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pink-flame · 4 years

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Lucky it Was Hotdogs

So! This is my gift for the @jatp-gift-exchange celebrating 6 months since the show came out. I just so happened to be assigned my friend @tmp-jatp as my giftee. Which is awesome because she’s awesome. She asked for angst and my first thought was my reputation is just going to get worse. 😂 And then I started writing, started over, changed to a different prompt two more times...had a few breakdowns but here we are! Basically all of my friends had to hear about my spiral the last couple of days so thank you and my apologies. 🙏

T, I hope you like it! 💜💜💜

In some ways Luke thinks that it’s lucky it was hot dogs.

Of course, if he had been asked to choose a way to go back in 95 he probably would have said old and in his sleep. Or maybe he would have been a smart ass and said jumping the grand canyon on a motorcycle or playing an epic show in bad weather and having some sort of electrical incident (Reggie wasn’t the only one who had been involved in that amp incident not that he was in a hurry to tell Alex that). Contaminated hot dogs in an alley on the night of their big break probably wouldn’t have occurred to him and it definitely wouldn’t have cracked the top ten list of his requests.

But now that he’s in the future, with his band and with Julie and with their dreams once again a real possibility...he thinks the hot dogs would have been the right choice.

The truth is it doesn’t matter how tragic it is that three kids had their lives cut short at the same time it’s always going to be at least a little bit funny that they went from death by hot dog. It lets him use the tragedy as a means of teasing Julie as she bites into her sandwich and it lets Willie give Alex an affectionate nickname that’s only a little in bad taste. It lets Reggie hover behind Ray when Julie’s dad gets the grill out and clutch his stomach dramatically in a reenactment for his friends amusement. It lets Julie look at Luke like the fact that he is a ghost is mildly exasperating but not inherently upsetting, not like it would be if he was a walking reminder of a car accident or the cancer that took her mom.

So yeah, it’s lucky it was hot dogs.

Except...sometimes Luke wishes that it wasn't.

Sometimes he wishes that he had died from an illness or an accident or anything that would prompt someone to look at him and ask if he wanted to talk about it. Because...he does. Just sometimes. Wants to talk about how much it hurt. Wants to talk about how scared he was. Wants to talk about how even though being able to make music still (being able to make music with Julie) matters most it does bother him.

It bothers him that Julie is the only lifer he can touch (even though she would clearly be his first choice).

It bothers him that he fades into non-existence as soon as they stop playing.

It bothers him that he can’t even thank Julie’s dad for hosting their garage gig or show her brother that he’s holding it all wrong when he catches him strumming lightly on Luke’s guitar one day.

It bothers him that he won’t ever be anything other than what he is, a teenager with a guitar and a longstanding suspicion about the consequences of wearing sleeves while performing.

It bothers him that Julie will always be what she is now (an amazing teenage girl with a wrecking ball voice and a heart big enough to keep them with her through sheer force of will) but she will also become so much more.

An adult.

Someone with a job and a family and…

He can’t think about it.

Except he does.

Not all the time but often enough, especially at night when Alex is off with Willie and Reggie is watching tv with an unsuspecting Ray and Luke is wishing more than anything that he could find the escape of sleep.

So usually he ends up writing when he feels like this, seeking out the familiar sensation of pen flying over paper, words tumbling from the deepest recesses of his mind to collect into the shape of a song.

I know I’m being selfish

But feeling alive isn’t being alive

Feeling you breathe isn’t breathing

I just want this feeling forever

Instead I count every moment I’m stealing

“Why are you writing in the dark?” Julie’s amused voice cuts through the silence causing him to jump, a remnant of a time when he had anything to fear other than his own uncertain future.

He’s not sure if it’s a ghostly superpower or just the fact that he had been peering at his notebook from only about an inch away but it’s true, he hadn’t bothered to turn the light on and he saw it just fine.

The dark felt more appropriate somehow when he felt like this anyway.

She flips on the light and crosses the room to sink down beside him where he’s spread out on the floor. He’s so distracted for a moment by just how Julie she always manages to be (beautiful and amazing and distracting in the best way) that he doesn’t realize that she’s reaching for his notebook until it’s too late. He tries to snatch it back fruitlessly as she turns her eyes to the words he has scrawled across the page. He hopes momentarily that she won’t be able to make out his infamously illegible handwriting but his hopes are dashed when she reads out the last few lines in a thoughtful tone. He has a brief flash of affection at the realization that she must be his soulmate if she can read his handwriting.

He’s distracted from that thought though when he sees the smile slide off of her face only to be replaced with a tight frown before she turns to face him, concern shining in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” He says quickly, hoping to prevent any of his dark mood from seeping into the girl beside him.

The girl who has already known enough darkness for a lifetime.

“Every moment you’re stealing?” She quotes back to him, setting the notebook carefully back on the floor. “That doesn’t sound fine.”

He considers brushing off her concern, playing it off, claiming he’s not even writing from his own perspective anyway, that he doesn’t know where the idea came from.

He can do that because he may be dead but the culprit was hot dogs and that gives him an out to make a dumb joke and change the subject and keep things the way they are now.

And if it was anyone else he would have. But it’s Julie. And he’s Luke.

She can read his handwriting.

And she can read him too.

If he lets her.

“You know how you said your dad made you talk to someone after your mom died?”

She tilts her head, clearly not expecting this question. She answers it anyway.

“Dr. Turner,” She nods. “Three times a week for a while.”

“Did it uh…” Luke swallows hard, his throat suddenly impossibly dry considering he was pretty sure he wasn’t actually producing spit anymore period. “Did it help?”

Julie’s hand twitches in her lap and he can tell she is deciding whether she should touch him. He reaches out to toy with the frayed edge of her jeans where they burst open at the knee. The answer to whether Julie should be touching him is always a resounding yes in his opinion but he also wants to let her come to him. It hasn’t been that long since they’ve even been able to touch each other and despite how much they crave it there’s a lingering awkwardness after all the build up.

“Talking to someone?” She asks carefully. “Yeah, it did. After a while I felt like I needed space to sort through things on my own but by then I was able to talk with my dad and Flynn too.”

He nods, keeps his eyes firmly on the hole in her jeans.

“Luke…”

Damn.

He has to look at her when she says his name like that.

He raises his eyes slowly, meeting her soft ones with nerves he can’t quite place.

“You know you can talk to me, right? Always.”

Her question is so small and yet so big at the same time. Such a simple offer containing such a big promise.

Always.

Wasn’t that the problem?

His always might not line up with hers.

He could forget that fact for a bit when the band was hanging out and laughing over nothing or rocking a crowd’s face’s off or when Julie was smiling in that certain Julie way that seemed reserved only for him.

But he couldn’t forget forever.

And he couldn’t promise always.

So where did that leave him?

“Luke?”

She breaks him from his thoughts again and he pushes past his caution this time, reaching out to link her hand with his, their fingers slotting together effortlessly despite the way one of them isn’t really there.

He isn’t really there.

Is he...real?

Luke suddenly feels a strange rush of panic, all of the thoughts he’s been pushing aside for months crashing through him at once.

He must have squeezed Julie’s hand inadvertently because he sees her flinch.

“Sorry, sorry,” He says breathlessly (not that he needs to breathe, he’s breathless, literally, he’s dead), drawing her hand up to press an apology against the skin there, his lips lingering for a long moment before he pulls away.

She’s not unaffected by his sudden actions, the way her eyes widen for a fraction of a second is proof enough of that, but she’s also determined and she doesn’t let him off the hook.

“Talk to me, Luke,” She says like an order and a request and a prayer all at once.

And he can’t deny her anything.

Not even this.

“I’m fine, I am...it’s just...I’m so happy that we ended up here with you Julie no matter what. I need you to know that ok? I just..I don’t...I don’t want…”

She waits as long as she can for him to finish that sentence but when he doesn’t seem prepared to, she leans closer, squeezes his hand, gives him that last push off the cliff he’s been teetering on the edge of for months.

“Don’t want what?”

“Don’t want to be dead.”

The words escape him in a hurried rush, one blending into another until it sounds like one long syllable of pain rather than a proper sentence. Still. He’s pretty sure the message got through.

“I know,” She says simply, her eyes sad but her touch impossibly gentle as her free hand comes up to cup his cheek. “I know, Luke, I know.”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until she’s brushing his tears away with the delicate tips of her fingers.

And maybe he is real, at least a little bit if his eyes can still muster up the ability to leak like this and damn it why is that what he’s thinking about right now when the girl, the living girl, he loves is waiting for him to say something.

He wants to think of the perfect thing but what ends up coming out leaves a lot to be desired.

“Julie...I love making music with you. I love y...I love being in your life. But I’m dead. And maybe...maybe it would be better…”

“No,” She cuts him off firmly, gripping his chin lightly to turn his face more fully towards hers. “Whatever you think you’re about to say, the answer is no.”

“Julie…” He tries again.

She’s already shaking her head.

“I don’t care if you’re about to suggest some noble sacrifice or push me away or blame yourself for something...just...don’t.”

Any protest he has prepared dies on his lips, the slightest quirk of a smile taking their place even as a few stray tears make their way down his face.

“Ok,” He agrees simply.

Julie brings her other hand down to grip his knee as though she’s trying to keep him with her by anchoring him physically, making him part of her, making him real.

And that’s that.

It takes time.

A hundred aborted conversations with half confessions and unspoken requests for comfort and love freely given if not freely spoken.

But eventually he gets used to talking to Julie the same way he got used to writing with Julie and singing with Julie and falling in love with Julie.

So steadily he doesn’t feel the progress until one day he looks up and there’s no going back, not that he would ever want to.

He’s dead.

He can’t get around that.

He ate some bad hot dogs, and that will always be a little bit funny. It’s also sad and scary and tragic.

He’s dead.

But he’s also so alive.

He can’t promise always but he can promise as long as I’m here.

And he does.

Over and over and over again.

#JATP gift exchange #juke #jatp #my fics

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mouse-fantoms · 3 years

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Reach For My Hand, ‘Cause It’s Held Out For You

Read on Ao3!

Tagging (just who I thought would be interested from the post this spawned from): @tmp-jatp @lydias--stiles @1neverendingstories1

More Than A Band but Jatp edition

A top priority when having 90's boys come into your life is of course showing them what they missed out on. It started with Julie putting together a playlist for them.

Another order would be teaching them the terms nowadays. Someone hadto tell Alex that you don’t say ‘periodt’ at the end of every sentence. That though, was a priority for another day.

After showing them music they missed out on, movies were next. It made sense since some of the music she had put on the playlist were songs from movies. She obviously couldn’t show all the movies they missed in the past 25 years, but there were a few that they’d probably like.

Their weekends, so far, had involved Julie setting up the living room for the perfect movie watching experience. A few pillows here and there on the comfy couch, could never go wrong with blankets, a fresh buttery bowl of popcorn, just the essentials.

They were all on the couch, finishing up the rest of Camp Rock. (Luke was immediately hooked on the summer camp with music concept.)

Julie was curled up with a blanket at the end of the couch. Luke was next to her, then Alex followed by Reggie.

“You seriously don’t want a blanket?” Julie asked Luke. She had her knees pulled to her underneath the fabric of warmth.

“I’m telling you I’m not cold.” He repeated another time.

She would have thought it might have just been a ghost thing if it wasn’t for Reggie and Alex constantly tugging at the blanket they shared for blanket space.

“I need it more!” Alex pulled the blanket towards him.

“You have a hoodie on!” Reggie pointed out.

“...I still get cold.”

Julie and Luke rolled their eyes at the pair and were instead more interested at how Mitchie was going to do at the Final Jam.

“Wait, she's singing that song? Wait!” Luke scooted to the edge of the seat, being glued to the tv. “Please tell me he has to recognize it’s her who sang in the beginning. She’s the one!”

Alex put a hand on Luke’s shoulder and pulled him back to the couch.

“I’m sure he will buddy.”

It wasn’t until after the number that Luke noticed Julie dozing off next to him. She’d shake awake a few times when she’d hear the high notes in the music.

“You know we can call it a night if you’re getting tired.”

Her arms came out from under the blanket when she stretched her arms and yawned, “No, no, no, I’m not. I haven’t even shown you guys a favorite of mine yet and I said we’d get to it tonight.”

Once the movie finished she grabbed the remote and went to find one of her favorites.

“This one,” she was interrupted by her own yawn, “is about a band. They form when they’re all in detention together.” A look played on Luke’s face. She sighed, not wanting to be right with an assumption, “...Is that how you guys-”

“No but could you imagine how-” Luke turned to the unamused faces of Alex and Reggie.

