let it steep. While it sat, I decided to call up Dr. Cole-Slaw. To my surprise, she answered right away.

“Ray! You better have a good explanation for all this!” She huffed into the phone, clear annoyance rang through her voice.

“I’m sorry, Shir – Doctor, but I was hoping you could give me one. I was away while everything went down. One moment, I was attending to business in the basement, the next, all my patrons are gone.”

“Are you aware what ‘DOA’ means?” She asked, a little ‘tsk tsk’ in her tone.

“Yeah. Of course. I’ve been a wanted man in a few cities.” That was a joke. I wasn’t as popular as some might have believed me to be.

“Dead on arrival, smartass. One of your friends, Xena Warrior Princess over here, called me to go retrieve a dead body. Is this some kind of practical joke?”

Dead body? What?

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. I don’t know anything about that. Also, Xena Warrior Princess?”

“I dunno, purple sword lady.”

“Wendy. I don’t think she’d appreciate being called that.”

“Oh, no, she does. I ran it by her first. She said it’s quite amusing. Anyway, care to explain?”

Still the same Shirley, I see. Still...this is concerning.

“Trust me, I’d love to. I’ve buried a couple of people outside of the diner, but there shouldn’t be any corpses inside.”

“Excuse me? There’s more? Have you gone off the deep end, Ray? I know you’ve done some questionable stuff, but I didn’t know you had it in you to be an ax murderer.”

“It’s nothing like that. Look,” I slid back from the counter, “I’ll tell you what I’ve been dealing with for the past year: there’s been a terrible fog, maybe you’ve seen it? Maybe not. But there’s been monsters in the fog attacking people and I’ve been sheltering as many people as I could, trying to keep everyone alive on what limited supplies we had.”

“No offense, but I’ve got a hard time believing that.”

“Maybe it’s better that you don’t. I’d rather it wasn’t real, myself. But as you could see, it’s been lifted. For equally supernatural reasons, I presume.”

I got to thinking about all that I’ve endured the past year. All that we’ve endured. How all that time, I never bothered to learn the names of the people I sheltered. It was just as Aurora said. Perhaps if I had gotten to know everyone, I would have figured out Sister Cecilia’s identity sooner. I would have figured out Captain Aca...okay, that one was obvious. But still, I wished that I had a stronger bond with the others. Maybe then I might have had higher spirits.

“Say, do you know who it was you picked up?”

“No, sorry. But your cohort seems to have an idea. I’ll put her on the line. She’s agreed to mop the hospital floors while she’s here. I figure it’s a fair enough deal since I ended up hauling off a whole crowd of people.”

“Great. Do it.”

“Oh, and by the way, our little Jane Doe’s still breathing. For now, anyway. She’s in, uh, not good condition, but it’s something.”

“What a relief. Wait, I thought you said dead on arrival?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t say arrival to the hospital. I’m a genius, I know,” she gloated.

“OK, let me hear from Wendy.”

She passed the phone on over, then I heard Wendy’s raspy yet sly voice.

“Hey, Ray, guess who I’m with at the hospital right now?” She posed the question.

“Are you going to tell me?” I wasn’t really in the mood for guessing, nor did I have enough information on hand to do so. “I know they’re a woman, that’s about it.”

“Hmm…” she lingered on that last ‘m’, “have you taken a look in the mirror since you got back? I do take it you’re back, and not just calling me from underground.”

“No, I haven’t. I should get on that, but I’m busy preparing drinks for the other four.”

“You sure sound exhausted, that’s for sure. I bet you look just as bad as you sound right now,” she suggested.

“Probably. I just sound this way because I’m coming down from a high, but we all need our rest. Now, since you’re not going to tell me about this mystery patient, will you at least tell me what went on while I was away?”

“Aw, you’re no fun. But sure. Basically about a minute or two after you went down, the lights flickered back on and we were all excited. I told everyone to temper their excitement, as we still don’t know what to expect. What a statement that turned out to be, as maybe a little more than an hour later, we hear someone coming back up. Some of us got all giddy, thinking it was you guys, but instead walks out this woman none of us recognized. Well, some of us thought we did, but I’m not gonna name names. She fell down once she saw us, but not before saying something, I think it was, ‘that’s all, folks’ in a weak voice.”

“Someone besides us was down in the basement?” My heart skipped a beat. I knew there was that impostor, and later on Cronus, but I didn’t think there would be anyone else. “Did she sneak down there and hide or something?”

“Couldn’t tell ya. I’m as lost as you are on that front. But I’ll say this: upon seeing her face, I flew into a panic. I shouted for someone to call a doctor. Others thought it was ridiculous, but then we saw that the fog was gone and that was when we all wanted a doctor. Someone had the number to your good friend, Cole-Slaw, and she was happy to come out and get us all.”

Something tells me she wasn’t very happy at all, but let’s put that aside.

“Speaking of coleslaw, what’s the deal with it? You put mayonnaise on radishes and lettuce or something and for some reason that’s supposed to taste good?”

“Any other time, I’d love to talk about what constitutes as food, but I’m just a little beat.”

“I get you. I think even I would be, given what you all must have gone through. But hey, now we’ve got clear skies. That’s something to celebrate, no?”

“Yeah. Maybe in the morning I can get a good view outside. As it is, it’s just a little too dark for my liking. But anyway, I should go,” but before I did, I got to thinking, “oh, and hey: if this mystery patient manages to make it, I’d like to meet her in person. Maybe you can invite her back to the diner and Tigershark and I will treat her to a nice meal. How’s that sound?”

“Sure thing, Ray. We’ll see.”

There was a great list of things to look forward to, and that just became one of them. But anyway, I needed to deliver everyone their drinks before the hot drinks turn cold and the cold drinks turn warm. So once I ended the call, I brought out each of the drinks on a platter and strode out into the dining hall.

“Here you go, ladies,” I set down each drink onto the table. Sunny, without hesitation, downed her shot.

“Damn,” she wiped her mouth, “that’s the best whiskey I’ve ever had.”

I suppose the irony may have been that it would have been easier to mistake water for vodka than it would be whiskey, but since she was still riding a high, perhaps it was just a little hard to tell.

Tigershark sipped on her hot cocoa, a little whipped cream mustache forming above her lips.

I, meanwhile, too my seat at the booth just behind them. It wasn’t a matter of isolating myself from the others. No, I just liked to listen in as an outsider while I took comfort in the solitude.

“It really has been over a year. How old are you now, Demetria?” Remora asked, working up her best kind voice.

“Twenty-four,” Demetria replied and shrugged whilst sipping her coffee.

“Aw, man! That means I missed your birthday!” Remora then complained.

“Uh, yeah? That’s what being away for over a year means.”

“Still, it’s good to see you,” Remora smiled and continued to try to lighten the mood.

“It is? Why?”

“Because I’ve missed you.”

“No you didn’t. You just missed the attention.”

“That’s not true…” Her voice turned desperate, before lowering it.

“Sorry. That was maybe too harsh of me,” Demetria looked away as she mentioned.

“No, you’re right.”

Demetria got up from her seat, took the coffee cup, chugged it down, then announced, “I’m going to my room.”

She walked off a couple of paces, then turned back.

“Don’t worry, Ray. I’ll wash out my mug before I go.”

She walked a couple of paces once again, almost to the kitchen, then turned back once more.

“Actually, I’m going to take a shower, then I’ll go to my room.”

I couldn’t help myself, perhaps a tad insensitive of me, but I cupped one hand over my mouth and called out to her.

“Actually, you’ll go through the hallway, then take a shower, then go to your room!”

She twitched, it seeming to strike a nerve, but then just said, “yeah…”

I then saw Tigershark, still with her whipped cream mustache, look over with an incredulous face, then turn back to Remora.

“What was that for?! We just got back and she’s already got an attitude?” Tigershark thew her hands up.

“It’s because of me,” Remora turned somber and stared down as she explained, “the whole reason why she left last time, and why I left.”

“Why?”

“Because I told her that I didn’t, and couldn’t care about her. Or anyone. I really thought that at the time, too. She didn’t take it well, which...understandably so. So I tried to bargain with her, and...that made it worse, because I panicked and I wasn’t feeling well, just recovering from being sick, which probably contributed to the whole thing. So...I can’t blame her for being wary around me.”

“Well, that’s stupid! You care about us, right?” Tigershark was incensed and poised for a rant.

“Yeah, but it took a long time to figure that out.”

Interesting. I never thought I’d hear her say that. Perhaps in her absence she went through a long journey of self-discovery and probably has many stories to tell of her adventures.

“So? Just tell her that.”

“It’s not that simple…”

“Yeah it is. You just told me.”

“I’m sure she’d want me to prove it, and I don’t know how to.”

“That’s dumb too! And I’m sure you missed us, too! Also, what’s wrong with wanting attention? Who says you can’t miss people and want attention at the same time? Attention is good.”

“You don’t get it. You’re just a kid.”

“So what? What’s that got to do with anything? I’ll have you know, I’m eleven now!”

“Wow. I’m gone for over a year and all of a sudden everyone’s a year older,” Remora muttered. It was almost like she was making an observation, but to anyone else, it may have come off as sarcasm.

She looked out the window, listless, then peered her head over to where I was; to be honest, I was a little caught off guard that she would notice me, given that I was just there sipping my tea and listening in to everyone else.

“I’m going to my room, too, and, uh, Ray?” Remora announced.

“Yes?” I addressed her.

“Your wife’s asleep at the table.”

“Ah. Thank you. I suppose it’s time we get some rest. In the morning I’ll make us all a large meal, how does that sound?” I offered.

“I can do it! You’re still hurt pretty bad!” Tigershark shot her hand up.

“Very well. I’ll leave it to you, then,” I gave a light chuckle as I got up from my seat, took one last sip of my tea, and led Sunny up, first by tapping on her back.

“Come on, hun. It’s time we got ourselves to bed,” I coaxed as I helped lift her up.

“Boobas…” She murmured in a half-asleep daze. She must have been dreaming about bubble tea or something.

“Yes, dear. I understand quite well.”

We stumbled our way to the back, then up the stairs to our room. She rubbed her eyes a bit, but rather than start to wake up, as soon as we were next to our bed, she collapsed right into it. I followed suit.

The following morning, I fumbled getting my glasses back on, surprised that I had slept without taking them off, and my head almost crushing them while asleep. Once I had conquered that battle, it was time to...well, check the time. My phone read 5:31 AM, and as early as it was, I accepted it and forced myself out of bed.

As I got up, I felt the intense soreness of yesterday’s struggle. What a terrible and aching physical reminder it was. It got worse when I went down and took a shower; the hot water stung against the wounds on my sides and on my face. After getting myself dressed, I headed to my desk in the middle of the hallway and sat down. Yes, it may have been wiser to have brewed another cup of tea, or perhaps, dare I say, coffee, but I just wanted to sit and think for a little while.

What a day yesterday. For better or worse, we all made it back, and the diner is once again empty save for the five of us. While I do hope to get some customers sooner or later, I must say that I enjoy the quiet. We’ve all earned it. Now, even if some things may be different in terms of everyone’s personalities, if we are getting back to business as usual, then I ought to make a phone call.

The downside is that based on our timezones, Cybele would probably still be asleep.

I know. I’ll just send a text.

Me: It’s safe now. You can return if you’d like.

I set my phone down on the table, then almost jumped out of my seat upon seeing Remora seated across from me. Her serious expression made whatever she was there to say seem urgent.

“So, I just had a dream that we were all on a battlefield and then Demetria died and I got sad, so there’s no denying it now: I’ve got a crush on her.”

I matched her dull expression with my own.

“Remora, it’s like 6 AM,” I informed her.

“Is it? I don’t have my phone with me, so I can’t really tell the time. Anyway, I don’t see what that has to do with the dream I had, so quit beating around the bush and tell me what you think.”

Is this really all I’m good for?

“It doesn’t really sound like a crush,” I shrugged, figuring she wouldn’t give up staring until I gave her an answer, “it just sounds normal. You’d be sad if I died, wouldn’t you?”

She paused. Didn’t say a word. I let it linger for a few seconds longer, then I couldn’t help myself.

“What?! No answer?!” I spat out.

“I’m still tired,” she replied, “I have to think about this.”

I was still just a little baffled, but I let it go.

“Even if it turns out you haven’t developed a crush, like you theorize, I can still tell you’ve discovered some things about yourself, so I commend you for that. Maybe later we can discuss some of the things you’ve learned.”

“Anyway, I’m pretty sure it’s a crush,” Remora dismissed, as if she didn’t even listen to what I had to say, “but I’m going to deny it, because I already know a relationship wouldn’t work out.”

“I agree. As it stands, I don’t think either of you are ready for such things. Besides, I know how she used to be, but do you think that’s something she wants now?”

“What? That’s not what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to say, ‘go for it, what do you have to lose? You only live once, et cetera’.”

“I’m agreeing with something you said. Isn’t that good enough?”

“We’re friends, right, Ray?”

I put my palm over my head.

“Yes, Remora. We’re friends.”

“So you’ll tell me anything I wanna hear, right?” She closed her eyes, crossed her arms, and smiled.

“That’s not how that works.”

“I know, but can’t you just pretend?” Her smile lowered and she pleaded.

“OK. What do you want to hear?” I humored her.

She just slammed her head against the desk and groaned.

“Ugh...I don’t know. What should I do?”

“First you should get your head off my desk,” I instructed. She didn’t, at least not at first.

“Ugh...you’re so mean, Ray,” she whined before lifting her head.

“Now, you should go back to bed. You clearly need some rest.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right,” she blinked, her face back to the blank expression I was used to seeing on her. “What are you doing up so early, anyway?”

“I’m just sitting and thinking. I like to do it sometimes.”

“Wow. That’s such an old man thing to do. You’re not that old yet, you know,” she pointed out.

