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juminsmysticmc · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, it’s me, the one who request the moth headcanon, sorry about the trouble and if it’s okay, instead I would like to see an MC who’s major is digital arts and animation. If not, it’s fine, just have a great day.

RFA + Minor Trio with a Mc who's major is digital arts and animations

Hey! It was no trouble at all! I hope that it’s okay for you tho, I am happy that you could request something different! I hope you enjoy this one too! Have a nice day!

Jumin

Your husband observed you. Ever since he installed a room for you alone in his penthouse, you could finally work from home a bit more.

He hadn’t realized that even before you came into the RFA, he had already worked with you.

Your major, digital arts and animation, was often used for his advertising or other programs.

You often wanted to meet the CEO, but since he always thought that you would be just a gold digger, he always rejected you, just making Jaehee send emails with the things he wanted to have inserted.

Well, today he regretted his choice back then.

Instead, he observed you.

You were working on a new project.

,,How many years did you have to study? I mean, you have so many majors… Design Director, Storyboard Director, I didn’t know, you were multitalented, my love,’’ he praised you.

You even worked a lot with the audio.

You looked up and smiled at your husband.

,,Thank you, my love. I’m trying to make your latest project work. Wanna see?’’ you asked him.

However he knew that your work would be amazing and wanted to have it be a surprise rather than get spoiled.

Zen

Your boyfriend never understood how you could be such a good multitasker.

You could cook, set the table, chat with Jaehee, and even post something on your blog.

But once he saw you at work, he understood.

It had something to do with your job.

You had to work in different kinds of media at the same time.

,,This isn’t just one,’’ you told him and scrolled through your phone.

Your long hair was in your way so you put it away with one hand.

,,I have to work with the sound, video, and stop-motion graphics at the same time. I do this and much more, but I don’t want to annoy you,’’ you laughed as you looked up.

,,You don’t annoy me, Mrs. Director,’’ he laughed and kissed you.

You were even the director of a whole section and helped new students get into the job.

,,Okay, so, see this video?’’ you showed him an animated movie you just got via email.

,,This was made by my students, but she used the wrong program because the audio is slightly separated from the video itself,’’ you told him.

He hadn’t noticed anything at first, but after you told him, he saw it too.

,,And you noticed after a few seconds? You’re amazing!’’ he smiled and looked over your shoulders. You were still cooking.

Yoosung

Your husband wondered why he never saw you or met you since your college wasn’t that far away from his building.

But thank God both of you finally met thanks to the RFA.

He was also amazed by you because you were pretty famous among students.

You even had your own blog and of course you programmed everything yourself.

It looked amazing.

You had every single section working in there, but your point was the digital arts and animation.

,,Did you really have to submit a portfolio to be admitted?’’ he asked you when he read your latest blog.

You nodded at him as you typed something on your keyboard.

,,Mhm, especially to bachelor of fine arts,’’ you told him.

He didn’t quite understand, but he still nodded.

,,I didn’t have to,’’ he mumbled.

,,That’s why it’s written on there. The little word ,,may’’ says that you possibly have to, but not always,’’ you told him, making him sulk.

,,I know what ,,may’’ means… ah, and tell me. What are the admission requirements?’’ he asked you.

You turned your head and looked at him.

,,Can you maybe read the whole post instead of just the keywords? You need to check on the page itself for the requirements. Every university does it differently,’’ you told him and closed the page.

,,Ah. I just wanted to test you,’’ he smiled and looked at you.

He looked so up to you. You always knew what the latest LOLOL update changed in the game. You were amazing...

Jaehee

,,What? You went to Harvard University?’’ Zen asked you. He didn’t know that he was in a group with such an intelligent person and you were even Jaehee’s girlfriend.

You nodded.

,,She’s also very creative. Did you see our advertisement? She did it herself. Pretty amazing, right?!’’ Jaehee said proudly, no one had ever seen her that excited.

You changed her.

You and Jaehee also often went to different festivals to check the latest innovations. It was something even Jaehee was interested in.

And thanks to you, she even understood a few things since you were very good at explaining things.

,,Should we buy this new keyboard? It fits much better than the one you have now in your studio,’’ she told you and admired the keyboard in front of you.

She looked up to you since you were such a hard worker as a owner of a coffee shop and even a designer of word advertisements and 2d animation.

Saeyoung

,,You make pretty good money, huh?’’ he asked you as he looked around.

Your studio just looked so aesthetically pleasing in the middle of Seoul.

You shrugged your shoulders as you kept typing something.

Then you took your pen between your fingers and began to draw something.

You were a storyboard artist.

Saeyoung, your finacé, loved to watch you.

He sometimes even helped you when a program stopped working.

,,Look, which one do you like more?’’ you asked him as you turned your screen towards him to show him a park.

,,Mh, I don’t know. What’s the story? LIke, this one looks cute as if you’re in a fairy tale, but this one looks more realistic,’’ he answered, making you turn the display again.

You nodded and stood up, taking your jacket and facing your fiancé. ,,We are going to the park now,’’ you said and pulled him by the hand.

That’s what he loved about you.

He, too, was someone who would simply do his work, but you wanted to give your best, even at that moment.

At the end of the day, you however, knew which one you would decide on and you were happy that Saeyoung opened your eyes.

Saeran

,,Mc! It’s so nice to see you here!’’ someone said and hugged you.

Saeran observed the person who was so happy to see you.

Both of you were in a foreign country and people still knew you?

You hugged the person who was apparently named Mira.

,,Saeran, this was my teacher, Mira,’’ you said and told Mira about your boyfriend.

She was so happy to see that you got a boyfriend.

,,Have fun here and go visit Josef! He will be happy to see you!’’ she said, meaning your other teacher.

You took Saeran and with him you walked through every department.

,,They try to motivate you to be creative, get started, start your own company, make your own shows, produce medical videos or animations, and they want you to learn things by doing,’’ you explained.

At some point, you arrived at a place that was lit by lights. Students had pencils in their hands and they began to draw something on their papers. This was something that amazed Saeran.

,,I thought it’s digital art,’’ he whispered.

You nodded. ,,They first try to make you get used to it. When you’re ready, you can move to the digital version,’’ you told him and observed the students.

It was a pretty good day and Saeran also enjoyed seeing you presentate something on a stage about your own work in South Korea.

He was proud of you.

Jihyun

Hand in hand, both of you walked into an institute to talk about digital art.

Jihyun also liked art a lot. However, he was a painter.

But your art was also something beautiful in his eyes.

He once tried it, but failed.

,,I remember back then, I also was unsure if digital art was real art, but after I saw it myself… I’m sorry I was like that back then… so don’t give up if people are the same here as in this art institute,’’ he told you.

You nodded.

Your goal was it to teach digital art in that institute and they first invited you to talk about it.

They first invited you in and then they were ready to listen to you.

,,Thank you for your words,’’ the older man said and nodded.

,,However, digital art is, itself, placed under the larger umbrella term new media art that doesn’t require any effort, Mrs. Kim. Digital art is not considered real art,’’ he said and closed his book with the notes.

,,Why did you invite my wife then?’’ Jihyun asked as you watched your dreams get crushed in front of your eyes.

No one dared to say anything. Were you just the laugh stock? Why did you even make the effort? You were ready to give up when Jihyun began to say something again. ,,I can understand you. At first we thought that digital art was easy. Why should we ask a teacher to teach us? I’m an artist myself and I thought like that too, but here too, just like the art with real pens and colors, you need to start with it gradually. I experienced it myself and I was surprised by how difficult it was. I beg you, try at least once to draw a forest in digital art,’’ Jihyun said, begging the person in front of him.

,,Very well, I have been an artist since my twenties and I am now sixty years old,’’ he laughed and took your tablet, ready to draw.

While he was drawing, you did the same on the second tablet and a bit later you all noticed the difference, making them all apologize to you.

,,I can’t thank you enough,’’ you sobbed as both of you walked out of the room, you overjoyed about the good news.

,,I told you not to give up on them. They were just like me,’’ he laughed and kissed your hand before you could both go and pick up Lucy at Jumin’s penthouse.

Vanderwood

When he first saw your room, not Rika’s, but your own home, he was kind of shocked to know that you were almost like Agent 707.

He quickly noticed that just like him, you loved your profession.

It was something that satisfied you immediately ever since you first learned how things worked.

Indeed, animation was attracting more and more people and you were one of them.

,,Back then, when we lived in Japan, we somehow won a sightseeing trip and I got to see the Ghibli studio. I think that that was the moment I fell in love with it,’’ you told him as he looked around.

,,And then? I mean, Japan is one of the best countries to study animation, right?’’ he asked you. Vanderwood was truly interested in it.

He wanted to know everything about you.

The brown haired man wanted to know what made your eyes shine so brightly and why you were so in love with your job.

,,Uhm, yeah. Spain is the best country to study animation, but I also expected it to be Japan. Back then and still today, living there was too expensive. My parents wanted to move back to Korea and so I went to Spain to study my dream,’’ you laughed.

,,I’m amazed. I expected you to go with your parents,’’ he laughed and observed you.

,,I was amazed by myself too, you know? It was a hard decision, but I never regretted what I did. I could fulfil my dream and it’s my life after all.

And knowing more languages is even better because there are so many more opportunities,’’ you laughed.

,,Please never lock the door in other languages like Agent 707,’’

You laughed at his comment. ,,I won’t… but maybe something animated?’’ you teased him.

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

17.04.2021// 00:18 MEST

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libraford · 4 years ago

Text

We interrupt the feral celebration of ousting an oligarch to bring you a story about Yeehaw and his Branch of Mystery.

It has been a while since we last had some co-worker drama, but man- has it been a weird summer. I mean... we all had a weird summer in 2020, but I don't think I was really expecting this particular... flavor of weird?

This is a story about Yeehaw, but it starts off with a story about Aggie.

Aggie was someone we were excited to hire and part of our excitement was that it's rare to find someone with prior floral experience and we'd concluded at this point that it does no one any good to be picky about new hires in the middle of a pandemic. So finding someone who knew the difference between a carnation and a rose was a big deal for us.

I say that in jest, but saying that we do 'on-the-job training' means that we've had to explain that yes- the flower in my hand that looks like a carnation is a carnation and not some other flower that looks like carnation but is not a carnation. Floristry is a very straightforward practice and for the most part a rose is a rose and a daisy is a daisy and if someone asks for those things, you give it to them.

The hard part is, as always, making them look good together.

Which is why we were pleased with Aggie- who previously did weddings for her friends and seemed to have a basic understanding of how to do things with her hands. We were happy to have her aboard.

... until you gave her criticism.

She made her vases embarrassingly short, and if you tried to tell her how to fix it, she'd snap back with "I'm not DONE yet."

She was done until you said something.

If you gave her an order for two dozen white roses, she would take it upon herself to mix white and yellow roses together 'because it looks better.'

It did not.

Hashtag: #selftaught

When a client asks for all white roses, there is likely a reason they asked for all white. Given that 90% of our work is funerals, it stands to reason that they are asking for all white because that is a traditional color for mourning. Working with a client means doing exactly what they asked for. Doing a wedding for your friends may get you high praise from people who trust you to work in the same aesthetic as them, but in a shop setting you are being paid to follow things to the letter. Doing so shows that you can follow directions, and they may come back next time.

You don't know customer entitlement until you've been torn another asshole for leaving out a single rose.

This seemed to never occur to her, and so criticism was a painful realization that perhaps she wasn't perfect at an art that was exceptionally susceptible to criticism. There were plenty of opportunities to make something in her own aesthetic, it wasn't like she was being stifled. There was a considerable amount of downtime where she filled the front cooler with her own creations- enigmatically giving each of them their own names like "Autumn Walk" or "First Snowfall." (This is not something that we do, on the whole.)

Not very many of those sold.

But I think what bugged me the most is that she only ever designed. She didn't take out the trash, she didn't answer phones, she never helped customers. She just... did flowers. Nothing else.

Oh... and the chatter.

"Do you travel? Oh, you simply MUST go to Bali sometime! You've never been to Asia? Well, there's nothing like achieving inner peace at a Buddhist temple on a mountaintop in Nepal. They have temples here in Ohio, but it's nothing like the real thing! You say you've never even been off the continent? Well, what are you waiting for? You only live once, you know!"

Ma'am... we're in the middle of a pandemic. Ma'am... I only get paid so much...

While trying to relate, I talked about my summer in Montana and she gave me the BIGGEST stank-face. "Montana? Ew, WHY?"

Look, lady- I lived on a mountaintop next to an active, world-destroying volcano system. If that's not cool, I don't know what is.

But thankfully, she only worked on weekends. See, this was her fun job. The job she does to stay social during a pandemic and flex her creative muscles while she makes money at her much more lucrative,but boring,HR job. So I only had to see her twice a month when I was manager on duty.

Then she got fired from her weekday job and went full-time at the flower shop. Poor thing wasn't used to waking up at 7am every day. She was full of suggestions.

"I think it would be easier for me if we only opened at like... 11am."

"Don't you think we should be taking proper photos of our work? All we would need is a nice camera and a soft lighting setup. Couldn't be much more than $1000."

"Oh I know! We should be doing inventory on tablets instead of writing things down!"

Okay, you go buy those things then. It took her about a week of making those suggestions to realize that she wasn't real clear on how things worked around here and stopped. She became quiet, less enthusiastic about her 'fun' job now that she wasn't immediately the star of the show.

Enter Yeehaw.

We were excited about Yeehaw, too. He didn't just have experience with flowers- he had experience with a flower shop. He gave a good interview, he seemed like he knew what he was doing and was very passionate about flowers. He was definitely an entire hippie, but about 1/3 of all plant people are. Most importantly, we still had like three spots to fill left from our pre-Covid staff.

Hired.

There was an overlap of about a week where Aggie and Yeehaw worked at the same time. His work was... immaculate. Just... astonishingly beautiful work. You didn't even have to show him how to make anything. He just... knew.

Well, Aggie didn't like that much- we had only nice things to say about this new guy but all she ever got was criticism. And if we complimented him on something he made, he would give a little 'namaste' bow. And I could see her fuming with rage each time he did this.

One day, she rushed into the back to take a phone call and any time someone went back there for a vase she would lower her voice as if keeping a deep secret. Twenty minutes later, she called Grandpa into the back as well to discuss something. Ten minutes later, Aggie left the building with her Live, Laugh, Love bag, looking pissed.

"Where did Aggie go," I asked Grandpa.

"She got a new job," she said. "Doing HR somewhere."

"She didn't even say good-bye," Blue said, appearing unsurprised.

And so we went on with out lives without really putting much further thought into Aggie, apart from the occasional 'you simply MUST visit Bali' line thrown in for bougie emphasis.

Which brings us to the next part of the story, and that is Yeehaw.

There are some details to know about Yeehaw that are kind of difficult to fit into a story neatly. Here is a brief list that may come in handy to know later.

-He lives with his mother.

-He drives a Tesla.

-He can afford the Tesla because he was in a terrible wreck that had him hospitalized, and a lawsuit was won.

-Because of this, he has two screws in his head at the temples.

-Unrelated, he has hair that goes all the way down to his back.

- And...

"Grandpa, we need to tell you something," Blue said. "In private."

Blue and Kali pulled Grandpa aside while Yeehaw slowly put together a funeral order. "Grandpa, there's no polite way to put this: Yeehaw is drunk as fuck."

"He smells like whiskey," Kali said.

"He's stumbling everywhere."

"And he won't stop... burping."

Grandpa paused. "There's something I need to tell you," she said, and she reached for a manila folder. "Yeehaw has something called... what's it called..." She leafed through the file and produced a paper, reading from it. "Auto-brewery Syndrome. His body actually produces alcohol anytime he eats bread or sugar. If he's drunk, it's because he can't help it."

We each had a chance to go over the doctor's note, verifying that yes- that sure does look official. Everyone had questions, but it did answer the one I had about why he was sitting in the break room literally drinking peanut butter from the jar.

So that was incredibly interesting and we no longer asked about the burping or why he was so slow.

However, the fact that he was so slow was extremely frustrating. Our average number of orders runs approximately 100 per-day. This can be eased somewhat when we have a full-staff with five designers- an average of 20 designs per person in an 8-hour day, 3 per hour.

But it's a fine line some days, and if one person cannot keep up it turns into a struggle for all of us.

We did our best to accommodate. We gave him all the day-ahead orders so that we wouldn't be behind and he'd have all the time he'd need to make his gorgeous pieces.

We were willing to make it work.

A number of factors came into play one day, but most notably: Yeehaw's Tesla wouldn't start and he had to take the bus. So he was late.

I think I saw him make one entire item in the two hours that we were in the same room. He went to lunch around 12:30, I took mine around 1:00. I saw him stumble back in from lunch, looking... out of it. Just... absolutely incomprehensible- mumbling, barely upright, his hair out of the bun, quite possibly sleepwalking- who knows?