“It was always us getting him out of detention.” Alex informed.

She opened her mouth looking to the one in question. “What would you do?”

“He could never put away his journal during class.” Reggie answered.

“It was better than writing on the corners of my papers.”

“How would you get him out of it?”

“Well if the book wasn’t at the teacher’s desk anymore than… no evidence for detention.” Luke summed up.

“Which meant a lot of talking to the teacher while they got it back. ‘Alex, we want you to talk to her.’ ‘Pretend you have a question.’”

“The other option was you guys joining me.”

“Yeah we tried that, they never could give it to Reggie.”

Julie looked curious at the black haired ghost. “Why?”

Alex answered, gesturing to him. “...It’s Reggie.”

“Yeah, can’t argue there.”

She turned her attention back to the tv and brought up the movie.

“Lemonade Mouth? What kind of name is that?” Judged Luke.

Julie laughed to make it even. “What kind of name is Sunset Curve?”

“The kind of one you don’t come up with.” Reggie informed.

“When we were starting out,” the guitarist took the lead in explaining, “we’d play at this street corner. I guess people started liking us and would say to check out the guys at the corner of Sunset Boulevard and Curve Street. Then it just kinda meshed into one with people calling us Sunset Curve.”

“We kind of just went with it.” Alex shrugged.

“Funny, well, you’ll see why they’re called Lemonade Mouth in this.”

She put the movie on and the boys seemed instantly intrigued. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes in that her eyes started to feel drowsy. Maybe Luke was a little bit right, but maybe if she just rested her eyes for a second she’d feel better. Maybe if she just made herself comfortable on the pillow to her right, she’d feel better.

“Luke, can you turn it up a-”

“Can’t.”

“What?” Alex looked at him.

“Can’t move.” He repeated, shifting his eyes to the left.

Alex looked behind Luke to try to see if he could see what he was talking about. He saw Julie’s head closer to Luke. Sure enough, when he looked past him he saw Julie with her head on his shoulder.

“Hgh,” the blonde huffed, “fine I’ll get it.” There was no point in arguing so he instead went out of his way to reach diagonal to grab the remote that was on the coffee table.

It wasn’t tell near the ending of the movie when they eventually dozed off too. However they did catch great songs before they did. Classics such as Turn Up the Music, Determinate, Somebody and a song called More Than a Band, She’s So Gone were a few they caught before they went off to dreams.

~~~

She tried her best to not worry her boys. When she tried though, all they did was.

They knew something was off when she didn’t stop by to tell them bye before she left for school. Also when Luke paid her a visit during school she just seemed detached. Reggie noted Ray seemed off and Carlos for that matter too.

The ghost was hanging around with Ray in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for Carlos before he left for the morning. Reggie leaned against the archway to the dining room, watching Ray as he cooked scrambled eggs on the stove. Carlos came down the stairs, his bag slung over his shoulder, and came around to the stool of the counter.

“Do you know what we’re having for dinner?”

Ray looked over his shoulder, as he dumped the pan of eggs on a plate, “You haven’t even had breakfast yet.” He chuckled, setting the plate in front of him and opening the drawer to give him a fork.

“I know but…” He trailed off, taking the fork that was put next to his plate, looking to his dad in hopes he got what he was meaning. From him touching the ring on his ring finger, he got the memo.

“...I can talk to your Tía about bringing something over for tonight.” There was a light nod of his head. Carlos shared the same nod as he dove into his eggs.

Meanwhile Reggie leaned at the archway, suddenly now understood.

~~~

She hadn’t talked to them much the whole day. The studio that turned into her home didn’t feel like much of one today. Just a reminder.

After dinner, she found herself going up to her room, changing into her pajamas and finding comfort on her bed. She sat crisscross, her hand drawn to the scripture necklace she wore. She didn’t appear to catch the familiar poof sound until she looked to the left from seeing something in the corner of her eye appear. She saw her boys, looking sympathetic.

It was like they were a reminder. The reminder that they were here but… she wasn’t.

Luke stepped cautious, taking a seat on the mattress at the foot of her bed. “...Guessing movie night is postponed tonight.” He tried to make conversation.

She answered by turning on her side away from him, her necklace still in her hand, not realizing her foot had accidently hit Luke in the thigh when she turned over. Usually it was a nice reminder when they touched, today though, was not one of those times.

Luke looked to his friends standing opposite of him. Their expressions looked the same as his, wanting a suggestion of what to do, he looked back to Julie.

She was rubbing her fingers across her necklace in the silence until there wasn’t any.

“I can’t pretend,” she was caught off guard by his singing and what it sounded like, “to know how you feel, but know that I’m here and know that I’m real.”

Real. That word got her to look through her curls at him. He looked at the other two to join in.

“Say what you want,” Alex sang, stepping towards her bed, “or don’t talk at all, I’m not gonna let you fall.” He knelt down to be eye level.

“Reach for my hand ‘cause it’s held out for you,” Reggie joined Alex in kneeling next to her bed, “my shoulders are small but you can cry on them too. Everything changes but one thing is true, understand.” He looked to Luke to take the part.

“We’ll always be more than a band.”

They weren’t just singing lyrics. Even when she turned over to face them, they carried on.

“You used to brave the world all on your own.” Alex continued.

“Now we won’t let you go.” Luke added.

“Go it alone.” Reggie followed.

“Be who you wanna be, always stand tall.” Luke leaned in a little towards her, smiling at the two words, remembering the song they finished writing together. She smiled back, not being able to help herself. “Not gonna let you fall.”

They sang together, looking and smiling as they did. “Reach for my hand cause it's held out for you. My shoulders are strong, but you can cry on them too. Everything changes but one thing is true, understand. We'll always be more than a band.” They looked to her to continue.

With a wide smile she followed, “I never knew you could take me so far.” The proud smiles on them were hard to miss. “I’ve always wanted to hope that you are the ones I need.”

They repeated the chorus together, harmonizing, voices blending beautifully. “But one thing is true, understand.”

“We’ll always be more than a band.” They dropped out to let Julie finish.

She couldn’t help but look at her boys, proud smiles plastered on them as she looked at each.

“I didn’t know you guys stayed up to watch that.” She found the words to say.

“You said it was a favorite of yours.” Reggie shrugged as if it was obvious.

“You can’t go wrong with a band.” Luke summed up.

“Also Luke couldn’t move so that’s another reason we stayed.”

She let out a light huff from Alex’s statement. She grabbed her necklace again, looked down at it then back to them.

“...Thank you guys. We’ll always be more than a band.” She dropped the necklace and opened her arms, inviting them.

They made a hug with two people kneeling on the floor, work. She might not have been there but she sent the boys to her daughter. Maybe a reminder wasn’t always bad to have. This would be a reminder that they were a family. Family first, band second.

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 3 years

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AUTHOR REVEAL of the JATP ROUND 2: FLUFF FICS!

The Tropes:

Exes

Time Loop AU

Camp Counselors

Prank Wars

————

Okay, Campers, Rise and Shine! (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: When Reggie launches a particularly ill-advised prank war at HGC Ranch, Luke’s fully prepared to take it in stride.

When the days start looping, though, he begins to suspect that this might all be a little bit above his head.

In other words, he’s at least 78% sure that the time loop isn’t a direct result of Reggie’s pranks.

Maybe 77%.

Oh, well.

At least he’s not in it alone.

(The Groundhog Day meets Gravity Falls meets Summer Camp meets The Author’s Own Distaste For Prank Wars AU that no one asked for. Ever. At all.)

Starting To Forget (Just What Summer Ever Meant To You) (Not Rated) [Flynn x Carrie] by bi_magic

Summary: Last summer didn’t end on a positive note for Carrie Wilson - she and her girlfriend broke up on the last night of camp, and she’s been miserable since. But it seems that the universe is intent on having her fix that this summer. Even if that means she has to live through the same day over and over and over again until she does.

Creative B.S. Was No More, Was No Less (Look Around, You're Gonna Miss What You Found) (Rated T) [Alex x Luke, Flynn x Reggie] by @americanhoney913

Summary: The midnight men move again

Don’t know when

Best friends forever

In trouble again

Here’s to you, here’s to me

Over the rafters and we’re free

— Over the Rafters, Rick Schiffman

***

Alex and Luke go undercover on a mission to a summer camp in order to find a talisman that could endanger the camp and all the kids. While there, they bond with the kids and make peace with the fact that they broke up.

While Alex and Luke are away, Flynn accidentally fucks with time.

bitch but like romantically (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @screamin-amuseum

Summary: The dining hall’s exactly the same as it has been for two mornings now, and Flynn doesn’t hesitate to poke Willie twice on the nose and whisper “pancake” on her way past their seat.

His eyes widen and he whips his head around to follow them, excitement glimmering in their eyes.

“Really?” they blurt. Flynn rolls her eyes and nods.

or: flynn gets stuck in a time loop. {for troped jatp round 2}

down by the bay (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @sunsetcurbed

Summary: Over time, Camp Phantom has simply become known as a selective summer camp: one that took only the kids that Caleb saw promise in. And Caleb wasn’t exactly lying. He really did take only the ones he saw promise in, he simply looked for different traits than others might.

For example, say, hypothetically, a boy who could see the future. Or, hypothetically, a girl who could interact with ghosts. Or, hypothetically, a boy who could summon objects to him with a simple thought. Or, and this is completely hypothetical mind you, a boy who could manipulate time.

Those might be some traits that Caleb saw promise in. Just, like, as examples.

Time will tell (But only if you do it right) (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @malecacidd

Summary: Carrie had been acting a little off for a week or so, but Flynn was pretty much known for seeing something in nothing, and that was probably what they were doing then. If something was going on, Carrie would tell her eventually.

Who knew all it took was a little bit of miscommunication to mess up time itself?

and so it begins (Rated T) [Bobby x Reggie] by @comeonpeters

Summary: It’s the first day of their second week at Camp Carolling (they’re spending an entire month, and they’re getting paid to be there!) when Reggie gets a little lost in the woods. During this misadventure into the woods, he finds an egg shaped rock, an inhabited cabin that may or may not be riddled with signs, and something that might be magic. He probably doesn’t get paid enough to discover magic.

or, when they were thirteen years old, four boys met at camp carolling and eventually became a band that almost became something legendary. now, all four boys are coming back as counselors, three boys in one band and one boy in his own solo act.

so begins the reunion, though it doesn’t go how any of them imagine.

Porcupine Day (Rated T) [Bobby x Ray x Rose] by @wr0temyway0ut

Summary: It’s been fifteen years since Trevor broke up with Ray and Rose and they’re… not fine, but managing. But when Trevor to adds insult to injury and buys the camp across the lake from the one they once owned together, the two camps become locked in a bitter rivalry. With neither side willing to set aside their pride and work out their issues, the universe decides to settle their fates itself.

Day After Day (After Day After Day) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by hufflebibin

Summary: When Alex met Willie just after their senior year of high school, they spent a wonderful three months dating before their relationship ended in a blaze of glory. Now, four years later, they meet again as counselors at a summer camp. The only problem? Alex keeps reliving their first day together. The day that Luke had declared “Prank Day.”

This is not how Alex pictured his summer going.

clocks move faster (it's all we're after) (Rated G) [Julie x Luke] by @willexxmercer

Summary: Julie likes it when her friends are happy, so when she realizes she’s stuck in a time loop, she uses her knowledge to make sure everything works out for everyone… except she conveniently forgets to factor herself (and Luke) into the mix.

Touch of Magic (Not Rated) [Alex x Luke] by @williexmercer

Summary: When everything stands in Luke and Alex’s way of getting to be with the people they love, they have to repeat the day over and over until they can get the happily ever after that they want.

the play's the thing (that goes wrong) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @madeline-kahn

Summary: Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day for Macbeth, but not so for Alex and the production of Hamlet that he is directing and starring in. And while he’s stuck repeating the day of the performance over and over, mishaps of all kinds befall the cast.

anything, anything (for another run with you) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @aroacethetic-shitpost

Summary: The moment Alex steps foot in Camp Greenwood, he knows that this summer is a bad idea.

He knows it as soon as he sees tan skin, long hair, and a tie-dyed crop top at the check-in table.

Willie.

the camp counselor/exes/prank war/time loop fic of your dreams (unless you read all of the other troped round 2 fics lmao)

there’s a glorious sunrise, dappled with the flickers of light (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: What comes next happens in slow motion. Luke’s foot catches on the last rung of the ladder. Julie watches as he stumbles a step forward, barely catching himself before falling on his face. The ladder clatters to the floor below. The trapdoor, no longer propped open by it, falls closed with a loud thunk, the lock clicking into place. They’re stuck.