“Don’t you ever do that?”

“Only when I need to.”

“Well, then, I think you need to do some of that after you’ve gotten a little more rest. You said yourself after we got back last night that the reason she’s acting the way she is around you is because of what happened before you left over a year ago. So don’t you think that should be addressed first before any prospect of a relationship?”

“Hm. Yeah. OK. Back to bed I go.”

A few hours later, Tigershark had made pancakes with strawberry syrup for everyone. She, Sunny, and I sat together while Remora and Demetria sat alone in booths at opposite ends of the diner silence.

“So, I was thinking, hun, how we don’t really charge people for meals most of the time,” Sunny brought up in between bites of the fluffy pancakes.

“Yeah. We used to a few years ago, but there’s been many changes since then,” I replied.

“Right. But you don’t mind that we don’t charge, do you?” She pondered.

“I suppose not.”

“So I’ve got a couple of ideas: we could turn this place into a hotel and start charging. If we hire more staff, then it shouldn’t be all that stressful managing all those people. Yeah, we had to house many people already and it was awful because of the circumstances, but if people can go in and out, then it should be fine.”

“It would cost a lot of money to expand this space in order to accommodate,” I pointed out.

“Right. My other idea is: why do we need to be a business at all? Like, sure, the front half is pretty much designed like a business, but there’s nothing saying we have to. We get by just fine on our own as it is. So maybe we could provide free meals to anyone who comes in and advertise that.”

“So basically what we’ve already been doing, but announce it?”

“Yeah!”

“I won’t rule it out. Not sure if I really want the attention, but it’s an option.”

“What do you think, Tigershark?” Sunny turned to the kid.

“Hmm...oh! You could do both! Make it like a free hotel!”

I put my palm over my mouth and chuckled.

“So like a homeless shelter, but fancy...not bad, not bad. Still would be expensive to see it through, but it seems like the kind of thing Wendy would approve of. Not to mention, just like with the previous hotel idea, we’d have to hire more staff, and even if they’d live here with us, they’ll probably want to get paid for their labor.”

“Oh! Have you heard from Wendy?” Tigershark asked.

“Yeah, I talked to her last night. She’s doing fine. Just hanging out at the hospital.”

“That idea…” Sunny scratched her chin. “Tigershark, you’re a genius! It’s easy! We make lots of money by taking on requests again!”

“That’s one way...but then there’s the chance of Cronus striking at any moment. Sheesh, everything’s become so complicated.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out something, hun,” Sunny reached across the table and gave me a pat on the shoulder. When she sat back down, I felt my phone begin to ring. I picked it up and saw that it was Cybele.

“Oh my Goddess! This is the best day ever!” Cybele gushed over the phone, her excitement at maximum capacity.

“Is it really?” I chuckled.

“Yes! I can’t wait! I’m going to head back on over right away! Oh, but what should I do about the big house? Should I sell it? Should I give it to a homeless person? Oh, but if I do that, then they wouldn’t be able to afford to pay utilities, so that wouldn’t be very fair.”

“You can sell the house, then give the money to a homeless person,” I suggested.

“Yes! Brilliant! Thank you so much, Ray!” She hung up right after, without so much as a goodbye.

“Who was that?” Sunny asked.

“Cybele. She’ll be coming back soon,” I informed her.

“Awesome! We’re getting the band back together!”

“Band? What band?” Tigershark looked at the both of us, turning her head back and forth.

“It’s a figure of speech,” I explained.

After breakfast, Tigershark and I tended to the dishes. Once we had finished, I headed back to Sunny and I’s bedroom so I could fetch myself a book to read. We had an extensive collection along multiple bookshelves, enough that if we expanded the space just a bit more, we could have ourselves our own little library.

After much deliberation, I decided to settle on a collection of Akutagawa’s short stories. His tales were amusing, if nothing else, so it should at least pass some time away.

As I made my way back downstairs, I heard some commotion between Remora and Demetria.

“We need to set boundaries! So you stay at your end of the hallway, and I’ll stay at mine!” Demetria shouted whilst holding a stick of chalk.

“But the bathroom is on your end of the hallway and sometimes I have to pee. Also, what about showering?” Remora stated her case.

“You’ll have to get creative! We’re not good around each other, and this is a good solution!”

I made my way to the bottom of the stairs, then turned to the two.

“Hey Demetria, I need to cut something, so can I borrow one of your knives?” I asked.

She looked up at me, blinked, then dug into her pocket.

“Uh, sure, here.”

I took her knife and held it up, making a slashing motion into the air.

“Yep. It’s just as I thought. The tension in the air’s so thick that you have to cut through it with a knife.”

“What?!” Demetria stomped her foot at my little theatrics. I handed her knife back to her, then smudged out the chalk line on the floor with my foot. She, of course, took issue with that. “Hey! What are you doing? I’m setting boundaries, here!”

“You’re acting like a child, is what you’re doing.”

“Am not! She started it!” Demetria pointed at Remora. I faced Remora, who then backed away a step.

“I was just trying to talk things out with her, but I understand wanting space and I’m willing to compromise, but please let me take a shower sometimes,” Remora pleaded.

“There’s the bathroom in the dining hall,” I explained, “but yes, there’s no reason to restrict what bathroom you use. That’s just ridiculous.”

“First off, when she tried to talk things out, she just made things worse,” Demetria was still going at it.

“Look, I’m fine if you guys fight with each other, but can you two not take up so much space? Sit down at a table, or go to a room and go at it there,” I told them.

“I don’t want to go at it with her, I just want us to coexist,” Remora explained.

“We can’t coexist! We’re not good around each other!” Demetria shot back.

I shook my head. This was really trying my patience.

“Maybe you’re right,” I relented.

“Ha!” Demetria gloated.

“What I mean is, if you two can’t get along, you both can leave. We don’t need any of this bickering.”

“What?! You can’t do that! I was here first!” Demetria protested.

“Technically speaking, Remora was here first,” I pointed out.

“Well I came back first!”

“Well, I’m...uh...taller?” Remora interjected in an absentminded fashion.

You do realize this isn’t a competition, right?

“I’m serious. Get along or else,” I reiterated.

“But we can’t get along!” Demetria whined.

“...You won’t have to. I’ll be in my room, so, there should be no issues,” Remora stated, then walked away back to her end of the hallway. Even if she didn’t look like one, the image of a sad little puppy conjured up.

Once she entered into her room and closed the door behind her, I turned to Demetria.

“Anything you would like to drink? Tea? Coffee?” I offered. She looked up, confused, but answered.

“Espresso?”

“Very well. Go ahead and sit down, I’ll make you some.”

I brewed a cup of espresso, then set it down for her and sat across from her at the booth.

“What gives? First you say I’m acting like a kid, and now you’re rewarding me?” She asked after taking a sip.

I smiled before I spoke.

“I figured ‘let’s have a drink’ would sound less like you were in trouble than ‘let’s have a talk’.”

“I see. It was a clever ruse.”

“Not really. So, care to tell me what I missed?”

“Nothing much,” she scoffed, “she just came up to me and said she was sorry and that she’s started to feel things. I didn’t get it and I still don’t. She asked me if we could be friends, at least until she figured things out.”

“What did you say to that?”

“I asked if it was even possible for her to be friends with someone.”

“Don’t you think that was a bit harsh? It may have hurt her feelings.”

“Does she even have feelings?”

Can you not tell?

“Sure she does,” I answered, “maybe she doesn’t express them in the same way that you do, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t. I don’t know, but I’m thinking she’s started to figure that out as well.”

“I’m sorry, then,” she muttered, then slumped her head down onto the table. I wanted to get her head off the table, but...I let it slide.

“I don’t need any apologies.”

“Well, she said in response to that, ‘I don’t know, but I’d like to try’ and so I gave in and said that I guess I could do that much. It’s just, what does she mean?”

“I think she means that she’d like to be friends?”

“But what does that mean to her? Can I really do that? It’s not like I really know what to do with friends either. I’ve never been good at that kind of stuff.”

“In that case, maybe it will be a good learning experience for both of you.”

“Why...why does anything have to be a learning experience?” She grunted, “I don’t want any more learning experiences. That’s not what I came here for. I don’t even want to like her anymore.”

“Don’t want to?” I questioned.

“That’s...you get what I mean.”

I do. It’s just that you’re trying to convince me that you didn’t say what you meant.

“Demetria,” I commanded, “what is it that you want?”

She looked up, leaned back toward the window, and looked out.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“Because you don’t have to be her friend if you don’t want to. It wouldn’t be right if you forced yourself to, would it?”

“Look: I came back to protect you guys. She wasn’t on my mind at all. I did everything I could to get her off my mind and just move on with my life, but I couldn’t bear the thought of the rest of you in a dangerous situation beyond your control. So if for nothing else, I wanted to return for that.”

“And I thank you for that. Seeing as the cat’s out of the bag, I think it’s fair to say you know what I think of you.”

“But I wish I didn’t have to be in disguise to hear it.”

“Yes, but I’m telling you now: we all like you. Tigershark likes you, even if she might like to pick on you sometimes. Sunny took a liking to you right away.”

“I’m not interested in stealing your wife from you,” she replied and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not what I meant, but I’m amused that you took it that way.”

She puffed her cheeks and scowled. I felt like getting a needle and popping one of her cheeks, though I doubted it would pop like a balloon.

“We’re all happy to see you back, don’t get me wrong. But you should have known that there was a chance of her coming back as well.”

“Really? I thought she didn’t care about anyone.”

“Oh, come now,” I flashed a toothy smile, “and I thought you knew better than to take people’s words at face value.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She turned to face me.

“Figure it out yourself.”

Again, she puffed her cheeks. I wasn’t going to spell it out for her, but I figured an elaboration was in order.

“Don’t get me wrong, even if she was how she was just a couple of years ago, she’d have justified it by saying ‘I’m only doing this because it’s my mess and I need to clean it up’ or something to that effect. But how is that any different than ‘I only came back to protect you guys?’”

“It’s plenty different! What? You saying I’m a liar? It was a big motivating factor! If I never heard that you guys were in trouble, I probably would have never returned. That would have been that. Like I said, I wanted to move on with my life.”

“I don’t want to put words in your mouth. You say you came back to bail us out, I believe you. And so you did and we are thankful, so now there’s nothing stopping you from moving on with your life.”

“Uh, yeah there is. Cronus is still out there and he could come back any time. What then?”

For a moment, I had forgotten that whole matter. Oh, such sweet ignorant bliss.

“It’s true he really had us on the ropes. Drove me to the point of despair, took lives right in front of me, all for the sole purpose of wearing me down. But if the same incident were to happen again, even more hopeless this time, I want to maintain compassion just to spite him. I want to learn everyone’s names, that way even if their lives end up lost to his petty game, at least they would be remembered. However, now that we have more knowledge at hand, going forward it will be that much easier to prepare. What I’m saying is that while there’s no guarantee, you shouldn’t have to hinder your future for our sake.”

“You wouldn’t be hindering my future,” she muttered.

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because if it’s something that I chose to do, then it’s on me.”

“I see. I’m just saying, you can choose to do other things. It’s true that there are times situations are out of one’s control, but you’re crafty in ways that even surprise me sometimes. If you need support, I could try and assist you in any way. Even if there’s something you want to do and you can’t achieve it, I’m just saying that I want you to have the option of trying.”

“Thanks,” she replied, then let out a dejected sigh, “she’s going to be disappointed. I’m not the same person she remembers.”

“So what? Why worry about disappointing her?”

“I’m not. I’m just saying, if she’s expecting things to go back to how they were before, she’s setting herself up for disappointment.”

“I think it goes without saying that we’ve all changed since we’ve last seen each other, but now I’m curious: how exactly have you changed?”

“First of all, I finished school. I can be a marine biologist if I want to now.”

“Good job. I’m proud of you,” I gave a little clap, “if you want to be a marine biologist, you should. There are many benefits to being a marine biologist. If you want to stay in the area, you can find an aquarium to work at and visit here from time to time. We could talk about how your job’s treating you, and how life’s been, and we can both share a good laugh.”

“I just don’t know. I didn’t get it because I want to be a marine biologist. I wanted to, once, but I don’t know. I didn’t finish school because I wanted to finish school, either, but because I didn’t want it to go unfinished.”

“So perhaps it was a pride thing less than interest?”

She either laughed or scoffed. It was hard to tell.

“Yeah. Might have been something like that. I...also killed a few people.”

That took me aback. Though not appalled, just surprised. But given where we were at, who she was talking to, she should have known that there wouldn’t be any moral condemnation.

“You and Remora have something in common, then.”

“Is this a joke to you?” She rasped.

I smiled and shook my head.

“No. At least not one I benefit from laughing at.”

“I didn’t enjoy it.”

“I doubt she enjoyed killing, either. She was just conditioned to treat it as a chore or routine. Just another assignment.” However…

“That said,” I continued, deciding not to keep my thought to myself, “there is a certain thrill she gets from intense fights, hunts, perilous situations. It may not be that she enjoys pain. Whether it be inflicting or receiving. But...it’s a rush that’s hard to satiate.”

Demetria gulped, as if she knew what I meant. Sensing that she was afraid to speak, I continued once more:

“There are things that she was conditioned to believe about herself, things that she’s told herself, that she’s had to unlearn. Then after that, there’s learning new beliefs in its place. I can’t imagine it’s easy. I’d say it’s probably been scary for her, as well, and in that process of challenging such old mindsets, she’d resist them. Maybe she’s changed since then, and she’s not the person you first had a crush on and maybe you’ve changed and you’re no longer the person she was hoping to see again, but even if that’s the case and things can’t work out between you two, I think you should still have a talk with her.”

“About what?”