I saw him for that brief Sasquatch moment... and that was the last that I saw him that day. It was around 4:00 that Grandpa asked the question:

"Where's Yeehaw?"

And no one had an answer. We all had places that we thought we'd seen him: cleaning the cooler, in the break room, heading to the bathroom... but no one had really... seen him since he stumbled back in around 1:30.

We checked all these places.

None of them.

The person who actually managed to find him was Sarge, who noticed his feet sticking out from behind the bushes behind the building.

"Huh," he said, presumably. He gave the feet a light kick and Yeehaw slowly sat back up. "Hey dude. You... okay, there? They're lookin' for you inside."

Yeehaw mumbled something to Sarge and got to his feet, stumbling back into the shop without further interaction. He appeared into the workspace, holding a branch in front of his face for mysterious reasons. There were still twigs entangled in his long hair.

"Where were you at," Grandpa asked, concerned.

"Oh, I was in the bathroom," he lied from behind the branch of mystery. "I'm pretty tired. Is it okay if I go home?"

Bewildered, Grandpa gave him permission to leave. It was soon after he left that Scout found his phone in the empty sink. "Who's trying to wash their phone," he asked in the loud manner that is characteristic of old white men. It rang while in his hand and one of our designers snatched it from him. It was his mother.

"Hello," said the designer. "Yeehaw went home early, but he left his phone behind. Can you bring it home to him?" Mom agreed, she was just over at Trader Joe's anyhow.

We thought, of course, that we were doing something smart and nice. Yeehaw's mom looks just about what you would expect the mother of a 30-year-old hippie that drives a Tesla to look. Grandpa, in a polite way, explained that he'd fallen asleep in a bush. To which Mom seemed neither surprised nor concerned about his behavior.

"Okay. I'll be at Hallmark."

Somewhere between the bus stop and Bexley, Yeehaw must have realized that his phone was not with him and so he came back looking for it. Despite his mother being literally in the same strip mall as we were, he seemed irritated that we'd taken the initiative to make sure his phone got to him.

"Well, I bet if you just went down to Hallmark she'd give you your phone and probably give you a ride home."

He mumbled something and then left.

This seems like a decent place to pause, because him leaving the second time in the day should be the end of the story. However... at 5:00 in the evening there was still two hours left in the work day and from past experience... that is plenty of time for a lot of things to happen.

The thing to happen was a phone call.

"Hi, this is Jade from the main store. We've gotten... some... interesting phone calls. Is there... a... hmm... is there a dead body out in front of your store?"

Pause.

"We'll take care of it, bye."

Who wants to be the one to poke the cadaver on the sidewalk? A volunteer from the audience! Ms Crowe: won't you come down?!

I have had it planted firmly in my mind that Crowe certainly understands the concept of fear but does not recognize it. Apart from being one of our most reliable drivers, she is also a performer, a street medic, an activist, and most notably... a fire-breather.

You have your hobbies.

Point is- she's brave enough to check to see if the person laying on the sidewalk was dead or simply overdosed.

As it turns out, it was Yeehaw- curled up in the fetal position with his arm covering his face.

"Hey," Crowe said, poking him with her foot. "Heeeeeeey," she said again but more firmly this time. He moved, blinking in the evening the sun. "Buddy, you can't be laying around on the sidewalk. You gotta move on."

Again, he slowly got to his feet. At this time, his mother emerged from Hallmark to see him talking with Crowe. A group of four people escorted him into Mom's car while he stopped every few feet to perform another 'namaste' bow.

You think this is the end. But what have we learned?

There's always more.

He came in the next day as if none of this had happened. Conversation was difficult because we both desperately needed to know what the fuck happened and also did not want to trigger something. So we didn't bring it up. He apologized for leaving early: chronic fatigue syndrome, you know.

Other places would have fired him, but we're a very forgiving workplace. Falling asleep on company time is not, in any way, the worst thing that someone has done at this location while still keeping their job. There was Sugar and her drugs, there was the dude that used the company van to pick up prostitutes (this was before my time), there was the guy that screamed at customers over the phone... it's a long list.

The primary concern of our employers is whether or not you are a reliable person. If you routinely show up for your job and do the work, you're going to be okay at least for a little bit. And Yeehaw, for all his impeccable fuckery, at least showed up every day.

We kept this at the back of our minds.

One day, after the Day We Found Him In a Bush was behind us, one of the designers mentioned that they'd seen where Aggie works now. It was not in HR.

It was our major competitor.

Now, Grandpa knows this competitor well. She knows all her competition. It is the nature of a lot of florists to, once they've gotten sick of one place, move on to the next one and spill the beans on their operations there. So Grandpa gets the dirt on everyone.

This particular shop was very regimented. You don't wing it- you follow the recipe as listed. He's been known to pick discarded flowers up off the floor and tell you exactly how much money you're costing the company by letting it fall, to the cent. If you get so far as to make casket sprays, he will take your first one and chuck it across the room if it even looks like the stems are in there too loosely.

This is what I mean about us being an easy place to work.

Hashtag: #ohfuck.

People come in and out of your life like that, in little ways. Sometimes you just have to have a little laugh at it. But what I thought was funny was that she felt the need to keep her new employer a secret, as though we would get jealous or tattle. Curious thing.

Now that the glamour of Yeehaw's arrangements had worn off, we were starting to see more and more odd behaviors that didn't seem completely related to drunkenness.

"Did you just fart?"

"No, that was a spider barking."

Amazing.

Conversation with him was becoming... difficult. As I sat in the break room with my quick lunch and he drank soup out of a mayonnaise jar, he mentioned his area of study in college.

"Cognitive Psychology and Hindu Philosophy, huh? That's an interesting combination."

"Yeah," he said, funneling an amount of squash soup down his throat. "It'll take the rest of the world about 100 years before they catch up to where I am."

I sat, posed in front of my beef and broccoli which I was eating with a fork, trying to process a logical reason why the rest of the world will be sleeping in a bush in one hundred years. "Uh... huh."

This was followed by another thirty minutes of silence where I desperately wanted to know what he meant by that but didn't want to be the one to ask him.

People will tell you that a hippie is generally an ineffective, benign kind of person who chants 'love love, peace peace' in a circle and consider that to be an action for change. But I can say with absolute certainty that I have met some downright egotistical hippies in my life. Those were lessons in bias- which I will have to save for other times.

Eventually, Grandpa became frustrated with his slowness. We presumed that his speed of choice was a combination of his meticulous nature and his various ailments, but with the Christmas season coming upon us it was becoming much more than a series of symptoms.

Previous persons who lacked speed were chatty, would play on their phone, or get distracted. But Yeehaw... Yeehaw simply moved like a tranquilized sloth. He slowly picked off each leaf, each thorn, each guard petal and took a minute for each action. He would put in his greens and then contemplate it powerfully for ten minutes before putting any flowers in... slowly.

In the time spent doing this, I had already made something of a similar size and was starting on the second one.

It was during one of these times that Grandpa finally said something.

"Yeehaw, that spray is due in thirty minutes. Is there a way you can go any faster?"

He looked up from his greens, held one carnation to his face, and said:

"If you wanted me to move faster, you would pay me better."

Let me start by saying that we do not get paid well. We don't. Compared to other flower shops in our city, we are probably the lowest-paid. This is something that the company is starting to work on with benefits and raises, but any amount of change takes time. (And its still better paying than when I worked in retail. But that's another book.)

Yeehaw had been here for exactly one month. I don't know a single workplace that gives you a raise after one month and still lets you sleep on the clock without firing you. He knew what he was getting paid when we hired him.

So anyways, he slowly grinds down our nerves to a very fine dust- burping, farting, falling asleep on his feet, staring intensely into space, talking about how much he should be making but isn't, bragging about his enlightenment, and generally just slowing down production.

And then Grandpa had her well-earned vacation week. Blue was in charge for the most part and the week leading up to Halloween is generally pretty slow, so it was a good week for her to have a break with few mishaps.

Eh... hehe. Yeah.

Yeehaw... disappeared again. We checked the cooler, we checked the break room, we checked the bushes out back, we checked the sidewalk out front.

He was in the bathroom.

So we left it.

He was still in the bathroom an hour later.

We had one of the male drivers pound on the door to check on him. When Yeehaw opened the door to the men's room, there was a wad of toilet paper on the floor that he'd been using as a pillow.

If I may pause here to explain- our men's room is disgusting. I have deep cleaned it several times only for it to become a germ-fest once more in a matter of hours. I don't ask who is peeing all over the floor because, honestly, I have no desire to know what grown man can't aim his willy in the right direction.

So in order to fall asleep in the bathroom, you have to be willing to sleep in pee. During a pandemic.

He reappeared in the workroom, put his apron back on, looked around at all of us still working and said: "Wow, it must be really hard to get fired here."

It was at this point that Blue informed Grandpa.

"Tell him that he's fired," Grandpa said, clearly 1001% done with this.

"I'm not going to fire him," Blue said. "I don't think I can fire anyone."

So she had the driver that found him do it, which was confusing for all of us. He ended up calling Grandpa to clarify. And by 'clarify,' I definitely mean 'beg for his job back.' A synopsis of the 20 minute phone call went like this:

"What do you mean, I'm fired?"

"Just that. You're fired. I'm tired of it, Yeehaw. You don't work here anymore."

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why?' You spend all day making a total of three arrangements and then you wander off somewhere and fall asleep."

"I can't help it if I have chronic fatigue syndrome!"

"This is a physical job. If your body can't handle an 8-hour shift without falling asleep for two hours, this isn't the job for you. Tell me: where is that fair to the girls that you do 3% of the work while they pick up the slack and you wander off to sleep on the clock?"

"I simply do not care about them."

"You don't care that you're shoving all the work on your coworkers, and that's why you're fired."

"I wish you'd given me a warning."

"Tell me, Yeehaw: how many employers can you find that will allow you to sleep on the clock for two hours and let you off with a warning?"

End of discussion.

Now, you're probably wondering where Aggie comes back into this. Just hold tight, I'll get there.

The Sunday after he was fired, he came in to pick up his paycheck. I was busy handling a minor emergency where one of our funeral homes forgot to order a spray and I had to make one as fast as I could. We held a brief conversation while I made the spray in a hurry.

"I'm here to pick up my check," he said while I greened the spray and leafed through the paychecks simultaneously.

"Here you go," I said, handing it to him without much fanfare. I presumed that he was looking for sympathy or some kind of followup or... I don't know. Sorry you suddenly care about your job?

"So what are your next plans," one of the designers asked, trying to coax more information out of him while I did the work of three people.

"It's kind of funny," he said slowly... as he did all things. "I've only ever been fired from flower shops." He paused, thoughtfully. "I think I'm going to go apply to the shop in Bexley that Aggie went to."

#as the world turnips

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love-fireflysong · 4 years ago

Text

yIt's done. It took me waaaay to long to write this piece out but between June and my computer apparently deciding to kick me in the teeth this month, the fact I made it to 5 full squares completed anyways I will gladly take as a victory! And, just fyi, this WILL be the last piece for this month. I know that there is still another four days left of June, but I am sick and tired of dealing with my keyboard so this is the last fic you're gonna see from me until I get a new laptop hopefully fairly soon. (Unless I decide that I'm desperate enough to try and write things out on my tablet of course...)

Anyways, the First Date trope was specifically requested by @jesus-hotsauce-christmas-cake when I let her know that the one she did guess (road trip) was going to be a second chapter of a twoshot. Which you still might get because I'm very likely going to be sharing the short little summary blurbs I had written down for each trope so people can very easily bully me into writing them anyways if people still wanted to read them. And even though it would be like months and months late, still post them under this bingo board because I can and I had a cool idea for what I was doing with the colours and layout before life decided to say 'NO!' in a very firm voice. (Unless of course the three lovely ladies that came up with this idea in the first place say no obviously)

Rambling over though now I promise. Chocolate Covered Confessions can be read over and AO3 of course, with the full fic also under the readmore as well.

Chocolate Covered Confessions

Trope: First Date Fandom: Until Dawn Characters: Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley Words: 8214 Rating: General (though reader beware there is some almost scandalous hand holding and a couple of scandalously public kisses. You have been warned...) Authors Notes: Oh look, more chrashley fluff. Who da thunk it? Pride month? What pride month? This is just me apparently figuring out how many different ways I can get Chris and Ash to confess their feelings. Because you only read like three of them, I still have another two waiting in the wings. Plus at least three others if you count climbing chrash lol.

Something was...weird. It wasn't something that Ashley could put her finger on just yet, but something was definitely off that was for sure. The problem of course was that she didn't even know where to start looking in the first place, because for the most part her day had been extraordinarily ordinary.

She, Chris, and Josh had planned to go and see a movie Saturday morning a few days back and then hang out the rest of the day. But seeing as they were, you know, best friends that certainly wasn't the issue. Not even close. They always made plans to do stuff like that together. And yeah, okay, so maybe Josh had 'coincidentally' texted them just before the movie started to let them know that something unavoidable had come up and he wasn't going to be able to meet up with them. And when her and Chris had brought up just waiting until a later showing when he was free, he had immediately been quick to affirm that nope, he was going to be busy the whole rest of the day actually. So the two of them could continue with their original plans and they could make it up to him another time.

While certainly suspicious, that wasn't what was wrong though. Josh had been flaking out on their plans more and more, especially when it was plans that took up an entire day. Ashley Brown wasn't stupid. No siree Bob she was not! She knew exactly what Josh was trying to do by leaving her to spend the day with Chris. Alone . And she appreciated it (she really did!), but if Chris was going to make a move then he would have done it ages and ages ago, because she sure as hell wasn't going to do it! Ashley Brown wasn't stupid, but she also wasn't exactly what you would call brave either.

Not that Chris had seemed to notice what Josh was pulling though, he had just sighed and rolled his eyes with a grumbled "fucking typical", and then the two of them had entered the theater to watch the movie. And as per their usual shtick when Josh wasn't there with them, Chris paid for the tickets while she paid for the food and drinks. Or, at least, that was how it normally went. Instead, when she had decided to take a run to the bathroom while he held their spot in the long concession line, she had come back to Chris waiting for her with the pop and popcorn already in hand. After brushing off her flustered apologies, he had explained that shortly after she had left, another cashier had popped on till so the line had gone down in half the time either had expected. And it seemed like a dick move to just wait there until she came back so he had just decided to get the food instead.

She still felt a little guilty about it honestly, even after swearing that she would get both the tickets and food next time.

And, to be completely fair to Josh, he hadn't exactly been missing out on a lot by skipping out on the movie. It wasn't a horror flick (he would never even think of skipping out on that after all) so it wasn't one that he would feel the need to make the two of them watch again with him. Which was more than fine honestly, because if she was to describe the movie in a single word, well, that word would definitely have been 'dreadful'. If she was given a few more words, then she would have easily elaborated and stated that it was 'a boring, plot-hole driven mess, with only extremely over-the-top action scenes and explosions every five minutes to carry any semblance of the extremely loosely written plot'. In other words, she had lost interest in the movie barely half an hour in, and considering that Chris had started scrolling through his phone bored, she wasn't alone in this boat either.

Still, Ashley had resolved herself to sit through this over-budgeted explosion fest if only because movie tickets were horribly expensive. Not to mention the fact that Chris had shelled out money for both the movie and the food. But then he had turned to her, asked if she was as bored to tears as he was, and once he got that confirmation, asked if she wanted to just ditch the movie entirely. And she did—she really, really did—but didn't want Chris to waste the money he had spent more. And then yet another explosion...exploded on screen, and she realized that she was wasting precious hours of her life that could be used to do something more fun and less mind-numbingly boring.

Like watching paint dry. That at least had a semi-cohesive plot.

And so the two of them had walked out, continuing to share the extra buttered popcorn between them (the movie may have been awful, but the popcorn certainly wasn't) as they left the movie theater behind and wandered into the nearby mall. That wasn't the strange thing either. The mall and subsequent window shopping had absolutely been part of their day plans after, even if those had been unexpectedly pushed forward a couple of hours.

Admittedly the art show that the mall was running in one of the empty storefronts was unexpected, but it had been simply a nice surprise and a great way to kill time. So after paying the $2 entrance fee, the two of them had continued to share the popcorn as they looked at some of the paintings and sculptures that had been on display, giggling childishly at most of them. And okay, so one of the curators had been glaring at them( or rather, at their greasy, butter-covered fingers) the whole time, but that had just been a little rude and insulting. Not strange. And that had stopped almost the moment they had run out of popcorn, Ashley nudging him in the stomach with her elbow as she licked her fingers clean, and the two of them laughing under their breaths at the curator who had looked exceptionally much more at ease once Chris had crumpled the empty bag into a ball.