“Luke!” she exclaims loudly. “Look what you did!” Julie drops to her knees in front of the trap door, desperately trying to fit her fingers between the wood and the stone to pry it open again. Of course it doesn’t work.

“What?” he snaps back. “I wouldn’t be up here in the first place if it weren’t for you trying to fuck us over.”

or: ex-best friends Luke and Julie, working as camp counselors at rivaling camps, find themselves stuck in a time loop

the daughter of apollo (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @the-most-beautiful-broom

Summary: (the JATP x Camp Half Blood AU that nobody asked for)

maybe the world isn't ending (maybe it's been postponed) (Rated G) [Julie x Luke] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: Alex runs his fingers through Willie’s hair. “I think it’s best to just leave them to their own prank war at this point. Let’s not forget that time Julie put hot sauce in the coffee pot and my mouth was on fire for an entire hour.”

“You’re exaggerating, Alex-”

“I most certainly am not,” Alex cuts Reggie off.

“Or how about the time Luke tried to put glitter in Julie’s bed,” Carrie joins in, “but got my bed instead? I can appreciate some glitter, but even I know when enough is enough.”

“Suffice it to say,” Willie finishes after they’ve passed around a dozen or so more memories of pranks from the summer, “we’re all done being your collateral damage. Whatever Julie has planned for you tomorrow, Luke, you’re on your own.”

It’s the last day of camp and Julie has one more prank planned for Luke. He just doesn’t know what it is.

Here We Go Again (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @kybee1497

Summary: Julie blinked as she stared at the place Euterpe had disappeared. What did that even mean? What journey? Old places and lost faces? What was she talking about? But before she could dwell on the questions swirling around in her mind, the sky full of stars began to move, shifting in place and descending until they were all around her. Julie felt her feet leave the ground as she rose up and up. One star in particular was burning brighter than the others, growing bigger in front of her.

It grew and grew, until the light was blinding and Julie had to throw a hand up against the harsh light. She closed her eyes as the light surrounded her and then she was falling. Falling down, down, down.

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#troped: jatp #round 2: fluff #author reveal #jatp fanfiction

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incorrectjackboxquotes · 4 years

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Here’s a headcanon: The TMP2 dolls have nicknames. The Jester’s Humility, the Sheriff’s Gratitude, the Red Herring’s Patience, the Nerd’s Diligence, the Believer’s Charity, the Alpha’s Temperance, the Screamer’s Chasity and the Lovers’s Hope and Dream

^ Sooooo... the OPPOSITE of the first TMP then?

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whatspringdoestothecherrytrees · 3 years

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Well guys, I have an E Coli now. Enteropathogenic strain aka EPEC. A leading cause of infantile diarrhea in the developing world, and also something seen in cancer patients.

The joys of immunosuppression and chemo.

I’m stil convinced that E. stands for Edward Coli. Not Escherichia. I meant. No. It’s definitely Edward.

Supposedly the treatment is TMP-sulfamethoxazole and IV fluids so I’m kinda hoping I get them lactated ringers. A folk can dream.

#actuallyautistic #autism #asd #immunocompromised #lupuslife #chronic illness #chronic disability

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xxforsaken-angelxx · 5 years

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=> A Friendly Secret Visit.

chimericarchitect Howdy! I wanted to ask about the rods and how that was coming along.

xxforsaken-angelxx aww shit yeah i got them i just slipped on messagin you

chimericarchitect Neat! So, let me know whenever it is clear for me to come and get them and I'll do that.

xxforsaken-angelxx gotcha > You'll send her a time for later today, after your shift is over.

chimericarchitect > Presumably he will send updated coordinates since it's a ship in space and you will, at the time allotted, go there to pick up the rods. It'll be great.

xxforsaken-angelxx > He will, and she'll be teleported straight to his block.

> Or at least part of his block. It visibly looks like a study, with floor to ceiling shelves on the two walls without doors that are loaded with jars of herbs, crystals, bones, and basically any other magical trinket that gets used in his kind of trade. That and what's probably a fairly narrow curation of books, most of them looking old or otherwise well loved.

> You're at your desk nestled in there, in front of an oddly old looking computer. You're dressed in full goffik attire, with the boots and the long coat and the whole nine yards.

chimericarchitect > Saness might like what she knows of Grinmaww, she might think he seems a pretty decent troll, but that doesn't change the fact that he is an unknown. She is dressed accordingly, in what she used to consider 'cool adventurer attire,' something good to tussle in or go for an impromptu roam. It consists of a sturdy white vest over long dark sleeves, equally white boots over flexible black pants, an overly vibrant neckerchief, and a wallet chain on her hip that definitely doesn't connect to a wallet. With her sunglasses up in her stark-white dandelion puff of curling hair, useless but available, Saness looks like a starry-eyed kid dressed up as a cosplay biker.

> She arrives in a blossoming yellow-green light, accompanied by the sound of something stretching sharp, the hollow bell-tone echo of a rubber band snapping, an unnaturally compressed static twang. It's only a fall of a few inches to the floor of the ship, boots tmp-ing with the weight of her existence as the glow recedes as rapidly and efficiently as it had appeared. With her face fully exposed, it can be noted on a glance that her hair grows in this shade. That, or she spends way too much time dying her eyebrows and lashes.

> Immediately Saness looks to Grinmaww, the full attention of 5' 10" of dimension-hopping globetrotter drawn right to him by some force unknown. There is a sort of reckless energy to the way she carries herself, careless of her color, focused intently and intensely on the only other troll in the room. It lingers for a heavy second, gears turning behind her eyes, before scattering nearly as immediately under the force of her own curiosity and whimsy, the dopey little 'o' of her mouth and the perplexed pinch of her brow turning to a wowed smile while the slightly flighty hands-out posture of her arms falls to her sides as she straightens. Her eyes gleam when they catch light, a reflective plate of lime snapping here and there over all of the fascinating and colorful doodads filling the walls of this space.

> "My dude, you are absolutely killing this aesthetic."

> She defaults to common Alternian, for all purposes friendly and easygoing in tone, if a little bright with excitement.

xxforsaken-angelxx > That cracks him up immediately, after those few seconds of regarding each other in silence. His face is...oddly stretchy, the skin pulls a little farther than most people when he smiles.

> Which is why he doesn't, when he rises out of his office chair to full 6'5" stature. It's not exactly an Ampora Resting Bitch Face, his eyes stay friendly, but there's all the signs of someone who keeps their expressions trained.

"Well shit, mission fuckin' accomplished then. I'm diggin' your whole look too, though. Y'look cute."

> And how dare she, frankly? Meeting someone from a whole other universe was supposed to be a big deal, both from a mental and security standpoint, but here she was waltzing up with the aura of a box of novelty rubber ducks. It's hard to be all serious at that, bah.

chimericarchitect > Cute, huh? Saness grins a little wider, something easy and lopsided. She's being very loose with her expressions, leaning heavily into what charisma she possesses over her own stranger-danger default; there has not been one single Eridan in the history of fish-or-otherwise bastards that she has ever gotten along with, but in counter she has a great and hopeful fondness for Makaras and clowns in general. All she has to do is be her charming self and *surely* things will work out. Surely. So far so good, right?

"Well shit, mission fuckin' accomplished!" she intones in quick mimicry, momentarily affecting his cant and general tone of bearing. That too falls away, dripping from one instant to the next with the pulse of a rabbit. A flourish places her splayed fingertips over her chest, the goofish mockery of a stuffy tilt to her chin. "Saness Casper Psuede, The Mischief, at your service and pleased to finally meet you, Grinmaww!"

> She is, perhaps, a bit much at full-tilt, hyped to be here and make a solid first impression. Ideally, Grinmaww will like her as much as she hopes to like him. That's the plan. The scheme. The big cannoli. *Maybe* this critically informal introduction will entice him into relaxing as well. A girl can dream.

xxforsaken-angelxx > Hearing his drawl coming out of her makes him laugh again, and he instinctively tries to go for a handshake. Just a casual one. Business casual.

"Man, you're somethin', arentcha? And somethin' that should use Mischief more often, that's a good one."

> Truth be told, he was already fond of her. Being in the position he was, he tended to like people who had a different view of the world, and Saness kept fitting that to a T. Even discounting her inherent otherworldly-ness, she was people smart in a way he couldn't manage, and just...had a certain way of things. Maybe a way that clashed with his way sometimes. But it was an interesting way, and an interesting clash.

> Sure being the leader of a big ass ship also put him in that same zone of inner stranger wariness, but y'know. So far so good!

"Nice to finally meet you too."

chimericarchitect > The Dreaded Handshake, As The Prophecy Foretold. With how sharp she keeps her claws these nights the best she can do to cover up is to wear fingerless gloves, but that is inconducive to the possibility of reacting to danger, and she anticipated that the ever-present threat of engaging in polite society might rear itself anyway. Thus, a counter arrangement has been prepared in advance: completely naturally, despite her lack of hand cover, as if this was the response expected of her, Saness reaches past Grinmaww's outstretched palm and clasps his covered forearm. A bracing, friendly gesture!

> It's loose enough an action that she doesn't have time to react to new information, or to accommodate the unexpected. From this close, she can feel her hair standing on end, a fresh tingle across the nape of her neck. This isn't Chill Boss Aura, the weight of his presence more intense with proximity, but rather something else entirely. Something otherworldly. The trouble with keeping her features emotionally available and reactive is that, they are, in fact, emotionally available and reactive. Her eye scrunches slightly and her smile ticks one degree toward uncomfortable on the matching side.

> Braced like this, she gives his arm the single handshake pump of proper business, albeit a fraction of a second delayed.

> Quick, say something.

"Ah, yeah, you think so? I thought it was kinda, heh, on the nose. If somebody were to roll up and introduce themself with the title of 'Mischief' you'd have certain expectations, I'd think."

xxforsaken-angelxx > Eridan isn't oblivious enough to miss her sudden awkwardness, but it's also not like he knows his own aura, or any other reason Saness might avoid handshakes. In his mind he just went too formal, like a dumbass. He goes a touch sheepish when she goes a touch awkward, and flicks his hair and plays it cool when she lets go.

> The third eye he draws in his paint wasn't peeking through his bangs until now.

"I mean, sure. But that kind of expectation would probably get you some friends around somewhere like here. Mischief and clowns go together, right?"

> Hopefully, at least?

chimericarchitect > Once released she gives him a conspiratorial smile, waggles a finger, and says, "Those mischievous clowns," in that fake-cursing sort of tone, meant to confirm his assertion.

> Now that she's aware of an otherworldly presence, she is Aware of it. It's kind of just all over the place, isn't it? And her new friend appears to be the epicenter...

> From this point out, her attention is going to be partially split. Whatever it is, it doesn't *feel* directly threatening, but it's definitely unlike the clown deities she's met. It's... not quite familiar. Grinmaww's angels? But it doesn't feel like the angels she's known either, not... quite... Perhaps they aren't angels at all. That's the unsettling part. People and things that identify as other things can have a lot of reasons for doing so. Half the angels she's met weren't so nice anyhow...

> Most of the time she keeps her attention politely fixed on Grinmaww, but it slips through him or past him here and there, occasionally flitting elsewhere in the room. Saness cannot help but be wary in the back of her mind.

> Uncultured, she points right at his face.

"In every timeline I've visited or heard of, face paint holds a lot of personal significance to the clowns who wear it." Her arm drops to her side and she rocks on her toes in a gentle and harmless fidget. "Is it too personal to tell me about? I'm curious."

xxforsaken-angelxx > There's those in the church that don't believe that *any* of the entities are who they say they are. Some believe they're all more of a subconscious figment than anything else- not nonexistant, per se, but a form to let the troll mind comprehend something uncomprehendable. Eridan does believe in his angels, but he's not... unfamiliar, with the idea that they might not be so straightforward.

> He doesn't know that's what's on her mind, but *they* do. They can sense her attention. They know she can feel them. And they...want to play nice, actually. Yes they're everywhere, yes they have him in their grasp, but does that have to feel so bad? They can at least try to be a bit more friend shaped.

> Meanwhile, their host gets thrown by that question. Not in a defensive way, just in a purely off-guard one.

"Uh, no, it's not, it's-" He gestures, aimlessly. "It's not actually *that* big of a thing? For us? Like it's real fuckin' important, don't get me wrong, but it's not like- it's not *sacred.* It's fashion."

> He shoved his hands in his pocket, and gave his jacket a bit of a flounce.