I snorted, then coughed up a laughter. It wasn’t like she said anything funny, nor did it warrant a laugh, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Anything. Just say anything to clear the air. Even if nothing’s resolved after, at least it would be better than avoiding each other. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you have to, nor do you need to do it right away. If you need time, if you don’t feel ready, that’s fine. But I do think it should happen sometime.”

“It’s going to be hard to face her,” she replied, and some of the edge in her voice had diminished, in its place an aching timbre.

“I can imagine.”

“What if we try to talk, but then I snap or lash out and that just makes things worse between us?”

I shrugged.

“I’d rather than not be the case, but at least then you’d have made an effort. Forty percent is better than zero, y’know?”

“Sounds like a wasted effort if it still ends in failure.”

“No effort is wasted, dear.”

She got up from her seat without another word. Her face looked a little more relaxed, though I wondered how much that had to do with the talk and how much it had to do with the caffeine. Then again, there’s the possibility that giving her so much caffeine would have done the opposite of relaxed her and make her unable to sleep, so...my god, why did she want that? Why not some relaxing herbal tea?

After dusk, Tigershark made tartiflettes for everyone with buttered sweet rolls on the side. Again, Sunny, Tigershark, and I sat together, while the other two (no need to name names) sat far away from each other at opposite ends of the diner. Both were thankful for their meals, but they remained fixated on the food in front of them, not on anyone else, let alone each other.

Once that was said and done, I walked back to my desk, gathered up papers, and examined any possible requests or avenues in which to make money through unethical means. Just me, a middle aged man, sorting through papers. As if that was what my life had been reduced to. Even with my glasses on, the words all seemed to just bleed into each other after a while. Every little option or scheme carried with it some kind of risk, and balancing risk and reward...man, it was a stress and a half.

I reached into my drawer, hoping for a joint, but none were to be found.

Sunny must have taken them. She might even be getting higher than a hot air balloon in outer space right now. Lucky her. Can’t really blame her, either. To quote a certain little nun, we all ‘went through hell.’

Going back over to the stack of papers, I looked up and saw Demetria emerge from her room and saunter (maybe ‘saunter’ wasn’t the right word choice, but she couldn’t stop me from describing her movements that way) through the hallway. She caught my gaze and turned her head.

“You said it didn’t have to be right away, but better now than never,” she told me, before crossing the threshold into the other end of the hall.

I expected that she would have knocked on Remora and Tigershark’s door (I didn’t know where the kid was, at the moment. My suspicion was in the kitchen, either cleaning up, or baking treats for herself). Instead, I watched as before she could get to the door, she bumped her head on an invisible wall. I heard her hiss, “ow,” then slide her back down against the wall until she sat, legs folded up, and her head down.

“Figures you would put up a literal wall. You’re not really one for metaphors,” she muttered, “then again, at least you’re direct. Here I’ve been trying to keep you out of my mind and avoid you to little success.”

I figured after saying that, she’d get up and go back to her room, given that it didn’t seem to be the right time. Props to her, though. She was a persistent one.

“Funny how that works, huh? I started out all obsessed with you. I wanted you, or at least I thought I did. Well, I’m pretty sure I did. I had all sorts of fantasies you probably wouldn’t want to hear about. Somewhere around the line those fantasies faded and in their place, I just wanted to know you better. Even then, though, I was still pretty attached, and I still think I wanted you to notice me, more than anything else. Now…” She shook her head, “Ha. You don’t need the whole recap.”

She folded her arms over her legs. It was like she was trying to cradle herself, but she remained still and just held on tight.

“You probably can’t hear any of this. That’s fine, too. Maybe it’s better sometimes to talk to myself and pretend there’s someone else listening. I’d do it more often, but I don’t like the sound of my own voice.”

I watched as the illusion shattered, the wall must have come down, and in its place, Remora sat at the opposite end of Demetria, in the same position. To boot, her back was against Demetria’s.

“I only caught the last bit,” Remora spoke up, “what was the rest of it?”

Demetria, startled, but regained composure within the same sentence, replied, “I’m not going to repeat myself.”

“That’s fine. But what are you doing on the floor?”

“I came to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. I guess just to try to work something out. Figure out where to go from here.”

“Well, you don’t have to believe me, but I’m glad.”

“I’ll choose to believe you – but only because if you aren’t, it doesn’t really affect much, but if you are, then it makes things a little better.”

“But what if you believe me, but then it turns out not to be true?”

“Dammit. Why do you have to ruin this?”

“I just want to cover all the bases.”

Demetria huffed, then answered, “I think I’ll choose to believe you anyway. I know how I’ve been since we got back, but I really would like us to be on good terms as well.”

“Do you mean that?”

“What? Now you’re doubting me?”

“No. It’s just that if you didn’t want to, I’d have understood.”

“Well...when you asked about being friends, it really caught me off guard. For one, the last time the subject came up, it was how you said you could pretend if I wanted, but it wouldn’t be real. When you brought it up this time, it was ‘at least until I figure myself out’. Which means that maybe after a while, you’ll come to the conclusion that you don’t want to be.”

“I know. It’s a risk. One that you might not want to take. I can’t really say what conclusions I’ll come to or how things will turn out. But I prefer to be upfront about what’s on my mind and how I feel, and at the moment, how I feel is that I would like to try being friends with you. I think I’ve reached the point where I can say that whether it’s pretend or not is a moot point, because if I think of us as friends, then I’m going to treat it as real.”

“B-but...what does being friends even mean to you?”

There was a pause and Remora lifted her head up.

“I’m not sure. Friends are...friendly to each other? Well, that might go without saying. I know friends are people who like each other. Get along. But then there are friends who don’t get along. So I’m not sure. I feel like I should know, it just seems more vague when I try to put it into words.”

“Well,” Demetria replied, “that makes two of us. I’ve never been good at that sort of thing, myself.”

“Then...we can not be good at it together,” Remora suggested. “Maybe we can both learn.”

“But how would we do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either.”

“See? We can not know together.”

“But how would we both be friends if we don’t know how to be friends? That just makes no sense.”

“I know. But I think if we were both in elementary school, we wouldn’t think so much about that sort of thing. One of us would just go up to the other and be like, ‘let’s be friends!’ And either the other would say, ‘yeah!’ Or say something like, ‘ew! Go away!’”

“That’s kind of a cute idea,” Demetria remarked, “if only we had met that way.”

“Hm. I don’t know. Even as a kid, I preferred to be left alone.”

“Oh. Yeah. Me too.”

“But now we’re adults and we’ve spent so much time wanting to be left alone that –”

“– you no longer want to be left alone?” Demetria suggested as she tried finishing that statement.

“Hm. No. I was going to say, ‘even if we have some friends, we don’t really know what it means.”

“Oh. I guess that’s true, too.”

“Yeah. But I like your answer better.”

“Yeah. But your answer applies to you and mine applies to me.”

“It’s kind of nice that way, though. Each different perspectives.”

“You know, when we talked earlier, and you asked me to hug you, it felt weird, but I said sure. So I held out my arms and walked up, but then you backed away and said you didn’t think you were ready after all and I didn’t take it well.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I wanted to, too. I’ve just never been comfortable with others touching me, and even if it would have been okay, I was still a little hesitant and nervous.”

“It’s okay not to be ready. I should know better. I was just hoping that things would be different.”

“They might be, in time.”

“You know, it’s still hard. Because I want to be friends with you, I do, and I feel like I should be happy about that, but then I just think about when we talked right before we both left and it hurts. Like, I was so convinced that we had gotten closer and that you cared, and hearing you say that you didn’t, I wanted it not to be true. But you pushed harder, and I just thought ‘maybe you’re right.’ Now you’re saying ‘I don’t know’ and it’s like, nothing’s really changed, has it?”

“You’re wrong there. I’m sorry about what I said and how it affected you and it makes sense that it would hurt, but you’re wrong in that nothing has changed. Before, I was so sure it was a ‘no’ and now I’m not so sure, but I’m more optimistic, and even leaning toward the possibility that it’s a ‘yes’. It just feels messy and gray.”

“I think I can understand that. To be honest, it’s going to be awkward. Us, as friends.”

“We’re awkward people, so it’s to be expected.”

“But at the same time, you might not like who I am now.”

“Maybe. But I’d rather find that out for myself. It’s only been a couple of days.”

“You’re taking this rather well,” Demetria remarked.

“Not really. I’m just taking it.”

“Well, I’m just saying, I’m different than how I used to be.”

“I’ve changed as well, you know.”

“How?”

There are many obvious things you could say, so what is it you’ll say? I wondered. Remora lowered her head, and when she answered, it wasn’t an answer I would have expected. But then again, it wouldn’t have been her if she didn’t throw a few curveballs in between her signature style.

“If I was the old me, and I still had that job, and you were the target, then I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Demetria spoke in what was like a half mix between a growl and a tease.

“You wouldn’t even see me coming.”

“I’d like to see you coming.”

...What?

“Well, maybe with how you are now, you would. But then, maybe with how I am now, I wouldn’t mind you seeing me coming.”

This is still about a hypothetical assassination, right?

“I suppose that’s how we’ve both changed, huh?”

“It’s not much, but it’s honest work.”

“So what are you thinking about now?” Demetria asked.

“How much I have to pee,” Remora answered. “That’s why I undid the barrier, so I could go to the bathroom, but then I saw you sitting there talking so I figured I’d hold it and sit too.”

“Oh my fuck. Just go to the bathroom.”

“But we’re in the middle of a conversation. It would be rude.”

“That doesn’t matter! We can continue when you get back!”

“But then you might lose your train of thought or I might not feel like talking anymore and just head to bed –”

This is ridiculous. I’m done eavesdropping. I should’ve just left my desk the moment they started talking. Why did they have to talk in the middle of the hallway, anyway?

I got up and headed out into the front of the diner. If those two had anything more to say, they could have at it. As for me, I went into the kitchen to check in on Tigershark.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I greeted after a knock with the back of my hand.

“I made cookie brownies!” She cheered, and I saw a large casserole dish filled with brownies.

“Oh, good. May I have one?” I asked.

“You may have two!”

She put two pieces on a saucer for me and had two on her saucer as well and she jumped down from the stool she stood on and we both walked out into the dining hall and sat at a booth together.

“Mm. Good job,” I complimented.

“Thanks. I was still hungry and sweets are sweet.”

“That they are. Just don’t have too many.”

“I won’t!” She scowled. “Maybe three. Or four. But that’s it.”

We both laughed together as we ate our brownies. Just a few minutes later, Sunny walked up. She looked (not) high, and her eyes were (not) bloodshot red. I suppose she might have moved the stash elsewhere and planned to smoke them some other time.

“Hey hun, you gotta come check this out!”

“What? I’m busy spending quality time with Tigershark,” I replied. And it’s quality time because I’m not hearing about bodily functions.

“I see that, but this is important!” She urged, and motioned us to come to the back with her. Tigershark and I hopped out from our seats and followed. When we reached the hallway, Sunny pointed and went, “aww” and Tigershark and I saw what the fuss was about: Remora and Demetria were asleep, leaned against the wall, and backs against each other.

“I guess that’s what happens when you hold it in for so long,” I remarked, then, realizing I had said that out loud, added, “emotionally, I mean.”

“Aww, so adorable,” Sunny continued fawning over the scene.

“How am I supposed to get to bed tonight? They’re blocking the way!” Tigershark complained.

“It’s okay, you can sleep with us tonight,” Sunny replied.

“Tigershark,” I turned to the child next to Sunny and I, “get the broom and dustpan. There’s something on the floor.”

“Don’t!” Sunny nudged me, “leave them be.”

“Tigershark,” I continued, “I give you full permission to draw on their faces with a sharpie.’

in response, Tigershark grinned and ran off to go find one. While she was gone, I turned to Sunny.

“So, shall we head off to dreamland as well?” I offered.

“Oh yes. Two tickets, please,” she replied and yawned for added measure. We locked arms with each other and strolled up the stairs. I’d like to say that in the coming days, the dynamic between everyone improved greatly, but the truth is, it was more like slow and drunken baby steps.