The rest of their day in the mall had just been spent following the rest of their day's plan, wandering from shop to shop and browsing at all the things that caught their eyes, and then taking a break after a few hours to have a late lunch in the food court. The two of them checked out another couple of stores, these ones to try and get some ideas for Josh's birthday in another month, before moving onto the small arcade on the top floor. As part of their deal and agreement since it had just been Josh and Chris (Ashey not joining the duo until five years later), Chris bought the tokens needed while she scouted out the various games for an empty console and claimed it until he could join her in another couple of minutes.

They spent the next hour in there, trying to beat each other or work together depending on the game in question. They almost never played a game twice before moving onto the next one, in hopes to both try as many games as possible before their self imposed hour ended and to see if they could beat their previous high scores or make it onto the leaderboard in only a single try. But as the hour came to a close, they both made their way over to their final game: one of the racing simulators scattered around the arcade. And as had been done for ten years now, played to determine which of them would be paying for the tokens next time they came.

And once the race ended, with Ashley winning by photo finish for the third time in a row (and celebrating her winning streak by maturely sticking out her tongue and doing an awkward little shimmy dance in the seat while Chris jokingly sulked and pouted), they had finally left the mall altogether and got into Chris's truck. There, he had surprised Ashley with the novel she had been eyeing in the bookstore (or at least, eyeing closer than all the rest she had picked up) and that he had somehow been able to buy without her noticing. And that certainly hadn't been weird, because it had been so exceptionally sweet of him, sweet enough that Ashley had so badly wished that she could thank him properly. But as mentioned before, Ashley Brown was a coward pure and simple, so she had just clutched the book to her chest and beamed at Chris in heartfelt thanks instead.

He may have said something in reply, but Ashley had already settled into the passenger seat and opened to the first page of the book, so she was already long gone. A fact that Chris had anticipated, if the light chuckle he had let out before starting the truck meant anything. And no, Ashley reading a book while Chris drove them to their usual game store across town was not the strange thing either. If Chris hadn't wanted her to read on the drive over and talk to him, then he never would have given her the book now of all times. He would have waited until he had dropped her off home, or not even bought the book in the first place. After over a half a decade of friendship, if anyone knew what would happen after giving Ashley Brown a new book, it was Chris Hartley.

The drive over is done quicker then she had expected, and even then Chris still hadn't let her know that they had arrived until she had finished her chapter. Yes he had certainly teased her about it the entire time, joking about how she would never find someone as understanding of her reading habits then him (he didn't know how right he was, that she didn't want to find anyone else), but the fact that he had just continued to let the music play in the truck and distracted himself on his phone was so unbearably sweet that she decided to let it lie.

The fact that Ashley and Chris hung around in the game shop comparing dice and looking at new books while wincing over the prices for nearly two hours wasn't what was off either. Hell, if anything the fact that they only spent a couple of hours there before leaving was weird! Her, Chris, and Josh could easily spend almost half a day in there flipping through comics and rolling dice to test them out, only leaving because a tired employee was forced to ask them to leave for making too much noise and taking up a table when they weren't playing anything, especially when there was a group that had been waiting for a table for close to an hour now.

Which brought Ashley to where she was right now, sitting at a sticky plastic table under the shade of a cheap umbrella while Chris had run off to get them some ice cream before dropping her off at home. Her new book was open in front of her, the pages crisp white even in the umbrella's shade, but her mind wasn't on the book anymore. A random line had a character mentioning that something had been feeling off all day ever since they woke up ('like everything had been moved three centimeters to the left, so while it all looked normal, nothing felt right anymore'), and Ashley had also realized that hey, wait a second, her day was also feeling just a little wonky too! But no matter how hard she thought about it, she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Today had just been a normal day hanging out with Chris after all. They went to see (and bailed) a movie, spent hours hanging out in the mall and at the game store, and now they were each going back home. Nothing unusual had happened, so why did it feel like something hugely monumental had been going on all day?

"Oi. Earth to Ash, you okay in there?"

A light flick to the center of Ashley's forehead has her blink in surprise, and she finds herself back into the present once again. Chris is standing next to her, carefully balancing the two cones in his right hand and his left ready to flick again if needed, and a bemused smile on his face.

"Oh, uh, sorry Chris. Got a little too into the book I think." She closes the book, not wanting to get melting ice cream all over its crisp white pages (and she really hasn't absorbed a single word for nearly ten minutes now), but Chris doesn't hand her the cone just yet.

"Yeah, I'm not buying that," Chris says as he snorts in disbelief. "I know your 'praise be to books' look, and that was not it. That was your 'head full, too many thoughts' look."

"Excuse me? What? I do not have a reading look! Or a thinking look for that matter!"

"Oh you do. You really, really do. Trust me. You may have been staring at that book but there was no way that you were reading, I would bet my own ice cream here on it." Chris brandishes his double chocolate cone at her, then seems to reconsider and switches to show off her own dipped soft serve that he still has yet to actually let her eat. "Actually, you know what? I would eat your dipped monstrosity if I'm wrong."

Ashley sighs, but she can't keep the smile from her face. "It's not that bad this time, oh my god. It's chocolate ice cream dipped in blueberry syrup. This is actually a normal combination for people who go out of their way to order more exciting cones then two scoops of chocolate." She leans forward and places her elbows on the table to support her head in her hands. "But I wanna see you do it anyway, so tell me exactly why you're so convinced that I wasn't reading."

Chris opens his mouth, but immediately closes it a second later, as though he didn't realize exactly what he had signed himself up for here until now. Ashley of course takes it as a sign of victory. "I knew it. So let's see this Chris, I wanna see you eat something that isn't—"

"When you read you get, like, super attentive." Chris's face is pink, and not looking at her but at the book on the table as he bashfully continues. "You become so drawn in to whatever you're reading that you ignore everything going on around you, because all of your attention is now on that book. Pretty sure a bomb could go off right next to you and you wouldn't even notice sometimes. And it's always so easy to tell what's happening in the book when you're reading too, cause your face is always so expressive. Like your eyes get big when something exciting or surprising happens, and when you're really enjoying whatever it is you're reading, you start giggling like a loon."

Ashley is too stunned and, quite frankly, her heart is beating too fast for her to even think of a proper response to that . She manages to squeak out a quiet little "oh, um" but Chris doesn't notice. Not when he's still babbling and not looking at her at all.

"But when you get deep in thought, you're not like that at all. All of your attention goes inward, and everything around you disappears cause all the important stuff is going on inside your head right now. Your mouth falls open just a little, sort of like you're gaping at all the information in front of you. And-and sometimes you'll mouth out what's going on inside your head as you try to fit the pieces of everything together so it's neat and tidy like a puzzle. And even though you have the, like, blankest stare imaginable, it's not empty at all if that makes any sense. Cause your eyes narrow and your forehead scrunches just the tiniest amount so you have a small little wrinkle form like right here—" with his unoccupied hand Chris points at the bridge of his nose right between his eyes "—and it's weirdly, insanely cute? But when you finally figure out the puzzle in your head, your face lights up like a kid on christmas morning and...and..." He lets his words trail off and stops awkwardly there, as though finally realizing exactly what he's been saying this entire time.

His face is almost beet red now, and Ashley is pretty sure hers is too. "Oh, uh, wow. I-I didn't realize you paid any attention to me when I was like that..."

Somehow his face only gets redder, and though he mumbles the words under his breath, Ashley can still make them out. "I'm always paying attention to you."

But not close enough attention it seems, she thinks sadly. If you did then you would have noticed something way more obvious than that. But she doesn't want to embarrass him anymore than he already is (then she already is), and she isn't sure what else she could possibly say that wouldn't be her blurting out that she likes him, so instead she pretends that she hadn't heard a single thing and wordlessly accepts the ice cream that he hands to her, accepting her defeat as she takes a small bite of the blueberry covered chocolate soft serve.

...The blueberry covered chocolate soft serve that he had bought for her. Or, you know, the ice cream he had paid for himself. Just like he had paid for everything today. Kind of like it was almost a, uh, date. Like he had taken her on a date.

Oh .

"Oh boy, let me guess: I was right and your ice cream really is a crime against taste buds?"

Ashley comes crashing back down to reality to see Chris, his face still a little red but the playful smile back on his face as he teased her. And yet, that only makes it worse as she can't help but feel the usual gymnastics routine the butterflies in her stomach perform at that particular smile, only they're a thousand times worse now that's she's realized exactly why today had felt so strange. And she can't help thinking how much everyone else would classify what was just a day hanging out with her best friend as a date. And how much she really, really wished it was one.

"Nope," she unfortunately squeaks out, and clears her throat so she can continue in a more normal tone of voice. "Nope, sorry to disappoint Chris, but the ice cream tastes fine." She takes another bite for proof (and to her credit she's not lying, it tastes more than fine). "Just, uh, realized something funny that's all." And the moment the words leave her mouth she realizes just how badly she's screwed everything up, because there is no way in any world that Chris Hartley is just going to let that comment lie.

"Funny? Oho, well now I'm interested. You mind sharing your glorious epiphany with the rest of the class Miss Brown?"

Taking another small taste of her ice cream, Ashley averts her gaze as she gives what she is kicking herself for is obviously an extremely forced laugh. "Did I say funny? I meant boring, just super boring actually."

"Well now I just want to hear it more."

"No, you don't. Trust me, you really, really don't."

Chris's brows furrow in concern. "Ash? You okay?"

She isn't, of course she isn't. She's now realized exactly what a date with Chris would be like, and it would be exactly like this. With them going to all the same place and doing the same things but she's allowed to hold his hand and kiss him when he does stupid sweet things like buying her the book she's been eyeing and talking about all day. She's never wanted something to be so true so badly in her life. And it's likely this thought in her mind that causes her to blurt out "A date." before she even realizes what she's said.

That only makes the confusion on Chris's face go deeper, which is appropriate considering she's sinking deeper and deeper into her chair in a futile effort to hide or escape as well. "What? Are you saying that you just remember what date it is today? Or that you had something you were supposed to do today instead? I'm not really following you right now Ash..."

This is perfect. It's the perfect excuse, she could laugh and say that she totally forgot what day it was and that she had an essay due pretty soon, or that she was supposed to babysit for a neighbour tonight. Anything really, the sky was quite literally the limit. And instead she just bit her lip and stared at the ice cream melting in her hand before weakly admitting "No, a, uh, date. As in, the romantic kind. I realized that today probably looks like a date to anyone else. Funny, huh?"

She's not sure how Chris would react to that. Maybe a startled laugh, and hand wave as he brushes her off. A scoff as he assures her that this definitely isn't a date, cause they're just friends and that's all they'll ever be. Whatever the reaction she expected, it was certainly not the fumbling for his ice cream as he nearly drops it in his shock, and how absolutely flustered he sounds as he trips over his own tongue. "W-what? I-I-I, uh—I mean, th-this obviously isn't—Who would even—? Wh-what would even give you the idea that we could um, possibly be on a date?"

Ashley shrugs weakly. "Isn't it obvious Chris?" She ignores his even more flustered babbling that no, he absolutely did not see what was so obvious as she continued on, still too nervous to look him in the eyes. "You've kind of paid for everything today."

"I wha—? I mean, no I haven't!"

"You kind of have, Chris. The theater?"

"You know I always pay for the tickets, and it would have just been really rude to make the line even longer!"

"The art show?"

"It was just a couple of toonies! And you saw the face of the worker there, they would have kicked us right out if they'd had to break a twenty. It was just easier."

"Lunch?"

"They-they'd had a special on for a two-person meal at that stall in the food court, and they wouldn't let each of us pay half..." he neglected to point out that Ashley could have easily paid for their lunch, and probably should have, but before she had been able to offer he'd already been swiping his debit card.

"The arcade?"

"Okay, that was my turn to buy the tokens, you know that. That one doesn't even count."

Ashley lifted her eyes from the ice cream to the book that sat menacingly and innocently all at one at the center of the table, it's pristine cover mocking her. "The book?"

"T-that was just a gift! You seemed really into it at the store and friends buy each other gifts all the time—"

There was no describing how soft and nervous her voice got as she asked the question that would put the final nail in the coffin. "The ice cream?"

"I, uh, it was just—um..." Chris let out a breath in a weak chuckle. "Shit, I guess I kind of did, huh?"

Ashley doesn't say anything, and neither does Chris, as the table goes silent. She's bracing herself for when Chris inevitably shoots her down and confirms that it doesn't matter. That the two of them will never be anything more then friends and that she never should have hoped for anything more and by revealing this she's ruined their friendship for good—

"Hey, uh, Ash?" He sounds so nervous that it immediately takes Ashley out of her anxiety driven thoughts of doom and gloom, but she can't do anything more than just shakily nod to let him continue. "It's, uh, probably like a really, really, really stupid question but—" he takes a nervous breath "—did you want this to be a date?"

Her head immediately shoots up as she stares at him with wide eyes, her breath caught somewhere in her throat where her heart is currently lodged. She frantically rakes her eyes over Chris's face looking for any hint that he's mocking her, or playing some cruel joke on her and her feelings, but all she sees is just nervousness all over a pale, shaking face with what she thinks ( prays ) is a glimmer of undisguised hope. But it's still too much uncertainty, and she's too scared to risk it all on a mere glimmer that she is likely only imagining because she wants it so badly to be real, so she throws the question back at him instead.

"...would you have been opposed if this was actually a date?"

"Nuh uh, I asked you first."

Ashley realizes that he's just as scared at what the answer might be as she is. She wants to tell him, has wanted to tell him for years and years and years. And maybe this is the chance she's been waiting for her whole life. The two of them sitting at a sticky plastic table under the early evening sun, long forgotten ice cream melting in their hands, and she can finally tell him that she's had such a huge crush on him since she was twelve.

"Yeah." The word is less choked out than it is released. Like it's a breath of fresh air and she feels simultaneously lighter and heavier for it. "I-I think I would have liked that. I would have liked that alot."

Chris snaps his gaze up to meet hers, and the glimmer of hope that she had seen earlier has now nearly taken over his face at the disbelieving smile that's threatening to crack his face in two. "Really? I-I mean, uh, I would have been alright with the idea too. More than alright actually."

She can feel her own smile start to nervously match his, and then the first giggle breaks out. His own ecstatic laughter quickly follows her own until the two of them are both giddily laughing at the table, but too embarrassed and bashful to even look at each other now. The giggling abruptly cuts off when Chris lets out a yelp of surprise when he realizes how much of his ice cream has melted onto his hand and Ashley joins him in trying to finish off their ice cream before it's melted entirely. But there's definitely a change in the atmosphere around them now. The contentness and laid back ease that always formed between them whenever they hung out was still there, but there is a charge that hadn't been there before either. An excited anticipation that only surges higher and higher whenever Ashley shyly glances in Chris's direction to find he's looking at her with the same disbelieving smile beaming on his face.

They never say anything more about it as they both finish off the ice cream, but Ashley knows. With that little agreement, the entire day had changed. This wasn't just them hanging out as friends anymore, this was an actual, factual date now, pure and simple. So when Chris hands her a couple of extra napkins to clean herself off, she may have let her fingers brush against his for just a moment. The resulting blush and dumbstruck smile on his face when he cautiously took his hand back so he could clean up the rest of the mess on the table was oh so worth it. And when he returned from his trip to the garbage can and held out his hand as an offer to help her up from the chair, she accepted it readily.

Once she's back on her feet, the two of them drop their eyes to stare at their still clasped hands, realizing that they could easily hold hands the entire short walk back to Chris's truck if they wanted. And she does want that—horribly in fact—but it seems it's still a little too early for either of them to make that teeny tiny but monumental jump to hand holding so they let go awkwardly and slowly, letting their fingers linger against the others before letting go completely. As though giving themselves a taste of what may yet actually come to pass in the (hopefully) very near future.

The short walk back to the truck is filled with both anticipation and dread alike, but unusually silent. Ashley knows it's because she's now a buzzing ball of nervous energy, terrified that saying anything at all will shatter this dream that's apparently coming true before her eyes, but Chris is different. He looks more like he's trying to work up the courage to say or ask something, and is spending all his energy on that alone. So when he reaches out to open up the passenger side door for her, Ashley can feel her heart pick up speed when he stops with his hand on the door handle and looks at her nervously. His mouth opens and shuts a couple of times as he tries to work up the courage to say whatever it is he wants to say, and all she can do is stare at him expectantly as she struggles to hold back an excited smile.

"Hey, Ash, ca—nevermind. It's, it's stupid. Don't worry about it." A second later, he has the door opened for her and the moment she can't see his face, she lets her smile fall crestfallen. But only for a second before a polite one replaces it as thanks when he closes the door for her and continues to his side of the truck. It's fine, she supposes as she buckles herself in, while the two of them have been hanging out all day, it's only been an actual date now for barely ten minutes. And once he drops her off home in just another few short minutes it's going to be over. The fact that she even managed to get this far is franky mind blowing, so expecting anything more from her dreams would just be extremely selfish. She can't have everything she wants all at once, no matter how long she's been waiting for it.