"I uh...picked mine when I was pretty young. The whole painted on smile and the tears and the secret eye. It's all kinda obvious. But I still like the vibe. Still me and such."

chimericarchitect > Saness can... kind of feel them, the attention of Grinmaww's angels in response to her awareness. She can detect the things they broadcast most blatantly, the more gentle way they coil, the intentional friendliness. Perhaps an act like that would put a more paranoid troll on higher alert, but where most people have a healthy level of mistrust for the unknown, developed or instinctual, Saness has stubbornly hoarded olive branches to clumsily brandish at anything that exists. If they want to be friendly, then by the stars, Saness is going to give them her reckless trust and put her faith where her mouth is.

> Understanding that the angels are at least *similarly* aware of her the way she is aware of them, Saness begins working through the process of lowering her mental hackles, just as intentionally relaxing as they intentionally displayed peace. She loves being cool and playing nice, well and truly.

> It helps that Grinmaww is so cute. Look at him, fumbling and fluffing his feather. Normally she would giggle at him, laughter comes so easily to her, but with her focus split, all she does is smile fondly. It feels safe enough to relax around him, and they all vibe together as a unit, so... Yeah. Everything is cool and she is pleased to make more than one acquaintance. Yep. That's what she's rolling with.

"So, dedication to fashion is really important, but being a clown is not an organized religion beyond being purple and... being goth..." The last part is said almost like a question. "Would you be in trouble if you didn't wear paint, if it isn't sacred? What about like, partial coverage? In public and stuff. Oh, and, um, the whole... distinction thing. Goth is more elegant? Than punk? Or like, grunge, or emo. Are you supposed to dedicate yourself to YOUR aesthetic or is there a dress code? Is 'goth' an important word? Does equating it to other aesthetics come across as rude?"

> Special Move: One Thousand Needling Questions no Jutso.

xxforsaken-angelxx "You don't get in *trouble* for not wearing the paint, no. Like, most people around here wouldn't want to be out an' about without it or nothin', but just in the way anybody else who wears a lotta makeup wouldn't. Partial coverage's fine, too. I know this one chick who does a pattern with half her face, 's'cool as hell. And there is absolutely not a dress code beyond legal modesty and safety regulations, I almost can't believe you gotta ask that."

> He says it with fondness, as he leans up against his desk. He could talk about this stuff forever, he just had to settle into the rhythm of it. His gods seemed to enjoy it too, maybe, almost curling up beside him once he got on a roll.

"Self expression is important to us. It's an inherent part of our magic. We're all brought together around a school of thought with magic that's about experimentation and what you feel, so, like. If you're callin' up the damned with scryin' bones, why the fuck *shouldn't* you wear a full black velvet cloak, y'know? Why not wear it out to get a sandwich every night, if that's what makes you happy?"

"So comparin' us to punk or whatever else is rude just 'cause it's not us. We have an ideology, and punk has a totally different ideology, an' none of us really want to be lumped together when it doesn't stand for the same thing."

chimericarchitect "Then... what is the goth clown ideology? Under that umbrella of self-expression and exploration... are there pretty pastel clowns, peppy and chipper, or clowns that... essentially aren't goth? That sounds really kind of cool though, being encouraged to pursue happiness in the empire. Are there purplebloods that aren't clowns, or is it kind of mandatory?"

> Saness is slowing down a touch, pretty sincerely fascinated by this topic. Culture in general is wildly engrossing, but she has a particular passion for the heavy familial nature of mirthful society.

> She follows his lead, to a degree, crossing her arms and resting her weight unbalanced on one leg, hip cocked out just slightly to accommodate. Very laid-back. One foot taps, keeping time with the pace of her thoughts.

"And, I mean, I *assume* it's just purplebloods and not other colors that join the faith in your society, but it doesn't hurt to ask. Doctrines and ideologies tend to conceptually elude me, but I do so love to hear about them."

xxforsaken-angelxx "Just purplebloods, but it's not mandatory, no. Most of us end up here anyways, but there's plenty that don't. And..."

> There's a pause as he chews on his words a bit. He's had to explain something to this effect several times before, and every time it's a little different. A little closer to what someone who's Grand Highblood might say.

"We think that belief is the most important part of magic. The rituals you do and the entities you work with are just...methods. What makes it *work* is what you feel. And if you *know* that, then you can take your belief and apply it on purpose to somethin' workin' to your advantage. So we just... believe in doin' what personally works for you. Celebratin' what personally works for you. There's no reason you can't be cheery and also goth, or be some pastel fuck and also goth. We're only gonna question you if *you* don't think you're doin' it right. You have to believe you are. Genuinely."

chimericarchitect > Saness inclines her head, an inquisitive pinch to her brow. It's not fully intentional, but she keeps mentally checking in on the spectral presence surrounding Grinmaww, akin to curious little 'are you still there' pokes while he talks.

"That's what goth is? Celebrating the self?"

> Her expression smooths away and she straightens with a soft laugh.

"I mean, heh, wow." She waves a hand, gesturing over his whole him.

xxforsaken-angelxx "I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, playfully shaking his head.

> The angels are also very there. They're Always there. Or at least, some of them are. Sometimes there's more, sometimes there's less, but there's always *something*.

> They tend to poke back, too. It's fun having friends.

chimericarchitect > She shakes her head, still smiling.

"Alright, so, next question. I think I saw the answer before on tumblr maybe, but I don't remember it at the moment. Can you always sense your angels?"

> Yeah she came here with a purpose, but Saness has never been very business-oriented. She hasn't been here long enough for the recycled air to bother her, she's barely been here long enough to appreciate the fact that she's in space. Vacuums and stable pressurized ships aren't as easy to replicate, she's kind of lucky not to be experiencing some kind of reaction to the environment. The thought is starting to creep into her head, the idea that there could be so much more to see.

> Somewhere in the bowels of this contraption, Hydromatic dangles in some kind of torture stasis.

xxforsaken-angelxx > Somewhere, Hydromatic is at their station, filing through dozens of simultaneous requests and trying to scrape up the spare seconds to fantasize about their matesprit. Piers is somewhere as well, possibly finishing his shift.

> And the ship is just generally bustling with life. It was a massive place, filled with a town's worth of purplebloods. Each one had their own magic, their own loud style, their own gods...

"Pretty much always, yeah. Sometimes I get distracted, but they're always there."

chimericarchitect "Does it still get lonely sometimes, even if you're never alone? How old were you when you like, met them? And, um..."

> Saness glances toward the door and lets her continuation hang in the air for a moment, not quite stilling so much as slowing her idle animation. There's a lot to consider, all the mystery and intrigue just beyond, but she knows full well she'd never be allowed to pass through. Not in a thousand sweeps. What would she even do? Act like a lost tourist and get Grinmaww into trouble?

> She slides her focus back into the room, back onto her host and off of stray thoughts of the fantastical. Her hands go into her pockets and she gestures toward him with a shrug of her shoulder.

"Are the subjects of everyone else's devotion so present as yours? Can you sense or otherwise detect them yourself?"

xxforsaken-angelxx "I'm not the lonely type. But I met 'em when I was like...five-ish? Which is young, for us. I had more resources than most wrigs would've, an' I just...had a strong pull, I guess."

> A strong pull and a florid imagination. His eyes follow hers before he can get too wrapped up in thinking about his old hive life, though. If it were anybody else, he'd be glad to show her around the ship. There were constant visitors on the Hydromatic, so one more wouldn't be terribly out of place.

> As long as they were like, actual Imperial citizens with travel paperwork. And not of a blood color that didn't exist here. So unfortunately that wasn't happening, even if they both wished it would.

"...I don't think everybody's are. Kinda depends. But magic just has a vibe, I can feel that usually."

chimericarchitect > ...Huh. What if he's picking up magic vibes off of her? Wicked undid those... locks or whatever, and she did attend a single quarter of lessons at the magic college, even if she was pretty much fully incompetent with her abilities. She would think, 'nah, they're totally different things probably,' but here she is and she can sense his angels, so... maybe not? But maybe it's like, a warlock thing, rather than strictly a magic thing. She doesn't have a magic sugardaddy hovering around her twenty-four seven for him to detect. Or even like. Sugardaddy La Croix. Residual sugardaddy. Hint of having been near a sugardaddy that might have side-eyed her once.

"Well, the angels seem really pleasant and friendly, and if that says anything about you then, heh." Even with all of her training Saness's face is soft, tender cheeks squishing firm when she smiles. It doesn't stretch like Grinmaww's or Ringleader's. "How old do clowns normally take on a patron?"

xxforsaken-angelxx > The magic here *was* different from magic elsewhere, but mostly in how certain the clowns were of its mechanics. Magic was considered an action, a movement of energy. It wasn't something just sitting around in people willy nilly, in their minds. Without something actively magical lying around, there was nothing he was attuned to sense.

> His face softened a little at her compliment, and a small "Aww" slipped out before he could think it through.

"It uh, depends though. Six is when most people really start socializin' online, and that's a big factor for decidin' to participate in the faith. So seven-ish is the most common for gettin' serious with contactin' things, as far as I know."

chimericarchitect > A little 'o,' either of interest or surprise, anoints her.

"Did you meet them before you met any other clowns or joined the faith then?"

xxforsaken-angelxx > His eyebrows raise a little.

"Before I met any other clowns, yeah. But I was pretty set on being involved since I could read what I had about it."

chimericarchitect "Did I ask something strange? Sorry."

> Saness tries to play it cool, another pretty flash of a somewhat sheepish smile, but she is a weenie and the lift of Grinmaww's eyebrows causes her to fret a secret amount.

xxforsaken-angelxx > He tries to look reassuring. Or as reassuring as a much taller goth clown can.

"Nah. Just haven't had anybody ask that. Nobody really asks an heir how they started, y'know?"

chimericarchitect > It works, she's as easily reassured as she is unsettled. Intent is always WAY more important than appearances to little ol' Saness. She tilts her head, birdlike. Why *wouldn't* anyone ask?

"Well... How *did* you start?"

xxforsaken-angelxx > Eridan stews on that for a second, digging through his memories of his old swamp hive for the answer he was looking for. Then, when he found it, he very seriously said:

"Clown grubby books."

chimericarchitect > Her mouth opens, and then it closes. She considers this. Raises a finger. Opens her mouth again with the sound of an H turning to a W, then closes it again. A hum. The finger lowers.

xxforsaken-angelxx > He watches her flounder, and provides nothing. There's a smile in his eyes. Specifically a :o)

chimericarchitect > It ends with her giggling, one arm crossing her front to rub at the other. Her general demeanor has an air of vulnerability at the shift, gentle and earnest in both the way she speaks and the way she looks at him, smiling soft as a peach. Saness's eyes still gleam to an unnatural degree, the ever-present predator, but she's about as scary as a snail covered in dew drops.

"Sorry, that sounds really cute Grinmaww... Were they pop-up books? I hope you had a pop-up book, I have a little collection of those, I think they're very charming..."

xxforsaken-angelxx > He ends up laughing back at her, crossing his arms and actually smiling a little. She's so cute? She's so cute. Why does everything happen so much.

"Of course they were pop-up books. Like just one of 'em but what kinda church would we be if the grubby book wasn't a pop-up one. That'd be bullshit."

chimericarchitect > Her smile widens eagerly, the rubbing arm stopping in more the fashion of a half-formed self-hug.

"I wish I could read them. Obviously it inspired little you? You're here and all, and you seem happy to."

xxforsaken-angelxx "I sure am. Love this place, always have."

> He glances at one of his bookshelves in particular, scanning for a particular spot and then stammering.

"I uh- I still have the pop-up one. Like just a newer copy, lying around. You could, uh...I'd let you borrow it, for as long as you have the tubes, if you want. It's not like it has anything too secret."

chimericarchitect > Saness covers her mouth when she starts laughing this time, both hands. It lasts a good moment, eyes scrunched up with a fond sort of mirth once more. She's been charmed, how dare he. Like really, how dare he. This isn't the troll she made this trip to make friends with!

> And yet, she can't say she minds the direction this is going. Not one bit. What a good place this must be with leadership like this.

> She lowers her hands to rib-height, curled into loose and amicable fists.

"Really?" She pauses to nibble her lower lip, literally biting back another short string of giggles. "If you don't mind, I'd very much like that. Really."

xxforsaken-angelxx > Phththhghbhbhb, goes the clown. There's indignant hand waving and everything. He's trying to be NICE and she has the AUDACITY to like. Handle it in a playful friendly way. Rude.

