#gross Soap is my nemesis

[auspicioustidings]

Gross Soap would absolutely take you to a club he knows has blacklight so you can very much see that he's been stealing your clothes to jack off with, that awful weirdo might even have fucking finger painted his name on your dress right over the parts he considers his :'(

[phulpakharu]

initial thoughts on gintama characters PART 2

here is the original post, if you wanna see. for anybody who's curious, i'm doing this because my mortal enemy (i.e. friend) wants essays about my thoughts on these characters... acting like this show is a class fr. i hate and love you in equal measure my dearest nemesis <3

i know you've been waiting for this one for a WHILE, so without further adieu, here is my initial impression of your babygirl, Takasugi Shinsuke.

(note: i know some spoilers about gintama, so my opinions are not gonna be clean or whatever because of that)

ALSO... THIS IS ALL SPECULATION. don't take me too seriously. i'm not trying to start disc/horse

takasugi is a man i have been waiting to meet, because @takasugisbabygirl is so in love with him, and i want to understand why. also just, the few spoilers i do know about him make me want to off myself.

so naturally, i squealed when he showed up on screen in episode 17. he was finally here !!!! and he wouldn't be showing up again for another 41 episodes, but i'll take the crumbs i can get.

my first thoughts were: 1) oh he's gonna be sooooooo fucked up and deranged for sure, and 2) THAT VOICE

THAT VOICE... oh my gosh. his voice suits him perfectly, Takehito Koyasu played him so well... wow. also, he was wearing a hat !!!!! idk what else to say about the hat, i just appreciated it is all.

okay, so a bunch of other stuff happens in this episode, so i'll scream about that briefly, before getting back to takasugi.

SHINPACHI MY TONE-DEAF SON... I LOVE YOU

KAGURA YOU ARE SO REAL AND WONDERFULLY 14 FOR ENACTING A SOAP OPERA... MY DAUGHTER... I LOVE YOU

GINTOKI I HOPE YOU GOT YOUR COTTON CANDY EVENTUALLY BABE

this ep was fucking DRAMATIC, i think nothing will top how heartfelt episode 13 was for me, it just HIT

KAGURA AND SOUGO WERE SUCH A FUN DUO.. THE SADISTS ARE TEAMING UP !! (i do not ship them because gross, and i have been informed that gin / kagu are unfortunately a big ship in this fandom??? y'all need buddha and allah and christ and five more different kinds of divine intervention fr)

that moment when gintoki and that inventor man (gengai or smth) were having ramen, and speaking about war and loss with that sad fucking piano ost... maybe it hit me a little. genuinely, i hate thinking of gintoki being in pain, i hate thinking of him experiencing loss, even when i'm vaguely aware of his backstory.

...

ANYWAYS... back to takasugi. HE WAS WATCHING YOROZUYA AND GENGAI WORKING... i wanna know what was going on in his head. what did he think when he saw gintoki? is this the first time he's observed from afar? what did he think when he saw gintoki with his surrogate children? i just want to know what he thought.

i can vaguely speculate, that he was angry, because i think he has so much of it that he doesn't know where to put it. i think he may have also felt a bit betrayed, seeing gintoki move forward with other people in his life, seemingly forgetting the past. he says as much later on, though not in those words exactly. i'm just fascinated by his heart and mind and thoughts.

speaking offffff....... that moment when he cornered gintoki after the fireworks show!!!! dear fucking god!!!!!! i don't know how to properly articulate all my feelings about this, but i will try.

1) takasugi is tasking himself with keeping gintoki busy, because he knows that even in gintoki's "defanged" state, he's a threat to the chaos and destruction takasugi wants to incite.

2) he's fucking deranged and i already love him

3) the metaphor of the beast. gosh, this was so well done. it was clear and obvious what the metaphor meant, but it's also very layered. just, wonderful! takasugi and his beast that screams outwards, that's unruly and set loose to destroy everything, because he has nothing left to protect, nothing to really fight for, just wanting to burn the world that took everything from him. wow.

gintoki and his beast that screams inwards, that's caged and locked, and silently ruining him on the inside. the rage he feels turned inward at himself for not being able to protect everyone in the past. which then manifests as him doing everything he can to protect his loved ones now. because the past is the past, even if it haunts him, what's done is done, all he has is what's in front of him. (again, this was really wonderfully set up and displayed in ep13, when kagura and shinpachi were taken away by space pirates. that moment when gin see's them being dragged away and the panic and desperation all over his face... dear god.)

4) this leads me into the set-up for what i know will be an ongoing theme of duality. gintoki and takasugi, two sides of the same coin. protection vs destruction. internalization vs externalization. glittery pink comic sans 'i will protect you' vs flaming cryptic gothic 'i will destroy you'. they're two poles, facing each other, mirroring each other, outwardly different, but stemming from the same roots. it's set up sooooo well, and i'm deeply excited to see where this will go.

5) the "fangs" : this was a veryyyy interesting metaphor. gintoki asking whether takasugi provoked gengai into attacking. and then takasugi talks about the "fangs" about the "white demon" and goshhhhh so much foreshadowing??? all for me??? i feel spoiled.

it also offers some insight into how takasugi views the world, but especially gintoki. in takasugi's eyes, gintoki has also lost all meaning, and in a way, he's not wrong. in takasugi's eyes, gintoki has forgotten his past, forgotten what the world did to him. takasugi doesn't, on a fundamental level understand how gintoki can be so... idle. how he's able to exist with the past that he has, and how he isn't just as furious with the world. and therein comes takasugi's belief as to what "fangs" are, and why he thinks gintoki lost his. why find new things to protect when you failed the first time around? why have new things to lose when the loss already broke you once before? why do anything other than let the wretched, indifferent world burn?

i need to mention, this is all speculation. i haven't gotten into takasugi or gintoki's backstories all that deeply. i don't know exactly what happened to them, but i am somewhat aware of it.

anyways, back to "fangs" because we got a little off-track. i think this whole thing is fascinating. because "fangs" can mean anything depending on who the person in question is. for takasugi, it's his desperate ambition to destroy whatever lays before him. for gintoki it's his opposing need to protect what matters to him. for gengai it was about control, about directing his grief somewhere, so he can, if only for a moment, feel less unmoored.

it's just a very interesting thing to me, and i'm excited to see how it's explored later.

aaaaaaaah so this became a little less about takasugi, and more about takasugi and gintoki.... i don't think i can be blamed though. they're literally mortal enemies, deeply intertwined, etc etc. gay as hell.

okay back to takasugi. i'm soooo intrigued by this man. i love his voice and his monologues. i love that he's deranged, but i'll probably be in pain later because i just Know i'll love him and wish for him to be happy instead.

and back to this episode... he is so, gosh... what a wonderfully set-up antagonist. that moment when gintoki grabs his sword with a bare hand, declares easily that he's not defanged like takasugi thinks, and takasugi is so taken aback by it. and again. i want to know what he's thinking. he's shocked, but what else. relieved, maybe? that the gintoki he remembers still exists? that he isn't apathetic at all? fond? i can only speculate, but he seemed kind of fond of gintoki, when he was talking to katsura at the end of the episode, idk idk. angry? definitely. why? i don't know. maybe because he doesn't understand why gintoki lives so idly, when he's clearly not lost his spark or his fangs. maybe because he wishes gintoki was angry in the same way. i literally have NOOOO IDEA, THIS IS ALL SPECULATION.

also gintoki.. mentioning sadaharu... as his beast... mf really deflects and represses his emotions using humor huh. babygirl please go to therapy, or maybe have a parfait.

...

uuuuuuh. anyways. idk if this "essay" if i can even loosely call it that, made any sense towards the end lol. i have many thoughts, but not enough words to communicate them all. but yeah. takasugi shinsuke. what a deranged little guy <3

[fandammit]

Look how long this love can hold its breath (2/4)

Part 1

A/N: Another ~2500 words of Ben Gross character study/slow (I mean sloooow) burn Devi x Ben romance. 

*******

He spends the next two days after the party replaying his back to back attempts at kissing Devi, then the way he had just stood frozen in place as Paxton helped her out of the pool.

By that time, Shira had emerged from...wherever it was she had been and had draped her arm around him, and the combined weight of that and the guilt he felt from making a move on Devi when he was still in a relationship with her had rooted him in place.

So he’d just watched as Devi had had what probably should’ve been a private confrontation with her closest friends in front of the entire school, then as Paxton had rushed in to save the day and whisked her away to take her home.

He’d hate Paxton if he wasn’t so thoroughly disgusted with himself, and he’s at least not so selfish that he isn't glad that Devi at least has someone there for her at the exact moment she needs it, since he's apparently too much of a coward to be it.

His one saving grace for the night was that he’d managed not to be a total shithead. He’d waited until most everyone was gone or too drunk to really know what’s going on, then pulled Shira aside.

“Hey, so.” He’d taken a deep breath in and then breathed out again slowly. “I think we should break up.”

He had steeled himself then, ready to give a long and genuine apology about how it wasn’t her -- she’s beautiful and popular and he knows he’s lucky she even spent this long with him -- it was him. He’d been ready to talk about how sorry he was to do this to her, how he knew she’d find someone again soon and he wished her the best.

But she’d just given him a bored look and said ok, then left the room with a listless wave.  