The drive back to her place is also quiet, filled with only the droning of the radio playing in the background. Ashley's returned back to her book, but she knows that Chris knows that she's not absorbing a single word, hasn't turned a single page even. She keeps glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he nervously taps at the steering wheel, and then tightening his grasp when it looks like he's going to say something, only to return to the nervous tapping when he inevitably backs out at the last second and returns to the frantic pep talk he's likely giving himself. The air that fills the vehicle is heavy and thick with anticipation and it's taking almost everything in Ashley to not start shaking the question out of Chris at every red light they stop at.

But, eventually, they pull up in front of her place and Chris stops the truck. There's a moment where the two of them just sit there, not wanting to leave because leaving means the end, and Ashley schools her face into a cheery smile in an effort to hide as much of the disappointment as she can when she turns to face him and bid him farewell, only to have it fall to confusion when he starts fumbling at his own seatbelt.

"Chris? What are you doing?"

He struggles further at it, frustrated that the buckle's apparently decided that now is the perfect time for it to stick once again. "Trying to get this fucking thing off."

"Yeah, I figured that much. But why are you trying to take it off, you're just gonna leave right away again anyway."

He slows his fumbling as cheeks start darkening in embarrassment. "I, uh, I just thought that was something you were supposed to do after a date, walk them to their door to stay goodnight. I mean, at least I think this is a date now? And, and only if you're okay with it! I can stay in here instead if you don't want me to. I was just hoping..."

The once forced cheery smile on her face is certainly not being forced any longer, if anything she's trying not to show how much the idea of Chris walking her to her door thrills her. "N-no!" Well, so much for trying not to show how desperately she wants that. The startled look he gives her at the unexpected outburst had her trying to control her voice into something less desperate, but considering she doesn't think she's ever going tame the frantic butterflies that have been flapping around non-stop in her stomach ever since the ice cream realization, she's probably doing a terrible job of it. "I-I mean if you want to, it's completely up to you after all..."

"Cool. Cool cool cool. Just, just give me a second." He continues to struggle with his seatbelt buckle, letting out more and more agitated curses escape the longer the thing continues to stick, and Ashley is getting the feeling that if he was able, Chris would have ripped the entire thing straight out of the seat by now. Broken safety laws and ensuing repair costs be damned. The moment he finally manages to unstick the traitorous buckle it's with a cry of victory and relief so exuberant that Ashley finds herself laughing in disbelief and awe that he had wanted to walk her the short ten or so feet to her front door that badly. Thankfully, for both of them, her seatbelt unclicks easily and much more quickly in comparison, only taking another couple of seconds to grab her bag from the footwell and joining him.

The far too short walk up to her door is over before either of them realize it. One second the two of them had been standing awkwardly and nervously by the truck as she fought the urge to reach out and grab his hand, and the next they're standing just as awkwardly and nervously (if not moreso) in front of the front door. Both of them waiting for the other to say or do something to break the tension, but cleanly aware that doing so would signal the very final end of the day, and the date. In fact, just knowing that Chris doesn't want this to end just as badly as her, is what gives her the courage to look at him with a surprisingly heartfelt and soft smile.

"Today was fun."

Chris lifts his eyes from where they had been staring at the dried leaves on the doorstep to match her smile. "Yeah. It was."

"And thanks. For the movie, and everything else." Ashley raises her hand to give the new and still shiny paperback a small wave. "And, you know, the book too. Of course."

"Yeah, it was no problem. Anytime." There's something with how he says the last bit—not really emphasizing it but making it clear all the same that he means 'anytime'—that causes her face to flush giddily as she pulls her lower lip in between her teeth in a weak effort to fight back against the ecstatic smile that forms anyway. And when she sees his eyes lower just a smidge to follow the motion and the way his shoulders stiffen in reaction, Ashley very quickly also finds she's trying (much more successfully) to hold herself back from just saying 'to hell with it' and throwing her arms around Chris so she can finally kiss him silly and until they're both breathless. But considering that she's too much of a coward to initiate something as innocent as hand holding apparently, there is absolutely no way that something as...as scandalous as kissing him on her doorstep is ever going to happen. Clearly.

And yet, she gives Chris another few seconds to try and work past that blockade in his throat, but when he still can't muster a single word, she decides to just put the both of them out of their misery. Or further into it. It's probably just the same thing really. "I guess I'll see you next time. I'll talk to you later, okay?" She turns away and puts her hand on the doorknob, and tucks the book under her arm so she can dig into her bag for keys, but is stopped when Chris's hand abruptly snakes out and wraps itself firmly around her wrist before she can reach into the bag. And it works—boy does it ever —turning back to him and the hand wrapped around her wrist as excitement just starts to bubble up inside of her.

A second later though, his brain has apparently caught up with the movement he clearly hadn't intended to make, because his face goes beet-red and he's dropped her hand so he can shove both into the pockets of his jeans. He averts his eyes so he's back to staring at the loose gravel and dried leaves under their feet.

"Oh, uh, sorry about that. I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine, Chris." Ashley tries to smile softly at him in reassurance, but it's considering she's gripping the doorknob in an almost vice-like grip in anticipation, it's likely far more eager than she would like. "What is it?"

Somehow, his face goes even redder and he blurts out the question so fast that it may as well have been one word. "CanIkissyou?!"

Immediately, Ashley's gaping at him wide-eyed and her mouth open in shock as her heart's beating so fast that she's pretty sure it's ready to burst out of her chest at any moment. "Wha—"

"I-I mean goodnight. Can I kiss you goodnight? That's what people are supposed to do on dates, right? A-a-a-and I think we agreed that this is a date now, or at least I really, really hope we did. Cause I've wanted to go on a date with you for the longest time and-and-and I didn't want Saundra or-or-or any of your neighbours to see cause I know that would just really embarrass you and me but I've been trying to ask you for the past thirty minutes now cause I've wanted to kiss you since forever but I was scared about how you would react cause I really, really, really like you Ash and I just wanna to kiss you so fucking bad right now you have no idea and—"

Ashley would like to believe that she's brave enough to throw her arms around Chris and drag him down into that searing kiss she's been dreaming about forever and ever, but she doesn't. Even with a confession that is everything she's ever wanted to hear and more. That's not to say that she doesn't want to do it—god does she want to do it—but she's so frozen in place from shock that she physically can't. So instead she just continues to gape at him as he (adorably) rambles on and on, and giggles out an elated little "okay".

His nervous rambling stops dead in its tracks, and he finally looks back up at her, nervous relief evident all over his face. "Really? I mean, are you sure? I'd understand if you didn't want to—"

" Chris ."

That immediately shifts the relief to a different kind of nervousness entirely, one of excited disbelief, but even then neither move to actually initiate this promised kiss for several seconds. Instead just staring at each other waiting for the other to be the first to move, Chris with his hands still in his jeans pockets and Ashley glued to the doorknob with her other hand frozen as it hovers over her bag. Finally, Chris is the first to slowly bend down to meet her awkwardly half turned body, and she unsteadily tries to rock herself onto the tips of her toes without losing her balance completely and falling over. And still, they both pause about an inch away from each other's faces, though whether to give the other an out if needed or just to work through the logistics of how to do this exactly without their foreheads or noses smashing into each other or Chris's glasses getting in the way is anyone's guess.

But finally, mainly due to the fact that Ashley can't lean forward anymore without falling completely on her face, Chris closes that final bit of distance and kisses her. It's a nervous brush of the lips really—a quick peck at best —but they jolt back from each other so quickly that the single action may as well have activated some hidden magnetic repel function that neither had been aware of until this moment. Both of them are staring at each other wide-eyed and breathless as the magnitude of what they had both finally managed to accomplish hit them. The kinda-sort confession and the almost hand holding meant absolutely nothing in comparison to this. Those she could have (and would most likely have) brushed off as her reading too much into innocent statements and gestures when she thought over everything that had happened today in the safety of her room later tonight. But this? This was physical proof .

Looking back, Ashley's not sure which of them moved first. One second they had been staring at each other in disbelief, stuck in the same awkward bent and leaning stature from before, and the next it's as if the magnetic attraction between them reverses its flow entirely. Chris is cupping her cheek with one hand as he kisses her in the way she always dreamed he would, his other hand slowly skating across the back of her neck so he can pull her up closer to him. The book that had once been clutched protectively under her arm was completely forgotten about—fallen to the ground with a sharp crunch as it crushed the dried leaves beneath their feet—as her arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders as she props herself as high as the tips her toes will allow her. She can still taste a hint of the chocolate from earlier on his lips, and the small part of her that isn't being blown away by all of this is wondering if he can taste the blueberry and chocolate on hers as well.

She's not sure how long the two of them stood there on her doorstep, kissing for all the world to see, but she does know that they still separate much, much too soon for her liking. Not that they fully separate of course. She may be back on the soles of her feet, but neither of them have removed themselves from the embrace itself. And with the way that Chris is lightly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone as he just stares at her with the same stupidly giddy grin she's got, Ashley would be perfectly fine if they could just stay standing like this forever.

"So..." she starts, and stops to take a moment to giggle when Chris bumps his nose into hers. "I think that was a perfectly acceptable first date if you ask me."

Chris doesn't let go of her when he leans back to consider her, the comically raised eyebrows in shock doing nothing to take away from the absolutely thrilled beam of his smile. " First date? Why Miss Brown, are you perhaps asking me out for a second one already?"

"I mean, if it's not too presumptuous of me, I suppose I am. I-if you're not opposed to it of course." She can't help the way her nervousness starts to bleed through with that last sentence, already panicking that she's somehow completely misread everything that's just happened and that maybe that kiss didn't mean as much to him as it did to her after all.

His next words completely derail those fears entirely. "Of course I'm not, I would love nothing more than to go on a second date with you. Followed by a third and fourth and even a fifth if you have the time for it."

"I mean, I'm a pretty busy girl but I think I can open up as many days in my schedule as it takes if I need to."

Before she knows it, the two of them are leaning in for another kiss when the sound of pot being dropped in the nearby kitchen through the open window jarringly brings them back to reality and the two of them let go of each other red faced and embarrassed. Oh no, how much of this had her mother heard? Or worse, saw? She wants to leave the doorstep (which is rapidly becoming her favourite place in the whole entire world) even less now, but the longer she takes the worse the excited interrogation from Saundra will be so she starts digging back into her bag to try and find her keys once again.

"I'll text you later, okay? And, maybe, we can talk some more about that second date...?"

The reply from Chris is flustered but eager. "Yeah, totally. I-I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Cool. And um, the next one's one me. The date that is. It's only fair after all."

"Yeah, right. Only fair. Totally. And, uh, your book..."

She finally finds her keys from where they had sunk to the bottom of her bag, and looks up at him and the paperback book that had fallen during their, uh, intimate embrace. "Oh! Uh, right. Thanks." She could easily leave it at that, but the last few minutes have made her bold so when she reaches out to take the book back from him, Ashley curls her fingers over his and bounces onto the balls of her feet so she can give him one last kiss on his cheek—almost the corner of his mouth really—before finally stepping back with the book and keys in her hand. "I mean it. Thanks . For everything."

"Yeah. No problem. It was my pleasure."

She lets herself have one last glimpse of the stupefied grin on his face just as he turns to walk just a little unsteadily down the path back to his truck. The only sounds being the leaves crushing underfoot and the jangle of metal as she sticks her keys into the door to finally unlock it. A sound that it quickly interrupted by not only the click of the door unlocking, but a muffled shout.

Alarmed, she turns quickly expecting to see Chris having accidentally shut his coat into the door as he is sometimes known to do when the weather gets colder, but instead watches in elated shock as he continues to keep energetically flapping his arms and fist pumping into the air and screaming what she can vaguely make out as 'yesyesyesyesYESYESYES' over and over again.

Suddenly it hits her. Despite the shy confession over ice cream, and then the much more rushed and rambled one only minutes ago, and followed by the kiss(es) that are still sending her heart into rapid fire, Ashley still hadn't believed what all the evidence had been saying. Chris liked her. He really, really liked her. Possibly as much as she liked him even! This wasn't just a one-off event that would now make things awkward between them for the rest of their lives. This was happening. They'd just had a first(!!!!) date and after Chris had kissed her goodbye, she had asked him out for a second one.

And he had accepted .

Ashley fumbled with the door and the moment she was in the house, slammed the door behind her, not even bothering to lock it. She let her bag fall from her shoulder to the floor with a soft thump and slowly slid down the door until she was sitting against it with her eyes wide and breathless. She ignored the surprised clatter coming from the kitchen as Saundra immediately dropped whatever it was she had been doing in and held up the book so she could stare at the once innocuous cover in amazement.

He had bought her this book and the ice cream because he liked her and he had gladly and excitedly accepted to go out on another date with her. And even more if he had been serious about that third date and beyond line.

And not that either would ever know it, Ashley mirrored Chris at that exact moment by placing her head into her hands and screaming as the built up joy and bliss finally exploded out of her.

#pride month prompt challenge #my writing #until dawn #chris hartley #ashley brown #chrashley #take two of trying post this stupid thing!#tumblr deleted the last one >:(#but this one actually copied over the italics so that saves me a shit ton of time if im being honest

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docholligay · 4 years ago

Note

Not from the prompt list, but: Tracer "helps" Winston find romance online.

1500 words and I hope you like it!

Lena was easy to love and hard to tolerate.

She was bouncy and excitable and it was nearly impossible not to get swept up in the joy of whatever it was that she had on her mind in the moment, which could be anything from the latest home improvement project to her idea for the eventual Overwatch mess hall, once she and Pharah got funding for a proper headquarters, to helping her friends improve their own lives.

It was that last bit that was sometimes the trouble, Winston reflected, when she turned her vibrating laser focus onto to you, instead of some other project or some other someone. What seemed such a charming light when shone on the rest of the world became a maglite to the face when it was on Winston himself.

“Think you should wear that jumper Aunt Lily got for you, the green one?” Tracer was barely paying attention to any protest Winston mounted, already halfway through signup on his phone, which was essentially a tablet in her hand.

You would think that would have alerted her to the absolute insanity of what she was proposing, but Winston had to remind himself this was a woman who had willingly competed to be the one to take a fighter jet through the time barrier. Impossible and insane were merely trifles to her, not quite comprehending that she was far luckier than any normal human being. Or gorilla.

“Lena…” he sighed, “I don’t want to--”

“Do you not care for girls, Win? “ She showed him the screen, “You know you can sign up to meet boys as well, it was only I assumed you’d prefer girls, because I prefer girls, and sometimes I do ‘ave to be reminded there are choices otherwise in the world--”

“That’s not it. I…”

If he were being honest, he would say that he had put the idea of romance out of his mind so completely so early in his life that he wasn’t sure what he preferred, or if he had any preference at all. He had known from the time he was a child and fled the moon colony that there was no one in the world for him. They were a strange and new class, the moon apes, unable to be loved by gorillas, feared by humans. They had learned science, and art, and and language, and math.

No one had ever spoken of love, of any kind.

Winston had thought love was untouchable at all until Tracer had come into his life and decided that they were the best of friends. She had seen something in him, and if his traitorous gorilla’s eyes had let him cry it would have made him weep with joy, this feeling of having a family, of having a person in his life who saw his warmth and tenderness. His family had grown, since then, and truth be known, he was really quite content with the close circle of Oxtons and Overwatch that he’d accumulated.

But Tracer had latched on to the idea of sending him on a date.

“What is it, Win?” She looked up at him, her body stilling for one moment.

“Lena,” he sat down on the couch next to her, “It’s not that easy, just to swipe through a bunch of pictures, and find someone.”

“No, of course not!” She laughed and grasped his phone again, with both hands, “That cute little bird I saw last week, Emily? Whatever tosser it was she’d set up with never showed at the pub, which of course was good for me, all told, but did ‘urt ‘er a bit, right? BUt she walked away with me number in ‘er pocket, and all of life’s a gamble, Win, innit?”

When Tracer got into the habit of asking questions, which were actually statements, Winston knew he was trapped in the tar pit of her boundless enthusiasm and love. She flipped through his phone, biting her lip as she identified the pictures where he thought she looked the most handsome, the most dashing, but were still recent enough that know one could rightly say he didn’t look quite exactly like them.

“Need to get you back to the gym, we do, big guy,” she laughed, “Surprised Fareeha ‘asn;’t marched you right in.”

“No one is going to want to date me, Lena.”

“Rubbish.” She did not look up. “You’re just shy, Win--”

“I’m a gorilla. No human being looks at me, and thinks--I’m lucky if they think of me as having feelings. I’m lucky if they just think I’m a curiosity. People--”

“I don’t think--”

“Lena, I took care of you for weeks! If I hadn’t, you’d think the same, you’d be friendly to me, you’re always friendly, but you wouldn’t love me except that you were forced to know me. That’s just the truth, I have to be forced onto people before they think anything kind about me, and it won’t happen on a phone app, or in a bar, or over appetizers. I know everyone loves you, but it doesn’t work like that for the rest of us.”