#writing #stories #remoras full #settling down after a long battle #drama #comedy #slice of life #this took so long #high

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luvdsc · 3 years ago

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sam is super talented!! i'm actually like one person away from him? like one of my mutuals is a close friend of his which threw me for a loop, but apparently he's super thrilled every time his art does well, and it's kinda funny because i cannot imagine his world where his art isn't known? like it's so good it's inevitable it'd go viral!!

and yeah, i was very lucky!! i think my parents don't really mind when i do as long as i don't break laws or rules and i'm healthy?? which i appreciate but i think it's nice to have ambitions set ? like where they encourage sports and everything, i never did clubs or extracurriculars

i do a mix! graphite, colored pencil, acrylic and oil paint, etc :) i started with traditional, it just takes a very long time so i do digital if i don't have a lot of free time!

picasso's bothers me too !!! i tend not to share that because it can be an unpopular opinion but it hurts my eyes and i don't like his composition because abstract pieces have never been my cup of tea. i feel like it can definitely be a genre that's just used to say.. oh yeah it's meant to be abstract i didn't mess up LMAOO

it is hyunjin, yeah!! i drew it during his hiatus when stay though stray kids was doing an underwater photoshoot, and i wanted to make sure he wouldn't be left out <//3 i had to use like four photos of his side profile and one reference of a random person underwater, but i'm really proud of it! and the sicheng and ten ones, i only sent you my favorites haha, there are quite a few portraits i finished i'm not that happy with!

i use the gaussian blur pretty frequently (like to mix the flat colors for hair or clothes) and a blur brush on 50% opacity to blend everything i need to in order to make my works softer! i use krita if that helps!! i think i have a skin tutorial i did a while ago on my blog, and my voice is kind of grating because i was sick but i think it displays my process... kind of well?

i think grainy works and sharpness can be really good though!! i tend to oversoften mine and make it look airbrushed, but i recently downloaded some pore brushes which should help with that!!

the first landscape was actually acrylic paint, one of my traditional works!! it was a graduation gift for someone, so she can have some art in her dorm room <3 and her room is sage green decor-wise, so it fits in really nicely!

and thank you for the compliments,, your art is really nice too!!

like this was a recent work of yeonjun i don't really like,, i have more works i'm not a fan of then ones i do enjoy haha! but i feel like it's good to share how the oversoftened stuff looks, and also just works i get lazy on towards the end of drawing them!

the felix one is older, and one of my "sharper" ones, as you can see i really got lazy on the hair, it's just scribbles at that point haha, but i still love it!

and that drawing of haechan has a pop art background, sort of, which i think is fun! my style is variable and they all are different qualities, but i think enjoying it is the most important part!

i know you don't like to dm minors, but if you want to,, for art things, like the brushes or techniques i use, or in general, my inbox and messages are always open! and i turned 17 on the 8th, so i'm not a super young minor djsfdkfj

also sorry for the lack of emojis <//3 i'm on desktop

hi, sweetpea, i'm so sorry for the late reply! the tumblr app is super wonky and it only shows the first ten asks i get ?? so i've been going by that, and my older messages are starting to appear 🤧 butt omg that's so cool that your friend is friends with him?? :o his art is absolutely amazing oh my gosh, of course it's a no brainer his art will always do well 🤩🤩

we love supportive parents 🥺💗 yeah, i agree, it's definitely important to have ambitions set though because you need to live your life and be able to support yourself. it's not good to solely rely on your parents or other people forever 🤧

oooo nice !!! i also do a mix of those, but i ultimately prefer painting since it's not as rigid (?) as traditional drawing - like things look completely off if i draw something out of proportion, but it somehow works with paint?? idk how to explain it, but for me personally, i think there's more room for creativity with paint 💓 how long does it take for you to complete a digital drawing on average? :o

ashldkfjahsl YES that's exactly how i feel about his art too 😭 i don't particularly care for most abstract art, but i really love jackson pollock's art! 💘 i like abstract art that doesn't have a still life subject or landscape or something if that makes sense? it's just so fun and therapeutic to toss some paint around :')

omg they're absolutely amazing 🤩 i love them all sm 💗 all your art is so beautiful!! do you print them out and hang them up in your room?

aaa thank you so much for telling me how to do it !! i love love love that art style with the blurring because it just looks so soft and dreamy 🤍✨✨ i'll have to try those techniques out when i start a second drawing :') and i'll check out your video! and omg i didn't even know they had pore brushes?? i need to do more digital art aksldhflajkds

omg that's so nice !!!! do you gift your art to your friends often? they're so lucky 💟

asukdhfalkshflaksd what the heck, wdym these are art pieces that you got lazy on???? THESE ARE STUNNING HOW DO YOU NOW LIKE THEM OMG I'M IN AWE 🤩🤩🤩 yeonjun's lips look so so pretty, and felix's freckles and his hair omg 💓💓 hyuck looks sooo good, too !!!! and i love sunflowers !!!!!! 🌻🌻🌻

and omg thank you, lovebug, i may have to take up that offer if i ever finish my first drawing and attempt the soft look for my second one :')

#asks #seoulbinz

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alarawriting · 4 years ago

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Inktober 2020 #17: Storm

Iris was laughing as she got in the car. “Weather reports say it’s gonna be a big one!”

Caitlyn had just met this woman. This was a ridiculous idea. Chasing a violent thunderstorm had to be the dumbest idea any human ever had, surpassed only by chasing tornados, which apparently Iris also did when she was further west. There was no way in which it was a good idea to get into the passenger seat of the car.

Caitlyn slid into the passenger seat. “Just so you know, I feel like this is probably a dumb idea.”

“Of course it’s a dumb idea!” Iris started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “Humanity only progresses by having dumb ideas!”

Her laughter, her cheer, was infectious. Iris was nearly six feet tall and easily two hundred eighty pounds, her hair buzzed short and her arms tattooed. She was everything Caitlyn’s mother would have told her to be wary of. She was also sunlight in human form. Her force of personality was blinding, overwhelming, but warm, and it lit up the world.

On the interstate, the miles per hour crossed the 55 line and continued to go up. “Where are we going?” Caitlyn asked. “I mean, yeah, a thunderstorm, but physically where?”

“We’re going south to intercept it. Probably hit it near the Maryland border, so we’ll take the bypass to the wild side of Delaware and follow it down on local roads.”

“This is crazy. You know that, right? It’s just a storm.”

“They’re never just storms, Caity.” Caitlyn could have gone a long time not knowing how Iris was spelling that, but unfortunately, Iris had addressed her by name in the text she’d sent to provide her number and email address. “Storms can kill people. They don’t have to be hurricanes. They knock down trees, they take out the power, they cause accidents. So I hunt them down.”

“That… really doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh, you’ll see! It’ll be fun, I haven’t had a friend along on one of these trips in a year!”

Iris cut off a tractor trailer, causing the bellow of an air horn behind them. Small wonder no one wanted to go with her. “What happened with the last friend?”

“We broke up. She thought I was reckless! Can you imagine?” The smile Iris briefly flashed at Caitlyn before turning back to the road knew exactly why her ex thought her reckless, and was self-mocking about it.

“No, I can’t imagine it,” Caitlyn said, deadpan.

“But you know I’m reckless and you got in the car with me anyway, so if sometime in the future you say to me, ‘you’re too reckless’, I can say, ‘you knew that about me on the first date.’”

“This is a date?”

Iris’s laughter this time was almost a bark. “Pretty sure it must be! You’re not in love with storm chasing and you don’t like the way I drive, so you must have gotten in the car on the strength of my beauty and charisma, or something.”

“Something,” Caitlyn agreed, though in fact that was exactly why she got in the car. There was no way Iris could be considered beautiful by airbrushed Hollywood standards, but Caitlyn had always thought those women seemed somehow plastic, unreal, and now she knew why. Iris was realer than real, larger than life, and since they’d met and started talking at the mixer less than an hour ago, she’d known she was willing to get in Iris’s car and go anywhere. Including to Maryland to find a thunderstorm.

“You must be looking to add some chaos and recklessness to your life. Every woman who gets in my car is looking for that, or they wouldn’t get in the car.”

“How many women have gotten in your car like that?” Caitlyn asked, somewhat taken aback.

“Oh, only three.” Iris wove in and out of a wolfpack of cars. “Four, now, counting you. I don’t exactly run around luring all the women in with my siren song.” She laughed. “How about you, any ex-girlfriends? Or boyfriends, I don’t judge.”

“One boyfriend when I was fifteen, back before I knew I was a lesbian. One girlfriend. We were together for ten years.”

“Oh no! What happened?”

Caitlyn shrugged. “She thought I was boring. And not very good in bed. She wasn’t rude enough to say it in those words, but I can read between the lines.” Strange; Caitlyn hadn’t told anyone else that, and would normally have thought it oversharing. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was telling Iris, now. It didn’t seem like a great idea to warn a woman you were interested in that your last girlfriend thought you were boring in bed.

“Well, my philosophy is, if your girlfriend is bad in bed, it’s usually because you’re a lousy communicator and you never told her what you wanted, or else you’re a picky picky princess and you have a very narrow range of tolerance for what you like. At least, if she’s a cool human being in the first place, which you seem like you probably are.”

“No, it – she was wilder than me, and she wanted more than I could give.”

“Then it just sounds like you were incompatible,” Iris declared.

She glanced down at her tablet. “Huh. It’s changing course. We’re going to take the highway all the way down, Caity, be faster that way. I think we’ll be able to intersect it at Delaware House.”

“At where?”

“It’s a rest stop on I-95 near the Maryland border. I’m gonna need somewhere to pull over and it’s not a great idea to do that on the highway itself if you have any choice in the matter.”

“What’re you going to do when you catch it?” Caitlyn asked.

“I’m gonna punch it in the nose!” Iris laughed.

Caitlyn chuckled. “Okay, but seriously. You take pictures of them? Do you send them to NOAA or something? What do you do when you catch the storm you’re chasing?”

“You’ll see!”

***

An hour later and they were inside the storm, according to Iris’ tablet, which was set to a live feed of satellite imaging from weather.com or someplace. They’d just crossed the Delaware Memorial Bridge, and it was raining hard. The tablet said it was eleven minutes to Delaware House, but that was probably assuming normal highway speed, and despite the rain, Iris was still driving at least 75 miles an hour.

“So you wanna get some food or something after we’re done here? Delaware House has a Popeye’s, we could get fried chicken.”

“Sure, why not.” Caitlyn had spent the past hour talking about herself, which was weird, because usually she was quiet and would hang back in any conversation, and she usually preferred to listen rather than talk. And you’d think Iris’ boisterousness would make it so she’d always be the one talking, but in fact she’d said almost nothing about herself. She’d talked a lot, but mostly questions for Caitlyn, who’d found herself as a result telling Iris her entire life story. “Maybe you can tell me some things about yourself. I feel like I’ve been talking and talking. You must be sick of hearing my voice.”

“I would never get sick of that voice, Caity. You have a lovely voice.”

“Most people don’t think so. They think I’m quiet and monotonous. Or, sometimes, loud and monotonous.”

“Some people have no grasp of subtlety,” Iris said. “Oh, good, the timing’s perfect. Looks like the center of the storm’s going to be passing over here in minutes. If I speed up just a little, we should get to Delaware House in time.”

“Why is the center of the storm so important? Does it look any different than the rest of the storm?”

“Not to most people,” Iris said cryptically, and leaned forward like a race car driver, her foot presumably turning into a block of lead from how the car sped up.

“Uh, aren’t you worried about hydroplaning?” Caitlyn yelled over the sound of the engine revving as they accelerated.

“Water knows better than to do that to me!” Iris yelled back, grinning.

“No, but seriously--!”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got the car under control!”

Caitlyn held onto the handle above the car door, awkwardly – it really wasn’t positioned well to be a safety handle – as Iris raced through the storm, only slowing down when she reached Delaware House. She coasted onto the left-side exit and allowed momentum to carry her to the parking lot, only braking once she was there.

As she pulled into a parking spot in the back, she said, “I don’t know if you wanna stay in the car or come out with me, but you can do whatever you like. I gotta get a move on, though, the storm center’s almost here.”

“I’ll stay in the car for now,” Caitlyn said, wondering if all of this was a terrible mistake. Maybe Iris was right and she was looking to add some recklessness and chaos to her life, but maybe this was too much.

“Okay.” Iris got out of the car, and looked up at the sky. The rain was coming down in sheets so thick, it was hard for Caitlyn to actually see her through it – she was a blob of color, not a clear human shape. But she heard Iris’ voice with surprising clarity.

“OKAY, MOTHERFUCKER! IT’S ON, NOW!”

What.

“COME ON, YOU LITTLE PISS TRICKLE! YOU CALL THIS RAIN, MY MOMMA DUMPED MORE WATER DOWN MY THROAT WHEN SHE GAVE ME A SIPPY CUP TO DRINK FROM! GET OVER HERE, YOU COWARD, AND FACE ME!”

The wind moaned, making the car creak.

“YEAH? YOU WANNA SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU DUMB SHIT? COME ON! LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!”

And then, as Caitlyn stared in absolute shock, Iris punched the sky… and the sky reeled, the clouds parting for a bare moment, before thunder rolled and lightning slammed down, hitting a nearby tree.

“YOUR AIM’S WORSE THAN A BLIND GRANDMA THROWING A DISHRAG! THINK YOU CAN HIT ME? COME AT ME, FUCKER!” Iris punched the clouds again – impossibly, because they were however many thousands of feet in the air and she was here on the ground, but the clouds roiled as if they’d been struck. Then she went to the ground, rolling, and came up to a sitting position next to an oversized pickup truck. Lightning struck the truck, and Iris sprang up and swung her fists at the sky again, her body language suggesting that she was putting all of her body’s force into the punches, and meeting resistance. One, two, three punches, and a gap opened in the clouds and stayed that way. Lightning came down again and hit a tree in the picnic area.

“OH, YEAH! GOTCHA ON THE ROPES NOW! GIVE IT UP, YOU SUMBITCH, IT’S ALL OVER FOR YOU!”

She swung her left arm out in a blocking gesture. A moment later, lightning struck inches away from the arm. Iris followed up with multiple punches, clearing more of the sky. The rain had significantly diminished, making it much easier to see what she was doing. “GET OUT OF MY GODDAMN SKY, MOFO! DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO BE HERE? WELL, DID I, DIPSHIT?” More punches, more clear sky. Another lightning strike, and an increase in the wind, blowing hard enough that the car actually rocked in it. And then Iris swung her arm out against the wind, and it dissipated. “THAT’S RIGHT, YOU LITTLE SHIT CREEK, WHO’S YOUR MAMA? WHO’S YOUR MAMA? I’M THE GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING RAINBOW, KIDDO, NOW GET BACK TO YOUR FUCKING PLAYPEN AND DRINK YOUR BABA!”

There was, in fact, a rainbow glittering in the sky, as the storm turned to mist.

Iris pulled the car door open. She was completely drenched. “Well, I kicked that thing’s ass,” she reported gleefully. “You up for fried chicken?”

“How – how did you –”

“Hon. You are the Greek mythology expert. How do you think? I said I was the goddamn rainbow, and I know you heard me, right?” She grinned widely.

“Iris was the goddess of the rainbow, and messenger of the gods,” Caitlyn said, mechanically, “but there was nothing in mythology about her fighting storms.”