******* After nearly a year together, it turns out that his relationship with Shira is approximately the equivalent of a half-hearted shrug, which might make him sad if he wasn’t spending all of his waking hours thinking about what to say to Devi when he eventually has to talk to her about what happened at his party.

He'd run after her at the moment and blamed it on the alcohol -- and that had held at the time -- but he isn’t so sure it’ll hold up in the bright light of day.

What scares him isn’t some delusion -- and he knows it’s a delusion -- about Devi holding some kind of more-than-friends affection for him, but the very real threat that he’s lost the opportunity to actually be her friend at all.

The awful, boundless loneliness of going back to just being her enemy instead of her maybe, sometimes, somewhat friend seems unbearable. Not now that he knows how much lighter he feels when they stand on solid ground next to each other rather than just trying to claw each other down to get ahead.

He really wants to insist that he was drunk and stupid and that he didn’t mean it, even if saying that second part out loud makes him feel a little bit sick -- as if the lie is too much for his stomach to hold.

Or else that he’d just been so lonely and grateful that someone gave him a present and he’d been drunk enough to let that gratitude manifest in affection, and that it wasn’t her, specifically -- he’d have kissed anyone in that moment who’d given him a present. He’d have kissed his dentist for sending him that postcard.

He so desperately wants those things to be true -- like, more than he wants the Clippers to win the title or his mom and dad to spend more than a week at home with him. More than he wants to be valedictorian at the end of high school.

Because he knows the last thing he needs to do is admit that it wasn’t the alcohol or the present or the fact that it was his birthday and he was feeling alone despite the crowded house. Because admitting that would mean admitting that he had tried to kiss Devi simply because he wanted to kiss her. Because she had looked pretty in the dimness of the theater room, and he’d looked at her lips and suddenly realized (or maybe let himself admit) it wasn’t the first he’d wondered how they might feel. That somewhere along the way the warm sensation in the center of his chest whenever he looked at her wasn’t spite, but something softer, something more tender and dangerous and hopeless.

“Goddammit,” he says out loud in the darkness of his empty room, which is weird for two reasons: he almost never cusses and he’s talking out loud to absolutely no one.

Still, it helps, kind of, so he keeps going.

“God. Fucking. Dammit.”

And then because he can’t bear to say that one particular truth out loud, he switches it for one that he can; stares straight up into the emptiness of his dark room and says through gritted teeth: “You are an entire fucking idiot, Ben Gross.”

*******

It takes another day for him to work up the courage to talk about what happened that night, which is ridiculous because the tactic he lands on has all the grace of a daytime soap: feigned amnesia.

So he stutters through some half-assed explanation about what he may or may not have done, about not wanting things to be weird, and how they shouldn’t be weird because, hey after all he couldn’t remember anything, so they should be ok.

She looks somewhere between thoughtful and skeptical, which makes sense because Devi’s not stupid. She is, in fact, the exact opposite of stupid, which is something that has frustrated and motivated and enticed him at various turns in their rivalry.

He figures he’s about half a minute away from her calling him on his lie, and he steels himself for whatever sharp-edged insult he’s about to get deservedly thrown his way.

Which is why he’s stunned into silence when she doesn’t insult him at all, but instead asks if she can move in with him.

“I’m sorry, what now?” He asks -- you know, once he’s able to get his brain to function properly and his mouth moving like it’s supposed to.

She sighs heavily, and he notices for the first time how tired she looks -- almost defeated. Which throws him off even more than Devi Vishwakumar asking if she can move in with him, because he’s never even seen her look humbled -- and God knows he’s tried.

“Before you say no --.”

“I’m not gonna say no, Devi.” He interrupts, and the relieved smile on her face is enough to make him want to give her almost anything she might ask for. “I’m just -- is everything ok?”

He expects her to say something sarcastic, something along the lines that the simple fact that she’s even asking him means that her world has gone terribly wrong.

But she doesn’t say that. In fact, for a long moment she doesn’t say anything at all, just closes her locker and leans against it with her head kinda bowed.

“Uh, Devi?”

He moves closer to her and it’s almost as if he can feel the misery coming off her in waves. Some remote part of him clocks the fact that like two years ago this would’ve felt sweet; now he just feels alarmed and a little panicked, his anxiety settling along his skin like an itchy rash.

She looks up at him and he’s close enough to see the brightness of unshed tears in her eyes. His eyes widen in shock as he moves closer to her -- not to touch her, because he doesn’t think she’d actually appreciate that from him right now, but to block the gaze of any random passerby in the halls. Half their class have seen Devi lose her temper, but next to no one has seen her cry, and he thinks she’d probably prefer to keep it that way.

“Hey,” he says softly, ducking his head down to meet her lowered gaze. “I just need to ask my parents, but I already know they’re gonna say yes.” He chews on his lower lip. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

“Not unless you can convince my mom not to move us to India.”

He blinks rapidly at that.

“Wh -- what?”

She nods, lines of misery settling along the shape of her mouth.

“That’s why I need to move in with you. I can’t just, like, go back home and be there with mom, knowing that she’s just gonna whisk us off to India.” She shakes her head. “I can’t be around her, Ben.”

“Ye -- yeah, ok, definitely, sure.” He says, trying to process what she’s saying. He takes a deep breath and gives her a small smile. “It’s no problem, David. You can stay with me however long you need to.”

*******

“So, this is the guest room,” he says, opening the door. “Well, one of them.” He gestures towards the closed door on the far side of the room. “This one has the best bathroom though.”  

She raises an eyebrow at that, then walks past him and sets her bag on the bed. She turns around and scoots onto the bed.

“I -- uh -- really appreciate this Ben,” she says, and it’s the first time he can ever remember her actually seeming shy. “I know it must suck to have your rival in the house with you.”

His face twists involuntarily when she calls herself his rival, and he can see the flicker of confusion on her face.

“Do you prefer nemesis?”

He gives her a small smile.

“I was thinking -- .” He almost says friend, but then thinks that might be a bridge too far. “Associates? Living with someone who considers themself my nemesis makes me feel like you’re going to murder me in my sleep. ”

She rolls her eyes.

“I mean,” she says after a moment. “You are letting me stay in your house for, like, free.” She smiles. “If that doesn’t qualify as friendship, I don’t know what does.”

He shrugs and looks away, but only to hide the wide smile on his face.

He hears a knock on the door, and then his mother walks into the room.

“You all settled in sweetie?” She asks Devi with a smile.

Devi nods.

“Yes, thank you Mrs. Gross. I really appreciate this. I know having a house guest can be an imposition.”

She waves the compliment away.

“Not at all. There’s 4000 square feet in this house -- we could go days and not even see one another.” She turns to Ben. “In fact, that is literally what is going to happen this week because your father is going to Malibu for a boy’s getaway and I’m having a girls trip to Napa for the week, so we’ll be out of your hair until next Thursday.”

He gives his mom a tight smile and leans forward for her to kiss him on the cheek like he knows she will.

“And I’m so sorry we’re going to miss your band concert, sweetie,” she says and he sees Devi frown out of the corner of his eye. He glances over to her and mouths a capella, then turns back to his mom. “I promise we’ll make one of them one of these days. It’s just -- well, you know, sometimes you just need a break from parenting!”

She gives him a small hug then sashays out of the room, and he’s left with the weight of Devi’s stare.

“So, have you ever been in band?” She asks after a moment.  

He shakes his head.

“I have not.” He shrugs and gives her a smile that he knows is strained at the edges. “But I am in a lot of extracurriculars, so it can be hard to keep up.”  

She gives him a hard stare when he says that, but he has the feeling it isn’t really directed at him. He makes a weird gesture with his arms that’s halfway between it’s fine and what can you do, and thinks about how Devi’s parents have always gone to every fair, competition and exhibition they’ve ever had. They even went to the monthly award ceremonies in elementary school, where Devi would rotate between being student of month to science star of the month to best orchestra student of the month to shining art star and then back around again.  

His, it should go without saying, have never gone to any of his events -- a fact that it seems like Devi is now realizing by the expression on her face.

“When’s your A Capella concert?” She asks after moment. 

“Tomorrow night.”

“First one of the year?”

He nods.

“Yeah, so it probably won’t be our best one.” He grins at her. “I mean, I’m going to be awesome, obviously, but the rest of the group -- they don’t quite have my talent.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Alright, Will Schuester, leave me alone so I can unpack.”

“Ok, first of all, that’s glee club and it’s completely different,” he says, as he turns to go. “And also, I’m clearly Finn Hudson.”

“You’re a freaking dork is what you are,” she yells behind him, but even with his back turned he can tell she says it with a smile.

*******

Their A Capella concerts never have a very big audience, which makes it easy to spot Devi in the third row of the auditorium the next night at his concert. She gives him a small wave and a thumbs up from where she’s sitting, and he smiles so widely at her that his cheeks hurt a little bit.

The concert goes pretty well, all things considered. He is obviously the best part of it -- that part wasn’t a brag to Devi. Well, it wasn’t solely a brag. 

He emerges from the chorus room and out into the lobby as soon as its over, not even stopping to help tidy up the room as he usually does to score brownie points. 

He scans the lobby and sees Devi standing in the far corner, her hands in her pockets as she scans the room for him. 