He hadn’t meant to snap at her so. And certainly, he had never meant to blame anyone but himself, with anything he said. But as she lowered his phone to her lap, the smile left her face, her shoulders sank, and her body stopped its excited, vibrating chatter. She softly touched her chest, looking down at the floor, a small glisten in her eye.

If he hadn’t convinced himself he was a beast before, seeing the deep hurt he’d caused the person he loved most in the world would have easily done it.

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice was small, in a way Winston had forgotten it even could be. “Do you really think I couldn’t love you ‘less you did all that for me? I only love you, ‘cause you do things for me?”

He reached out put his hand on her back. “No, I didn’t mean it that way, not at all. I meant that...before you, no one ever gave me a chance, no one had to, and so they didn’t, and that’s just how it works for me. Even now, it’s only you that brings people to me.” He ruffled her hair and smiled. “I wouldn’t have anyone at all if you weren’t here.”

She shook her head and looked at him determinedly. ‘That isn’t true, Win. Not now, if it ever was. You ‘ave our family, your last name is Oxton, innit? Wasn’t only me that offered it to you. And Ang loves you! ‘Ana too, in ‘er sort of grumpy cat way, and Fareeha’s a cactus as an ‘uman being, but she’d so anything for you, she would, tough as she plays, you must know that. It isn’t for me own sake they love you, Win, but for yours. ‘Sides all that, you made friends in Boston, right?”

He thought for a moment, on the group that surrounded him now, and how they asked after him, and how they’d embraced his birthday even though it was just another insistent invention of Tracer’s, how he never felt the same pang of loneliness he had for so many years. How he’d learned to make conversation more easily, and how to move through a crowd, and how Christmas now involved a passel of children crawling all over him, to his delight.

“Maybe it isn’t true.” He hugged her to his side, “But you did bring it to me, and that’s true whether you like it or not.”

She wrapped her arms around him, wide and tight as a starfish, as if she could embrace the whole of him if only she tried enough, and then rocked back onto the couch, folding her legs up underneath her as she popped back with a wide smile.

“What I’m ‘earing is that I ‘ave to go through these candidates and find someone who’d just be right for a man like you. Someone looking for a bit of adventure, but cozy-like. Likes big guys, who are warm, and--you know Win, I am a bit different as well, right? Every women I meet sees right off that--” she went to tap her chest and realized she was in Winston’s house, and thus her accelerator was in the corner, his house being adapted for her, and she laughed, ‘I mean, can’t ‘ide it, can I? Same for you, and it is a bit difficult, but you’ll see. Someone will look at you, and be ever so in love.”

He chuckled. Sometimes she spoke with such belief in the possibility of the world that it was impossible not to believe her, just a little. A thought came to his mind, and his eyebrow twitched.

“You will make sure...I mean, so there’s--people who are into ...animals, and--”

“Oh oh, god no, we’ll--we’ll get that just sorted right out, trust me on this, no one comes to you except through me, Win, promise.”

“I love you, Lena.”

She beamed. “And I want you to go put on that jumper. Oh! Pick up the apron while you’re at it, very domestic.”

It was a stupid, bold, and hopeless mission. There was no hope for any of it. But with her Tracer at his side, sometimes the impossible seemed like it just might be reached, if only for a moment.

#keyofjetwolf #Valentine's prompts

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syms-things-5 · 4 years ago

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Fifteen (Part Two)

**A Chris Evans Story**

Previous Chapter Here

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, strong language, generally a bit awkward

Notes: This is a long chapter, sorry. Any comments welcome, good and bad.

Chapter Fifteen (Part Two)

“Let me just bring up your booking here, one moment please.”

The lobby of The Langham was an ocean of grey and blue. The sun was shining brightly outside, the hottest day of the year so far, and it reflected in every surface of the space and accompanying bar. It was sparse on the usual detailing, instead preferring a minimalist approach; the check-in desk consisted of a mere iPad and one lily artfully growing from a tall, geometrical glass vase. Random art hung from all sides. One looked vaguely like a donkey, Sarah was sure. There was also what she thought was an ash tray balanced on a pillar to the left of where she was standing but she didn’t dare to investigate it any closer in case it cost the price of a small car.

It had the same over-perfumed odour as the fragrance section of a Macy’s. The tiled floor look so clean and fresh you could be forgiven for thinking it had only just been laid that very morning. Sarah felt a pang of guilt walking in wearing her scuffed Converse. She always felt so out of place in places like this. It was the kind of place she would run a mile from if she had the choice but Greg had an “in” with the manager and now here she was.

“So that will be four nights in our Executive Suite with Central Park view. You also have the bar allowance of $150 per night. You just need to take the elevator up to the 32nd floor and it’s the second door on your left. Would you like a hand with your bags, madam?” She motioned for the concierge to come over but held her hand up when she spied the puzzled look on Sarah’s face.

“I’m really sorry but I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I didn’t book a suite, just a standard double and I don’t think I pre-paid for any bar allowance. I didn’t even know I could do that to be honest.” Sarah chuckled awkwardly in an attempt to diffuse the tension but it fell on deaf ears. She handed the key card back to the lady, unsure of what else to suggest.

The lady showed practically no emotion at the possible mistake and simply took another look at her records before confirming that she was in fact correct with the initial room choice. “It’s definitely your suite, and...everything is paid for in advance. Could it have been made on your behalf? It looks like it was upgraded yesterday afternoon.”

Sarah wasn’t sure if she was asking her a question or telling her. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t biting her hand off but she hoped she hadn’t made some kind of horrific error her bank wouldn’t forgive her for. She could barely afford the double room she’d booked as it was and she’s sure the college wouldn’t have upgraded her without letting her know in advance. It made zero sense. They couldn’t have that kind of money going spare, putting students up in posh suites. She had no clue what could have happened.

Unless...Chris?

No, it wouldn’t be. He was less than pleased to hear she’d be away as it was. Except...well, who else? Sarah rolled her eyes a little too obviously before accepting the key card back. “That’s OK. I think I know what’s happened. It’s only the one bag. I can manage it.”

The lady nodded her thanks and, smiling politely, pointed her back towards the elevators. Sarah couldn’t move away from her fast enough.

Arriving at her floor, Sarah emerged from the lift expecting someone to come running up to her to confirm that they had in fact made a horrendous mistake. She slipped the key card into her door before pushing her way in to find her new home for the week.

The bedroom was large, uncomfortable so, with the bed positioned just off the middle in the room. Sarah figured the designer for a psychopath. It was big but not as empty as the lobby would have had her believe. In fact, it seemed reassuringly cosy despite the windows, so many windows stretching around the suite. There was a soft blue curved sofa opposite a screen that she’d seen smaller versions of in a cinema. Cushions fucking everywhere and fluffy white slippers she’d probably never take off again.

Everything seemed to be controlled from an iPad set in a stand by the bedroom door; the lights, the curtains, the air freshener, some background music for ambiance if she wanted. The windows tinted darker to block out the sunlight. Even the $1300 coffee machine was remote controlled; she had recognised it from the last edition of Home & Country Jocelyn had mailed to her, the exact one Shanna had been dropping hints about to Chris as a potential Christmas present.

The lounge offered her the clearest view of Central Park and with the light at this time in the afternoon, it was beyond stunning. She snapped a picture and considered texting it to Shanna but thought better of drawing attention to where she was staying. There was no way she could pass this off as a standard room even with her best efforts.

It was almost a shame to waste all of this on just herself. This room deserved romance, she thought.

Around the same time, Chris was on his third beer of the afternoon and lounging on his sofa. He had a new script in one hand, one he wasn’t particularly keen on but offered to read as a favour for a friend. He was so relaxed now that he had to re-read the last ten or so pages simply because it wasn’t landing. The whole room was lit softly by the sun outside. It had gone 4 o’clock when his phone rang disturbing the peace.

“Bernette! How was the journey?” he smiled into the phone as soon as he saw who it was.

“The bathtub is the size of my entire bathroom.” She announced, not giving him room to breathe. She heard him laugh heartily at the end of the line and could picture him looking smug and proud of himself, the dick. “I could have an orgy with the Patriots and still have room left.”

“Hey, don’t go getting any ideas.” he jostled with her. He placed the script down on the tablet to give her his full attention. “So, you like it, huh?”

“It’s...it’s absolutely gorgeous and utterly ridiculous. Seriously, dude, you did not need to do this.” She could sense his growing pride from here. “I’ve never stayed in anything like it. I have, like, a hundred towels.”

“That’s why I did it in the first place. Not for the towels, obviously, but just because you deserved something different. Something nice.” He enthused. “Don’t fight me on this, Bernette.”

“You should see the view. It’s so beautiful. I think I can see the museum.” She was stood on her tiptoes, pressed against the glass, looking at the tiny people milling around on the street so far below her.

“i know,” he responded. “You’ll be there for a week and best to be comfortable, right?”

She didn’t want to argue with him. She was tired and extremely grateful for the kind gesture. She’d be able to enjoy the place and her time in the City more if she could firmly separate her work from any space in which she could chill out. It wasn’t like she was going to be raving all night nor have much chance to see places at this rate, so more space was probably a good thing. She hadn’t had an unbroken night’s sleep in...she couldn’t even remember when.

“Thank you, Chris.” she spoke softly after a brief pause.

“You’re welcome.”

She put her phone down on the bedside table and set about removing her clothes from her suitcase. Well, “clothes” in the loose sense. What she’d packed was basically gym gear, sweat pants, t-shirts, nothing remotely attractive, and a simple paid of black trousers for the exam day itself. Who was going to see her anyway? Shanna had thrown a jumper in the mix without her realising, dismayed at her insistence that she was not going out to bars to hook up with someone.

“But you’ll be gone the next day! It’s. The. Perfect. Crime!” Shanna had said, exasperated and throwing her hands in the air in dismay.

The majority of space in her suitcase has been taken up with journals and textbooks, ones she hadn’t see since she left medical school and had long since expected she would never see again. Funny what opportunities life threw at you when you least expected it.

She was soon feeling the push and pull of the day and had planned on spending at least a couple of hours studying that evening, so she had a clean-up and threw on the first set of sweatpants that fell out of the closet. She tied her hair up and out of her face, pulled out her notepad and switched her Macbook on. The TV was showing some repeat of a gameshow with the sound on low, more for background company than anything else, and she finally figured out how to get the coffee machine working thanks to a small tome buried inside a drawer underneath the coffee table.

Chris 9.44pm: All OK? Need company yet??

Sarah 9.45pm: I love you guys bt I can’t tell u how amazing it is having space to myself. Been a looooong day

Chris 9.51pm: ah

Chris 9.52pm: OK maybe don’t look outside your door

Momentarily confused, she rubbed at her eyes trying to come up with a pithy response.

Chris 9.56pm: well this is awkward...........

Sarah looked at the door and then back at her phone. Looking up at the door again, she unfolded her feet from underneath her and slowly walked towards it. Pulling it open, she found Chris looking up at her through his lashes, sheepishness drenching his entire body.

“OK, funny story,” he said. “But I thought this might be romantic and then I got carried away and now I’m here and I can absolutely go if you need me to...?” He half-turned his body in the direction of the elevators. “I’m so sorry, honey. I just thought it might be nice and not at all annoying but it’s annoying, isn’t it? It’s OK, you don’t need to say anything. Dammit, I really thought I pitched this right.”

“Chris, it’s fine.” Sarah finally found her voice to speak. “Honestly. I’m...I’m just really surprised is all. I was not expecting you to...drive? All this way?”

He nodded. “Yeh, I just bombed it down the ‘95.”

Awkward silence fell between them as they stared at each other unsure of what to do next. Finally picking up on the fact he remained in the hallway, a backpack thrown over his shoulder, she moved out of the way and he entered the suite. Relieved, he placed his bag down and turned to see her close the door behind him. He looked mildly embarrassed and she was all too aware she wasn’t welcoming but it was getting late and her eyes had started to hurt a little as she rubbed at them with the back of her hand.

“Fuck, that’s a long couch.” he announced, taking his black suede jacket off and placing it over the armrest nearest to him. He glanced over and saw papers strewn over the coffee table, her laptop light blaring brightly and looked back to her. She was working hard and he had ruined it.

“I am so sorry. First thing tomorrow, I’ll go home, I promise.” He held his hands up by way of an apology but she shook her head in response.

“Stop apologising.” she chuckled. “Do you want a beer?”

He nodded gratefully and looked so adorable that any annoyance she might have felt finally dissipated. “How about I give you a hug and then leave you to it? I need a shower and I can amuse myself in there for a little while. I don’t know why I just said that.”

Sarah laughed again and a little more relief moved through him. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so nervous when he had been so confident of his decisions in the car all the way here. He’d rehearsed his lines and imagined her big smile when seeing behind the door. He had wanted to stop off and buy flowers but he was so eager to see her, he’d just kept driving. No daydream could live up to the reality of seeing her face up close.

He watched her from the bathroom doorway. She was cross-legged on the bed, studying the thickest textbook he’d ever seen with colour-coded notecards laid out across the duvet. He had earlier glimpsed a page over her shoulder but decided against pursuing medicine as a new career when he was faced with photographs of god knows what. He tried to remove the images from his mind by drinking another beer and thinking of Sarah in her scrubs. That tended to work well for him these days.

She looked so cute sat on the bed, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. He wanted to come up with a joke, calm the tension a little that had grown between them in the meantime, but she looked pretty hot. More hot than usual and it was distracting. Like a sexy Librarian and for the second time this month he discovered something else he was into.

One pen was stuck behind her ear but she’d forgotten she’d put it there and was now using a different one. Her hair was tied up at the top of her head in a messy bun that she hadn’t touched since she’d arrived, more and more strands falling loosely around her as the evening wore on, framing her perfect, round face. She seemed to engrossed in what she was doing.

He was still a little wet from his shower and pondered whether she would notice if he just whipped his towel off and offered himself to her. There really wasn’t anything he wanted more at this moment in time than to have her touch him, to have her run hands gently over his chest, to tease him a little bit. There’d be some time, he reasoned, and right not it was just was exhilarating to think of her being here alongside him knowing it would be just the two of them for a little while.

He perched on the end of the bed in front of her. She barely moved, barely seemed to notice him. He took one of her blank notecards and carefully placed it on the open page so as not to lose her place. She leaned back slightly, allowing him to gather up the papers and place them in a pile on the floor besides the bed before turning back to lean in towards her, one arm stretching out across her legs. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes again. She wanted peace and quiet and he decided to rock up just because he could. He sighed to himself. He was such a dick sometimes.

“Do you mind me being here?” he asked her, fully resigning himself to leaving if she now asked him to as hard as that might be. He’d got so caught up in his idea of surprising her that he hadn’t fully registered just how important these exams were or how well she wanted to do. Passing them wasn’t an option for Sarah; she wanted to knock it out of the park. She wanted to do better for herself and the more he got to know her like this, the more it became his favourite thing about her. And he related. He related perfectly. He knew exactly what that was like. “Cos I can go if you need me to.”

“Chris, I’ve said it’s fine. It’s nice that you’re here. I would just hate you feeling bored if all I’m doing is studying all the time.” She nervously twirled the pen between her fingers while taking in how amazing he looked following a shower, a little steam rising off his skin.

“I won’t get bored.” he assured her. “It’ll be nice hanging out with you. Just the two of us.”

He plucked the pen from behind her ears and she rolled her eyes realising the mistake she’d made. He tucked strands of hair back and leaned in placing a quick, soft kiss to her lips. He smelled like her coconut shampoo and she just now understood how truly spontaneous his trip had been.

“Listen, there’s another reason why I’m here. There’s something I need to talk to you about and I couldn’t wait until you got home.” he stroked her arm gently, looking down into her lap. “It’s been going around in my head and I’m not entirely sure what to say about it to be honest, but...it looks like Jenny’s done an interview with a magazine. A full thing with a photoshoot and stuff and it looks like I might be involved.” He closed his eyes for a second before correcting himself. “Not might actually, it’s pretty much definite that I’m in there for a large portion of it.”

“OK.” Sarah nodded. He for sure seemed weary of the whole thing and she felt for him.

“I just, I know she can be pretty unfiltered at the best of times, so-”

“-but she won’t have said anything negative, right?”

“No, no, not negative. I’m not worried about that exactly. It’s just that...” He was struggling to find the words. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about us, about me and her. I expect she’ll have this hyper-romanticised view of things and I guess I didn’t want you thinking it was some great love affair which is what I think she’ll spin it as.” He couldn’t quite meet her eye while he was talking. “I’m not proud of myself or of what I said or did at the time but I was low and she was there and it was...easy, I guess.”