“That’s because the Greeks were a bunch of patriarchal assholes. They saw Zeus throw some lightning bolts around one time and decided he was the god of storms. Never thought about the fact that rainbows come out after a storm’s over, did they?” She took a step back from the car and shook herself, like a dog, sending raindrops flying everywhere. “So. Do I drive you home now or do we go get fried chicken?”

Caitlyn took a deep breath. “Fried chicken. I have so many questions.”

“And I’ve got so many answers, so this will work out great!”

The storm had turned into nothing but a misty drizzle. Caitlyn got out of the car and followed Iris toward the glassed-in building that was Delaware House.

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

While this is far from the only story idea of mine inspired by it, I definitely do have to credit “Fear for the Storm” by Jessica Best, from the podcast series “Starship Iris”, for inspiring this story. Also the Holly Near song “How Bold”, but with a happier outcome.

#inktober 2020 #alara's october 2020 prompt fics #lesbians #stormchasers

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charlieswan-squad · 4 years ago

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Twilight Rewrite First Sight (iii)

There were five of them sitting in the far corner of the room. They weren’t talking or eating although there was a tray of untouched food in front of each of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.

They were all beautiful, although they didn't look anything alike.

Three of them were boys. One was huge; built like a serious weight lifter. He had smooth ebony skin which was complemented with dark curly hair. He looked like he could be a star footballer, and, going by his sheer size, I was sure you would not want to be tackled by him.

Another had honey locks that were styled in such a way that they fell to his shoulders, somewhat covering his porcelain white face. He didn’t seem to be as tall as the first, but I figured he would be taller than any of my table-mates. He seemed kind of… edgy. He gave off an intense vibe, and I knew this was a guy I never wanted to piss off.

The last boy was smaller. Like the previous boy, his skin was pale. It reminded me of piano keys. His hair colour was somewhere in between red and brown; a bronze shade. His hair was messy, but it reminded me of the girls in Phoenix who would spend an hour perfecting a ‘messy bun’. Like he had deliberately styled his hair to look this way. To be fair, it was a good look. It made him look even younger than the other two, who could have easily passed for college students.

Looks-wise, the girls were opposites. The tall one was stunning. She had legs that went on forever, topped with a beautiful figure. She wouldn’t be out of place on the cover of a swimwear magazine. Her hair looked like it was weaved from liquid gold; it flowed gently down to the base of her spine. Her skin tone seemed to match the boy with the honey-coloured locks.

Everything about the other girl seemed tiny. She had gorgeous pixielike features. Her hair was dark and cropped short; styled to accentuate her beautiful walnut-coloured face. Everything about her seemed graceful, from her build to the way she sat in her seat.

The five of them were so different. And yet, they were all exactly the same. Even in this sunless town, them all seemed physically drained of any warmth; as if they had not seen the sun in a very very long time. Hell, they were even paler than me. Despite the range in hair colour, they all had dark eyes - which looked black from where I sat - with deep shadows under their eyes, as if they were all suffering from insomnia. Or maybe they were all just recovering from broken noses. Except that all of their features were straight, angular.

But that isn’t why I couldn’t look away.

All of their faces were inhumanly, insanely beautiful. All five of them - gorgeous. These were faces that you never saw in real life, only photoshopped or airbrushed on billboards or magazines. Or in portraits or statutes, housed in elite art museums. It was difficult to believe they were real.

It took me a few moments to decide who was the most beautiful. I concluded it was the bronze-haired boy, although the stunning blond girl gave him tough competition. The boy was perfect. This perfection was an upsetting, disturbing kind.

They were all looking away — away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. It reminded me of models posed carefully for an ad campaign for the most expensive, luxurious perfume on the market.

As I watched, the petite girl rose with her tray — unopened drink, unbitten apple — and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who hadn’t moved.

"Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd forgotten.

As she looked up to see who I meant - though she had probably guessed from my tone - suddenly he looked at us, the boy I had deemed physically perfect. He looked at my neighbour for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine.

He looked away quickly, faster than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest - it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response, having already decided not to answer.

My neighbour giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.

She muttered her answer under her breath. “Those are the Cullens and the Hales. Emmett and Edward Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who just left was Alice Cullen. They live with Dr Cullen and his wife.”

I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, slender fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly, his lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I was convinced he was speaking quietly to them.

Weird names. Old-fashioned names. The kind of names grandparents had. Maybe that was trendy here? Small town names? Then I finally remembered that the girl beside me was called Jessica, a perfectly common name.There were two Jessicas in my history class in Arizona.

“They’re all… quite good-looking.” Understatement of the century.

“Aren’t they?” Agreed Jessica with yet another giggle. She continued on, “They’re all together though! Emmett and Rosalie and Alice and Jasper, I mean. And they live together!”

Her voice gave away just how small-town she was; the shock and condemnation, I thought critically. I had to admit that even in Phoenix, this would cause gossip.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related…"

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They're, like, all adopted. The Hales are twins - they’re the two blondes - and they're foster children."

"They look a little old for foster children."

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were like thirteen. She’s their aunt. I heard she took them in because like their grandma died.”

I noticed she said the last bit with a look on her face that made it seem that the death of a relative was not a good enough reason to look after your niece and nephew at such a young age.

“Edward is technically Dr Cullen’s brother,” she continued. “Dr Cullen adopted him when he was old enough. Then he adopted Alice and Emmett; they were like Edward’s foster siblings.”

"Wow, that’s so lovely of them - to take care of all those kids when they're so young and everything."

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their children, I presumed the reason was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she added, as if that in any way lessened their kindness.

Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to stare at the walls and not eat.

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticed them during one of my summers here.

"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. "They just moved down like two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any stretch of the imagination.

As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today — he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but like don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are pretty enough for him." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he'd turned her down.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he too was smiling.

After a few more minutes, the remaining four of them left the table. They all were noticeably graceful even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn't look at me again.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, too, though she had a gentleness to her. Despite not being a particularly social individual, I hoped we would become friends. She gave off such a lovely aura.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a lab partner. In fact, all the desks were filled but one. Three rows back, I recognised Edward Cullen by the unusual colour of his hair, sitting next to that single open seat.

As I walked past the desks to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. His face jerked up and he stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face. It was furious. Hostile. I looked away quickly, stunned, going red again. I stumbled over a book on the floor and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled.

I’d been right about the eyes. They were black - coal black.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions and no mention of my full name. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by the antagonistic glare he'd given me.

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favourite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odour. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and scooted my stool to the right, giving him as much space as possible. I tried to pay attention to the teacher.

Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down. I tried to focus on making my diagrams as detailed as possible.

I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the wall of my hair at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never once relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his light skin. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his huge brother.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his fist to relax? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. What the hell was wrong with him? Was this his normal behaviour? Was he mid-mental breakdown? I questioned my judgement on Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought. His odd behaviour couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me from Eve.

I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind. I finally had a reference for that phrase. I really wished I didn’t.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose — he was much taller than I'd thought — his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.

"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. I’d have put money on the fact that he was definitely a mommy’s-boy. He however, obviously didn't think I smelled bad.

"Bella," I corrected him, with a smile.

"I'm Mike."

"Hi, Mike."

"Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it, thanks."

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence in a school this small.

We walked to class together; he was a talker - he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was also in my English class. He was the friendliest person I'd met today.

But he lost some of this friendliness as we were entering the gym when he asked, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Edward Cullen's usual behaviour. Shit. I decided to play dumb.

"Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.

"Yes," he said. "He looked like he was in pain or something."

"I don't know," I responded. "We never spoke."

"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."

I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring. I hoped that wouldn’t become an issue. Still, it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me change for today's class. At home, only two years of PE. were required. Here, PE was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained - and worse, inflicted - playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated.

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself. When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I again recognised that tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time — any other time. I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me with piercing, hate-filled eyes; despite this I noted that his face was absurdly handsome For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

I went meekly to the desk, my face drained of colour, and handed Mrs Cope the signed slip.

"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.

"Fine," I lied, my voice weak. She didn't look convinced.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life.

I headed back to Charlie's house, fighting tears the whole way there.

#twilight rewrite #charlieswan-squad #first sight #first sight part three #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn

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avengerscompound · 6 years ago

Text

The Usual Spy Stuff - Chapter 1

The Usual Spy Stuff - A Captain America Fanfic

Series Masterlist

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1955

Warnings: Fluff, twist on tropes, eventual smut (vaginal sex)

Synopsis: You and Steve have to pretend to be in a relationship while on a mission. You know what that means right?

A/N: For my #Happy Steve Bingo Fill: free space. I chose the prompt 'bed sharing'.

I realize that this one is a repost, but it’s now a series, so I’m tagging you all again as a refresher.

Chapter 1

“I think this is how a whole bunch of fanfiction starts.”

You said the words as a joke as you tossed your bag onto the nearby sofa chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Steve looked at you with his head tilted to the side. “What’s fanfiction?”

You looked at him and stifled a laugh. Of course, Steve Rogers wouldn’t know what fanfiction was. Why would he know? He had been on the ice during the best part of the technological revolution. You certainly weren’t going to be the one that popped that happy little bubble.

“Never mind,” You said and started taking off your shoes. “Just one bed. Two people. Who knows what could happen?”

Steve chuckled and pulled his shirt off. “I’ll try and control myself.”

You looked up at him. You had always been under the impression that his shirts left nothing to the imagination. You were so very, very wrong. Steve Rogers was somehow more perfect looking than you could imagine. He looked like he’d been working out just before he came up here and then airbrushed. He looked like he’d been carved from actual stone.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, spinning on the spot as he attempted to look himself over. “Do I have something on me?”

“No. Sorry. Everything is fine.” You said and got up going to your bag. “I’m just going to get changed.”

“You want something from room service? I’m starving.” Steve asked as you head to the bathroom.

“Yeah. Get stuff we can share in bed. Let’s make it a thing.” You called back and shut the door behind you.

You looked in the mirror and slapped your face. “He’s just ridiculously hot and going to be all pressed up against you in bed. It’s no big deal.” You said to yourself. Only shirtless Steve seemed to be seared into your retina. “Stop objectifying people, you dumb bitch.” You yelled at yourself.

“Did you say something?” Steve called back to you.

You groaned and pulled off your shirt. “No, it’s fine.”

You changed into a pair of flannel pajamas with puppies on them and brushed your teeth, before heading back into the bedroom. Steve was in bed already, sitting up against the headboard and flicking through stations on the TV. He apparently slept shirtless. That was great. You could handle that.

“Those are cute.” He said.

You looked down at yourself. “Yeah. I normally sleep naked. Thought you might appreciate me … not doing that.”

Steve chuckled. “That's very thoughtful. I was just looking to see if there was anything on TV. You want to watch something?”

You shrugged and climbed into bed. “I don't mind.”

Steve switched the TV off and looked you over. “You're okay with this right? Pretending to be my girlfriend?”

“Yeah, of course. Spy stuff. And you know,” you gestured to yourself with your thumbs. “I'm a spy.”

He laughed and shook his head. “That you are. I guess maybe it’s me that’s worried about it.”

You looked over at him and patted his thigh. “Why? You’ve been doing this longer than me.”

“I’m a soldier, not a spy. I’m not good at lying.”

You laughed. “No, you really aren’t. It’ll be fine. We know each other. You aren’t lying about you. You just gotta say she’s my girlfriend to get me in. That’s all.”

He sighed and nodded. “I guess so.”

You patted his leg. “It’ll be fine. It won’t take long. I’m really good at this.”

He laughed and nudged you. “That we can agree on.”

There was a knock on the door and you grabbed your wallet and answered the door. A young guy wheeled in a trolly with a tray of food with silver domed covers on it. He did a double take when he saw Steve sitting up in bed but quickly composed himself. You tipped him and took the lids off the dishes. There was pizza, crab cakes, a shrimp cocktail and buffalo chicken wings along with a slice of cheesecake.

“Oh, you’re spoiling us.” You said as you started laying out the food on the bed. “Cake and everything.”

“Might as well spoil ourselves while we have the chance.” He said.

“In that case, you want anything from the minibar?”

“Yeah, why not? Put it on the work tab. I’ll have a beer.”

You went to the fridge and grabbed him a beer and one of those mini vodka bottles and orange juice before getting into the bed. You grabbed a slice of pizza and took a bite.

Steve opened the beer and took a drink. “Are you enjoying working for the Avengers?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s amazing. The benefits are great, you get to work for the best. I get to make a difference.” You said.

Steve smiled. “That’s good to hear.”

“Get to raid mini bars on the boss' dime.” You add, pouring the vodka and juice into one of the glasses from the bathroom.

Steve chuckled. “I guess that’s also true.”

“What about you? Do you like it?” You asked.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you. “No one has ever asked me that before.”

You laughed. “Really? Not once?”

He shook his head. “No. Not once. I guess when you found something people assume you must like it.”

“That sounds like you don’t like it.”

He picked up a shrimp and dipped it in the sauce before putting it in his mouth and chewing methodically. “No. I think I do. I’ve questioned it a lot What I do. You know?”

“Sure. History is told by the winners after all. It’s hard to know if you’re the one on the right side.” You said.

“Yeah. There’s definitely that. Also, for a while there I felt very used. Before the Avengers were their own entity. Back when it was just another SHIELD program.” He explained. “Not just that though. Back in the war, I fought to stop this one thing from falling into the wrong hands and woke up thinking it was done only to repeat the same fight again. Since then, it feels like I just keep fighting the same fight over and over.”

You frowned. “Yeah, I can see how that would get to someone. History repeating itself.”

He nodded and picked at a crab cake. “I think the fight is worth fighting though. There is good in the world. It’s worth protecting.” He settled on a channel and looked at you. “Gone with the Wind?”

“Sure. Why not.”

You relaxed back on the bed eating and watching the movie together. When it was clear you were both done with the food, Steve packed it away and move the trolley back out to the hall before getting into bed. He went to the bathroom and when he returned he snuggled down in the bed beside you. He smelled like soap and mint.