“David,” he calls out and walks over to where she’s standing. He tells himself he’s a little bit breathless because of all the singing he’s just done. “You didn’t have to come.”

She shrugs.

“I know.” She gestures to the program in her hands. “It’s actually a lot cooler than I thought it’d be, though it’s nothing like Pitch Perfect.”  

He scoffs.

“I mean, this is just a concert -- you should see what it’s like at regionals.”

“Ooh, do you guys have a sing-off in the parking lot?”

“One sing-off, David? More like you can’t go anywhere at regionals without getting challenged to a sing-off.”

She laughs, and he gives her a sidelong glance.

“So you, uh, you don’t think it’s weird and nerdy?”

She shakes her head.

“No, it is definitely still weird and nerdy, but, like, in a cool way.”

He grins at her.

“Thanks for coming -- it’s the first time anyone’s ever been there for me.” He catches the look on her face -- a flash of something that could be anger, could be incredulity, could be sadness -- and furrows his brows. “What?”

She shakes her head.

“Nothing.” She smiles at him. “I’m glad I came.”

He smiles back at her. 

“Me too.”

[snazzy-suit]

What, or how, would King Boo react to Luigi getting kidnapped? Even if he doesn't care, would he try to find him? And what would the aftermath be like?

King Boo would be incredibly annoyed and extremely offended. Someone else managed to kidnap Luigi? This kidnapper better be some ancient eldritch god or he’s going to be pissed that some has-been succeeded where he failed.

=

[At the kidnapper’s hideout]

King Boo, dramatically busting through the warehouse doors: “Luigi, you incompetent oaf! I’m going to break every bone in your stupid body for making me miss my stories!”

Kidnapper 1: “Holy Jaydes! It’s King Boo! What are you doing here?! How did you even find us?!"

King Boo:

King Boo, to Luigi: “These are your kidnappers? How dare you let yourself be abducted by a gang of mortal half-wits!”

Luigi, tied to a chair: “Wha—I didn’t ask for this!"

Kidnapper 2: “Half-wits? We captured one of the Mario Brothers! The ransom we’ll get for him will set us up for life!”

King Boo: “And just who do you plan to collect the ransom from? His brother? Mario is a plumber, you idiots! He doesn’t exactly have a fortune laying around, and adventuring isn’t cheap!"

Kidnapper 1: “The princess will—”

King Boo: “Wrong! I’ll be picking up the tab, and only because you wrapped my nemesis up so nicely—like a gross, meaty present."

Kidnapper 2: “Uhh...okay...we want one—"

King Boo: “That’s too much. Here’s a corn chip I found—that's all he’s worth to me. I did tell you, Luigi, that I would one day sell you to a nightmare creature for a single corn chip."

Luigi: “Yeah, but you’re buying me with one, not selling—"

King Boo: “I believe that completes our transaction. Come along now, commode crony, we have a twelve-hour soap marathon to get back to."

Luigi, to the kidnappers: “DON’T LET HIM TAKE ME AWAY!"

[hellyeahrpmemes]

※ JENNA MARBLES SENTENCE STARTERS ※

starters from jenna’s 9 most recent videos as of november 8, 2017! feel free to change names/pronouns/etc.!

REACTING TO COMPILATION VIDEOS OF ME 2

“At any moment, the cleaner can walk in the front door.”

“If you don’t want to be disturbed, put up the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, and we’ll ignore it.”

“Have me and him beefed back and forth in our videos for a total of seven minutes?”

“Okay, I did not see that — what a little shit.”

“I’m trying not to be too loud, because we’re in a small hotel-thing.”

“I need to not comment on this feud because it’s between you and him.”

“Just gimme your neck so I can choke you out real quick.”

“I’m sorry, but that shit’s just funny.”

“I took chemistry in high school, it’s bleach.”

“Does this give you any moment of pause or remorse and be like, ‘wow, I really am gross to my girlfriend all the time’?”

“You know when you walk into your trophy room and you’re looking at all your accomplishments and you see your name on all those plaques and you’re reliving the glory days, and you’re like, damn, I did all that? That’s the feeling I have right now.”

“This is like torture. Maybe to some people, this is funny, but, to me, this is torture.”

“Somewhere, deep down inside me, I think you really like Nasty Julien.”

“You fuckin’ lick that up right now…!”

“This isn’t our house…!”

“How’d we get here…?! We were doing something…!”

“You need to get that wig on and look at 50 different camera angles in the room.”

“Did we leave that shot in a video? It wasn’t an outtake?”

“That was fucked up.”

GIVING MYSELF A SET OF GEL NAILS

“I found out about myself that I like to take my money and chuck it into the toilet and flush it.”

“I don’t know what it does, but she said I need it.”

“I ended up with some hot-ass witch nails.”

“It seems like you sort of just dip your brush in it and go for it, which I’m all about.”

“This seems like it’s getting out of hand already.”

“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about.”

“It’s very similar to eating spaghetti.”

“I feel like this is an incredible medium to jam things onto your nails with.”

“This is fucking magic.”

“It’s like the fossil of stupid.”

“Do you know what pain is? It’s a physiological response to tell you to stop doing something.”

“This is some real 2008 hot shit.”

“In order to perfect this part, you do have to have some level of technique, which I sincerely lack.”

“It looks… how you say… homemade.”

“I’m amazed that that worked even a little bit.”

“Now something that I am concerned about is how the fuck I’m gonna get this off.”

“Welcome to the diary of a 31 year old lady.”

“All I want for Christmas is to get this shit to stop.”

“I’m not saying I’m the best at what I do, but I’m the best at what I do.”

“I’m so pleased with myself…!”

“I’m just gonna go ahead and say what we’re all thinking: acrylic gel is the best invention that’s ever been invented.”

“I feel like you could do this and get okay at it.”

“I’d probably dial 911 while asking her out.”

MY BOYFRIEND COOKS MY FAVORITE MEAL

“Can’t you see what the fuck I’m wearing, bitch?”

“Can’t you see I’m fucking leisuring?”

“This was actually all inspired by the fact that I bought this leisure suit.”

“I’m gonna leisure in it, which means everybody else around me’s gotta do shit for me.”

“I’d say my favorite meal is a little bit interesting.”

“While they cook it for you, you can wear your leisure suit and tell them everything that they’re doing wrong and that it doesn’t taste right and to keep trying.”

“You’re gonna cook me my favorite meal and I’m gonna critique you the whole time.”

“You can’t even take a sip without a laughing.”

“It’s just — it’s terrible for you.”

“That’s by far my least favorite thing in the kitchen.”

“Boy, you’re chopping vegetables, like, chill out.”

“You’re just gonna leave that…!? I’m a virgo…! Please clean it up…!”

“This right here? This is what we call some aries bullshit.”

“Everything that Julien makes is so fucking bitter, and he’s like, should we add more lemon, and I’m like, no…!”

“Why was that in your sweatshirt…? That’s nasty…!”

“Go away, it’s my favorite meal…!”

“Hey, how do you spell cans backwards?”

“That’s right…! Don’t fuck it up. Don’t touch it, don’t put anything in it, don’t say it needs some lemon, don’t make it bitter as hell, it’s perfect.”

“My favorite part of this is the backhanded compliments.”

“Does it need lemon, you think?”

“I’m feeling pretty relaxed. Except for the fact that everything you’re doing right now is stressing me out.”

“Watch your mouth when you’re talking about my son pad thai.”

“Aren’t you glad I picked such a simple recipe for my favorite meal?”

“I’m not feeling very leisurely.”

“I feel like someone’s favorite meal says so much about them, and you know what mine says about me? I’m fucking trash.”

“I’m gonna cry actual tears.”

“Hell yeah, we know what the fuck we’re doing.”

“Now imagine, Julien, it’s 2 AM, and you’re wasted right now.”

“I feel like you treated me like the princess I am not.”

“Thank you, I love you.”

“Oh, man, the wine just really bounces off all the flavors.”

“This is my heart on a plate.”

MY DOGS TRY ON HALLOWEEN COSTUMES

“They’re raking it in over there. It’s not like George Lucas doesn’t have a bajillion dollars anyways.”

“I’ve had it with this wig…!”

“How is this an extra small? What’s with these sizes?”

“I love you so much, but you test me every day.”

“Okay, Spock’s hair is not this long.”

“I think this is too relaxed — this is like a dangerous level of relaxed.”

“This is a lot to ask of you, bud, but you’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

“He’s a real good boy. He’s a 10/10 good boy.”

“Alright, let’s see, do they glow in the dark? I think they do. …barely.”

BLEACHING MY EYEBROWS

“I didn’t invent it, it’s a thing…!”

“I want it to blend in with my translucent skin, alright?”

“Whenever I have to see people, I have the unstoppable urge to fuck myself up in the face."

"I feel very excluded by that product."

“Just for men. And Jenna."

"Nothing says ‘thanks for inviting me to your school’ quite like chemical burns on your face.”

"I was like, yeah, totally. And then I realized that I was lying because I don't fucking feel like it."

“I love fucking myself up. It feels good. It feels cathartic.”

“Like, this is a good look.”

“I wanna look like a beautiful snowy snow elf. Like, a snow owl personified.”

“It is a chemical burn. This is the definition of a chemical burn.”