He immediately regretted his choice of words. As much as he wanted Sarah to understand, he didn’t want Sarah to think he was dismissive of his relationships in this way. “Matt’s figuring out some damage control with them. Hopefully, it’ll go away as quickly as it comes.”

“You think he’ll be able to clear it up?”

Chris nodded. Matt was a formidable guy and he was assured things would look and read much better by the time it went to print. He placed his hand on her thigh and it was only now she registered just how close he was to surrounding her. “I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve all too often but when I do, they know about it. I want to make them aware of exactly how I feel about them and I didn’t do that with her.” He dipped his head to catch her eye line. “So, when I do something for someone, it means something, y’know?”

“Yeh, of course. You’re a good guy, Chris. Everyone knows that.” She took his hand and lightly interlocked their fingers together.

“I guess I just didn’t want you worrying about her ‘cos there’s absolutely nothing there for me. Never had been.”

“You don’t need to explain this to me, I’m not going to hold anything against you.” she stroked his chin with her thumb and felt him relax into her hand. He glanced down at the mess he’d made on the floor and started picking a few things back up.

“How much left do you have to do tonight?” he whispered as his lips closed upon hers for a fleeting moment.

“I could do with finishing some notes but...half an hour, maybe?”

“I’ll hold you to that.” he kissed her again and got up from the bed, lifting her books back on top. “Just come get me when you’re done, yeh?”

Finishing up in the bathroom, Sarah switched off the light and moved towards the bed. She kneeled alongside Chris who was lying flat out, naked except for the duvet bunched across legs, reading what she assumed was the hotel magazine only to find upon closer inspection that it was in fact one of her medical journals. She giggled as she grabbed the moisturiser from the bedside table and began rubbing a small amount up and down her arms, regarding him as his nose creased up in apparent disgust at something he’d just read.

“Did you know the body has ten times more microorganisms living in it than actual human cells?! That’s bacteria, Sarah. Living, gross bacteria. All over us.” he looked at her, shock and horror crossing his fine, perfect features. She wasn’t sure whether to pat him on the head or laugh.

“It’s mostly good bacteria, though. Only, like, 1% of it is bad for us.”

“And when exactly were you going to tell me about this?!”

She creased up laughing and flopped on to her side next to him. “It’s all information that’s out there for the world to see. Remind me not to tell you about eyelashes.”

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever removed from somebody’s ass?” he asked.

“What? Why is that always a question people want an answer to?”

“I don’t know. It’s just weird. Humans are weird.” he muttered, turning back to the pages in front of him. She was glad he had chosen one without pictures. That was the last thing she wanted to see before falling asleep.

“So, have you learned something new?” she asked, curling her legs under the duvet.

“I have. I think you should test me and if I get a question wrong, you can do whatever you like to me. Deal?” he asked, smirking. She shyly smiled and he tossed the book onto the floor. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She repeated. She watched as his eyes slowly travelled down her body. It was unreasonable how much he managed to disarm her with only a look.

His hand reached out to gently caress the side of her thigh, nudging the duvet slightly down before moving back up to her hip, a ticklish area he’d picked up on the last time they were together. He leaned in and kiss her on the side of her jaw, so feather-like and soft she barely felt it if not for his warm breath she could feel on her neck.

“You smell nice.” he whispered, looking at her from underneath his eyelashes. “We could have showered together, y’know? Save the planet?”

As much as she was getting used to the little things he would do when they were alone, rubbing her arm, tucking hair behind her ears, saying nice things about how pretty she looked, having him here in such close proximity with no else around to distract them or force them into the light...it was getting risky. Not that Chris ever pushed her, mind. He’d been nothing but understanding and respectful and she was grateful for that but also growing concerned he was perhaps a little...bored. Why else would he drive over state lines to see her. None of this was normal and the more time went by, the more she became fretful of what they were doing.

“What are you thinking about?” he kissed her shoulder. “Is it dirty? If it’s dirty, I wanna know about it.”

Sarah smiled and placed her hand on the side of his face, running her fingers gently over his beard. He’d thoroughly given up shaving but she liked how soft it still felt under her finger tips and judging by the breath he released as he closed his eyes, so did he, relaxing into her hand. He kissed her again. She was hoping he’d take charge so she could put off talking to him a little longer but instead, he refrained from pushing them any further and leaned back a little, looking into her eyes. “Talk to me.”

She could feel his hand move slowly and deliberately up her arm until he reached the back of her neck, his fingers playing with the loose strands of hair that had fallen from her messy bun. There was no getting away from this.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? It’s OK for you to tell me what you want.” She could feel his breath on her skin, his voice low and rough. His fingers moved again and she felt them touch her lips, one of them running back and forth over her lower lip until she parted them ever so slightly and his finger softly dipped inside her mouth. He seemed to like that and kissed her again, a little harder this time.

“Just keep kissing me.” she whispered, relieved that se finally got some words out.

He smiled at her, satisfied with her response, and kissed her again. Slow, wet, a kind of kiss that was full of promise of what he wanted to do and it made her whole body thrum with anticipation.

One hand now resting on the bed beside her and the other moved from her cheek back down to her thigh. She was frozen to the spot, this man focussed on her so intently, prepared to give her whatever she asked for, whatever she needed, expressing so much in a kiss that she didn’t register when her hand began moving slowly, grazing a finger ever so slightly over the waistline of her shorts.

“...and what else?”

A little more, he moved his hand until his fingers dipped inside her underwear until he felt her skin, hot to the touch. She broke the kiss momentarily to let out a breath, one hand resting on the back of his neck for leverage as he continued tenderly moving his fingers until he got to where he wanted to be. Feeling her wet for him seemed to spark something inside and she felt him push her carefully until she was lying back on the bed, head just off the pillow, and he leaned over her. He adjusted his hand ever so slightly until she could feel his fingers pressing at her entrance before moving in small circular motions, riling her up.

“Look at me, honey.” he whispered, his voice rough and turned on as he wanted her grabbing at the covers as he stroked her. She tried to but she couldn’t stop her eyes from closing again, zoned out with only his smooth and confident movements to focus on. It was almost getting too much with him hitting her at just the right spot for her to lose herself completely when, just like that, he pulled his hand away and grabbed both sides of her underwear to pull them down and off her legs. The next thing she remembered was the feel of him skilfully grabbing her from underneath her thighs, his tongue swiftly taking over.

It didn’t take long for her to feel like was she coming undone and him feeling proud of himself. She couldn’t fight it and with one arm draped across her lower tummy, he certainly had not intention of letting her get away. Any feelings of awkwardness were soon a thing of the past as she let the gentle, unbridled bliss he was giving her wash over her completely. She honestly couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like this before, she was so out of it. He was covering her completely, her wetness mixing with his own, his beard rubbing against her smooth skin adding another level of pleasure.

She ran her fingers through his hair, messing it up. His tongue hit her clit again and again causing her to give him a short, sharp pull. His groan was so filthy and deep from within him, she felt it reverberate through her, raising goose bumps up and down her skin.

He wanted her on the edge as much as he felt he was. He wanted her to want him, to tell him exactly what she wanted him to do. He wanted her on fire. He wanted to hear her beg.

Just as she was on the edge for a second time, he stopped and blew softly across her wisps of hair. He chuckled when he heard what sounded like a quiet yet frustrated groan leave her lips, followed by a chuckle, something innocent and familiar. Her hands loosened from his hair as they stared into each other’s eyes, their mutual breathlessness the only sound they could hear.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered, the breath from his words scorching her skin. He moved his tongue just a little lower, not breaking eye contact, and she felt him dip ever so slightly inside of her, his arm wrapped around her thigh and the pad of his thumb taking care of the rest. He did this a second time, then a third, and when he returned to pressing his tongue over her clit, drawing her into his mouth, she was soon grabbing at him in any way she could in a futile attempt to take the edge off the orgasm that was coming at her like a freight train.

She was close. He knew she was so close now and he held his arms tightly around her to keep her close to him. One more swipe of his tongue right....there...and she was gone.

When her breathing even out, she slowly opened her eyes to see him move up and over her, placing soft, wet kisses on her hip, her tummy, her neck, and finally on her lips. He seemed cautious to kiss her, unsure of whether she wanted him to but she grabbed his face with both hands to pull him back down to her, kissing him as passionately as she could manage with what felt like no energy. She could taste herself and it was so much more erotic than she could ever have imagined.

She felt him smile into the kiss as he carefully settled his body on top of hers, allowing her to wrap her legs around him. He moved the hair that was sticking to her forehead and stroked her face with one finger, gently mapping her eye and her nose and her cheek. She couldn’t reconcile this being the same man who had minutes earlier been so dominant. He had so clearly wanted to say something at that point if only his hardness hadn’t been so distracting. He mover one arm under her neck, using the other hand to move hair from where it had clung to the side of her face. Holding her as close to him as possible and feeling blissful when he felt her legs wrap around his own, he entered her and held still, enjoying the moment.

“We should’ve done this years ago.” he spoke and for a brief moment, without realising, she was pulled from their intimacy, a pang of guilt taking its place.

He was too busy pushing into her, needing whatever she had left to give him. He grabbed at the back of her neck to keep her in place, his face buried into her hair. She felt her skin heat up all over from his breath as he panted at her side. It was more frantic than he’d wanted it to be as he groaned and moaned and pushed his whole weight into her with force. It was really all she could do to just hang on to him as he fucked her deeper, as he surged towards his own orgasm, then letting go when she felt him shudder insider her minutes later. He sounded helpless and as much as he tried to hold himself up from collapsing on her, he soon gave up trying and laid his head on her shoulder.

His warm breath continued covering her skin as she ran her hand gently over the back of his head. She felt him chuckle a vibration into the top of her arm before a wet kiss landed just underneath her ear, a place he had deigned his own after he realised how sensitive she was on that particular spot.

Finally rolling off her to lie on his back, he kept his arm stretched across her lower tummy and rubbed his fingers across the apex of her thigh. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed in this position but at some point he leaned over her to turn the bedside light off plunging the room into complete darkness and they continued to lie there in silence not really sure if the other was asleep or not.

He eventually turned onto his side to face her, keeping a firm grip on her waist. He was across her pillow and she could practically feel the flutter of his eyelashes as he watched her in the dark, a soft outline gradually appearing as his eyes adjusted to the blackness of the room, making out her features. she felt his hand move up and down her ribcage and over the inside of her elbow, another sensitive spot that made her shudder and him chuckle again when he realised she was in fact still awake.

She turned onto her side to face him and his hand moved to her lower back where it finally rested over her hip. She pushed her leg in between his and he seemed content and comfortable in how they were existing in this space, both aware they didn’t have to worry about getting up any time soon. He was running his fingers up and down her spine in slow, circular motions and it felt wonderful. Too wonderful. And there was that guilt again.

“What will you do tomorrow?” she asked.

He took a deep breath in contemplation at her unexpected question. “Gym looks pretty good. I have a book and a couple of scripts, too. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“I know.” she murmured but he knew she was dwelling on something.

“I wanna be here for you if you need anything and if you don’t, you won’t even know I’m around. I promise.”

“I know that, too.”

She could sense him smile at her even in their dark. “Good.” he said. “It feels nice knowing I’ve made a good decision for a change.”

#chris evans #chris evans fic #evans fic #fan fiction #clear the area #sarah bernette #chris evans x original female character

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werebearish · 4 years ago

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NaNoWriMo 2020 tag meme

Okay so I saw this video on youtube and decided to answer these questions here.

1. What are you working on for NaNoWriMo this year?

It’s NaNoAMO again! I’m working on continuing my WIP longfic amo (amas, amamus. I’d like to say “finish” but imho it’s more important that I’m working consistently and making progress at all, so we’ll just say “continue” for now.

2. What apps do you use to help you write and stay motivated?

Apps and sites that are helpful for me with writing, either directly or indirectly:

Google docs and Scrivener apps — processing the words, yup yup.

Calm app — a meditation app. This helps me settle my racing brain.

Atmosphere — a simple ambient sound app that I really like. It has a nice basic interface and you can make mixes of five or six sounds; it’s simple enough that I can throw them together on the fly, and you can also save them.

Ambient Mixer — an app (and site) that is less simple, but can be fun to explore and find or find-and-tweak or create some good mixes. I do NOT do this one on the fly — it’s too easy to get sucked in.

Music playlist — great for signaling my brain that it’s time to work on the thing. Sometimes I have to turn it off after a while because I need more quiet, but that’s okay.

Basic timer app — I don’t have a particular one I prefer, usually just my phone one. Sometimes I might mix it up by using an hourglass. I find that if I set it for more than 20 minutes I often lose focus, so I usually stick with that. I also try to make myself take five minute breaks every 2 or 3 sprints, which is hard to do, but usually helpful.

4thewords.com — this is a gamified writing site, and I do have a lot of fun with the smaller wordcount monsters. It isn’t free, but I enjoy it a lot and use it every day.

I will also mention Fighter’s Block — https://cerey.github.io/fighters-block/ — which is a very very simple version of racing/fighting a monster via wordcount, but this one is free. (I’m not sure if this plays well with mobile right now, and you might have to poke around to get it to work. Be sure to copy and paste your words into your preferred program after you write them!!)

3. Where do you like to write and what’s your favorite writing spot?

Sometimes I like to write lying down in bed with my tablet, but honestly it’s not usually very productive. Even if it weren’t coronatime, I don’t live near any coffee shops or anything. There’s the library (well, normally), but then I get distracted by the books. Occasionally I will mix it up by curling up on the couch with a notebook and pen, but honestly, for me, my desk is best. I have a good chair, which is way better for my back and neck. I also have a little space heater, which is motivating on cold days.

4. What are your writing space must-haves? (i.e. candles, pillows, fave notebook, etc)

Right now on my desk (besides some cluttery nonsense), I have:

Folder with notes, timeline and calendars

Bee balm lotion/ointment — I love it

Lip balm

Post it notes — essential, mostly for noting “what to start with tomorrow”

Process notebook and scratch paper notebook

Beeswax candles — a pillar that has been STRUGGLING, and the votive that I just got out because I was tired of wrestling with the pillar

A basket of AMO-related treasures, including: Simon and Baz plushies that I made, Red plush dragon, Watford scarf, star scarf, Lavender honey lotion, Chocolate mints, Baz candle, Snowbaz art cards, Printout of the comic of the first chapter

5. What are your favorite drinks and snacks to have when writing?

I like to have water and/or Snowbaz tea available. I’m not much for snacks during, but this time I DO have some thematically appropriate Andes chocolate mints. (Simon and Baz actually like mint Aeros, but those are large and hard to find around here, and I like Andes better, so.) I usually have one right at the beginning of a writing session, and maybe one at the end, if it’s been a couple hours.

6. What are your favorite writing distractions? (i.e. pets, tv shows, etc)

I like to take breaks to play harp or kalimba. Naps?

7. What are your favorite ways to get back on track?

Making tea, taking some breaths or doing a meditation in my favorite app, possibly doing some stretching with a tai chi app that I have. Starting my playlist or focusing on a candle is helpful, too. And sometimes I really do just have to take a break for a bit, and then come back later.

8. What are your writing rewards and milestones?

I’m doing a modified version of NaNo, since I’m working on an ongoing project instead of starting something new. I’m counting ALL the words I write (notes and freewriting as well as actual prose) and putting them into the NaNo site, but more importantly I made myself a tracker in my bullet journal with my own definitions of “success” to check off on a daily basis. (Prominently featuring: did you show up for at least 20 minutes? and Did you make a note for what to start with next time? If so then YOU HAVE WON!!)

9. Tag 3 friends to do this tag!

If you want to do it, please consider yourself tagged. :)

#quizzes and memes #assorted memery #nanowrimo #my writing #amo #progress reports

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newyorkprelawland-blog · 4 years ago

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Fast Fashion, Slow Lawsuits: The Rise Of Copycats In The Fashion Industry

By Melanie Nolan, Skidmore College Class of 2023

February 9, 2021

On February 17th, Kim Kardashian attended the Hollywood Beauty Awards in Los Angeles wearing a vintage Theirry Mugler dress with cutouts from their 1998 haute couture Spring/Summer collection.[1] On February 18th, fast-fashion retailer Fashion Nova released the “Winning Beauty Cut Out Gown” available for purchase on their website for $49.99. It appeared to be a nearly-exact replica of the hyper-specific vintage gown Kardashian wore the day before. Kardashian herself addressed the situation on Twitter. “Only two days ago, I was privileged enough to wear a one-of-a-kind vintage Mugler dress and in less than 24 hours it was knocked off and thrown up on a site — but it’s not for sale. You have to sign up for a waitlist because the dress hasn’t even been made to sell yet.”[2] In the span of mere hours since Kardashian was photographed in the dress, Fashion Nova had recreated it, shot it on a model, found a manufacturer, and uploaded it on their website for the public to purchase. Or did they?