"I don't mind at all, just lemme fuckin-"

> He strides over to the bookshelf in question, pulling out the thick little book from the spot it's been tucked away in, among serious magical tomes.

> The cover has a generic looking purpleblood wriggler, notably un-goth. They're curled up against a sheeplike lusus in a cool-toned forest scene, watching a glittery butterfly float overhead. A gold whimsical font proclaims that "Magic is Everywhere!"

> He shows her this for a second, then places it next to the other things she came here for.

chimericarchitect > Look at this guy. What a guy! A guy who keeps a copy of his wrigglerhood pop-up book in his block! A guy that would lend it to a near-stranger with a smile! A guy that bends and breaks the rules to do whatever is best or most interesting! A guy that doesn't get annoyed when he makes other people laugh! A guy with a really impressive propeller hand dance!

"What, you aren't going to flip through it with me? Don't you want to take a trip down memory lane with your new friend~?"

> Saness flounces along in Grinmaww's wake, leaning around him to rappa-tap a dance of her claws on the cover before he can fully rid himself of the book. She no longer minds the increased density of his aura by proximity, having decided that yes, they are friends now. It's a mostly-sincere question carried on a teasing tone that leaves him room to turn her down without anything getting awkward; he can brush her off as playing or he can take her seriously and crack open the book, and neither answer would be wrong.

xxforsaken-angelxx > Her hands get lightly swatted away. Bap, bap bap. It's kind of fortunate that he has a boyfriend now and everything, otherwise he'd still be terribly unused to people just...approaching him.

"Look, if I'm gonna give this thing to my 'new friend~'," he says, mimicking her badly, "Then I want you to enjoy this the proper way, which is all curled up at hive or whatever. It's the cozy kind of wriggler book. Don't at me."

chimericarchitect > Saness accepts her defeat with wiggly fingers, politely stepping back out of the range of his personal space. She is a self-satisfied creature.

"Cozy wriggler book, you've got it."

> She stuffs her mitts back into her pockets (all better, no touchy) and resumes rocking from heel to toe, watching Grinmaww with interest.

"I have so many more questions for you, but like, I realize this wasn't supposed to be a social visit and you are a very busy troll." Gotta check in. Gotta give him an out.

xxforsaken-angelxx > He settles back into leaning up against his desk, all casual like. But clearly with his feathers playfully ruffled. If it weren't for the paint there'd probably be a bit of a blush...which Saness might can guess anyways, with how much time she spends with clowns.

"Nah, I don't mind. Once I'm off work it's not like there's anything I'm supposed to be doin'."

> That and he's really enjoying her company. But he can't just like, say those words out loud, right?

chimericarchitect > That's enough of an invitation for her! Beaming, Saness makes an invisible 'desk' out of her psi and leans back against it, copying him like the silliest roly-poly.

"Great! You're even cooler than I'd hoped, I like talking to you."

> Apparently she can just say whatever the fuck she wants, unabashed while in her element. A single clap!

"Tell me about your lusus!"

xxforsaken-angelxx > There's clear amusement in her parroting, but also...a lack of questioning how the fuck she's doing that. Miming is a pretty common skill around here, after all.

"A goat? But like, a fish goat. An angler fish goat. Real big fucker that'd go around the swamp eating basically anything."

> There was a bit of disdain in his voice. It's fairly obvious that he didn't have a *great* opinion of his goat figure.

"Think I gotta pass that one back at you, though. What was your lusus like?"

chimericarchitect "Uh, well..."

> She would be more phased by having bonked so clumsily into the Makara-standard experience of bad wriggler-lusus relations, but Grinmaww just asked a bit of a tricky question. It's obvious that Saness has to really consider how to answer this; for a moment she even looks off to the side, brow pinched.

"I don't really remember my lusus. I had a guardian, and she was a troll."

> The "sort of" that follows is said lower. How does one smoothly segway into 'I have amnesia and also the troll that looked after me when I came-to was actually some kind of life-force golem'? The answer is, you don't. You just don't.

xxforsaken-angelxx > Obviously there's curiosity that arises from that 'sort of.' Like, sort of a troll or sort of a guardian? It's an easy follow-up, and one he doesn't take. Instead, he gives her a somewhat sympathetic look.

"You don't gotta talk about it if you don't want to."

> It's said both sincerely and flatly. He's not effected by whatever emotions she has around the subject, but is okay with them. No judgement, but lots of instinctual professionalism.

chimericarchitect "R-right..."

> The flat tone doesn't feel like it fits with the sympathetic look. Saness does not thrive in professional or formal environments, and even the gentle stiffness is enough for her to trip and flounder over. What is she *supposed* to say? Is this one of those secret codeword things people do when they like someone and want to be polite, but don't actually want to hear what they have to say?

> And besides... *Does* she want to talk about it? It's reflex to say 'no she doesn't,' and that coupled with the above is enough to sway her decision.

"I don't believe I ever got around to asking. Are limebloods extinct in this timeline?"

xxforsaken-angelxx > He *would* be interested, but he's not... supposed to be. Being a boss has it's tolls, one of them happening to be that he has a firm habit of not prying too hard. Any piece of extra information is something that can trip up the works of Imperial bureaucracy.

> So she takes her out and he lets it be, moving on to answering her next question as if nothing happened.

"Yeah, they are. Though the real dock against you is the fact that you don't have paperwork for existin' here. Like, you could go all hemo-anon or whatever an not stand out, but not havin' a travel record would get you in trouble real quick."

chimericarchitect > She's quick to focus on this new topic, grasping at it a bit like a life raft. It was one little hiccup, everything is fiiiiine.

"Really? Travel record? ...I implanted an identity to assume on an Earth once so that I could open a bank account and a few other things, but like, I imagine something like that might be a bit more difficult in this timeline. Earth is just... Not very savvy. Then again, on a standard Alternia, there are LOTS of available identities to assume, trolls die super constantly on the ground..."

> Grim thoughts are grim, and Saness makes a face. This line of thought isn't pleasant, and she isn't neutral about it, no matter how plainly she likes to talk about it.

"Who even checks for those? Everyone I pass in the hall? Do you have to confirm your I.D. at every doorway?"

xxforsaken-angelxx > Eridan points up towards the ceiling and gestures around.

"Cameras. There aren't any in here, but they're pretty much everywhere else. Anyone out of place would get spotted immediately, an' then you'd get flagged down for some questions."

> There's an attempt to not make the word "questions" in that sound ominous. An attempt. But the eyes of the Hydromatic were in fact everywhere.

chimericarchitect "Oh, so the 'travel records' are digital, and Hydromatic can identify people and locate aforementioned records on the spot, and if something doesn't line up, then yadda yadda? Or do you mean, Hydromatic would send security after me or whoever else walked mysteriously out of a closet because they're just *that aware* of every single familiar face and *that aware* of who has gone where? Because, I've got-"

> Saness grabs for her wallet chain, pulling the end of it out of her back pocket. It's definitely still not attached to a wallet; it's attached to a retro sylladex!

"I've got..."

> Operating this thing is not efficient. She's still flipping through it... There's a reason technology moved on without this little pocket-lunk.

"I've got this amulet, it was a gift. A disguise amulet..."

> Fwip fwip fwip... She just wants to show him a neat trick, man... Why does this have to be so har-AHA!!

> With a declaration of triumph, she retrieves a very simple locket on a very simple chain, proudly holding it aloft and grinning mischief at Grinmaww.

xxforsaken-angelxx > He just...lets her. He's the one with an even more old-fashioned looking computer sitting behind him. But he has no idea what exactly a 'disguise amulet' implies. Like, it *feels* magic, but there's a lot of extents that thing could go to. Instead, he just answers her questions.

"It's like a facial recognition system, just with an actual pair of eyes as a step in the process. If you're authorized to be on board here, and also to be in whatever rooms you're goin' in, then everything's fine, mostly."

chimericarchitect > Saness nods along, but she only half-cares about the answer to her question. It's not like she's going to be skulking about on the ship.

"Okay, so, check this out. Do you have any printed photos? Small ones, or ones you don't mind being folded? Magazine cutouts count, it'd just be cooler if it's someone that you recognize from this timeline rather than whoever I have in my pocket."

xxforsaken-angelxx "Uh-"

> Now it's his turn to awkwardly fumble around for something. He turns to start going through his desk drawer, pushing around this and that. There was a lot in the damn things. A few pipes, art supplies, spare papers, weed...

> Eventually he found a photo tucked away amongst it all, and handed it over.

> It's a picture that was only able to print halfway for some reason or another, leaving only one person in the image. Said person is Nymede, the Hydromatic's lead IT specialist. She was in an open shoulder top and hot pants and fishnets, with big fuzzy legwarmers. Her face was half obscured by a gas mask, and she had bright purple and fuchsia hair extensions.

> She was...probably in the helmsblock, or near it, there was biowire visible behind her, but there was no sign of Hydromatic themselves.

chimericarchitect > Is it void nonsense? A lack of ink? Some sort of printer malfunction? A certain helm being fussy about their picture being taken and purposely botching the job? The world may never know, and further, the world is unconcerned. Saness accepts the photo and gleefully pops open the locket. There was already a photo inside - one of Saness that has been color-edited to have black hair and ordinary teal eyes - that she hastily replaces with the photo of this very Fashion(tm) clown person. She gives it a playful jostle once it's closed away.

"Now, hang on, this is the cool part-"

> The moment she slips the locket over her head, Saness is no longer standing in the room. Instead, in every physically perceivable way, Nymede has replaced her. Eeach visible detail is accurate to the picture, and Saness-as-Nymede gives a little twirl.

"Tadaaa...!"

> It doesn't alter her voice, unfortunately, and Saness still sounds like herself. She moves like herself too, despite whatever change in height there may be, fluffy legwarmers flouncing realistically to match.

xxforsaken-angelxx "Wow what the fuck."

> That was. Perhaps less enthused sounding than he intended, and he cracks up the second after that leaves his mouth.

"Man, what the *fuck*-"

> It is perhaps somewhat alarming to see a perfect clone of your friend, even if you think it's fucking hilarious. Boy is it realistic, though. He saw Nymede just tonight, and he wouldn't have thought twice if she'd been able to mimic her voice. Scary, but incredibly impressive!

chimericarchitect "Isn't it neat? It's basically a hologram. The projection is magic and it has the most basic of shells to give an amount of resistance when touched, but if you pressed against it you would sink through until you touched me. When used to mimic smaller things, the parts that hang out turn completely invisible, but can still knock into things if you aren't careful."

> While she talks Saness is wafting Nymede's arm back and forth, looking it over herself. She has back some of the same energy she came in with, the excitable quickness to the way she carries her borrowed form bleeding into how quickly she talks.

> She pauses only a moment, snapping her attention from Nymede's arm to Grinmaww's face. There's more she wants to say and show him, but she's not the type to sprint on ahead without someone.

xxforsaken-angelxx > He's following along, mostly, the way someone tends to when they're fascinated by something they don't *really* understand. Holograms were a thing in common use here, hard light was something he understood in theory, using magic to create tech-like results was...imaginable, at least?

> Which amounted as far as it being conceivable, and him having no idea how the fuck something like that would actually be made. Miracles, man.

"Neat is a real fuckin' understatement for that."

chimericarchitect > She chuckles and goes to remove the locket, zooping back to her regular appearance with a sideways flicker as soon as the chain is off her neck.

"You can even disguise things as people, or people as things, or things as other things..."

> Saness looks around the room for an easy target that doesn't look like something personal or sensitive, something she could feasibly loop the chain around.

"...and you can keep the chain on the object you want to disguise while keeping the locket somewhere else, it will continue to function so long as neither are destroyed..."

xxforsaken-angelxx > There are, frankly, a lot of Things in this room, so there's a lot of potential targets. There's several large quartz samples of different colors that could easily have the locket wrapped around, or some of his jars of common herbs like rosemary and thyme. Or for something even safer looking, she could nab a big black candle.

> That last part is what really surprised him, though. The parts could work separately? The locket didn't have to be on the chain? It wasn't just the locket that did the thing? How the FUCK did this thing WORK?

chimericarchitect > Badda-boom, she slips the locket off of the chain and wraps the pretty metal in a loose cascade over an unsuspecting candle. Nymede appears where it was, but nearly completely physically static. If the candle was lit, she'll be wobbling her head around in a way that could be considered eerie, mimicking the flames with the limitations of hair and a neck.