"You and everybody else are so concerned about, like, safety and looking okay but, like, fuck off.”

“Don’t give me that look…! This is a judgement-free zone…!”

“I feel like I see a lack of people with this particular part of their hair dyed.”

“I feel like bleach is addictive. Can I get some research studies on how addictive bleach is? Because I feel like it is, and I feel like I have a problem.”

“Bleach on your face challenge!"

“Every time I go into that beauty supply store, that guy should be like, get out.”

“Just for fucking men… no it isn’t… I’m a man…”

“You have to go to your baseball game right now, son.”

“You really look like a Mii character and you just added a mustache to your character.”

“Just for men? I beg to differ. I’m a women, and I made it work for me…!”

“I feel like I look like a very rare and interesting fish.”

“Why do you look cute when you do the weirdest shit?”

I BUY MY BOYFRIENDS OUTFITS

“I am a fashion guru, okay?”

“I went and bought you some clothes, like the style icon I am.”

“I want to be dressed like a doll.”

“Let’s see how big you think I am… oh, that’s accurate.”

“I can guarantee you I’m will wear this entire outfit on 9 of the next 10 flights I take.”

“Are we done here? Cause I don’t want anything else.”

“I took your credit card, and I bought it.”

“Yo, these are soft as fuck, bitch…!”

“I wanna know what social rule says I can’t wear this everywhere I go.”

“To be perfectly honest, I’ll probably wear this all the time. It’s soft, it fits my body well, and I’m invisible.”

“Engage thicc mode.”

“I’m gonna take that fanny pack away from you.”

“I’m so disappointed, where is your thigh…!? I came here for the thigh…!”

“I was half kinda joking, but, like, why does that outfit look so fucking good?”

“I love all of the stuff you got me.”

“I’m gonna take that shirt, and I’m gonna burn it while you’re sleeping.”

REACTING TO COMPILATION VIDEOS OF ME

“I feel obnoxious. Am I obnoxious?”

“I’m not a weirdo who imitates people to their face.”

“I’m telling you — they misspelled ‘moments’.”

“I’m like a little kid. I start saying something or doing something, and then I can’t stop.”

“I’m not a snack…!”

“It’s just another example of you blatantly interrupting me because you wanted to.”

“You forget you have nothing to say, so that’s your default.”

“You don’t have a basketball game — you’ve literally never, ever had a basketball game, today or tomorrow.”

“I’ve never met a person that I’ve had that same hate like a sibling. That’s how me and Rome get sometimes.”

“It’s like one big, long incest joke.”

“Okay, this is literally gonna make me fucking cry.”

“It just ends with you screaming.”

“Don’t call me a snack again.”

“Oh, it’s hot? Now you know how I feel sitting next to you.”

MY DOG REVIEWS SOAP

“Stocked up with soap until forever.”

“If you’re dirty, come to my house, I got the soap, you know what I’m saying?”

“Alright, now we’re taking a fight break.”

“We’re not judging you; this is a safe place.”

“We only got 8 bars of soap, because I thought that was a lot of soap.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna throw any of the soap out, okay?”

“Please send help to my house. My dog is broken.”

MY BOYFRIEND BUYS MY OUTFITS

“There was a couple of items I got because I’ve always wanted to see you wear them.”

“While I was shopping today, I was thinking: what would go good at a step-grandparent’s barbecue?”

“I think this would be mad cute on you. And off of you.”

“You don’t have any step-grandparents.”

“We can go to Disneyland in it, cause I’ve never been.”

“This is my new favorite shirt!”

“Do not make me wear that capri-crap.”

“You got my nemesis in clothing form.”

“Please put this on.”

“I saw those and they literally yelled at me.”

“My nipples aren’t that far apart from each other, this is just gonna be a boob show…!”

“…I kinda like this.”

“I retract everything I said.”

“I can feel my legs suffocating from here.”

“Julien, I am a grown woman…!”

“Why do you want me to be a people that wears jeans?”

“Hey, guys, it’s me, Jenna, the regular people, here to do regular people things.”

“Tell me she doesn’t look cute in this.”

“As long as I’m wearing these sunglasses, I can wear jeans.”

“You look like you’re trying to hide from the cops.”

“Girl, you look cute as fuck.”

“If you’d ever like me to return the favor, I’m more than happy to.”

“Dear God, it’s me, Jenna. Please give me the strength not to punch my boyfriend.”

“I think I have permanent scars from those jeans.”

[willandlyra]

no one would know the sound of a ghost

in which nico hates his neighbours until one of them shows up at his door claiming his apartment is haunted, and he requires a partner in ghost busting. 

word count: 5228

read on ao3

::

Nico, so far, has not had much contact with his new neighbour, dubbed currently as ‘Will from next door’ and that’s exactly how he likes it.

Their current encounters start and end with the following:

1.   Will moving in just as Nico leaves for work. Headphones in. Minding his own business. His eyes accidentally meet in the lift with who he assumes is the guy moving in from the impractical amounts of boxes he’s holding. Will says, with too much enthusiasm for nine in the morning, “hi! I’m Will”. Nico smiles, and doesn’t say anything because he can’t remember how to formulate words.

2.   Later in the same day. Will still transporting a couple of boxes of things when Nico returns home a few hours later. He actually manages to introduce himself this time. Will drops one of said boxes on Nico’s foot. Great start.

It’s nothing personal to Will, despite his early morning enthusiasm that one time and the fact that Nico actually yelped quite embarrassingly in a very public hallway when half of Will’s possessions collided with his toes. Or – that might have a tiny bit to do with it, but truthfully, Nico doesn’t really care for any of his neighbours.

Not because he doesn’t like them, per say. The ‘nothing personal’ title carries on from Will and is shared between the entirety of his apartment building. The fact is, they’re his neighbours. On principle, no one likes their neighbours. Neighbours are 90% of the time annoying and nosy and invasive. They’re too loud – the guy living in no.196 before Will was always playing his music at an unforgivable volume for three am, and Nico supposes the mistrust has carried.

Some of his neighbours are sweet, sure. Mrs Anderson opposite says hello with a sweet smile every time she encounters him in the hall or lift. She’s approaching eighty-one, and is under the impression that his name is ‘Dave’, but it’s the thought that counts. Piper across the hall is very nice, if not… over enthusiastic, and he supposes if she wasn’t his neighbour, she’d be his friend. As it happens, she is his neighbour, and he has to hear her loudly singing when she leaves her apartment for work every morning. Nice.

That’s a problem with neighbours: you know bits and pieces about them and their lives and their characters, but not enough to know them as people. You get to know all of their crazy and their ugly when you’re listening to mini soap operas through the thin walls dividing your homes, and you accidentally spy upon their irritating habits, and catch them at bad moments, and see all the sides of a person they wouldn’t reveal to a stranger on the street, by pure accident.

That’s all you see though. Some of them are friendly, and they aren’t shy about it, and waves and smiles and greetings are exchanged in the hallways but you don’t know them well enough to find a redeeming quality for all of the pet peeve criterias they fill.

His neighbours have all kinds of crazy. When Piper starts laughing she doesn’t stop until she looks as if her lungs are about to rupture, Mrs Anderson dresses like she’s in a time warp from 1988, Leo down the hall collects cactuses in different shapes and sizes, and Nico himself spends half his time yelling at his laptop at incompetent people on Mythomagic forums.

He hasn’t had many encounters with Will yet, but when he does, it’ll top the list so far.

::

It’s a Friday night, and Nico is ready.

He’s had a week of work – gross – and he’s ridiculously tired, but instead of sleeping, Nico has a way better idea. He has a glass of wine already poured into a glass, sitting idly on the coffee table beside a box of chocolates that he was probably supposed to send to Hazel. Adam Sandler movie (everyone has guilty pleasures) is at the ready. Fluffy bed socks are on. Door is locked. Ready.

He sits down, grin on his face, and breathes out a sigh of relaxation.

…Which is precisely when there’s a knock at his door.

Nico groans. Quite loudly. He sort of hopes that they get the message but as the only response is a couple of other rat-a-tat-tat knocks on the door, he supposes not.

He considers ignoring it and pretending he’s not in – but they’ve probably already heard the groan, and the light from the hall is obviously going to travel through the gap underneath the door itself, and he doesn’t know who is there, anyway. It could be Billie Joe Armstrong, ready to declare his love. It probably isn’t, but it could be.

Nico sighs. An irritated one this time, and it’s not really necessary but it’s kind of for good measure. And then he drags himself up off of the sofa, and feels like he’s pulling dead weight as he slowly, very slowly, makes his way to his front door.

He’s not sure who he’s expecting to find at this hour (it’s only nine in the evening, but whatever, Nico’s an old man when it comes to socialisation in the night). It could Billie Joe. It probably won’t be Billie Joe, but he hopes it is. It could be the boy he got into a fight with in high school - Octavian - who swore revenge, ready to punch him in the face. Could be his ex boyfriend from two years ago turning up with a baby basket, screaming “it’s yours!” before disappearing into thin air, like in all the movies - not that he's sure how that'd work. He isn’t particularly expecting any of these – probably someone who forgot their key, or someone begging for money who somehow got into the building. Maybe his landlord for a surprise inspection, who knows.