“The world has changed a lot since that movie was made.” He said switching the lamp off.

“Mmm… you’d know better than anyone.”

“I guess I would.” He said. “See, it’s worth fighting. It might be small victories. You might have to repeat yourself again and again. But the change happens. It’s just hard to see when you’re in it.”

You nodded. “That’s a good perspective.”

Steve shifted in the bed and he brushed against you as he got more comfortable. He was quiet for a little while. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of him breathing.

“What if we need to kiss tomorrow?” He asked breaking the silence.

You snorted. “Why would we need to kiss?”

“Well, I don’t know. People kiss when they’re in a relationship.”

You rubbed his arm you hoped in what was a reassuring motion. “Fake dating and one bed. We’re doomed.”

“What?” Steve asked, the confusion evident in his voice.

You chuckled and shook your head. “Nothing. I’m being an idiot. There are no social rules about people kissing while in public. In fact, it’s generally frowned upon. If you feel the need to kiss me, I won’t mind. Pecks on cheeks would likely be enough if anything is needed.”

“What if it comes off as awkward and unnatural?” He asked.

“I’m a really good kisser.” You reassured him. “Would you like to practice?”

He laughed and you could see his eyes shining in the dim light coming from the hall. “I guess when you say it like that it sounds stupid.”

“No, I’m serious. We can practice if you want. Do it until it feels second nature. I don’t mind.” You said.

He seemed to seriously consider it for a moment before his head shook slightly. “No. You’re right. It’s unlikely to be necessary.”

“Aww damn,” You joked, although not entirely. “I really wanted to practice that.”

“I’m sure there’s a line you need to get to the back of.” Steve teased.

You shoved him playfully, and it set him off laughing.

“I know you aren’t used to this spy stuff, but you’re just being you. It’ll be fine. Just be sassy old Steve Rogers.” You said.

“Sassy?” He said sounding offended. “Old?” He added with even more offense to his tone.

“I said what I said.”

“Fine. See if I kiss you tomorrow now.” He teased.

“Oh damn. All my dreams, shattered just like that.”

He chuckled and you both fell silent again. You saw his eyes close and you watched him as he seemed to center himself.

“Steve?” You asked.

“Mmm…”

“Before you said you thought your job was worth it. You didn’t say if you were happy though.”

He opened his eyes and looked at you. Even in the near pitch room, you could see him assessing you. “Yes. I think I’m happy. This isn’t how I expected my life to go, you know? I mean, obviously. I was born in 1918, and I was extremely sickly. I thought I’d be dead by now.”

You chuckled softly and gave him a little nod to continue.

“I had expected, even though women didn’t really look twice at me, that one day I’d get married and have kids. That there would be a family. You know?”

“Sure. It’s what’s drilled into us. More so back then.” You agreed.

“There’s still part of me that thinks I need that to be really happy.” You said. “I’ve also lost a lot. For a long time, I thought it was everything. To die and wake up to find yourself alone in a world you no longer recognize. I was lost for a really, really long time. I can’t say I didn’t think about…” He let out a breath and shook his head. You touched his arm softly and a half smile crossed his lips. “I was depressed, I know that now. But now? I have Bucky back. I didn’t think I’d see him again. I have another best friend I love just as much as Bucky. The others. They’re my family. They’re more my family than my dad ever was. I still miss people from my past, but there are more people now. Which is good. I think I’m making a difference in the world. So yeah. I’m happy. It’s not the life I expected. But it’s good.”

You smiled at you and squeezed his arm. “That’s good. I’m glad. You do deserve to be happy.”

He chuckled. “How can I not be when I have a beautiful woman in my bed.”

You laughed and pushed him again. “Smooth, Rogers.”

“I try.” He teased. “We should sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

“Right. Yes.” You agreed. “Night.”

“Goodnight.” He said with a soft smile.

You closed your eyes and let the sound of his breathing send you off to sleep.

// NEXT

#happy steve bingo #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #bed sharing #the usual spy stuff

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firebirdtransam68 · 5 years ago

Text

I Am Looking For More OP Blogs On Tumblr

I have been noticing that whenever I follow a Tumblr user (most of them are rebloggers), they disappear from my Following count (either they deactivated their account, or blocked me; but mostly their account gets deactivated). Most Tumblr users want more followers; I want more blogs to follow, especially OP (original post) blogs.

I am not saying there should be no rebloggers (in fact, I encourage reblogging); it is that there are so many users that only/mostly reblog other users’ posts; I want to follow more OP users because I have a big thing for originality, creativity, and individuality. Rebloggers tend to agree on what the OP (or other reblogger) says, and whenever I go to the tagged or search section/s, only the OP posts are apparent, and no rebloggers with their own creative tags (unless I go to their blog and search whatever keyword/tag they designate some of their posts with).

Yes, I reblog other users’ posts, myself, but I tend to add my own thoughts and tags whenever I do so; and since my reblogs are not in the tagged or search sections, these posts are not mine, since I am not the OP. Even some OP users have reblogged posts of their own, as well (but they usually do not go overboard with them, and they usually have an equal amount of reblogs as well as original posts). Because I promote creativity, talent and individuality, I do not reblog as much as most OP users.

I am looking for more OP blogs for me to follow (or to follow me so I can follow them) that are currently active and not defunct or dormant. And whatever the OP user posts on their blog is their primary content. Here are some content I am looking for:

Transformers

- Transformers Generation One

* The Transformers (1984-1987)

* The Transformers: The Movie (1986)

* Transformers anime and OVAs

- Transformers: Robotmasters (2004-2005)

- Transformers: Unicron Trilogy

* Micron Legend

* Superlink

* Galaxy Force

* Linkage

* Armada

* Energon

* Dreamwave

- Bumblebee (2018) and other Knightformers media

- G1 callbacks in all Transformers media (besides G1, itself)

- Underrated characters

- Alt-modes

- Different planets

- Sub vs. dub comparisons

- Fan characters

* Autobots

* Decepticons

* Microns/Mini-cons

* Junkions

* Planets

* Vehicles

* Other robots

* Other extraterrestrials

* Humans

Sonic The Hedgehog

- Classic games (1991-1997)

- Adventure games/merchandise (1998-2006)

- Sonic X

* Sonic X (sub)

* Characters

* Soundtracks

* Stock footage

- Sonic OVA

- Sonic, Shadow, and Silver (and sometimes Scourge)

- Terios The Hedgehog

- Underrated characters

- Zones/areas/habitats

- Different planets

- Sub vs. dub comparisons

- Fan characters

* Hedgehogs (male, female, intersex, non-binary, other, etc.)

* Hedgehybrids (like a peahedge (hedgehog x peafowl), for instance)

* Birds

* Reptiles

* Recently discovered species

* Fantastical creatures

* Other extraterrestrials

* Robots, machines, cyborgs, and vehicles

* Villains (male, female, intersex, non-binary, other, etc.)

* Humans

Spore

- Creatures

- Early Creatures

- Flora

- Cells (actually microbes)

- Vehicles

- Buildings

- UFOs (actually spaceships)

- Planets

- City Music

- Objects (including different color Spice, rocks and minerals, weapons, etc.)

- Landscapes

- Advancements (including moveable tails for creatures, doors for vehicles and buildings, and other planetary features)

- Gameplays

- Screenshots

- Your own creations

Movies

- Top Gun (1986)

- The Final Countdown (1980)

- 1980′s Sci-fi and fantasy films

- Stealth (2005)

TV Shows

- Knight Rider (1982-1986)

- Voltron: Defender Of The Universe (1984-1986)

- Any sci-fi/fantasy/science fantasy shows (including 1980′s shows)

Videogames And Computer Games

- Sins Of A Solar Empire

- Species: Artificial Life, Real Evolution

- FlOw (2006)

- Osmos (2009)

- Space Dragon (3lb Games)

- Age Of Empires (1997-2018)

- Nomad (1993-present)

- The Saint Of The Braves Baan Gaan

- Any classic arcade games (1970′s to 1990′s) from most popular to most underrated

Anime And OVAs

- Beast King Golion

- Armored Fleet Dairugger XV

- Lightspeed Electroid Albegas

- Future Robot Deltaneous

- Star Musketeer Bismark

- Super Dimension Fortress Macross

- Super Dimension Cavalry Southern Cross

- Genesis Climber Mospeada

- Dai-Guard

- Brave Fighters

* Brave Fighter Exkaiser

* Brave Fighter Of Sun Fighbird

* Brave Fighter Of Legend Da-Garn

- Brave Express Might Gaine

- Brave Police J-Decker

- Brave Of Gold Goldran

- Brave Command Dagwon

- GaoGaiGar

- Betterman

- Robot Romance Trilogy

* Super-Electromagnetic Robot Combattler V

* Super-Electromagnetic Machine Voltes V

* Brave Leader Daimos

- Space Runaway Ideon

- Blue Comet SPT Layzner

- Raideen

* Raideen The Brave

* Raideen The Superior

- Sukeban Deka (OVA)

- Starship Troopers (OVA)

- Queen Millenia

Books And Novels

- Dragonriders Of Pern series

- Literary Brat Pack

* Bright Lights, Big City (1984)

- The Space Trilogy

- The Red Mars Trilogy

- Sci-fi books about/featuring dragons

- Robert Heinlein fans

- Space books

- Bird books

- Giant robot/Mecha books

- Books about different dimensions

- Books about time travel

- Action-packed suspense novels

Music

- 1980′s

* Electropop

* Music videos

* Instruments (synthesizers, guitars, drum machines, etc.)

* Currently deceased musicians

* “Flashdance” style

* J-Pop/J-Rock/city pop

* Lesser-known songs

* International

* Experimental

* Soundtracks

- Film/TV/videogame score/soundtracks

- Transformers music

- Sonic The Hedgehog music

- Musical instruments

Fan media

- Transformers

- Sonic The Hedgehog

- Spore

- Voltron (1984-1985)

- Knight Rider (1982-1986)

- Brave Saga

- Crossovers

* Transformers x Sonic The Hedgehog

* Transformers x Spore

* Transformers x Brave Saga

* Transformers x Voltron

* Transformers x Knight Rider

* Sonic x Spore

* Sonic x Voltron

* Sonic x Brave Saga

* Sonic x Knight Rider

* Spore x Voltron

* Transformers x Yu-Gi-Oh!

* Brave Saga x Yu-Gi-Oh!

* Spore x Dragonriders Of Pern

* Sonic x Dragonriders Of Pern

* Transformers x Dragonriders Of Pern

* GoBots x Transformers

* Gundam x Transformers

* Transformers x Sonic x Yu-Gi-Oh!

* Transformers G1 x Transformers Unicron Trilogy

* 4Kids shows x Transformers Unicron Trilogy

* Top Gun (1986) x The Final Countdown (1980)

Liveblogging/Review/Rewatching/Screenshotting

- The Transformers (1984-1987)

- The Transformers: The Movie (1986)

- Transformers: Headmasters

- Transformers: Victory

- Transformers OVAs

* Transformers: Scramble City

* Transformers: Zone

- Transformers: Car Robots

- Transformers: Micron Legend

- Transformers: Superlink

- Transformers: Galaxy Force

- Bayformers films (2007-2017)

- Bumblebee (2018)

- AOSTH (especially the episode “Zoobotnik”)

- Sonic SatAM

- Sonic OVA (sub)

- Sonic X (sub)

- Beast King Golion

- Armored Fleet Dairugger XV

- Lightspeed Electroid Albegas

- Future Robot Deltaneous

- Star Musketeer Bismark

- Voltron: Defender Of The Universe (1984-1985)

- Voltron: Fleet Of Doom (1986)

- Saber Rider And The Star Sheriffs (1987-1988)

- Super Dimension Fortress Macross

- Super Dimension Cavalry Southern Cross

- Genesis Climber Mospeada

- Robotech (1982-1984)

- Brave Fighters

* Brave Fighter Exkaiser

* Brave Fighter Of Sun Fighbird

* Brave Fighter Of Legend Da-Garn

- Brave Police J-Decker

- GaoGaiGar

- Dai-Guard

- Any Raideen series

- Knight Rider (1982-1986)

- Knight Rider 2000 (1991)

- Top Gun (1986)

- The Final Countdown (1980)

- Stealth (2005)

- Challenge Of The GoBots (1984-1985)

- Fan videos

Artwork

- Landscapes

* Planetary landscapes

* Nature

* Cities and towns (featuring cars and other vehicles)

* Futuristic landscapes

* Space

* Alien landscapes

* 1980′s style landscapes

* Memphis style landscapes

* Technological landscapes

* Room/hallway landscapes

- Cars (1965-1990)

- Fighter jets

- Birds

- Rocks and minerals

- Memphis patterns and other 1980′s and 1990′s style patterns

- Retro 1970′s, 1980′s, 1990′s aesthetic (including airbrush techniques)

- Images made by Microsoft Office PowerPoint shape tool

- Mecha robots

- Fonts and font art

- Space/universe related artwork

Miscellaneous

- Cars

* Pontiac Firebird Trans Ams (including 1982)

* Chevrolet Camaros (including 1982)

* Supercars and sports cars from 1955-2004

* Plymouth Roadrunners

* Custom 1980′s sports cars (custom paint job, car costumes, accessories, etc.)