> What's more, a candle is much smaller than a person, and... the projection seems to shiver and warp a lot like it is strained, glitching in a way that Nymede *definitely should not be moving* in. Saness seems to find these wild distortions and unnatural behaviors to be entirely hilarious, pointing up at her and giving the whole thing a very good laugh.

xxforsaken-angelxx > It was not lit, just sitting around waiting for use. But that only mitigated the weirdness of this somewhat. Like, here was one of his best friends, in lifelike form, magically superimposed over a candle when she really shouldn't be. The whole thing wibbled around with the uncanniness of a wax figure and the function of spaghetti code.

> He also thought it was fucking hilarious, and laughed with her.

chimericarchitect > They'll likely spend a moment in shared laughter before Saness reaches into the illusion to fumble around and remove the chain. As before, Nymede stretches sideways and zlorps out of existence.

> Saness is still a bit breathy with laughter when she speaks.

"See, that's... I can be anyone, or anything, except maybe - pppbb - a candle, or a spoon, haha!"

xxforsaken-angelxx "That's fuckin' mindbogglin' to me. But impressive as long as you're not tryin' to dodge the guards with bobblehead candle clowns."

> He shakes his head, still giggling a bit. What a time to be alive and in charge of this joint.

"I've been doin' magic for a long ass time an' I've never gotten to see shit like that.

chimericarchitect > A bit more laughter and apparently show-and-tell is over, because Saness is putting her magic tool back into her sylladex - but she courteously remembers to take out the picture and offer it back toward Grinmaww on an open palm.

"The multiverse is a vast place and... I guess I've seen a lot of things!"

> Actually, it was talking to Pierce before that really put it into perspective. She's a veteran of mystery...

xxforsaken-angelxx > The picture gets placed back roughly where it was before, in one of his desk drawers. Possibly not even the same desk drawer? There are only so many things that can be in his goth mind at one time.

"Guess so," he says. "And guess I haven't seen much at all."

> Which was solely exciting to him, really. There was nothing he loved more than learning about the way everything flowed along in the universe. All a vast *multi*verse meant was he never had to stop.

chimericarchitect > Prrp! Saness proceeds to brush herself down for reasons unknown, satisfied with his response. There is a threshold here that needs to be respected, and unlike some of her friends, she's going to try and reel it in before crossing it.

"There are a lot of things I could show you, but I think maybe that's enough for a first meeting. I may not be the most vibrant or interesting tour guide, but I am a willing and attentive one!"

xxforsaken-angelxx > There's a small scoff at that second part, immediately.

"You're plenty vibrant. I do think we're good on the touring for now though, yeah."

> His hand creeps a little towards the collection of things he's supposed to be passing along to her. It's that business instinct again.

chimericarchitect > That was? A compliment? Yeah, no, it's cool. It's COOL. She sure hopes it's a compliment and not some sign that she overwhelmed him though, but if it is then man, it sure does sound like Grinmaww is completely clueless, he should meet her friends, *they're* the vibrant ones... And probably also very literally insane.

> She doesn't fuss when he moves them toward the end of their visit, quirky in her lopsided-smile sort of way. Saness rocks on her toes with her hands jammed deep into her pockets. She'll wait politely for him to gather himself up and bring this meeting to a close; it is his place, after all. Grinmaww is the floor master.

xxforsaken-angelxx > The look he gives her seems to support the compliment theory... But a moment later he's distracted. No objection, time to give her the things. The picture book first, and then the two psychic tube-y things. They're neatly labeled with label machine stickers, one from Pierce and one from Grinmaww.

> They actually came out pretty distinct looking. Both of the glow bits are lit a similar shade of purple, but Grinmaww's is...actually a good bit fainter. He's never really had any other chances to compare himself, though, so it doesn't even strike him as odd. Pierce is just good at shit like this, obviously.

chimericarchitect > Her hands are freed from her pockets! In order! To accept a darling pop-up book! And the actual tools she came for!

"Thanks so much for being such a good sport. I'll get the bracers and your cozy grubby book back to you as soon as I've finished!"

> They disappear from her palms, slorped up by her sylladex like so much loose spaghetti.

"It will take me a little longer than normal to complete these though, as I'm uh, a little bit preoccupied back at hive."

xxforsaken-angelxx > He shrugs, and...smiles just a little. Why must she be so goddamn pleasant all the time always.

"That's fine. Ain't like there's any rush anyways. Just get 'em back when you can."

> There's a moment of realization on his face when he remembers that she's just going to like...zap out of herself out of here. And not use a door. Which means that normal farewell dialogue cues weren't going to happen.

"It was uh, real nice seein' you an' all man."

chimericarchitect > Saness wouldn't know a normal dialogue cue if it bit her full on the bulge, farewell or otherwise.

"Somenight we'll have to figure out how to swap tours for realsies!"

> Rather than saying goodbye or returning the compliment like a civilized or well-adjusted troll, she gives her new friend a big smile and an even bigger dwarpy salute, turning on her heel for dramatic effect as the crackly light consumes her once more.

> Just like that, she is gone.

#ooc #logs.txt #(( featuring 20 questions with saness and silliness #(( with a small side of plot #(( no warnings needed

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chain-unchained · 5 years

Text

August 15

The Luau had truly marked the midway point for the summer season, with temperatures steadily decreasing since then. It was still uncomfortably hot with all the humidity, but at least no one felt like they were melting if they stepped outside. Even more than that, it seemed like a sort of sleepy lull had befallen the townsfolk; everything was just… chilled out and mellow, almost as if they were enjoying an extended food coma from all of the food they’d eaten that day on the beach.

But today, that peaceful tranquility for Ashe was just nowhere to be found. It was as though every malevolent spirit was in a bad mood and took it all out on him, cursing him with what could only be described as awful luck. It started as soon as he’d woken up, with him catching his foot on his blanket when he’d gotten out of bed—not only did he end up faceplanting on the floor, the blanket snagged on an exposed nail in the bed frame and got a huge tear ripped into it. Then when he was about to have breakfast, he dropped the bowl he was getting out from the cupboards, and it predictably shattered upon impact with the floor.

It didn’t stop there; as he’d been picking up the pieces of broken porcelain, he managed to cut his finger on one, and Blue chose that moment to vomit up a massive, disgusting hairball right in the middle of the living room floor, before casually trotting out the dog-door to enjoy the morning sunlight outside. Ashe had sincerely hoped that the bad luck was just isolated to inside the house, but no, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Just as he’d finished cleaning up Blue’s mess, he could hear his sweet little cat yowling and making quite the racket outside; alarmed by the sounds he’d never heard coming from the kitty, Ashe threw open the door with more force than intended, and he could only watch as the door fell forward out of the frame and hit the porch with a mighty thud. The sound made Blue—and the skunk that he had been scrapping with—jump from fright, with the skunk skittering away into the surrounding forest. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like Blue had gotten hurt or sprayed, but Ashe’s heart sank when he realized that the skunk had gone to town on his melon patch, the one crop he was really banking on to make some serious G that season. Picking up the door and resting it against the exterior of the house for the time being, Ashe hastily traipsed down the porch steps to make sure Blue was really alright—and in his second fall of the day, he caught his foot on his baggy pj bottoms and faceplanted again in the dirt at the bottom of the steps.

“…. It’s going to be a really long day…” He mumbled, just lying there for a moment as he let out a long breath and as Blue came over to make sure his human was alright.

Things just kept snowballing from there. A falling tree narrowly avoided hitting the chicken coop, instead taking out the fence that Ashe had painstakingly built up around it to give the hens some grazing room. When he went to fix the fence, the head of his hammer fell off and landed on his foot. His watering can sprung a giant leak, making it twice as hard to water the crops.

“Having a bad morning, farmer?” Percy called with a smirk, leaning on the fence dividing their parcels of land as he watched Ashe struggle with the morning tasks. “Goodness, I certainly wouldn’t want to be in your shoes right now. You know, now would be a good time to call it quits~”

It was the last thing that Ashe wanted to hear. “I am not giving up!” He snapped, visibly fuming as he limped over to the well to fill his watering can for the tenth time. “Maybe you would give up, but I’m tougher than that.”

“Goodness, it was only a suggestion.” Percy rested his chin in his hand and clucked his tongue derisively. “No need to get nasty, I was merely making conversation… I will admit though, I haven’t the faintest idea why you’ve held out this long. You never struck me as a prideful person.”

“It’s not pride.” Ashe marched up to where Percy was leaning against the fence and glared up at him. “Debts are supposed to be forgiven when people die. I won’t let Joja take anything else from me.”

“…. Well, it’s not exactly up to you now is it.” Percy felt maybe just the smallest twinge of sympathy. Joja certainly had a knack for ruining lives. “We’ll just have to see how you fare at the end of the wager.”

His frame visibly trembling, Ashe turned sharply on his heel. “Just you watch. I’m going to win and send you and Morris packing.” He promised, marching back towards his thirsty crops and wincing every step of the way as his foot throbbed. He was already in a poor mood thanks to the cascade of unlucky events, but the conversation with Percy just soured it even more.

Shane’s head throbbed painfully with each beat of his heart, a reminder to him of his grand fuck-up the day before. Morris had made his displeasure about Shane getting Fridays off known, and made up a bullshit alternative schedule that had him coming in on the weekends when it was rainy. That wasn’t so bad during the summer, when rainy days were scarce, but he knew why Morris had picked such obscure conditions for him to come in: the weekends were his time off, and making him trudge through the rain on his days off was just exquisite torture. Needless to say, the day before had been thunderstorm central.

To top it off, a tour bus had stopped in town on its way to Zuzu City and flooded Joja Mart with obnoxious tourists, most of whom were waving around expired 80% off coupons at Shane as though they’d expected him to honor them—when he wasn’t even manning a register. It was all just too much for him on a day that was already crummy enough to begin with, and he left work with a six pack tucked under his jacket, going through the entire thing while he sat in his dark room and watched reruns of Jimmy Kimmel.

He was pissed off and ashamed of himself for relapsing like that. There was no excuse for it, it wasn’t like bad days were never going to happen once he quit drinking. And because of it, he missed out on reading Jas her bedtime story, something he had really come to look forward to and enjoy since becoming sober. It just made him feel like more of a failure than he already did. And then on top of all of that, he’d gotten next to no sleep thanks to an annoying cough…

Unable to face his family, Shane left the ranch early and went to his quiet place at the pond to just… sit and think. It gave him a sense of serenity and peace to be there, even with the negative associations he had to the Cindersap forest itself. There was just something deeply calming and cleansing about listening to the gentle lapping of the water, the sound of the wind brushing through the trees, the chitter-chatter of the squirrels and chipmunks as they bustled to and fro… it almost reminded him of the feeling he got whenever Ashe was around.

“…. Dammit, Marnie…” Letting out the breath he had been holding in a long exhale, Shane couldn’t help himself from trying to hold that conversation against his aunt. “Why’d you have to put that idea in my head…?”

Twice now since she’d mentioned telling Ashe how he felt, Shane had dreamed of the farmer. Not the lustful sort of dreams that young folks had when they had someone they fancied, thank Yoba for that—although to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he would rather have had those dreams instead of the mushy, gushy, romantic sort that he actually did. Dreams of long walks down the beach hand in hand and nights spent watching the stars together. It was embarrassing, and he had this irrational fear that Ashe would somehow read his mind and find out that he’d been having them and get creeped out.

For a long while, Shane sat at the end of the pier, lost in his thoughts as he stared out at the calm surface of the pond. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when he heard the familiar tmp-tmp of Ashe’s boots against the wood several hours later. It was like he said that one night, Ashe had a real knack for showing up when he was in a bad mood. He was surprised when Ashe forwent any sort of greeting and just sort of plopped down beside him, casting his fishing pole out into the water without a word. “…Hey dweeb.”

“Hey dork.” Ashe responded without missing a beat.

“Heh. Takes one to know one, ya dingus.” Shane caught the look on his friend’s face. “… You having a bad day too?”

“Mmhm...” After several moments, Ashe realized that he might have just rudely barged in on Shane’s quiet time. “Um… sorry if I interrupted your peace and quiet. I can leave if you want.”

The apology drew a quiet snort from Shane. “Since when did you start apologizing for that? And it’s fine anyway.” Looking away from Ashe, he fell quiet for a minute, before finally admitting in a quiet voice, “I fucked up, Ashe. I got completely trashed last night…” He couldn’t hide the frustration in his voice; it sucked, and it sucked even more that he was saying it to one of the people he didn’t want to let down. With a cough he masked as him clearing his throat, he continued derisively, “I was doing pretty damn good, but I just had to go and screw it up… Yoba, I hate myself sometimes.”