He opens the door, and out of all the ideas that sprang into his mind, and all the logical and rational people it could have been, Nico is not expecting it to be Will from next door.

“Um,” Will says. He looks a little like a deer caught in headlights. Maybe he has the wrong address. “Hi.”

Nico stares at him for about ten seconds and then, rather than responding with a traditional greeting, blurts out, “do you have the right address?”

Will blinks several times. And then he says, “yeah. I mean. I wasn’t looking for anyone else. I’m here because – well, for you.”

Because that doesn’t sound creepy at all. What the fuck. Nico’s going to have to rename him Will from next door to Will from the wanted serial killers list.

“Right,” Nico says. There’s a short pause. He shifts uncomfortable, and adds, “for, um, any particular reason?”

Please don’t say homicide, Nico thinks.

“This is going to sound kind of crazy, I know-“

Oh God. He’s going to say homicide.

“But I think my apartment is haunted?”

There’s another pause. This one stretches out longer, an awkward silence in which Will hastily shuffles, waiting for a response, and Nico just gapes at him.

“You what?”

“I… think my apartment is haunted?” Will repeats, and okay. Maybe he did hear right, then.

“Um,” Nico says. “Right. That’s. Well. Unusual.”

“I know,” Will agrees. “But weird things have been happening since I moved in, and. I don’t know. You’re the closest neighbour I have, and sometimes I hear you – accidentally, thin walls, sorry – discussing the existence of aliens on the phone late at night. At least, presumably the phone. Maybe to yourself. Which is fine. But. I just mean, it made me think you might be the most appropriate person to approach here.”

Nico stares at him for a long moment. “You do realise this isn’t like, the ghost busters head quarters or something?”

Will snorts. “Obviously,” he says. “It’d be a pretty stupid ghost to live right next door to the HQ of its nemesis, after all.”

It’s a kind of funny comment. Nico wants to laugh, but he’s still gaping at Will, not really sure in any way how to respond to him.

“Are you fucking with me?” he asks. “It’s been a long week, man. I’m not feeling it. Come back on Wednesday, maybe. I can cope with Wednesdays.”

“I’m not joking,” Will insists, looking a little desperate. “Like. Genuinely. My apartment is being haunted. I am being pursued by a poltergeist, I am literally certain of it. And it’s been going on for months, ever since I moved in, and I just ignored it and tried to rationalise it but my Cheerios just got knocked off of the kitchen table for no reason, and they’ve spilled everywhere and I have had enough.”

Nico just says, “why were you eating Cheerios at nine pm?”

Will shrugs. “Mid-life crisis.”

“You’re not middle aged though.”

“But I will be, some day, and I’m having a crisis about it.”

Same, Nico thinks, nodding. Because he totally relates.

“Same,” he tells Will from next door. “I feel that.”

“Thanks,” Will says.

“New question, why were you eating Cheerios, they’re bloody gross.”

“They aren’t, but that’s not the point. I reiterate: I think my apartment is being haunted. In fact, scrap that. My apartment is being haunted.”

“Okay,” Nico agrees. “Your apartment is haunted. What – I mean, I’m not trying to be rude here – but what exactly can I do about that?”

“I need you to help me search for paranormal activity,” Will admits hastily, and Nico just stares at him. Again.

“Wait,” he says, a few moments later. “You are literally being serious right now.”

“Yep,” Will sighs. “Completely. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Nico says automatically. Is it? He doesn’t really know. He’s never been asked to hunt for paranormal activity before. Particularly not with someone he has literally spoken to twice. And neither of them were exactly intimate encounters.

“Thanks.”

“Why?”

“Because my apartment is being haunted,” Will says. “Oh, you mean – well. I can’t go alone. Everyone knows you never take on a poltergeist or whatever that is alone. I tried telling my friend, but he thought I was joking. And, um, my other friend recommended psychiatry. So far you’ve only crossed one off the list. So that’s a good sign.”

“Jesus Christ,’” Nico says. He shakes his head in disbelief, and he’s kind of really feeling like he needs to sit down for a bit. Or maybe for the rest of his life. That would work.

“Is that a no?” Will asks, defeated. All of this staring has given him a good look at Will from next door. He’s cute, that’s for sure. Blonde hair, blue eyes, most likely helps old ladies cross the street. He really is attractive – although most people are, if you haven’t got laid since 1968. Nico may or may not fall into that criteria.

Also, Will had these big blue eyes, hard to say no to. He’s really cute.

Also, Nico’s seen this film before, and it totally sucks.

Turns out ‘Jesus Christ’ doesn’t mean no after all.

::

Nico does what any good neighbour would do, and allows Will in, and offers him a coffee.

“Yes, please,” he says. “My coffee always seems to end up going drastically wrong. I blame the ghost.”

“Are you sure you’re not just really bad at making coffee?”

“I’ll have you know, I’m an expert,” Will retorts. “I’d show you, but honestly, I’m too scared of accidentally breaking the mugs. The ghost has made me very superstitious.”

Nico eyes him wearily, thinking, why the fuck did I let this lunatic inside of my apartment?

“I’m sure it has,” Nico says. “Can I ask when the supposed haunting began?”

“Right after I moved in.”

“And what exactly were the signs?” he presses, feeling a little too self-important. Nico’s enjoying this, though, in spite of the serial killer possibility still being a fairly high risk. He feels like a ghost buster. Maybe this is actually what he was born to do. If, you know, ghosts actually existed. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do or ask, and he’s kind of making it up as he goes along – it reminds him of the improvisation exercises they had to do in high school drama. A simpler time.

“Well, it’s really cold, for a start…” Will begins, and Nico can’t help but interject.

“The whole building is,” he tells him. “The heating is kind of shit. Don’t supposed they mentioned it in the sale, though.”

Will frowns. “Maybe the whole building is haunted,” he says, and Nico doesn’t reply, because if he did he would probably bang his head violently against the table.

“What else?”

“Things keep breaking. I keep dropping everything when I shouldn’t be. Things just fall off the table or out of my hands even when I’ve got a firm grip.”

“That’s called butterfingers,” Nico informs him. He feels that on a pretty deep level. Maybe he isn’t the ghost buster after all. Maybe he’s actually the ghost.

“I still think it’s the ghost,” Will says defensively. “I was never this bad before!”

“Really?”

Nico’s not sure why, but from looking at and talking to Will, he’s kind of drawn the conclusion he’s the type to break a good few mirrors in his lifetime.

“Well,” Will says. “I don’t think so.”

Nico sighs. “What else?”

“Weird noises.”

He raises his eyebrow. “As in…?”

“Like. I don’t know,” Will shrugs. “This kind of… groaning sound? But not like, I mean, not in a sexual way. I’m pretty sure I’m not just eavesdropping on someone getting laid by accident. It’s more of a… pained wailing.”

“I see,” Nico says slowly. “And what time would you say this occurs most of all?”

“I don’t know. Like… eleven in the evening until two in the morning, mostly, I’d say?”

Nico coughs. “Right,” he says, and then swiftly moves along onto another question.

Will does not need to know that the supposed ‘ghost noises’ he’s been hearing every night are actually the sounds of Nico losing at Silent Hill.

::

The last time Nico got invited back to a guy’s place in the evening was probably over three years ago. Also, it wasn’t to search for paranormal activity and the proof of a poltergeist, so Nico’s really not sure whether he’s winning or losing tonight.

“Here it is,” Will says, opening the door. “I don’t know whether you’ve been in here a lot before, with the old tenant, but. I’ve moved it around a bit.”

“Yeah, no, it looks good,” Nico says. “I like your set up a lot better than Percy's.”

“Percy?”

“Old tenant,” Nico tells him. “I came over a few times. The place always smelled of fish. It was gross.”

Will wrinkles his nose. “Ew,” he says. “Bet you’re glad that he left.”

“Oh, I am,” Nico says. “He was definitely not one of my better neighbours. He’s moved away with his girlfriend now, thank God, though I’m pretty sure they’re only together because she’s a pescatarian.”

“Makes sense,” Will shrugs. “Did he ever mention anything weird while he was living here?”

“99% of the shit he says was weird,” Nico tells him. “But if you’re talking about in relation to the ghost, then no, he didn’t.”

Will groans. “Why am I the only one being targeted?”

“Maybe the smell of fish scared him off?” Nico offers helpfully. “Or maybe he was being… haunted, and I just wouldn’t know because he never approached me about it quite as, well, forwardly as you did.”

“I was tired of suffering in silence,” Will says defensively.

“I’m not hating,” Nico raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Although, there is another option.”

“Which is?”

“He doesn’t exist. The poltergeist, I mean, not you.”

“I mean, that’s a possibility,” Will muses. “But I still have pretty high confidence in its existence. Do you not believe in ghosts, then?”

“Not really,” Nico admits.

“But you believe in aliens?”

Nico flushes. “That’s a debate for another day. It’s a bigger likelihood. Look at the size of the universe, Will. You really think this planet is the only one to harbour intelligent life? Will. Will, listen. They’re out there.”

Will stares at him for a few moments. “And you don’t believe in ghosts?”

“…Not really?”

“So you think we just get born out of nowhere and remain on the planet for an unspecified amount of time and then just die? Just like that?”

Nico shrugs. “I dunno, but if I were a ghost, I sure as hell wouldn’t be spending my days in the afterlife haunting random apartments.”