* Dodge Challengers

* Striped cars

* Flying cars

- Planes

* F-14 Tomcats

* F-15 Eagles

* F-16 Fighting Falcons

* A-10 Warthogs

* F-22 Raptors

* F-35 VTOL fighter jets

* Custom planes (including custom fighter jets)

- Seamless patterns

- Retro 1980′s themes

* Synthwave

* Retrowave

* Vaporwave

* Airbrush techniques

* Fonts

* Car paint jobs

* Chrome (not Google Chrome; actual chrome gradients)

- Bird species of the world

- Space

* Planets (including those outside our solar system)

* Stars

* Moons

* Star systems

* Nebulae

* Galaxies

* Asteroids and meteors

* Comets

* Clusters

* Novae

* Black holes

* Recent discoveries

- OS

* Microsoft DOS

* Microsoft Windows 1.0

* Microsoft Windows 3.1

* Microsoft Windows 95

* Microsoft Windows NT

* Microsoft Windows 98

* Microsoft Windows 2000

* Microsoft Windows ME

* Microsoft Windows XP

* Microsoft Windows retro OS styles

* Ubuntu Linux

* Amiga OS

* Underrated OS

- Old technologies

- Ask memes (usually for fandom related topics)

If anyone already has posts like any of these, feel free to follow me so I can check out your content (I usually follow back if the content a user contains satisfies me, but sometimes I choose not to; spam users, on the other hand...). For those who have not logged in to Tumblr (and have content you chose to base your future blog as), please do so; the more creative individuals in the site (if not the whole Internet), the better.

That is all I will say for now. Until I find such content that is ongoing for the 2020′s, I will explore what is available so far. I am certain other users might have similar needs and desires like I do, as well.

This is FirebirdTransAm68 signing out.

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dbhilluminate · 5 years ago

Text

DBHI: Equilibrium, ch. 13 - “Periapsis” (pt. 3)

Characters: Noah / “Erwin Yvonne”, Gabriel / “Vincent Sharp”, Director Thomas Falken, Priya Davies, Diego Serrano Word Count: 2,813

A drunk and jealous Noah makes an attempt to recapture Gabriel’s attention, but everything goes to hell in a hand basket when the Inquisition shows up to interrupt his heartfelt serenade.

***For a glossary of world-building terms relating to this series and chapter, click here.

(Chapter Art by ozaya, Co-authored by @grayorca15)

• Chapter Index • Characters • Glossary •

——

December 23rd, 2041 - 10:35 PM

Noah’s fingertips traced over the lapels of his jacket and absently brushed across the sigil pin as he ascended the short flight of stairs at the front of the room. It was fortunate he had made sure to bring spending change besides the few thousand waiting to be deposited into the Zion Founders’ coffers, courtesy of Javier. Between the valet, the bartender and the musicians, he would be out a couple hundred regardless of how this foolish stunt went; but if the outcome turned out in his favor, the reward would be worth any price. Noah made his approach with perfect timing as the last chords of Silent Night faded out. The interruption wasn’t half as jarring as it could have been, but the pianist still stumbled over her last few keystrokes when she noticed the newcomer climb up onto the stage. Both her airbrushed eyebrows shot up to her hairline in alarm, and eyes went wide next to the spinning yellow LED on her temple. The rest of her human colleagues spared them both a collectively bemused stare, lowered their bows, and politely kept their disbelief in check a few precious seconds as Noah smirked and held up a card flush of folded fifty dollar bills. “Evening, all. Lovely job so far, but do you mind if we change things up a tad for oh, say, five minutes?”

“S-sir, you- t-this isn’t part of the program,” the cellist needlessly pointed out, as he turned to the conductor to make his request. Even with his reluctant agreement, their hesitation in accepting a little extra Christmas tip didn’t prove strong enough to keep their hands at their strings. “There’s more where it came from if you’ll humor me for one measly request,” Noah promised as he put on the most innocent face he knew. “It’s nothing that isn’t already on the roster, anyway. Last Christmas is a true classic by now, isn’t it?” Already the band’s delay in proceeding to the next song was drawing a few curious stares from the crowd. Drinks were put down, feet shuffled closer. The conversations droning on just beyond the stage’s edge stalled, interrupted with mutters of ‘who is that’, ‘why did they stop’ and ‘it’s not last call for donations for another thirty minutes’. None of which sounded particularly hostile, so- so far, so good. The pianist -an AX400 wearing a long green gown, with bronze eyes and matching shoulder-length hair parted and pinned in place by a holly-leaf hair clip- was the only one who side-eyed him with open suspicion. She didn’t lift her hands from the keys as he offered a bill for inspection. Instead of asking aloud, she pinged a question over the commlink.

You’re a friend of Mr. Sharp? What gave it away? ‘Yvonne’ teased back. He made a quick show of folding the bill up into a neatly-rolled stick before brushing her hair back to stash it behind her ear (since her hands were presently occupied), and made quick work of scanning the information gleaned from brief contact. Trust me, Miss O’Rourke, this is on the level- I’ve only a few words to say beforehand, no harm, no foul. Vince will understand. I’m just helping him break in a sense of humor. Best gift he could get this holiday, don’t you think? The wink did the trick. ‘Sally’ scoffed and failed to hide half a smirk at his reasoning, reached over and swiped a few pages ahead in the holographic sheet music. The gesture was entirely for show, but a visual confirmation she was game for the idea was more fun than a simple ‘sure, why not?’ He patted her shoulder in thanks. “Much obliged. Rest of you, skip ahead. This’ll only take a minute.” With a loose gestured wave to indicate her colleagues should do the same, Noah wheeled the mic stand out of his way and plucked the mic off the cradle. The device whined almost forlornly at being removed from its nest, and Noah cringed at the high pitched whine as it projected throughout the room. “Test-testing,” he dribbled with a few taps to the head of the device, “One, two- oh, for- is this thing on? Where’s the-“ After a few fumbled attempts, his fingers found the slider switch and dialed it up to full volume. The dual set of speakers situated at either end of the stage boomed, followed by a few scratchy puffs of static. “There it is- signal is good, yeah? Okay!”

This was worse than worse. Ill-timed didn’t even begin to cover it. Not even a minute prior, Director Falken had passed on some disturbing news that had left every Agent on the premises reeling. If Noah couldn’t already tell which of the staff members around the room were part of the undercover team, the sudden halt in their planned routes and turning of heads all around at each other gave them away. Gabriel made eye-contact with at least three of those Agents before he looked back at a man fast approaching the bar from behind the east side of the stage while Noah made his introductory greeting.

“Hello, folks. Good evening. Everyone hearing this okay? Yes? Can I get a few nods? Oh, come on, don’t look so confused. We’re all friends here, right?” If they weren’t, they soon would be. Nothing livened a party up like an impromptu bit of karaoke. Even politicians could agree interruptions were welcome if they were amusing enough and, more importantly, harmless; although, not everyone was on board with the change of pace. Gabe’s boss was every bit the grizzled mood-killing type he looked, he needn’t even identify himself- it was painfully apparent in the way he shouldered his way through the crowd with a shoulder-check type swagger that sent bystanders shuffling aside or knocked over like bowling pins. Like a scratched-up fuzzy bowling ball. Noah couldn’t help but grin with a few barely-contained chuckles as he drew the comparison in his head. Almost as if he‘d heard him, Director Falken tossed Noah a stern ‘I’ll deal with you later’ glare as he passed, and made a beeline for Gabe at the bar, who looked like he was about ready to implode. The burly Android’s face had flushed red right to the tips of his ears. His alias hadn’t even been called out by name, but the inference was clear enough- who else was possibly to blame for taking their eyes him for a minute too long? Despite their clear disdain for the situation, Noah grinned and shrugged with an exaggerated hike of one shoulder. “Well, I should rephrase,” he corrected with a small gesture to the grumpy Director, and redirected his amplified words to the rest of the room. “We aren’t friends yet, are we? Hello there! Name’s Erwin Yvonne, nice to meet you, everyone.”

If there was one thing he had going for him that none of the other undercover agents did, it was that even half-drunk and less than on top of his game, he still knew how to command a room. All the stage lacked was an overhead spotlight to really help sell it. “Our dear Vincent was going to get around to introducing us sometime next week, at the rate he moves, but I doubt you all planned on camping out here that long, right? Sleepover in the auditorium isn’t how I’d want to spend the holidays, either. That’d get expensive pretty quick, if I’m doing the math right.” More bemused murmurs and a few uneasy chuckles met his introduction not quite halfway, none of which resulted from ‘Vinnie and company’, who were too wrapped up in whatever it was he hadn’t bothered to tell him about to offer so much as an annoyed glance.

Still leaving me out of the loop...? I see how it is, he huffed indignantly back at his would-be partner. Don’t worry, I’ll keep them distracted for you. Noah, this is really not the time, Gabriel tried to warn with a silent shake of his head, as Serrano greeted their new guest. Falken met his kindness with a curt nod, then turned his attention to the disguised Gabriel, leaned in, grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear. Sharp’s jaw flexed as he grit his teeth and nodded in understanding, then turned back to his mark and passed along the information. A moment later, Falken escorted Serrano and his men out a door to the left of the room- an odd play indeed, but he didn’t make much of it in his current state. Instead, Noah rolled his eyes, shifted his weight onto one foot, and draped his free hand over the empty microphone stand to tilt it away from himself. He was far from being in a falling-down-drunk state, but having something to lean on just in case wasn’t completely unadvisable. There were more tasteless crutches to rely on.

With a frustrated shrug and a sigh, he brought the mic up again. The last ramble hadn’t been all that funny anyway, better to dismiss the joke as a flop and keep going, regardless of the new secrets Gabe wasn’t sharing. “Anyway, my point is- all this finery, good drinks and food and better company, and he couldn’t even be bothered to find us some lyrical accompaniment? Does he find the classics so torturous?” Please, Gabe insisted in a worried tone that went right over the inebriated Android’s head. Come down from there, we need to get you out of here. Yvonne only scoffed in response and wagged a finger back at him as he pushed his way through the crowd toward the stage. “Tsk tsk, I see now why you even put my name on the list at all, Vinnie dearest. If that’s how it’s gonna be, I hope you don’t mind the first pick on my list. I think we can all agree it’s an old favorite, with or without context.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the violinists tightening a loose string; a few random chord plucks from behind him indicated the quartet had finished tuning for the next number. All drew their bows across the necks of their instruments and cast him a mute look of uncertainty that received a thumbs up in return, just in time for Vincent to grab at his ankle and shake him to get his attention. “Erwin… you’re drunk, don’t do anything you’ll regret-“ “No, no, don’t try and stop me now, this is happening,” Yvonne insisted with a shake of his leg as he pulled it away, tossed his hair aside, and took a couple of steps back from him. “Sally, boys- whenever you’re ready. ”

Whatever their doubts, confidence counted for something, and Yvonne wasn’t a guy to shy away from challenges, much less those of his own making. The conductor tapped his baton against the edge of the music stand a few times, then gestured with a large sweeping wave- the band started right up as if they had practiced the song a hundred times before. Gabriel attempted to shoot him one final warning as the instrumental introduction finished its first round without lyrics, but Noah met it with a snarky brow pop and set his gaze on the man’s deep brown eyes so there was no mistaking what this was about.

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, But the very next day, you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special.

The stage didn’t offer much front lawn space to strut around on. Even if it did, the song was more catchy than a number to dance to. Substituting the keyboard with a concert piano hadn’t turned out terrible, thankfully, and the cello plucked to mimic the percussive beat complimented the higher-pitched violinists. By the second repeat of the first chorus, he could see the crowd was sold. A few faces lit up in new interest, the nervous chatter died down. One man, phone held to his ear, ended whatever call he was on to turn the video camera on him. Most important, though, was that the flustered look he’d been dying to see again had resurfaced on Gabe’s face, even if it was tainted with latent anxiety.

Once bitten, and twice shy, I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye. Tell me, baby, do you recognize me? Well, it’s been a year so- it doesn’t surprise me.

It wasn’t as though there was a real crowd to play to, but past the first few verses, Gabriel’s transfixed gaze and reddening cheeks were all the motivation he needed to dial the performance up to eleven. Noah found himself so lost in relating the lyrics to his current problem, a few extra words slipped in seamlessly without having to put much thought at all into keeping the tempo.

Merry Christmas! I wrapped it up and sent it With a note saying, "I love you," I meant it Now, I know what a fool I've been, oh- But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again!

One hand reached to claw at the layers over his chest as his eyelids fluttered, and Vincent took a backward stagger away from the stage as ‘Yvonne’ repeated the chorus twice more. He didn’t have time to deal with this frivolousness at the moment, not with (what was most likely) the Inquisition on the Mellon’s doorstep, set to raid the fundraiser any moment. The strength returned to his eyes as the morbid pre-constructions of Noah’s death reminded him of his objective. He had to get him off that stage, lest he became a target. Vincent reached for Yvonne’s leg again as he moved a little too close to the stage’s edge, then reached up to pull him down to his level, demanding he get-down-from-there; rather than convincing him to oblige, however, it backfired. The gesture nearly yanked him off balance, but Noah took a knee instead to smoothly cover the stumble and delivered the next chorus directly at him. If he had been trying to keep this from turning into a real embarrassment, nothing would be worse to him than having a song dedicated to him.

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes, I'm hi-ding from you, and your soul of ice. My god, I thought you were someone to rely on. Me? Heh, I guess I was a shoulder to cry on. A face on a lover with a fire in his heart. A man undercover, but you tore - me - apart. Oh, hoo. Now-

LISTEN TO ME! Gabe growled angrily, finally letting the snarl show through his cover, as the band played on and Yvonne fell behind. I’m serious, something is very wrong. All of our other teams on site have gone silent- three of the four missed their quarterly check-ins, and Falken found the fourth dead in the nest a few minutes ago-

The gravity in his words sunk like lead in his gut as a gunshot echoed through the auditorium from the entrance of the ballroom and silenced the band, replaced with a wave of simultaneous screams. Two more shots fired off and injured a couple of guests as a small group of ten to fifteen armed androids, dressed to the teeth in riot gear, fanned out through the hall and trained their automatic weapons on guests trying to escape. Noah -instead of dropping to the floor like any sensible person had by that point- crossed the stage a few steps to look around the tree, just in time to get a front-row seat as the body of one of the guards who had let him in was flung down the stairs like a carelessly delivered package. A lump rose in his throat as the corpse landed beside one-armed thug, who spared it only a kick further into the room, and all thought of singing died off. He couldn’t look away, not even to glimpse the face of the Android who had entered the room dressed in a skintight black dress, the train of which slithered down the steps behind them like the tail of a viper. But the voice was familiar- cool and calm, flowing like a river of milk and honey. It was a voice he only remembered from Purgatory’s recovered audio logs. Priya Davies -better known by the general public as the Horseman, Pestilence- raised one gently folded hand to silence the startled gasps that swept the room.