“Don’t say that!” Ashe practically shouted, whipping to the side to look at Shane with an expression of exasperation. “You won’t get better until you love yourself, because otherwise you won’t think that you’re worth the effort.”

Shane hadn’t expected such an explosive reaction to the comment. If he hadn’t figured out that Ashe had been having a rough day before, he would have figured it out now. “I only said sometimes. Calm down…”

“Nnno.” Ashe huffed, shifting closer and wagging his index finger in indignation. “In fact, I want to hear you say you love yourself.” It was a demand that caught Shane even more off-guard, especially with just how outrageous it seemed to him; silence fell between the two as they just stared at each other. “…. I’m serious, Shane.”

“I know, and I can’t decide how I should feel about that.” Shane turned away from his friend and coughed again. “Either way, I’m not saying that.”

“Say it.” Ashe insisted emphatically as he puffed out his cheeks. “Say, ‘I love myself’.”

“Fuck off, Ashe. I’m not saying—”

Shane felt Ashe’s presence closer than it had ever been before, with Ashe’s face mere inches away from his own as he gave him a look. “Shaaaane…”

Considering all the confusing feelings he’d been ruminating on before Ashe showed up that day, having him be that close made Shane’s heart skip a beat inside his chest. Unable to withstand his friend’s unrelenting assault, he looked away with a defeated scowl. “…. I love myself.” He mumbled.

“’I’m only human’.” Ashe pressed him to repeat.

“I’m only human.”

“’I’m worth the effort’.”

“… I’m worth the effort.”

Satisfied, Ashe finally sat back, and Shane was able to let out the long breath he’d been holding. “Sorry, but hearing you say that you hate yourself is just… frustrating. There’s so much good about you that you don’t see.”

“Alright, Mr. Psychologist.” Shane leaned forward to rest his arms against his knees. “…. What exactly do you think is so good about me, anyway?”

“Are you kidding?” Ashe looked to him again, his eyes sparkling as his mind filled with what he admired about his friend. “You’re hardworking, you’re great with animals, you have this big huge heart that has so much love for Jas and Marnie and chickens and pepper poppers and pizza—”

“Okay, I get it—”

“—you never quit even when you’re fed up, you’re strong, you’re dedicated—”

“Ashe, you can stop now—”

“—you know so much about chickens, you’re funny, you’re kind, you’re handsome—” This time Ashe stopped himself, his face turning a brilliant crimson as he realized what had just slipped out; Shane had undeniably heard it too, as his own face became tinted red. They stared at each other for a moment before looking away, with both of them clearing their throats awkwardly. “Um… so, that’s… just some of the things that are great about you…”

Silence fell between them again. “… Thanks, Ashe.” Shane managed to utter, the corners of his mouth turning up just a little. “I don’t know how you do it, but you always manage to keep me from spiraling back down into that dark abyss. I really appreciate you…” This time it was him who had a slip of the tongue. “You doing that for me.” He quickly corrected as he cleared his throat again.

“Y-You don’t have to thank me for that…” Ashe hunched his shoulders a little as a shy smile came onto his face; hearing that from Shane made him really happy, even with the correction. “It’s what friends do.”

The tip of his fishing pole dipped down as he felt a tug on the line. “Oh!” Hastily he began to reel, sitting up a bit straighter as Shane watched. “Yay, I thought I was never going to get a bite. Maybe my luck’s finally turning around~”

“Is that why your day’s been shit?” Shane asked, resting his chin in his hand. “Bad luck?”

“Yeah. Today’s been really rough because of it—” As he spoke, the fish on the other end of the line was fighting tooth and nail, causing the pole to bend sharply. And as if to prove the point, the line abruptly snapped, causing the pole to whip back and smack Ashe square in the face with a sound that made Shane wince. “….”

“That… looked like it hurt.” Shane actually felt bad for him. “Shit, are you bleeding? Here, let go of the pole for a second.” Concerned, he took hold of Ashe’s hands to pry the pole out of them so he could get a look at his face, completely forgetting the tension that had been between the two of them a few moments prior. “Yeesh, yeah, looks like it cut the bridge of your nose… you really weren’t kidding about your luck, were you?”

“No….” Ashe felt a lump form in his throat as a thin trail of blood ran down from the small gash one of the guide rings on the pole had given him. He’d finally hit his breaking point. “No, I wasn’t…. everything I’ve tried today has gone wrong…”

“Ashe?” Shane heard the crumbling in his friend’s voice; before his eyes, the happy, bubbly, always sunny farmboy buried his face in his hands and hunched over, his shoulders heaving with silent sobs. “Whoa—h-hey, it’s gonna be okay. It’s just some bad luck. It’ll pass.”

Seeing Ashe break down like that actually hurt Shane’s crusty old heart. As much as he wanted to give him the same sort of comfort that Ashe had given to him when he was at his lowest, that just wasn’t something that came naturally to him. It was all he could do to pat his friend’s shoulder, and he hated that he couldn’t do more; the only other thing he could think to do was hug him, but… he wasn’t sure if that would be the right thing to do, for either of them.

“I-I know…” Ashe felt stupid for crying over something so trivial, but he really couldn’t help it. It had all just gotten to him, especially since he’d gotten his hopes up that his luck was getting better. “I-I’m just being stupid…. I-I’m s-sorry…”

“Whoa, hey, you knock that crap off.” Shane was having none of that; if he wasn’t allowed to self-deprecate, then neither was Ashe. “Aren’t you the one always going on about how you can’t help how you feel? You don’t get to pick and choose what applies to me and what doesn’t apply to you, buddy. It either applies to us both, or neither, so you don’t get to say that about yourself. Say it with me now: ‘I love myself, and I’m only human’.”

“….” Ashe sniffled, peeking out from between his fingers with a tearful half-laugh; he’d gotten played at his own game. “I love myself… a-and I’m only human.” He repeated obediently, before he let himself fall backwards to lie back on the pier. “… Is this kind of how you used to feel…?”

“What, like everything you try to do is going to go wrong so why even bother? Yeah, that’s pretty much on point.” Shane leaned back against his hands, looking up at the crystal clear sky with Ashe as a gentle breeze brushed past them. “After awhile, you learn to stay in a shell… but… you showed me that things don’t have to stay that way if I don’t let them. That if I work hard enough, things will pass and get better. And that’s the truth for anyone, not just me. So cry if you need to cry. Get it all out of your system, so you can pick yourself back up and smile that dumb smile of yours again.”

“…. Hehe…” Just hearing that was enough to bring Ashe’s smile back. “I never thought I’d hear that kind of stuff coming from you~ That’s much nicer to hear than the stuff you used to say.”

“I’m pretty sure your blind optimism started rubbing off on me. I feel like such a tool saying cheesy shit like that.” The scratchiness in Shane’s throat made it almost impossible to finish what he was saying, feeling like he’d swallowed a load of pine needles that were all jabbing him in the back of it. The sensation made him sputter into a series of coughs, hastily covering his mouth and nose with the collar of his jacket as he turned away from Ashe to try and mask it.

“Shane?” Alarmed, Ashe quickly sat back up. “Are you okay?”

“F-Fine—” Shane held his hand up in an attempt to assure Ashe he was okay. “I-I’m f-fine—J-Just got a tickle i-in my throat--”

As if the coughing wasn’t bad enough, as if the scratchy, prickly throat wasn’t enough, a wave of dizziness slammed into him like a semi-truck out of nowhere, sending the world around him swaying from side to side. “Sh-shit…” He might have overdone it by coming out there for so long that day, especially under the blazing sun with nothing to drink.

More than a little worried, Ashe shifted closer, patting Shane’s back as his brows knitted together. “You don’t sound fine… Yoba, that cough sounds just awful.”

“I-I told you, I’m f-fine.” Shane tried to clear his throat to make the coughing stop, which didn’t actually do anything. Feeling something cool brush against his forehead, he realized that Ashe was trying to see if he had a fever, and instinctively knocked his hand away. “Q-Quit it, Ashe, I don’t like my f-face being touched.”

“You’re sick.”

Well, shit. “I-I am not. I don’t g-get… sick…” Trying to play it off, Shane’s attempt at deflection died in his throat as he saw the look on Ashe’s face. Why did the kid look like the world was ending? “D-Don’t give me that look. It’s… probably just a cold, it’s not a big deal.”

“It can turn into a big deal if you don’t take it seriously!” Ashe’s voice was oddly high pitched from his worry and panic. “You need to go back home and rest, right now!”

Maybe he was overreacting. In the back of his head, he knew he probably was. But he was terrified of losing someone precious to him again. “Come on. You’re going to go back home and get right back into bed.”

Shane suddenly found himself being literally pushed along back towards Marnie’s ranch, with the surprisingly strong Ashe behind him, his hands planted on the back of Shane’s shoulders to force him along whether he liked it or not. “Okay, you are seriously overreacting right now.” He said, trying not to prove his friend right by having another coughing fit; if anything, the kid was making him worse by stressing him out like this. “I told you, it’s probably just a weak-ass cold. Why are you making such a big deal about this?”

To his surprise, Ashe stopped pushing, making him feel just the tiniest bit bad for snapping at him like that. “…Because… because my mom thought what she had was ‘just a cold’. Because she didn’t think it was worth it to take care of herself.” His fingers tightly curled around fistfuls of the back of Shane’s jacket as he spoke, his voice much quieter than it usually was. “If… if I had just pushed her to rest, then she wouldn’t have… th-that’s why I can’t let it happen again…”

“…” Now Shane really felt like an asshole, even though it wasn’t his fault. He… really had no idea what Ashe had been through, because Ashe never talked about himself like that. But now he knew why Ashe was acting so over the top; he was gripped by an irrational fear of watching that tragedy play out before his eyes once more. With that knowledge, Shane knew that there was only one way to assuage that fear. “Alright, alright… You win. I’ll take it easy today. So you don’t have to get so worked up over me.”

“…. Promise…?” Ashe’s voice had grown even quieter, his grip on Shane’s jacket loosening.

Shane turned around to look at his friend, who for a moment looked so small, and so… sad. “I promise.” He assured, patting the top of his head reassuringly like he would have to Jas. But the feeling he got when he did it was… different than it was with his goddaughter. “… Well, don’t just stand there. You gonna make sure I actually get my ass in bed, or what?”

The question worked as intended, getting a little half-laugh out of Ashe as he lifted his head and dried his misty eyes on the backs of his hands. “I’ll tie you to the bedposts if I have to.”

“Well aren’t you fucking kinky.” Shane snickered a little. Ashe didn’t seem to get why it was funny to him, instead just giving Shane another light push to get him moving again.

As it turned out, Shane wasn’t the only one in the household with a cold. When the pair stepped into the shop, they could hear the sound of Jas coughing all the way from her room. “Ah, dammit…” Shane muttered, rubbing his face slowly as he let out a sigh. “That’s my fault for getting my germs all over the place.”

“Oh, there you are Shane.” Marnie heard his voice as she came into the shop area, sounding quite congested and stuffed up as she covered her mouth and nose with a kerchief. “Hello, Ashe. Sorry, but I’m closing up shop early today.”

“You too, Marnie?” Ashe’s anxiety cranked all the way up to 11 as he looked between her and Shane. Even though it was such a minor thing, it felt like he was living a nightmare right now.

Marnie laughed a laugh that turned into a gross-sounding cough. “Well, at least I know where we got it from.” She joked, seemingly to be taking it in stride.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Shane apologized. “That fucking group of tourists probably dragged it in with them, and then I dragged it back with my sorry ass…”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Marnie waved her hand airily. “It happens. I’ll get some soup on for all of us—”

“Ohh no, you’re not doing anything but resting.” Ashe interrupted stubbornly, much to her surprise. “You get yourself to bed. I’ll take care of making something for you all to eat, so you just focus on getting better.”

Puzzled by how adamant Ashe was, Marnie looked to Shane, who shrugged his shoulders. “Better just go along with what he says.” He advised with a half-grin. “Otherwise he’ll never let us hear the end of it.”

“… Well, alright then.” Marnie laugh-coughed again. “I won’t turn down a bit of help. Thank you, Ashe.”

Hearing that did much to put Ashe’s mind at ease. “You don’t have to thank me, I haven’t done anything. Go on and rest up, okay? Both of you. I’ll run home and get some food made for you.”

“Would you mind flipping the OPEN sign to closed on your way out?” Marnie asked, to which Ashe nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you, sweetie. I appreciate it.” She couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d taken a sick day, but she could feel it in her bones that she very much needed it.