Will considers this. “Me either, but maybe it was resting in peace, but then the previous tenant angered it with the fish, and now it’s out for vengeance.”

“Okay, now that’s something I’d do,” Nico nods. “I agree with the current actions of the ghost.”

Will frowns at him, and points to the pile of broken ceramic, Cheerios and milk on his kitchen floor.

“Really?” he asks dryly. “I don’t.”

::

“How exactly do we detect paranormal activity anyway?” Nico asks, and Will, for a moment, looks perplexed.

“Ah,” he says. “That could be an issue. Don’t you need like, all kinds of fancy scientific equipment?”

“This isn’t a science fiction novel, Will. I’m pretty sure those kinds of tools don’t actually exist.”

“Such a sceptic,” Will sighs, mournfully. “And so young, too. So sad.”

“They didn’t need high tech equipment in paranormal activity the movies though,” Nico says, ignoring his previous comment. “You have a video camera?”

“Nico, those movies weren’t real…”

“Obviously,” Nico says, rolling his eyes. “But we have to take inspiration from somewhere.”

“True,” Will admits, and he complies. They set up Will’s old video camera in the kitchen, where Will insists most of the ‘incidents’ seem to happen, and wait a while.

“We should search the apartment too,” Will declares. “There might be, you know, weird demonic markings on some of the walls or something, that’d indicate there’s a demon here, right?”

“Or that a previous tenant was into the illuminati,” Nico says. “But sure.”

Nico goes along with it anyway, though he’s not entirely sure why. This is hardly on the top of the list of things he was planning to do tonight, but maybe, on the odd occasion, socialisation with a stranger does end up being better than sitting around watching bad Adam Sandler movies and being bitter. Not that Nico would ever admit it.

Also, who knows – maybe the whole ghost buster thing could end up being a pretty good career change. Nico’s not really feeling being in marketing for the rest of his life. Or for a second more than he has to be. So that could work.

“Hey, Will,” he calls. “Wanna go into business as professional paranormal activity experts?”

“Sure,” Will says. “I’ll come up with a theme song. We’ll probably get sued for being crap, though.”

Nico waves him off from the other side of the room. “I’m pretty sure whether or not you have been released from the haunting of a supernatural entity is a matter of opinion, and entirely subjective.”

He turns to look at Will, who is stood by the wall trying to look behind the photo frames and tiny flower pots (seriously?) for any, like, small 666 signs or something, presumably, and absent-mindedly thinks about how he has great legs.

“I’m pretty sure it isn’t,” Will says, turning around, and yeah. Great legs. “But it’s fine. We’ll work with it. You found anything?”

“Nope,” Nico says. “Zilch.”

“Me too,” Will frowns. “Subtle, ghost, subtle. I’ll give you credit for that. You’ve got moves.”

“It isn’t real,” Nico says. Because probably.

“Or it’s just more subtle than you are,” Will says, shaking his head. “My legs are great. I’m with you there.”

Nico blushes, and Will grins.

“Sorry if I-” he starts, but Will waves him off.

“I’m kidding,” he says. “It’s fine. Also, it’s been ages since we set the camera up, shall we go and check it?”

Nico blinks. “It’s literally been about forty-five minutes. If that.”

“Like I said, it’s been ages.”

::

They turn the footage onto fast forward, and watch for any – Nico doesn’t know what. Demonic figures. Floating plates. Suddenly falling kitchen appliances, or something like that.

Nothing happens, though. It’s a still image of a kitchen (with Will’s evening-breakfast still spread out, all over the floor, nice) that just happens to be the backdrop for a bit of blur and zoom indications, and a clock showing the time at the bottom.

But nothing happens.

“There!” Will says. “Nico, go back, I saw something!”

It turns out, all that Will saw was a bit of dust moving in the corner between the wall and the cupboard.

“You disgust me,” Nico says. “Clean your kitchen. Also, the cereal.”

“I don’t know if I should. Can’t I send stuff like that in to be analysed in labs and stuff? Is that a thing?”

“No,” Nico replies. “Clean it up. I’ve almost slipped on that milk at least three times.”

::

Like a good Samaritan, Nico offers to help clean up the cereal disaster, and promptly slips on the milk.

::

“See,” Will tells him, holding an ice pack to his head, which he had hit pretty hard on one of his kitchen counters. “I told you weird incidents and disasters kept happening here.”

“I slipped on spilled cereal ingredients,” Nico reminds him. “If you always leave your paranormal encounters left around on the floor like that, no wonder you’re always tripping over.”

Will frowns. “That’s a fair point,” he says. “I’m still recording some more, though. Just in case.”

“You do that,” Nico says encouragingly. “I’ll just. Be here. Icing.”

“Ah, right,” Will says, biting his lip. “Sorry about that. Your injury, I mean.”

“It’s okay,” Nico replies. “I mean. I don’t know what I was expecting when I came over here today, but it probably should have been something like this.”

“I… kind of feel like I should be offended right now,” Will frowns.

“Can you blame me? The first day we met, you dropped a box on my toe,” Nico points out, and Will’s eyes widen.

“Oh god, I’d forgotten about that! I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t be,” Nico says quickly. “It’s fine. All is forgiven.”

“Maybe it was the poltergeist?”

Nico groans on impulse. “Please stop,” he says, and when Will looks at him a little strangely, he feels self-conscious, and asks, “what?”

“Nothing, it’s just…”

“What?”

“You sounded a lot like the ghost noises I hear at night just then.”

Oh, fuck.

::

They manage to leave the recording going this time for almost an hour. Key word: almost. They spend the time sat dutifully in Will’s bedroom, googling things like, “paranormal activity detection”, and “is there a ghost in my house”, and “are ghosts adverse to fish?” on their phones.

It’s been a long time since Nico was in a guy’s bedroom as the clock neared towards midnight. He’s usually wearing a lot less clothes and not researching the likelihood of having a poltergeist in a newly-built block of New York apartments, but he’s having a pretty good time regardless. Maybe on occasion, the supernatural is better than sex. He considers this, and then decides that probably isn’t true. Maybe they should be combined. Will is still pretty, after all. Sex and the Supernatural. If the ghost buster business doesn’t work out, at least he has a great name for his future T V show.

“Will, the building isn’t haunted,” Nico says, for probably the 59th time. Nothing I’ve found backs up your idea. And if it did, it wouldn’t matter. It’s the internet. It’s all bullshit.”

“Well someone’s feeling cynical,” Will says, and Nico couldn’t agree more.

“That’s me,” Nico agrees. “Full time cynic. Non-believer. Para-sceptic.”

“…Who believes in aliens?”

Nico scowls. “We’ve been through this.”

::

They check the tape again, and there’s nothing.

“I told you so,” Nico sings gleefully, and Will glares at him.

“I don’t like you,” he says. “I’m glad I dropped box on your foot.”

“Hey!”

::

Will, as a good, courteous neighbour (who is blatantly copying Nico’s ideas) offers Nico a cup of coffee.

“I thought you said it always goes drastically wrong,” Nico reminds him, wearily.

“Oh, yeah,” Will says.  “But I mean what’s life without a little risk? And it’s not like anyone has ever died.”

“That… doesn’t really reassure me, to be honest.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Live a little.”

Nico laughs, and when Will gives him a questioning look, he just says, “come on. Isn’t that a little ironic? We’re literally searching for a ghost right now. And you’re telling me to live a little. Jesus Christ.”

“Get out of my house,” Will says. And then. “Do you think I offended it?”

Nico does accept the tea, though. Mostly because he wants to see how horrifically bad this can go. Also, he’s never been one to turn down free coffee. Also, he’s running out of coffee at his own place, and it’s the strategically correct way to go.

Will takes extra care getting the milk out and boiling the kettle and pouring the water into the mug without accidentally burning half of his skin off. He’s doing quite well, actually, Nico was expecting more disasters by now. He’s pleasantly surprised.

Will hands Nico his cup of tea with a proud look on his face. “Didn’t even injure myself,” he beams. “I’m very proud.”

“I’m proud too,” Nico tells him. “Go on. Have your tea. You deserve it.”

“I do,” Will agrees. His tea is on the counter, cooling down, and Will glances at it. “I’m the master.”

“You are.”

“I’m glad we can agree.”

“How could I ever disagree?” Nico says. “Come on. High five.”

Will grins. Nico thinks about kissing him for 0.2 seconds until he promptly rejects the thought. He’s still a stranger, even if they have gone on this ghost hunt together, and discussed business initiative, and he’s really cute. That changes nothing. Obviously.

He raises his hand in waiting.

And then, as Will reaches up to give him said high five, disaster strikes. To be fair, it was bound to eventually. But as Will’s hand raises up to meet Nico’s, his elbow goes flying out in the direction of the counter, and the mug, in the collision, goes flying, and topples off behind Will’s arm and crashes onto the floor and promptly splits into about ten different pieces as the tea drenches the cupboards, the newly cleaned floor, and Will’s leg.

“See!” he exclaims. “This is what I mean! Things like this! They happen constantly! I’m cursed, I tell you, what the hell.”

“Will,” Nico says slowly. “You do realise that you knocked the mug off the counter, right? Not some ghost or invisible being. It was literally you. Hence the coffee on your elbow.”