“Good, evening, ladies and gentlemen. My, don’t you all just look pretty as a picture…”

#detroit: become human #dbh #rk900 #rk1800 #dbhilluminate #dbhiequilibrium #detroit become human fanfiction #detroitbecomehuman #detroibecomehumanfanfiction #detroit become human fanfic #dbh fanfic #dbh fanfiction

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kiruuuuu · 6 years ago

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Thatcher/Lesion oneshot in which Lesion has a tattoo and Thatcher hates it. (Rating T, fierce denial and fluff I suppose, ~2.5k words) - dedicated to @glazkov-smile who put this ship into my brain where it now festers and grows shakes fist

The first time Thatcher catches a glimpse of it, all he feels – curiously enough – is betrayal.

No part of it makes sense, it’s neither his body nor his decision and yet it’s as if he’s been deceived in some way, left in the dark about a topic concerning him personally. It’s irrelevant how nonsensical his emotions are because they’re there regardless and no amount of logical arguing with himself is able to make them vanish. He can’t rationalise it even if he tries, and he tries desperately. He’s merely being a judgemental old fart, probably, something he’s been called before in differing contexts. But he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

It was no longer than a second: Bandit pulled on the back of Lesion’s collar to drop an ice cube into his shirt, and Thatcher just happened to look over at the commotion and saw colour lick at the back of Lesion’s neck, usually hidden by whatever garish shirt the man inexplicably chose to wear that day but now revealed in a flash of ink. And it’s enough to conjure up a profound disappointment in Thatcher.

They’ve known each other for years now, stayed in contact where Smoke exchanged irregular messages which taper off now and then, only to rekindle once in a blue moon. No, Thatcher and Lesion wrote and called almost every week, given their work permitted it, left messages on a variety of media depending on their current location and sent each other postcards even, both of them carefully and happily maintaining an unlikely friendship. They differ in many regards though not the most important ones, and thus remained pointed towards each other like magnets. Friendships like this one are rare, Thatcher has come to understand this all too keenly.

And he can’t stand tattoos.

To him, they’re much worse than gaudy jewellery, flamboyant clothes and unnaturally dyed hair together – not only are they alarmingly permanent but also usually horribly tacky. Who cares if someone managed to father a child? Congratulations, they fulfilled their purpose the way nature intended, no need to plaster their kid’s heartbeat or birth date or entire bloody face all over their arms and legs and basically rub it under everyone’s nose. He doesn’t care to know the names of people’s partners nor is he interested in cringy quotes or supposedly deep and symbolic bullshit which allegedly holds so much meaning for its bearer. They’re ugly. They mar skin instead of decorating it.

He much prefers freckles, scars, stretch marks, hair, natural discolouration, any sort of blemish which tells him this person is alive and breathing and not airbrushed or genetically engineered to look this way. He doesn’t care tattoos have been around forever, to him they’re a disgrace and can erase all his interest in someone. Can, and have.

Thinking back, he’s fairly sure he ranted about this to Lesion’s face before, was met with the usual calm patience tinged with amusement whenever he complains about something at length, earned no more than a half-reply implying his position was at best a bit too extreme and at worst complete and utter dogshite in Lesion’s opinion. He’s never dismissive about it, merely pokes fun but ultimately chooses to respect Thatcher’s views which is probably one of the reasons why they’re still friends.

So when he catches sight of precise strokes lining Lesion’s back, Thatcher is appalled. Indignant. Offended, even.

He needs to see it.

Just like he demands details about all the unnecessary so-called ‘apps’ most people around him use so he can judge them accordingly, curiosity grips him in its iron hold and compels him to view the entire disaster Lesion immortalised on his body for reasons unknown. Maybe it’s linked to a previous partner, a family member, a time in Lesion’s life about which Thatcher knows nothing yet, something deeply personal – in which case he’ll still disapprove of the ink but possibly gain more insight into his friend’s past. In that case, it’d be a worthwhile endeavour despite the knowledge of what exactly is tainting Lesion’s skin. He won’t be able to unsee it afterwards.

“Do you want to fight?”, he interrupts Lesion’s current conversation and gets a good-natured laugh from his friend and a concerned look from Ying in return.

“I thought we agreed not to argue politics in the workplace anymore”, Lesion replies cheerfully and moves his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other, Thatcher’s gaze following its journey momentarily.

“You said you were a little rusty in whatever fancy martial arts style you always torture the recruits with, so I thought you could use a refresher.”

“It’s much too warm to fight”, Ying points out and Thatcher barely bites back a response along the lines of that’s the point.

Lesion ignores her statement and leans back in his lawn chair, one of Rainbow’s most sought after commodity in summer – ants are prevalent and therefore sitting in the grass ill-advised. “Even if I did, I’d go to Yumiko and not you – no offence.”

“I bet you’ve been doing it for longer than she has.”

“Possibly, but she’s still lengths better.” The younger man raises an amused eyebrow. “Mike, are you bored?”

Oh. It’s the perfect excuse, his entire team is known for their eccentric solutions to boredom as well as striking fear into everyone’s heart as soon as it looks like they’ve got nothing to do. “Yes”, he lies smoothly, “so you can either join me willingly or spend the rest of the day anticipating a non-consensual fight. I’ll know when you least expect it, Tze Long.”

“Sounds like you don’t have a choice at all”, Ying sighs, shaking her head. “Men.”

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t jump on the opportunity to roll through the mud with Elena, my dear”, Lesion comments casually after which neither of the two stick around for long enough to watch her turn crimson and splutter at the accusation. “So, tell me. Was this a misguided rescue mission or do you need my help with anything embarrassing?”

Thatcher blinks at the unexpected question until he realises his excuse sounds so terribly flimsy Lesion didn’t buy it for a second, correctly assuming an ulterior motive. Even if he’s nowhere near guessing it. “Oh, neither. I really just – it was a genuine suggestion and I…” He trails off when crinkles appear around dark eyes.

“Aren’t we a little too old to kill time by beating each other up? Let’s go drink some green tea to cool down instead, shall we?”

His objection dies on his tongue as his friend turns away, wearing a small smile. “I don’t even like green tea”, Thatcher protests quietly yet trails after Lesion nonetheless.

“Let’s go swimming.”

Lesion pauses visibly, marks his spot on the page he’s currently on and then glances up sceptically. “Now?”

Yes, Thatcher almost blurts out but catches himself just in time, checks his watch and pretends like he didn’t completely lose track of the hours ticking by purely because of Lesion’s presence. It’s a common occurrence, oddly enough. “Of course not”, he scoffs, “but what about tomorrow?”

“Where is this coming from? We’ve never gone for a swim together, you prefer going alone.” Fortunately, there’s no suspicion in his voice, only curiosity.

“I just thought you might want to join me. When’s the last time you went swimming?”

“Yesterday. Meghan invited me.”

Ah. Thatcher squints before he can help himself – they probably spent the time showing off their respective tattoos, and for some reason this thought makes it worse than as if Lesion had gone with anyone else. Even Blackbeard. “Well. If you don’t want to, that’s fine”, he concludes curtly and directs his attention back to the book in his own lap, fighting down another wave of dismay. So others are allowed to see it, apparently, where he’d not even been aware of it at all.

“What? Of course we can go, I was just surprised -”

“Nah. Nevermind.”

“Mike.” There’s gentle exasperation in Lesion’s voice now and he leans forward in the armchair which has become basically his over the course of several months – it bears his imprint and smells of him. Not that Thatcher would know. “I didn’t say no.”

“I’m busy tomorrow anyway”, he lies through his teeth and wonders whether he sounds cranky.

Lesion silently examines him for a few seconds longer, expression unreadable, and finally shrugs. “Alright. If you do want to go, just let me know.”

The doors of his wardrobe have mirrors. It’s the perfect plan. Thatcher buys the Dutch beer Lesion likes so much, and while Maestro is in the middle of listing all the exotic animals he’s eaten in his life with Smoke listening intently (and probably adding quite a few to his bucket list), while Mute snitches on Bandit’s newest plan to Sledge, while Sledge pointedly ignores Maestro’s hand slowly creeping up his thigh – while all of them are gathered in Thatcher’s living room, he makes sure to spill some of it down Lesion’s back.

“Whoops”, he says after his friend has jumped up with an undignified noise of surprise and hopes dearly that either none of the others watched him very deliberately tip his bottle or that they at least know to keep their mouths shut. “Come on, let’s get you something else to wear.”

“Why did we even stay in if I end up smelling like pub anyway”, Lesion complains weakly on the way to the bedroom, lamenting the wasted drink and accepting the fresh t-shirt Thatcher presses into his hands. “Thanks. You can go ahead.”

Thatcher pauses, hovering uncertainly. This – isn’t how it’s supposed to go. The last time, Lesion undressed in front of him without any qualms and he hoped it would be the same now, positioned his friend between himself and the mirrors so he’d get a good look no matter what. “I, uh -”

“Do you want to watch me change?”, Lesion asks, audibly entertained.

“No, I just – you probably need a towel, right? To get rid of the beer.”

“Sure”, the younger man agrees easily and Thatcher nods more to himself than for his benefit, leaves the room and dashes as soon as he’s out of eyesight. He’s never fetched a wet towel faster in his life, hoping to at least see part of it if Lesion’s in the middle of undressing, yet when he returns, Lesion is still wearing his soaked shirt. As well as a meaningful smirk. “Thank you, Mike. I’ve got it from here.”

No, he’s not going to let this opportunity pass. “Are you sure you don’t need help with your back?”

“Do you want to see it that badly?”

Oh.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Your personal vendetta against my shirts. It took me a few days to realise why so many of them ended up ruined, stained, ripped or threatened. You’ve not seen it before, have you?”

He hasn’t been that obvious. Has he? Thatcher considers denying everything but his curiosity prevails, triumphs over the prospect of never living this down. Defeated, he shakes his head, prepares for the inevitable ribbing yet is merely awarded with Lesion’s fingers reaching up to unbutton his soiled shirt, a gesture so hypnotising all speech evades him.

“I didn’t know you were that interested”, Lesion comments nonchalantly as if the temperature in the room hadn’t just jumped up a few degrees – or maybe Thatcher is experiencing a heatwave, yet whatever it is, his face is burning.

“I’m not”, he replies petulantly and is in the middle of justifying all his actions to himself in his head when the piece of fabric drops, carelessly gets discarded, and then Lesion turns.

It’s -

Well, it’s large, first of all, covering the entirety of his back and seemingly continuing even below the waistband of his trousers, just shy of curling all the way around his ribs. The ink is vibrant and mesmerising, no part of Lesion’s natural skin colour visible between all the vivid colours crassly at odds with everything Thatcher considers desirable. To him, it looks more like a yakuza tattoo than anything else, the motif of a roaring tiger familiar yet kept in a more tasteful style, no cartoonish bulging eyes or exaggerated features. Part of it is shiny with moisture, making it look even more recent and amplifying the otherworldly feel of it.

And it’s still a tattoo, even if the fact that it’s Lesion’s back changes something about it; even if the outline of his shoulder blades, the dip of his lower back, the gently curved spine do something to Thatcher, its nature remains intact. He doesn’t know why anyone would choose to deface their natural beauty like this, would spend a horrendous amount of money on something this hideous, would endure a million needle pricks only to look like this.

He also has no idea why he can’t stop staring.

A detail catches his attention and, without thinking, he lifts his hand and brushes over the tiger’s face with a thumb, the skin warm and slightly sticky. “He’s got a scar below his eye”, Thatcher murmurs and fights hard to keep this odd, uncalled-for reverent tone out of his voice.

“Do you want to watch him dance?”, Lesion asks him quietly and his brain is too occupied to process his words, discern the meaning behind them because – surely, he’s not -

The air is thick around them and it’s not only a byproduct of the season; it’s not stuffy yet heavy nonetheless, struggles against Thatcher’s deep inhale. His other fingers join his thumb in resting on intricate swirls, scared to move in case they smudge the ornate ink. “What do you mean?”, he hears himself mumble, possibly hoping for a repetition only, not even a clarification.

“Oh. Nevermind.” Lesion’s reply is soft and it sounds like he’s grinning. “I’m glad you seem to like it though.”

“I don’t”, Thatcher protests immediately and withdraws his hand, suddenly light-headed with the rush of oxygen, air flooding his lungs, returned to normal from one second to the next.

His friend throws him a look over his shoulder and he really looks like the Cheshire cat for some reason, as if he’s having the time of his life and Thatcher feels like he missed something somewhere along the way. “Alright”, Lesion agrees readily.

They get him cleaned up and into Thatcher’s shirt without any more interruptions, but when he turns to leave, the Brit holds him back yet falters at the expectant, amused and open smile with which the gesture is met.

“How about”, he begins, suddenly sheepish, “we go swimming this weekend?”

And to his relief, Lesion nods immediately, grinning and extremely pleased with the suggestion. “Of course. I’d love to.”

#rainbow six siege #thatcher #lesion #thatcher/lesion #fanfic #oneshot #had I known I'd get myself stuck I never would've encouraged you #all it took was those 1k words you wrote #I already have more ideas #crying

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