Fashion watchdog Instagram account @DietPrada fired back at Kardashian. They posted a screengrab of the knockoff Muegler dress on a FashionNova model, taken days before Kardashian had even worn the piece. “Fashion Nova Mugler knockoff shot 4 days before Kim wore it on 02/18/19. Kim, you’ll never fess up to your sneaky lil collaborations, but we got all the receipts.”[3] This finding by @DietPrada raises a few questions. Not only does it call into question Kardashian’s previous statement, but it also raises questions about if Kardashian was in on this grift the whole time. If the eagle eyes of @DietPrada are correct, it means that Kardashian (or a stylist) has been tipping off FashionNova about her outfits before she wears them. If they are incorrect, it means that somehow FashionNova guessed that Kardashian was going to wear a hyper-specific vintage piece, shot it, styled it and manufactured it, all before Kardashian even wore it. Then, when Kim unveiled it on Instagram they uploaded it to their website a day later. Fans speculated in the comments about what seemed more likely. Again, Kardashian defended herself on Twitter, swearing that she had nothing to do with it, and condemned retailers like Fashion Nova for ripping off small designer’s works.[4]

To be fair, Kardashian has battled with fashion retailers about copyright before. She filed a $10 million dollar lawsuit against Missguided for using her “name and image without permission in order to generate interest in their brand and website.”[5] However, she made no move to file such action against Fashion Nova. Was that an admission of guilt? Or, was it simply because of the ties Fashion Nova already has to her sisters?[6]

The jury is still out on Kardashian, but she is hardly the only one to be caught up in copyright issues with garments. There is a complicated history with fashion’s relationship with the law, and items of clothing often wrestle with complicated questions about what can be recreated, what can’t and how to take action about those who do.

Oddly enough, the debate and the laws about fashion start mainly with a lawsuit against two cell phones companies. The case was complex, but it boils down to this: in 2011, Apple sued Samsung for “slavishly” copying its products, namely cell phones and tablets. Apple argued that due to their patents, they were entitled to Samsung’s profits, and Samsung needed to promptly stop production of their infringing products.[7] Normally, a case like this would not be such a big deal for law, specifically law about fashion. But the patent that Apple claimed Samsung was infringing on was a design patent. A design patent is very different from a utility patent. A utility patent which protects what something does. A design patent protects the way something looks.[8] By filing this lawsuit, Apple claimed that their product’s design was getting ripped off, and thus they were wronged. Apple won.

Design patents protect the functionality of an object, but they also protect decorative aspects of it as well. As Fashionista described it, “If you have a shoe that has an interesting molded or sculptural heel that doesn't have any particular special function, but is part of this otherwise functional item, the shoe might have design patent possibility.”[9] Nike is by far the king of design patents. They filed for 867 patents in 2018, which is oddly only the second-most in the company's history.[10] But Nike, as a sneaker company is the perfect fit for something like a design patent. Their products clearly serve a function, yet there are clear decorative aspects as well that are unique to the brand. Handbags are another item that bears well to design patents, and the decorative hardware can also serve as the “ornamental piece” of a functional object. However, despite these useful instances of design patents working in their favor, many brands don’t use them. Instead, they focus their efforts on protecting their trademarks.

Patents are expensive. Trademarks are cheaper. To patent the design of a shirt can be up to $6,000-$8,000 just to start. To pay to trademark a little logo in the corner is much cheaper, and it can be incorporated into overall branding as well. This is all fine and good for big brands, like the aforementioned Nike who employs (and can afford) an army of lawyers to protect their designs. But some can’t, and in the age of Instagram this has become a massive, gaping problem.

For Madeline Pendleton, it’s just another day at the office. Only, her office is her garage, and her work is her small brand, Tunnel Vision.[11] Madeline and her best friend, who she dubs an “unofficial partner” run the brand, quite literally out of her home in Eagle Rock. They do small orders and small batches, and almost all of the designs on the website are Pendleton’s own original art. “I design ethically, and thus have a significantly lower profit margin than sellers of the sweatshop-produced copy, so it stings quite a bit knowing people make more money than I do off of my own artwork by just selling copies of it”[12] Pendleton isn’t the only one struggling with this. Many small businesses are routinely burned by the fast fashion market, and struggle to make ends meet while also battling with overseas manufacturers who often rip items almost as soon as they are created. But until then, she and other countless small designers will simply have to keep working, and try to keep up.

______________________________________________________________

[1] https://www.elle.com/fashion/celebrity-style/a26390312/kim-kardashian-vintage-thierry-mugler/

[2] https://twitter.com/KimKardashian/status/1097903684527091712

[3] https://www.instagram.com/p/BuDB6RxlPab/

[4] https://twitter.com/KimKardashian/status/1097903481518616576

[5]https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/thr-esq/kim-kardashian-sues-style-copycat-website-using-her-image-permission-1188517

[6] https://www.fashionnova.com/collections/kylie

[7] https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/24/business/apple-samsung-patent-trial.html

[8] https://www.uspto.gov/web/offices/pac/mpep/s1502.html

[9] https://fashionista.com/2016/12/fashion-law-patent-copyright-trademark

[10] https://www.bizjournals.com/portland/news/2019/01/07/nike-continues-torrid-patent-pace.html

[11]http://www.uscannenbergmedia.com/2016/02/25/how-one-sustainable-fashion-brand-resuses-vintage-clothing/

[12]http://www.uscannenbergmedia.com/2016/02/25/how-one-sustainable-fashion-brand-resuses-vintage-clothing/

Photo Credit: VOGUE Taiwan

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thehighlandhealer · 4 years ago

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Trick or Treat, Cont. || Charleson, Bronwyn, Lirim, Aedan, Rory, & Cynthia || October, 2020

Lirim: Lirim tossed his phone onto the table, smiling apologetically at his son. Their first outing with Charles. His first, that is. Bronwyn was another story.

"He said five's fine," Lirim called to Bronwyn. Paint was much more manageable than makeup, in his opinion. His son's whiskers, made of his mother's eyeshadow, would survive the next few hours. Aedan wouldn't care or much notice. His ears were free. When was he going to develop a tail?

Bronwyn: “Five it is!” Bronwyn called back. She was deep in her makeup drawer looking for a tube of eyeliner that seemed to have disappeared. “Why didn’t I draw the whiskers on with eyeliner, they’re goin’ to smudge. Oh! Marie and Lydia have asked us to stop by their houses. No one in this city will have better treats.”

Lirim: "You won't go touchin' your face, will ya, Aedan? Some settin' spray and you're ready to hit the town."

Lirim perked, looked over the mass that was his son's curly hair. "Oh really? Haven't seen them in ages." He hadn't seen much of anyone outside of the art gallery, so no surprise.

A thought occurred to him. Shit. "Guess that means I'm seein' Mason again."

Bronwyn: “Aye, darlin’, it does. Ha!” She returned to the room a few moments later with the eyeliner and her setting spray. “But don’t worry, ev’ryone will be on their best behavior. Includin’ him.”

Lirim/Aedan: Xavier's uplifting words rang in his memory as reminder. He didn't have to be afraid of him. Not anymore. Just confounding that anyone spent any amount of time with that demon.

He didn't have room to judge, considering his favorite Atlas, but he would.

Aedan was about having his fill of this face touching. The squirming had begun.

"Patience, puppers!"

Bronwyn: “I’m almost done, lovey.” Bronwyn made quick work of touching up Aedan’s whiskers before telling him to close his eyes for the setting spray. “There, all done!”

Lirim: "Ya know he's gonna have a fit when ya try and take that off." Oh well. It was just one night. His son was certainly no artist, putting up with the smell of makeup was easier than paint, and it was for a good cause. He didn't have whiskers and he wanted them.

"Alright, Toto, all done. Ready to meet Dorothy?"

Bronwyn/Aedan: “It won’t be so bad. Just one wee little makeup wipe and it’ll come right off.”

Aedan gave his mother a skeptical look but the excitement over the candy he would soon have won out.

“Yeah!”

Lirim/Aedan: "I shoulda gone as the Big Bad Wolf, Miss Riding Hood."

"Wolves are good!"

And Aedan wouldn't hear otherwise. "You're absolutely right. He just had an image issue." Bronwyn was given a look.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn smiled and nodded. “Absolutely. An image issue and questionable manners. Daddy should’ve gone as the Big Good Wolf.” That last added with a teasing look.

Lirim/Aedan: His parents were given a look. The look of a child aware but unable to articulate. Instead, going on about how he wanted a candy apple on a stick.

"You got it, Toto."

Bronwyn: “I think—and I’m no’ positive or anythin’—but I’m pretty sure Auntie Lydia is makin’ candy apples with red caramel.”

Lirim/Aedan: Aedan's eyes couldn't have been brighter.

"Oh boy, Toto's gonna need a leash."

And off their son ran across the house screaming.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn laughed. “Oh, aye. I probably shouldn’t tell him there are also goin’ to be cookies.”

Lirim: "Shhh. He'll be in a sugar coma before eight."

Bronwyn: “Eight?” she chuckled. “Aren’t we bein’ optimistic. My money’s on seven.”

Lirim: "That's better than eight. What ya wanna bet?"

Bronwyn: “Hmmm...” She tapped her chin. “Dinner.”

Lirim: "What ya want?"

Bronwyn: “Shrimp and grits with an ungodly amount of cheese.”

Lirim: "Homemade or restaurant?"

Bronwyn: “Homemade. What do ye want if ye win?”

Lirim: "I want... to paint you."

Bronwyn: “Paint me or paint me?”

Lirim: "I mean paint on your body in my studio."

Bronwyn: “It’s a bet. What do ye want to turn me into?”

Lirim: "We'll have to see. Been a long time."

Bronwyn: “Aye, it has.” She smiled and kissed Lirim’s cheek. “Ye can turn me into anythin’ ye like.”

Lirim: "Maybe I've some ideas. In the nude, of course."

Bronwyn: “Well that goes without sayin’. What’s a little nudity after ye’ve impregnated someone.”

Lirim: "Oh?" He laughed. "Speakin' of 'fore I get ahead of myself, how's the Viking?"

Bronwyn: “Still tall, stoic, and handsome. He got a kick out o’ my costume.”

Lirim: "They don't do Halloween in Iceland?"

Bronwyn: “Iceland kind of does a wee, Torsten doesn’t do it at all.”

Lirim: "Makes sense, I guess." Lirim looked in the direction of their son. "And he's good with Aedan?" Hundredth time asking. "He should... be here. He's gonna have a lot more Halloweens."

Bronwyn: She nodded. “Aye, he’s good with Aedan. I asked him to come with us but he’s in Iceland at the moment, takin’ care of some family business.”

Lirim: "Do ya want Aedan to call him dad?"

Bronwyn: “I want Aedan to call him whatever feels right to him.”

Lirim: "Ya'd think I'd be used to it. I mean he already -" He'd stop right there. "Anyway, Charles should be here any minute."

Bronwyn: She kissed his cheek again. “I love ye, Lirim Vivaldi. Ye know that? There’s no timeline on gettin’ used to it.”

Lirim: "Love ya too, Mama B. Ya know he calls ya that when we're alone? Totally picked it up from Lucien I know it."

Bronwyn: “He does?” Bronwyn positively melted at the sweetness of it all. “That’s adorable! And he absolutely did and I’m no’ surprised at all. I love bein’ Mama B.”

Lirim: "He asked about Lucien a few days ago. Didn't realize how often they were together."

Bronwyn: “Aye, the magic of teleportation. I’ve been wantin’ to learn it, I feel bad havin’ Vincent go back and forth so often.”

Lirim: "Can't be easy. I mean, that's why it belongs to familiars, and... demons."

Bronwyn: “Ye’re right. Avalbane is over three hundred and she can’t do it.”

Lirim: "Shit. What's she got over ya, though? Spells wise, I mean."

Lirim turned to the foyer mirror and adjusted his hat.

Bronwyn: “Sheer volume o’ spells. Decade upon decade of experience. That spell she used to help us with Aedan? It’s so obscure she found it on a stone tablet.”

Lirim: His smile softened. "Just had a conversation about that, actually, with Xavier Atlas." He watched for her reaction.

Bronwyn: She didn’t quite frown, but there was a definite tightness to her smile at the mention of that man.

“Were ye indeed,” she said as casually as she could. “Does he get his magic from stone tablets as well?”

Lirim: "I imagine if Xavier Atlas were reborn today, he'd be that bookworm child that turns into a mage. Or a mad professor. Or a politician. Can't really pin which."

Bronwyn: “Or held in a federal prison for tax evasion.”

Lirim: "I mean," he laughed, "they're not saints, but they're hungry, Atlases."

Bronwyn: “That’s definitely one way to put it. Do ye see him often?”

Lirim: "Nah. First time in...years."

Bronwyn: “Was it a good visit?”

Lirim: "I needed it. Been meetin' up with a few people I lost." He gestured to the front door. "Charles included."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn reached for Lirim’s hand and gave it squeeze. “Well for that, I’m glad. It’s nice to see ye returnin’ to yer life, spendin’ time with people ye enjoy. Ye’re like a flower bloomin’ after a long winter.”

Lirim: "Only a druid would say that," he laughed. He felt like he'd been doing more of that lately.

Bronwyn: He had and it had not gone unnoticed. It was such a welcome sound.

“It’s true! Ye’re our angelic flower.”

Lirim: Lirim shook his head, rubbed his cheeks with both hands. "Alright, Ridin' Hood, ya all set to go?"

Bronwyn: “All set. I’ve got ev’rythin’ we can possibly need in my basket.”

Charles/Rory: Charles gave a single nod, indicating that Rory could, indeed, be the one to ring the doorbell. He did so with great enthusiasm, before Charles guided him gently back.

Lirim/Aedan: Of course. The doorbell was piano keys, after all. This didn't have to be a child for someone to go to town on it.

"Someone's playing music!" called his son.

"No, I got it!" his father laughed, opening the door less than a moment later.

"Hey, fam!"

Bronwyn: Bronwyn would appear at Lirim's shoulder almost instantly, greeting their new arrivals with a radiant smile.

"There they are! Come in, come in! Look at ye, ye look great!"

Charles/Rory/Cynthia: Charles was all smiles for his friends, tipping back his pointed hat to more easily press a kiss to each of their cheeks.

Rory and Cynthia both were happy to see Bronwyn, Dorothy and a little Tin Man stepping forward for hugs they knew were coming.

"Hello, hello! Rory, Cee, this is... Mr. Lirim Vivaldi." He'd leave it up to the man himself to decide how he wanted to be addressed.

Lirim: "Hi!" The old saying of loving only your kids was relevant to Lirim; he didn't feel like a natural around other people's children and doubted he ever would. But these were Charles'. He got on a knee to shake their hands. He then called to Aedan to greet them.

Bronwyn: The children already knew her very well; they'd both be kissed and given a good squeeze that stopped just shy of mussing their costumes. Their father would be given equal treatment.

She smiled as Lirim greeted them, taking the opportunity to grab her camera from her basket and start snapping pictures.

"I can't get over those costumes! Ye're all so precious I could eat ye right up. Smile for the camera!"

Charles: Charles was not nearly so averse to being photographed as his husband, but there was no need to capture his ridiculous witch's costume for posterity. With a wry smile, he nudged his children gently toward where Aedan stood. "Let's get one of the kids together. Following the yellow brick road, and all that."

He had a sunny smile for Bronwyn and Lirim's son. After all, he did not share Lirim's opinions on other people's children. He'd certainly have chosen the wrong bloody profession, if he did.

"Nice to see you again, young man. You've gotten so big!"

Lirim/Mason/Aedan Mason lagged behind, still warding and locking down the townhouse just a few feet away. His hooded masked figure cut an intimidating silhouette compared to the others. By design, given the city. This was his city and his people, but this was his family, and a priority. He would be watchdog tonight. No doubt with Charles' ability, danger would not survive twenty yards.

Aedan began explaining his costume, as though it were required. Toto for Dorothy! With a bark as real as his dark brown ears perked tight with excitement.

Lirim adjusted his son's curls and returned to his feet. "He really has." The naphil stilled at the sight of the demon, taking a breath. A nod of acknowledgment.

Bronwyn: There was every need to capture Charles' witch costume for posterity and that was precisely what Bronwyn was going to do.

"Aye, let's! Ev'ryone move in closer and give me a big smile!" She snapped a couple of photos of the kids and a couple more of Lirim and Charles. "Mason!" she called. "Come see the cuteness!"

Charles: Charles was not the least bit concerned about the evening. Nor did he believe himself, Bronwyn, and Lirim incapable of defending against any unlikely danger. But he welcomed his husband's presence, all the same. He smiled fondly as Aedan went into the details of his costume. They really were an adorable trio.

"Are we ready to begin? We're following your lead, here."

Lirim/Mason/Rory: "Little terrors in disguise!"

Rory looked back to his father. "Nah uh!"