“Yeah,” Will says. “I mean, that’s usually what happens, but that doesn’t mean a ghost isn’t here, dictating the events.”

Nico gapes at him. “Oh my god,” he mutters. “Will! You idiot, you’re not being haunted, you’re just clumsy.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not just clumsiness,” Will argues weakly, but Nico knows that they both know he’s right. “It happens way too often to be a coincidence.”

“It’s not a coincidence,” Nico says.

“Yeah,” Will agrees. “I have a poltergeist.”

“No you don’t. It’s normal. It even has a name.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. It’s called really clumsy.”

“Ah,” Will says. He seems to ponder the thought for a moment. “Maybe I’m not being haunted then.”

“Did you mean, no shit?” Nico says, sarcastically, and Will laughs.

“Okay, you were right, I suppose,” Will shrugs. “It was kind of fun though, right? I hope I didn’t waste your evening. To be honest though, I don’t know for sure yet. I’m still not entirely convinced. It could just be hiding from you.”

“Nah, you didn’t. I mean, I had fun,” Nico says. Will gives him a small smile. Nico realises that the amount of emotion they are lowkey showing is disgusting, and dives into the other topic. “To be honest, you might be right, it could be,” he says, and he nods.

“Or maybe you’re the ghost. And you’ve just dressed yourself up in human form.”

Nico shrugs. He kind of really wants to kiss him, still. He can’t believe he’d spent his whole Friday night searching for a ghost. The things he’ll do for a cute boy is quite embarrassing. “You have no way of knowing,” he says, egging Will on.

Will pokes him in the side. “Hmm,” he says. “Feels real, to be honest.”

Nico gives him an innocent look. “Well, I mean,” he says. “There’s only a few ways to find out. Proper scientists conduct investigations, don’t they?”

“Experiments are very important in any case of paranormal activity,” Will agrees, a glint in his eye, and a grin on his face. Nico smiles back, too, and Will’s eyes drop to his lips and linger. Nico may not be quite as subtle as the poltergeist, but at least it’s led him to be able to take a hint.

He leans in quickly, and before he can change his mind he presses a chaste, gentle kiss on Will’s lips, lasting for a few seconds, before he pulls back, only half an inch, still so close to Will, and says, “wait, shit. That’s what we were talking about, right? I didn’t get the wrong idea?”

Will laughs a little. “That’s what we were talking about,” he confirms. “And you had exactly the right idea.”

Nico breathes out a sigh of relief, and Will pulls him closer and kisses him again, properly this time, slow. And if this is what the ghost chase has been leading up to this whole time then yeah, Nico definitely hasn’t wasted his Friday night. They keep kissing, slow and soft, and Nico can’t help but smile against his lips.

Maybe neighbours aren’t all bad, he thinks.

“Wait,” Will says, pulling back. “Maybe we should go to your place. You know, just in case the ghost is watching.” There’s a twinkle in his eye, and Nico wants to groan, but he wants to kiss him more and so he does, and again, before he actually answers him.

“Thought I was the ghost,” he says, and Will shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “I think you’re normal. Well, to an extent. You did just assist a near stranger in a hunt for paranormal activity for the past, like, four hours.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Never mind,” he says. “Poltergeist or no poltergeist, I can’t do this here. I’ll be too distracted by the memory of searching for signs of the illuminati.”

Will laughs, and kisses him again. Says, “yours, then?” and yeah. Nico can work with that.

::

The last time Nico invited a boy back to his apartment past midnight was a while ago, and though it didn’t come after a lengthy search of a non-existent (he hopes) poltergeist and the emergence of a career in ghost busting, he has to admit that he likes the way it went a lot better this time.

[sugarplum-senpai]

4, 5, and 12 for Ereri :)

Thank you so much for your prompts, dear! 

4: “I can never tell if you’re hitting on me or not.”5: Cleaning12: Panicked/Accidental Confession

After writing 11k words of post-war angst, I thought some light crack would be more than appropriate for this. ;) I hope you like it and have as much fun with reading it as I had with writing!

Word Count: 2,1kRated F for Floof (and CCC for Cute Canonverse Crack)

(Read on AO3.)

Mischief, Mayhem, Soap, and Porridge

Eren despised the summer flu. And he absolutely positively hated this day.

Usually he loved cleaning days. They were fun. Today, however, was awful.

Looking back at it so far, Eren thought he should have gotten right back to sleep before he’d even left the bed. But he had left it and now he had to face the music. 

Which seemed to include having to witness Sasha sneaking up on Jean to carefully slip a wet bar of soap into the collar of his shirt, only to instantly flee into one of the shower cubicles.

“Arg!” Jean exclaimed, his hands shooting up his neck and his whole body jerking, his voice echoing through the bathroom and mingling with Sasha’s mischievous cackle. “What is this shit? Fuck!”

“Cleaning day, Jean!” Sasha jeered.

His face was red, but sadly not as much in agony as Eren would have hoped for. Jean had done his best to avoid cleaning anything all morning long and Eren didn’t have any hope that this would change any time soon.

Diligently scrubbing away at a sink that suffered under a nasty case of scale, he frowned. At least Jean’s back would be greasy and gross with sticky soap all afternoon long.

“You know, Sasha,” Jean teased in-between his ongoing efforts. “I can never tell if you’re hitting on me or not. Feels a bit like it now.”

Yeah, Eren huffed to himself with a scowl. It feels icky. Jean, ugh! The mere thought…

He suppressed a shudder.

“I’m not!” Sasha affirmed, still giggling. “Go to someone else for the flirting, Jean!”

“Don’t,” Mikasa said flatly, face completely blank.

Jean, who—much to Eren’s regret—had already managed to get hold the soap without even letting it slip through his fingers, smirked and now threw the bar at Mikasa. “Are you sure?”

She skilfully caught the bar with the half-filled bucket in her hands and Jean looked more than disappointed. “I’ll take over another room,” she said. “Don’t follow me.”

And gone she was.

“Stop trying so hard, man,” Connie said to Jean.

“Yeah, keep on cleaning the bathroom,” Eren agreed, tending to another spot of scale on the sink.

Sometimes he dreamed that he could pull off a scowl like Levi and make them work with just one single look. But no matter how much Eren tried, apparently he wasn’t intimidating enough. He sighed.

Oh, how he wished Levi was here! It would brighten Eren’s awful day immensely.

But Levi wasn’t here. And Eren gave a small, sympathetic frown at the thought.

Levi was sick. The summer flu, had Hanji announced this morning, and ever since no one had seen him. Eren had snuck up to the door of Levi’s quarters a couple of times and heard the nasty cough, the gut-wrenching sniffles, and had been thinking all day long about what could make it better.

Certainly not a filthy bathroom.

Cleaning HQ had already been on today’s schedule, but solely with the help of the other guys, with no Levi nearby to order them around, Eren wouldn’t come far. On the contrary. He’d have to do their work all over again to make it right. As soon as he was finished with this faucet, of course. At least the bathroom should be shipshape when they were done for the day. And the kitchen too.

Eren stilled at the sudden thought, close to cursing.

Shit, the kitchen! Hadn’t someone burnt the porridge this morning?

Ignoring the ongoing bickering between Sasha and Jean next to him, Eren considered his options: He could either finish the job here—and endure Jean’s presence—or he could scrape off dried crusts of porridge and whatnot that were caked to the cooker.

The cooker won.

“Oi, where do you think you’re going, Eren?” Jean sneered promptly.

“Kitchen,” Eren said.

Connie blushed.

And Jean paled. “Oh, fuck. Yeah! Thanks, man! I wouldn’t go in there today if they’d beat me to it.”

Eren rolled his eyes and went.

A few minutes later he stood in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at a battlefield.

Whoever was responsible for this—probably Connie, Eren mused, only Connie could leave behind such a chaos and he and Sasha had been overly frisky all day—had done a great job of leaving behind as much destruction as humanly possible.

The pot hadn’t been scrubbed, the plates, cups, bowls, and cutlery hadn’t been washed. The counter was crowded with dirty dishes.

And the cooker…well. For the first time ever Eren actually agreed with Jean on something one hundred percent. It was bad. Really, really bad.

For the first time that day, Eren was glad that Levi was safely upstairs in his room, far away from what had occurred in here. Because one thing was certain:

Levi mustn’t see this.

Suddenly heavily motivated Eren stepped into the room, gathered his determination, and went to work. He started with soaking whatever dishes the sink could take, putting it all into the big, porridge-incrusted pot before filling it up with water. Then he took a deep breath and fetched a spatula. 

It soon was clear that burnt lactose and gluten was the most evil combination ever. Cleaning the cooker alone took the good part of the whole afternoon. And as he’d scraped and scraped and scraped at a particularly nasty spot, Eren began to wonder what kind of horrible person had determined that porridge should contain milk and oat.

Eren vividly hated that arsehole!

He scraped again, slipped, and banged his head against the cooker. Fuck.

After that he sat down on the floor, and nastily scowled once more at his surroundings.

He truly missed Levi. 

Without him being ill this situation probably wouldn’t even have escalated like it had and Connie would be sitting here on the floor now, pressing his hand against a bump on his forehead.

At least I heal quickly, Eren grimaced.