Shane watched Ashe traipse out the door, feeling just a little bit of concern as he remembered that Ashe was having a really unlucky day. ‘Hope he doesn’t burn himself trying to cook.’He thought to himself, as he and Marnie both headed into their rooms. Changing out of his clothes into his stretchy, breathable shorts and a tank top to sleep in, his mind filled with all sorts of scenarios that his friend could be getting himself into—burning himself, burning the food, burning his house down, cutting himself while trying to prepare the ingredients, tripping as he carried the hot food, running into the table…

‘No, enough of that.’ He chastised himself as he got comfortable in his bed; he’d closed the blinds on his window and turned the TV on for some quiet background noise, so his room was warm and dark. He could feel his eyelids starting to grow heavy, having been more exhausted than he’d first thought he was. ‘Ashe is an adult, he can handle himself… still, though…’ He didn’t get to finish that train of thought; unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

It felt like he’d only just closed his eyes for a second before he felt a gentle hand shaking him from his sleep. “Shane…?” Ashe’s soft voice echoed in his drowsy brain, as he forced his heavy eyes open. “Sorry for waking you up… I brought some soup for you.”

“Ugh… alright, gimme a sec…” With a groan, Shane blindly fumbled for the light switch above his bedside table; he must have been asleep for at least a few hours, as the sunlight that had been peeking through the blinds was all but gone now. He felt considerably worse now, as though lying in bed had given all of the viruses inside his body the opportunity to come together in his muscles and in his head. It took a few seconds, but eventually his fingers found the switch and flicked on it, nearly blinding him as his messy room filled with artificial light. “I dunno how much I’ll be able to eat… uh…”

As he had been speaking, he’d pushed himself to sit up and look at Ashe, who was wearing one of those surgical masks that doctors often wore, and who had for some reason changed his T-shirt for a long sleeved one even though it was still warm outside. “That’s okay.” He said with a smile, holding a tray with a bowl of pale broth and a cup of fresh orange juice in his hands. “You just need to get something in your stomach.”

“Did you go and see Harvey or something?” Shane asked with a raised brow, as Ashe set the tray across his lap.

“Mmhm.” Ashe nodded his head, unconsciously tugging his right sleeve down to cover his hand just a bit more. “I just wanted to play it safe, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s probably smart…” Clearing his scratchy throat, Shane turned his attention to the food before him; he was glad at least that the soup was something plain, since it would be easy on his queasy stomach. It looked like it was also loaded with bits of chopped herbs. “… Kinda went crazy on the herbage, though.”

Ashe puffed his chest out proudly. “Yup. It’s another one of my mom’s recipes. She used to make it when I’d get sick. It’ll bust down a cold in no time, especially when you have orange juice to go along with it.”

“I see…” Shane thought back to the Luau, when he’d complimented his mother’s stuffed tomato recipe. ‘I guess this is his way of keeping her memory close.’ He thought to himself. “In that case, I guess it’d be rude to not eat it.”

Even though he really wasn’t hungry, he picked up the spoon and dipped it into the broth. He was mostly doing it to put Ashe’s mind at ease, since he really doubted that a soup and drink could clear up a cold quickly. To his surprise, the soup had a very light flavor; it wasn’t bland, but it wasn’t extremely salty either, which was good since if it had more punch to it he wouldn’t be able to eat much of it. “This fresh squeezed?” He asked, referring to the juice as he picked up the glass to take a sip.

“Yup~ Fresh from my orange grove.” Ashe sat back on his legs, resting his hands in his lap as he watched Shane sip away on the soup and juice. “Today was actually the first time I’ve gotten a harvest from it, so I’m happy.”

“That so?” Shane took another drink. “Those are some quality oranges you’re growing…. You’ve got some real talent for farming. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d grown up on a farm or something… Uh, you didn’t, did you?”

It was a question that caught Ashe unawares. “Ah… no. I actually grew up in the city. Not Zuzu,” he clarified, seeing the way Shane’s brows went up. “The Capitol. Well, the outskirts of the Capitol. We weren’t nearly rich enough to live in the city proper.” He looked down to his hands and gingerly picked at some fluff on his overalls. “… Maybe we would have had the money for it if Joja didn’t trick my mom into taking on grandpa’s debt.”

He didn’t know why he was saying all of this now. Ever since he’d come to the valley, Ashe had kept his mouth shut tight about his life before the move. He’d wanted so badly to just… put it all behind him, to move on and try to pick up the pieces of his life. But there was no escaping Joja no matter where he went, serving as a constant reminder to what he’d lost and could still lose. It was all something he wanted to keep to himself. But, he found himself able to open up to Shane… much like Shane had been able to open up to him. “… Sorry, I didn’t… mean to bring down the mood like that.” He mumbled in apology, after several seconds of silence between them.

“What are you apologizing for?” Shane glanced over to him as he took another spoonful of soup. “… If you need to talk about it, then talk about it. I’ll listen.”

Ashe jerked his head up to look at Shane, his eyes widening in surprise at the offer. “…. No, it’s okay…” He murmured. “I’m pretty sure I’d cry if I did, and nobody wants to deal with that. Thank you, though. It makes me happy that you care that much—OW!” The yelp escaped him unchecked, as a sharp pain shot up his right wrist from the way he’d been picking at the fluff.

It was sudden and abrupt enough to make Shane jump a little. “What was that?” He asked with raised brows. As Ashe fumbled around for an explanation, his eyes spotted what looked like thick bandages peeking out from under Ashe’s right sleeve. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“N-No, not at all!” Ashe insisted with a laugh, quickly trying to move his hand behind his back—but Shane was one step ahead of him, reaching out to grab onto his sleeve and yank his arm close to see for himself. “O-ow--!”

Unceremoniously, Shane shoved the sleeve up to Ashe’s elbow, revealing the splint that the farmer had been trying to hide. “Yeah, like you expect me to believe that.” He snorted, giving Ashe a pointed look. “What did you do?”

“I… might have fallen off the ladder when I was picking the oranges…” Ashe mumbled meekly, hunching his shoulders as Shane took his wrist in his hands to study it. “… Harvey said my wrist is probably broken, but he didn’t have any casting materials on hand…”

Shane’s eyebrows practically flew off of his face. “You idiot!” He chided, actually somewhat angry with Ashe for being so reckless and so stupid. “A break is serious! Fuck’s sake, why would you keep using it like nothing’s wrong? What would you do if something happened and you couldn’t use your hand anymore?”

“Shane--?” This time it was Ashe who was caught off-guard by Shane’s over the top reaction. “I—I’m sorry… I just wanted to do this for you guys…”

“….” With a sigh, Shane carefully tugged Ashe’s sleeve back down. It took him a moment, but he realized that he’d done exactly what Ashe had done with him earlier. He remembered what it had been like for him, a rising varsity gridball player, to lose everything because of an injury he could have prevented, and the thought of Ashe suffering that same fate made him lash out when he shouldn’t have. “No, I’m the one who should apologize.” He admitted with another sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I overreacted, and I shouldn’t have… But you really need to give that arm a break, especially until Harvey can get it in a cast. Promise me that you’ll at least put it in a sling until then.”

Blinking his eyes several times, Ashe realized that Shane was actually worried about him. “…. I promise.” He agreed with a meek smile. Shane was starting to get really good at turning his own tactics against him.

“Good boy.” Shane ate a few more spoonfuls of the broth and managed to drink the rest of the juice, before he called it quits; if he had any more, he was fairly certain he would end up heaving it all over the floor. “Thanks for taking care of us all tonight.” He thanked, as Ashe managed to pick up the tray with his left hand only. “Now you go home and take it easy yourself. Alright? I’m serious.”

“I will, I will.” Ashe assured him sheepishly. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“Nah, I’m fi—” Shane stopped mid-sentence, as his head throbbed painfully. “… Actually, would you mind grabbing some Tylenol from the medicine cabinet in the kitchen?”

“Of course.” With a little difficulty since he was trying not to use his injured hand, Ashe managed to get to his feet and take the tray out of the room with him. He’d already brought soup and juice to Jas and Marnie, so this was the only thing he had left to do before he headed home. “Right, medicine cabinet… medicine cabinet, medicine cabinet, medicine cabinet…”

By the time he found the Tylenol and gone back to Shane’s room, the man was already fast asleep, one arm tucked under his head as he quietly snored away. “….” Quietly so as not to disturb his rest this time, Ashe just set a few tablets and a glass of water on the bedside table in case he woke up later.

It was strange to see Shane’s face so peaceful; usually, he had this sort of permanent scowl on his face, except for when he was smiling or laughing of course. Seeing that his cheeks were still flushed somewhat, Ashe knelt down beside the bed again and gently brushed his knuckles against Shane’s face to feel his temperature. ‘He’s so warm… Yoba, he must feel awful…’

His heart started to beat a little bit faster inside his chest as he slowly pulled his hand back. He didn’t know why it was doing that, why it felt like there were little butterflies in his stomach as he watched his friend sleep. ‘…. No… no, stop it! You’re being such a creep right now!’ He gave himself a swift mental kick, finally making himself tear his eyes away from Shane as he got back to his feet. He had a feeling that, if he stayed there any longer, he might end up doing something really stupid…

“…. I hope you feel better in the morning…” He murmured, even though he knew that Shane couldn’t hear him. He made sure to turn the light off before he let himself out, ever so slightly shaken by the feelings that had come over him in that brief moment before he came to his senses. He just hoped that it was because he had such an off day, and not because he was some creep who watched people sleep…

The sound of a hammer on wood roused Ashe from his sleep the next morning; still half-asleep, he poked his head out from under the sheet he’d gotten himself tangled up in overnight, looking around blearily in search of the sound’s source. After his brain had a few moments to wake up and get working, he realized that the hammering was coming from outside the house—it actually sounded like it was focused on the front door itself. “What in the…?” He mumbled, stifling a yawn as he pushed himself to sit up and wincing a little as his broken wrist throbbed painfully. He’d done as Shane had told him to and put it in a sling, but that didn’t stop his sleeping self from lying on it for most of the night.

Outside the house, Shane carefully nailed in the last few nails to secure Ashe’s door back in place. “Finally…” It was definitely no Robin-quality patch job, but the door was back in its frame at least. For a guy with minimal carpentry experience, he felt pretty damn accomplished.

Almost as if on cue, the door opened, and a disheveled Ashe poked his head out to see what was going on. “Well look who decided to finally get out of bed.” Shane commented, raising his hand in greeting. “About time, ya lazy bones.”

“Shane?” Ashe rubbed the sleep from his eyes, thoroughly confused. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you still be resting?”

“Nope.” Shane grabbed the toolbox at his feet and moved it out of the way. “That soup and the juice sent my cold packing. Same with Marnie and Jas. I actually came over to bring you some cookies that we made to thank you, but you were still asleep, and I saw that your door was busted, so I figured the least I could do was try and fix it for you. Not bad, huh?”

“….” It was clear that Ashe was still in the middle of waking up, as he just stood there blinking for several seconds. “You… fixed my door?” He repeated, stepping out onto the porch to see for himself. “Yeah, it looks really good. Better than what I could have done…” He looked to Shane in thankful confusion. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Shane snorted. “Yeah, I know.” He answered with a grin. “I wanted to, though. I woke up feeling a hell of a lot better than I did the other day.”

“Really?” Hearing that put a smile onto Ashe’s face. “I’m glad. See, I told you my mom’s recipe would do the trick~”

“Consider me a believer.” Shane was relieved to see that smile again; he’d missed it more than he’d realized. “How’s your wrist, by the way?”

“Ah—” Ashe looked down to his slinged arm. “It… still hurts a little.” He admitted. “I probably slept on it for most of the night. Harvey said he would call when he got the stuff to make casts with, so hopefully it won’t be too long…” Looking out to his farm, he realized that the sun was quite high in the sky. “Um… what time is it?”

“Well, it was just about 8 when I left the ranch to fix your door.” Shane checked the watch on his wrist. “And it’s just now hit 8:30, so I gotta get moving before I’m late for work.”

“8… 8:30….” Ashe stood there for a moment. “…. AAAAAH! I SLEPT SO LATE!” He suddenly burst out, looking completely panicked as the realization hit him. “I’m never going to finish everything before the day’s over!” He was so caught up in the panic of running late that he gave Shane a hasty hug as a thank-you. “Thanks for fixing the door Shane! Have a good day at work! See you later!”

He bolted back into the house to change, leaving Shane just standing there, listening to the sounds of him crashing around frantically.

‘Th-that was close…’ Shane thought, covering his mouth with his hand as he briskly headed off for work. If Ashe had hugged him for any longer, he might have actually been tempted to do something…

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