Despite his well-trained muscles his whole body was sticky with sweat and aching from the effort. It didn’t particularly help that it was a hot day and that it had rained that morning, leaving the air humid and awfully muggy. 

Eyeing the cooker, Eren thought the worst part lay behind him by now, though. All it would take now was a bit scrubbing and some more rough scraping at that one nasty corner. And the dishes.

If breakfast would have had tasted well at least, this whole thing probably wouldn’t have been all too bad either, Eren mused. But it had tasted downright disgusting, even for his rigorously humble soldier standards, and remembering the burnt taste on his tongue as if he was eating it again, Eren suddenly felt double betrayed. He should give Connie hell for this one day.

But then he thought of Levi again, laying in his bed and coughing, and Eren suddenly realised that Levi must have gotten a portion of this gross stuff as well.

No way that he could easily recover like this.

Scrambling up to his feet again, Eren went to check the pantry. There were still a few eggs, some bread and way, way down in its depths Eren even found a small package of ham. Yes!

Freshly motivated like this he set back to work, starting with the dishes.

At least the porridge came off the bowls and plates and cutlery relatively easily after all this soaking. He scrubbed and scrubbed and couldn’t help a confident smile when he’d stored the little stuff back into their rightful places in the cupboard.

After giving the pot another round of soaking he took the scraper back into his hands, refaced his nemesis of a cooker, and couldn’t help but feel an odd sensation of satisfaction when only half an hour of additional scraping later—seriously, Connie!—and another fifteen minutes of scrubbing Eren was finally, finally done, the cooker close to sparkling again, ready for use. And the kitchen itself as well.

Eren beamed. Time to cook Levi some food.

Lost in dazzling daydreams about earning Levi’s gratefulness and having him fully recover and back among them soon, Eren made some tea, then heated a pan, greased it with first melting the fat of the ham in it, and—bless his mother who had taught him how to fry eggs when he’d been only five years old—cracked in two eggs, that instantly began to sizzle and spread a wonderful, buttery scent. 

Eggs must be healthy, Eren thought, marvelling at the solidifying, clear whites and the sunny-yellow yolks. After a short consideration, he added a third one to the pan. 

“Levi will love me for this,” he mumbled to himself, turning away from the pan to cut the bread into slices so Levi could load it with ham or eggs as he liked. “Well,” he added. “Hopefully.”

“What.”

Eren froze, the knife halfway through the last piece of bread, his neck prickling in alert, every single one of his senses up in arms.

A pitiful sniff came from the doorway.

Eren turned around, and every single thought fell out of his head in blank panic as he recognized the intruder.

Levi stood in the entrance of the kitchen, his skin looking awfully pale and waxen, eyes red-rimmed and his nose bright red as well, probably sore from blowing it excessively, going by the handkerchief in his lifted hand.

I want to hug him! shot through Eren’s head, completely unhelpful.

“What did you say?” Levi rasped. “My ears are plugged.”

His nose sounded ‘plugged’ too.

“Um…I…” Eren blushed. And before he could stop himself, it all spilled out. “I wanted to make you a second breakfast, Sir, or lunch…dinner! I wanted to make you dinner, since the porridge this morning was so terrible, you see? So I thought you might be hungry and decided to cook and maybe make you smile, because I love yo–” he redirected his speech at the last second, “–your smile. 

“Haha!”

Well. He was fucked.

Levi stared at him, his eyes glassy and blinking just a bit too often.

Eren wanted to die.

And just as he thought he couldn’t keep up with this staring contest any longer without scorching to ashes right on this spot, Levi sneezed. And Eren dared to breathe again.

After blowing his nose and giving another heart-rending sniff, Levi stepped over to the hearth. His legs were a bit wobbly, Eren noticed, even though the scowl on Levi’s brow said otherwise.

“Is this for me?” he asked, gesturing at the eggs still sizzling in the pan. They looked done now.

Still utterly flustered, but apparently saved from the immediate danger of imploding any moment now, Eren nodded. “Um…yes. Yeah. The bread and tea too.” He pointed at the counter.

“Who goofed up breakfast? It was an experience.”

“Connie, Sir,” Eren stammered, slowly composing himself again. “I guess.”

“Thought so. Kitchen a mess?”

“Yes.”

“Mm.”

Lifting the pan Levi transferred its contents onto the plate Eren had already prepared, turned around to add the bread to the eggs and take the tea pot as well, but instead of just leaving the kitchen with his dinner, he looked up with his slightly unfocused, swollen eyes, stepped closer into Eren’s private space, and—to Eren’s utter shock and delight—gave him a warm, scratchy peck on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

Completely awestruck and blushing fiercely all the way up to his hair roots in an instant, Eren stood there, rooted to the floor, and could only stare and gape as Levi wobbled-definitely-not-wobbled out of the kitchen, while his hand slowly reached up to press against the spot where, just a moment ago, Levi’s lips had been. 

God, Levi had smelled absolutely breathtaking.

What a beautiful day!

He should give Connie a hug. 

Eren still stood there, elated beyond hope, when Mikasa found him five minutes later.

“What happened to you,” she asked, frowning at his expression. 

“What? Nothing, wha–what happened to you?” he managed, barely noticing through his love-crazed haze that she was soaking wet.

And…actually seething?

“I am going to murder Jean. You in?”

“What?” Eren mumbled. “Oh no, I guess he’s alright. I’ve got to go now.” He snuck past Mikasa. “Mop that floor, yeah? You’re dripping.”

“What.”

Completely immune to her wrath, Eren left her, already wondering about if Levi would kiss him again one day.

The sun set over HQ in stunningly glowing colours that night. And when it rose again on the next morning Eren awoke to a sneeze, alongside a murderous headache between his eyes.

And a besotted grin.

He still grinned when the sniffles set in around breakfast time, and he still grinned when the coughs began to shake him at noon. What was this flu? He was a Titan. She shouldn’t get sick!

Totally worth it, though, he thought.

He still thought so, when a knock came on his door and Levi stood there, looking much too healthy and wonderful again and offering Eren a plate with eggs and ham with a little smirk, that made Eren grin even wider.

Stepping aside he let Levi in. 

Eren really loved the summer flu.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Summer of Whump #8: Allergies

Hero sneezed once again, adding to Villain's long list of annoyances. Then, of course, they wiped their nose. The shot smeared on their sleeve. Villain curled their nose up in disgust. Hero was so downright... unhygienic.

Villain doubted that they wore deodorant, or showered for that matter. Their hair was somewhat crusty and dandruffy, their face greasy and dirty. Villain swore that they could smell them from where they stood: a mixture of sweat and grime. Gosh, did Villain just want to throw up.

But that would mean getting vomit on their perfectly snow white shirt, so Villain obviously decided against it.

"Look," Villain said after looking their nemesis up and down for the third... maybe hundreth time? They blinked, and looked away, too grossed out to continue their examination. "I don't know what is wrong with you. Whether you have no sense of self-care or that you just hate smelling nice, but I am not going to let my hands," Villain gestured with them to enunciate their point, "touch your skin."

"Then you are a coward," Hero sniffled and flash them a grin. Villain took one look and then quickly looked away, unable to get the image out of their head. Their teeth were yellow and their gums... Villain winced, it reminded them of the maggots in the Grinch's smile.

"No," Villain corrected, aiming their focus on a dandelion growing by a streetlight. "I just value my hands. Touching you would be-" Disgusting? Blood-curdling? Gross? Atrocious?

"Would be what?" Hero inquired, flashing another dreadful smile.

"Unpleasant," Villain answered, already scouting for an exit. They didn't care if they left the walking garbage alone to sulk in their profoundly greasy corpse. If it meant escaping this nightmare, Villain would throw out their favorite soap. And then go get another one as a reward for surviving this torture.

"That's rude," Hero replied before sneezing, again, and repeating the same routine they did only moments before. Villain squeezed their eyes shut.

"Yeah, I'm going. See ya," Villain spun around to turn to leave. They imagined entering their fresh car, breathing in the minty refresher, and sitting down on the equally clean seats, but Hero's coughing interrupted them.

"What is wrong with you?" Villain asked, very much exasperated. They eyed Hero's mouth reproachfully, before settling on watching the well-muscled chest heave.

"Ungh," Hero groaned, wiping their mouth with the same sleeve as their nose. "Allergies," they hacked out and pounded on their chest as if to try and dispel the mucus.

"Sucks to be you," Villain attempted to turn around again when suddenly, two long, cold, infected fingers lightly brushed the skin on their arm.

Oh boy did Villain yelp. They jumped forward, tripping on their feet, gripping their arm and preparing for immediate death.

Hero laugh broke the silence that followed almost immediately after.

"What are you germaphobic?" They asked, smacking their thighs in laughter. "Gosh, I wish I got a video of that. Your face- oh my, oh my."

Tears followed the laughing spell and Hero found themselves on the ground next to Villain, nearly shrieking in laughter. Villain's face only got better and better as it contorted into genuine concern, then fear, and then reddening in embarrassment.

Hero couldn't- really, it was "wouldn't- break out of their episode of pure amusement. It annoyed Villain to the point of almost smacking their head against a metal pole until they couldn't hear the obnoxious noise anymore.

And things only got worse when Hero starting sneezing, and wiping, again.

@summer-of-whump