Lirim locked the door behind them with a flick of his hand. No one around to notice. "Start here and go counter-clockwise, then Coverdale?" he looked to Bronwyn for confirmation.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn mapped the proposed route in her head and nodded. "Sounds good to me! Ev'ryone stay together now, and if ye hear a verra cranky poodle, just walk on by. She only barks if ye give her attention and if ye give her attention she tries to bite ye."

Charles: Charles laughed openly, adjusting his hat as it slipped. "She sounds delightful. I'll keep a wary eye. Do you lot want to leave a bowl of candy out for any kids that come by?"

Lirim: "Last time I did the whole cauldron was gone!" Lirim laughed.

Bronwyn: "I'm convinced that kid who thinks he's James Dean and his mates took the lot."

Charles: "There's always one."

Lirim/Mason: "Should I?"

Mason was already off with the children to the nearest house on their side of the street.

Bronwyn: "We can, if ye like. It's still early, there's a chance bargain bin James Dean won't show up for another couple of hours."

Charles: "I like to, when no one's around to answer the door, but it's your bowl."

Lirim: "Out of that giant school? Not even a maid?"

Lirim unlocked the door with another flick, glanced at his son and ran inside for a jack-o'-lantern bucket, filling it with tiny bags of Reese's Pieces.

Charles: "In Cameron, or wherever else. There's always someone at the school."

Lirim: "Cameron?" The bucket placed. Lirim picked up the pace to join his son.

Charles: Charles followed closely behind, catching a speeding Rory as he returned from the door with chocolate in his once-empty bucket.

"Careful! Mhm. My husband has a house there." For now, anyway.

Lirim: Charles was given a quick glance. "Do you see it as a home, despite being a school?"

Charles: "I do. It's been my home for a long time, now. Well, our home. It'd just be an old house, without everyone else."

Lirim: "Funny, what we put stock in." He flicked his wrist back at the townhouse behind them. "Raised there. Was in stasis after my folks; lived with my Mema. Then it was mine again. Thought about gettin' rid of it, but there's too much in it. Don't have it in me."

Charles: He nodded, glancing at the house briefly, before turning back to watch his children sprint off to the next house. He buried the impulse to ask them to slow down. "I understand that. I might've sold the old place, if we hadn't needed it. And then the idea for the school took root in my head and I couldn't dislodge it. I'd never part with it, now. Means too much. And not only to me. I'll likely pass it on, though. When the time comes. To someone I trust who shares my vision."

Lirim: Lirim nodded, watched his son, his son's mother, the demon.

"Someone like that exist, or still lookin' around?"

Charles: "I imagine it'll be one of my staff. Possibly one of my students, when they're old enough and experienced enough. I'm not opposed to passing my legacy along to my children, but I suspect they'll forge their own paths." He snorted softly, mostly to himself. "Perhaps we need one more."

Lirim: A statement which put a smile on the naphil's face. They were indeed different.

"Got the parental itch for more, huh?"

Charles: Charles lifted a shoulder. "I wouldn't call it an itch, but I'm certainly open to the concept."

Lirim: "Do they all feel like your children?"

Charles: "Yes and no. I love them. And I feel deeply responsible for their wellbeing, of course. I am. But it's... different."

It seemed a poor word to describe the depth of devotion he felt toward his own children, but he couldn't think of a better one, presently.

Lirim: "Never taught anyone anything until Aedan. Can't relate." He adjusted his coat, face contorting with thought. "I take that back. I mean, I walk people through what I do in the studio, but that's -" he waved away his words.

"Anyway."

Charles: "I think I've always wanted to be academic. Teaching or learning. Teaching feels more useful." Less selfish. "Would you ever consider teaching art?"

Lirim: "People gotta learn, someone's gotta teach." But that being said, he scoffed. "Hell no. Probably hang myself bein' asked the same questions all the time. But! That's why people like you exist."

Charles: Charles laughed, a bright sound that carried on the early evening air. "It's not so awful. But, perhaps you're right. 'Those who can't do,' and all that. We should catch up with the children."

Lirim: Such sound paired well with Charles' emotion.

"I get the sayin', but I don't get how that applies to someone like you."

Charles: "Someone like me?" He raised an eyebrow, casting a half-smile at Lirim as he began walking just a bit quicker, slowly narrowing the distance between himself and his family.

Lirim: Bronwyn had gone ahead, probably for his old neighbor. Still, he didn't want her to feel alienated from the conversation. Not that he'd felt anything of the sort; he was thinking too much.

"Ya know. A genius."

Charles: Charles gave a soft little snort and shook his head. "I know geniuses; I'm not one. I'm merely studious. I've spent more than half of my life in a classroom. More than that, I suppose, if you count being on the opposite side of things."

Lirim/Mason: "Just didn't wanna leave the classroom?"

Mason glanced back at that statement, expression well hidden behind his mask.

Charles: He gave a soft laugh, head tilting ever so slightly at his husband. "I suppose not."

Mason: "Why him?" Mason whispered to Bronwyn.

Bronwyn: “Why him what?” Bronwyn whispered back, snapping another picture of the children. “Also which him?”

Mason: "Your him. Why him as the father?"

Bronwyn: "The real question should be why me as the mother."

Mason: "Not even the fuckin' question. Of course you."

Bronwyn: "I was originally a surrogate, remember? He picked me."

Mason: A growl of response. He hadn't appreciated that, either, but such was in the past.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nudged him. "Hey now, why the growlin'?"

Mason: "I don't like the idea of ya bein' used."

Bronwyn: “Mason.”

Mason: "I know."

Bronwyn: She squeezed his arm. "No one used me. I offered o' my own free will and I'd do it again."

Mason: "Does he remember the other one?"

Bronwyn: "We both do," she said softly. "And fuck him right to hell."

Mason: "The kid remembers the wolf?"

Bronwyn: “Oh, never mind I thought ye were talkin’ about Lirim.” She shook her head. “No, we don’t think so.”

Mason: "Has he asked why y'all don't have ears?"

Bronwyn: Another head shake. “No’ yet. He thinks ev’ryone has them.”

Mason: Mason looked back to Charles. With no expression to give with a mask, his arm opened, offering warmth instead.

Charles: Words weren't necessary, and in this instance facial expressions were superfluous as well. Charles understood the offer for what it was and hurried to accept, closing the distance between them more swiftly and pressing himself against his husband's side. There was no skin available to kiss, so he settled for grabbing the hand that wrapped around him.

"Looks like they're getting on well."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn couldn't help but smile at them. They looked so happy; she didn't need to be able to see Mason's expression to see that.

"Aren't they just? They're so sweet," she said, snapping another photo of the kids. "This is a good bondin' activity for them."

Lirim/Mason: "Really glad he's able to have this. Sooner rather than later he's going to be with more of his people. Just need to set a date."

"Away with the druids?" Mason's question directed to Bronwyn. Charles' hand given a squeeze.

Charles: "It is," he agreed, with a nod. "They ought to spend more time together. It'll be good for all of them."

Charles turned his attention toward Lirim, still keeping pace with his husband. "Oh?"

Bronwyn: She nodded. "Yes to both. No' away as in away, but away as in goin' across the pond to learn with some other wee Druids."

Lirim: "Not like there's an angel academy. I want him with his people. He just happens to have more than one set of people."

Charles: "That's wonderful. I'm sure he'll enjoy himself. You'll both be going with him?"

Bronwyn: "It'll definitely give us an excuse to drop in on my family in Scotland more often. My grandda Owen loves Lirim's art."

Lirim/Mason: "Definitely goin' with him. I wanna see everything."

"They aware of everything he is?" Mason asked.

Charles: "Mm. That'll be lovely for both of you." He glanced to his husband, though the face he loved was hidden by that mask. "We should visit Scotland, after the house is built."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nodded. "Mostly, aye. They know he's a Druid and they also know he's no' only a Druid, but I figured it was best that they hear the specifics from both of us in person."

Mason: "Your gran'mama gonna be there?" Of all those in her family, that woman he could trust. He didn't think highly of the half-angel among them, but that little boy running about with his son was a part of Bronwyn. Under his gray wing of protection.

Charles: "Mm. Such conversations are best had face-to-face. I'm glad you'll be seeing your family, soon." He only wished he had more family for his own kids to know.

Bronwyn: Another nod. "Aye, she never misses a chance to see Aedan or Lirim. Always asks about ye," she added with a smile over at Mason.

"I am, too. I always enjoy visitin' home."

Lirim/Mason: Lirim simply listened. What he felt from Mason was palpable like a humid summer afternoon. Forced trust through others was never real trust. This they could both agree.

"Next time, call me," Mason said, adjusting the hard plastic mask. Too long since he'd laid eyes on the woman that harbored his secret.

Bronwyn: "Aye, I'll do that, and I'll also remind ye to get her some flowers for deprivin' her of yer company for so long."

Lirim/Mason: "She tell ya s'what she wanted?"

"I didn't know he'd met your family," Lirim laughed politely.

Mason quickly brushed his fingers over Charles and Bronwyn's arm, walking ahead to check on the children. Rory and Aedan standing still, negotiating over some undesirable candy.

Charles: Charles kept pace with the remaining adults, but his gaze did skate frequently toward the children.

Bronwyn: "Years ago," Bronwyn said with another nod, smiling after Mason. "Back before I adopted Lucien, when I was...goin' through a wee patch."

Lirim: Lirim cast her a quick look, one of mild confusion, before nodding. "Mm. Feels like yesterday we all met."

Charles: "Does it?" Charles laughed softly. "Feels like it's been a century. I suppose that happens when everything you think you know about the world gets turned on its head." It was as though he could divide his life into two clean hemispheres.

Bronwyn: "I'm with Lirim. It feels like Aedan was still a baby five seconds ago. Feels like I was meetin' Lirim ten seconds ago. Time is a right old bastard."

Lirim: "When I'm with y'all it goes by like that," he snapped his fingers. "When I'm alone time stands still. Great for paintin'," he chuckled.

Charles: Charles pulled Lirim into a brief half-hug. "We should do this more often. Not Halloween, obviously, but the rest."

Bronwyn: "The kids would love it if Halloween came more often," Bronwyn laughed. "But, aye, we should. It'll be good for them and good for us."

Lirim: Lirim was pleasantly caught off guard by the random bit of affection. His smile blossomed.

"Absolutely. I'd love to get some paint on both of ya."

Charles: He lifted an eyebrow, chuckling. "On? As in a living canvas? Or do you want to see me struggle to form a decent stick figure?"

Bronwyn: "I personally would love that."

Lirim: "Now I wanna see the stick figure, but I mean literally on ya."

Charles: "Trust me, you don't. But my skin is at your disposal, sir. I've never been painted on."

Lirim: "I dunno what's stopped me, but it won't stop me now."

Charles: "Good. I'm looking forward to it."

Bronwyn: "It's settled then. Lirim will paint ye and then ye can wow us with yer stick figure paintin'."

Lirim: "What'll ya be doin' while I'm paintin' and he's stick figurin'?"

Charles: "An excellent question. I don't want to be alone in my artistic pursuits."

Bronwyn: "Bakin' probably."

Lirim: "So we get the smell of fresh baked bread mixed with acrylic and oil? Tasty."

Charles: "Sounds like a party. I've never been able to resist baked goods."

Bronwyn: "I've been wantin' to make some potato bread. Found a recipe that looks promisin'."

Lirim: "I'm gonna end up usin' brown and yellow paint and forget everything else."

Charles: "I love potato bread. Now, I'm starving." He was going to have to enact a dad tax on those sweets. "Rory! Cee! Have you gotten any Paydays?"

Mason: Mason looked back, wriggling a small PayDay - all sweets were small these days, weren't they? - before tossing in Charles' direction.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn laughed. "I'd be curious to see what magic ye can create usin' only yellow and brown."

Charles: He made a valiant effort to catch the candy, but it tumbled out of his grasp. With a sigh, he bent to retrieve it. Still good. "Thanks, love."

Lirim/Mason: 'Ya didn't play catch as a child,' his husband guessed, smiling through his mask as he turned back to the children.

"Challenge accepted," Lirim grinned. His pride as an artist on the line, he must! Already had ideas.

Bronwyn: "Oh yay!" she chuckled. "I'm definitely makin' potato bread while ye paint in hopes that ye turn Charles into a really beautiful artistic potato."

Charles: 'I did not,' he confessed, popping the little candy into his mouth and tucking the wrapper into his pocket to dispose of, later. He flashed a quick smile. 'I was more of a tree-climbing, bug-catching boy.'

With a snort, he shook his head. "Oh, yes. I've always wanted to be a potato. Dreams do come true."

Lirim/Mason: 'Of course you were. For science.'

"Not a potato! Maybe a uh... maybe a glorious sunrise," Lirim smiled.

Bronwyn: She just could not stop laughing. The mental image she'd conjured of Charles painted like a potato was tickling her pink.

"Aye, that would be lovely. Really anything ye do will be lovely."

Charles: 'For science,' he chuckled at their private conversation.

Charles pressed a kiss to the side of her head. A potato, indeed. "Perhaps not the dream, but I'm willing to be a sunrise as well."

Lirim: "Could paint ya both. Sunrise and sunset. Maybe a full moon. Yellows, browns, blue, black and white..." Annnnd he was going off on his own tangent.

Bronwyn: "And I'm more than willin' to be a sunset. Go crazy, darlin', we'll be yer muses. Won't we, Charles?"

Charles: He nodded, thoughtful. "I've always wanted to be an artist's muse."

Lirim/Mason: "No one’s ever drawn ya? Written a poem? Love letter?"

Mason picked up the pace to his children.

Charles: Charles lifted his shoulder. He wasn't heartbroken. "I've received very touching text messages?"

Bronwyn: "With that face? I'm sure there have been people who've drawn ye and written ye letters, even if they never sent them."

Lirim: "I can see that. Takes guts to give that up. Easy to make em, though."

Charles: He gave a soft laugh. "It's a flattering thought. I suppose we'll never know."

Bronwyn: "Aye, it does. I remember writin' a few letters myself when I was young and shovin' them away in a drawer somewhere."

Lirim: "Still around, maybe? My Mema had this book, had all sorts of love letters - and break up letters - from history. Went back two hundred years, I think."

Charles: "Oh, that's fascinating! Your own little piece of history!" He was delighted.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nodded. "Aye, they should still be in my old bedroom somewhere. My mama didn't really move anythin' around."

Her face lit. "That's lovely! Does she still collect them?"

Lirim: "Probably. Some of em got published in a book about the same thing. Y'all want a copy?"

Charles: "I'd love one!"

Bronwyn: "Absolutely, I would, too. And ye're both welcome to my letters if I ever find them."

Mason/Rory: The children kept their energy for only four blocks before becoming distracted with their sugary treasures, talking to each other, and complaining of the cold. Despite the chilly wind, Rory, for the first time, refused a piggy-back ride from his father. Not in front of company! But he would ask to make smores, and for hot chocolate with pumpkin marshmallows.

Charles: Charles gently tugged on one of Cynthia's braids, holding out a hand for Rory's empty wrappers. "Done with trick-or-treating already? We can head back, if you'd like. Or home?"

Bronwyn: "I'm with Rory, smores and hot chocolate sound really good right now."

Bronwyn bent to pin back Aedan's hair to keep it out of his eyes. The wind was wreaking havoc with those curls.

"What do ye want, lovey?"

Mason/Aedan/Cynthia/Rory: "Can I have hot chocolate?" Aedan looked to his mother hopefully.

Cynthia was ready for warmth; Rory was ready for a chocolaty feast, which also translated to home.

Mason turned his son around, patted his back. "March."

Charles: "Back it is, then." Charles would not raise protest. He was always ready for warmth, but more importantly, this evening was about the children. "Did you enjoy yourselves?"

Bronwyn: She smiled and nodded. "Aye, but ye have to promise me to drink all the tonic I make ye first, okay?" Being part werewolf, Aedan's sensitivity to chocolate was always something they had to be aware of. Luckily, it was mild enough that with the right magical precautions, it didn't hinder him from enjoying it completely.

"Did ye get a good candy haul?"

Lirim/Mason: Mason watched in mild amusement as the children spoke at once, bedding down the urge to correct what was quickly becoming rising voices as they compared candy and bargained chocolate versus everything else.

"Gimmie a Twix before ya give em all away, child," said Lirim.

Charles: Charles slipped his hand into his husband's, similarly allowing the children to enjoy themselves without scolding, on such an evening. "Are we going to the party, or turning in for the night? If not, I'll ring Ro and let her know."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn laughed at the chorus of excited voices. Oh yes, it had definitely been a good haul this year. "Aye, a Twix for daddy and a cherry Jolly Rancher for yer mama."

Lirim/Mason: "We'll go t'the Moon if ya want," Mason said. The mask was removed once reaching their street. Placed on Rory's head, grinning at his son's scowl.

Lirim unwrapped his candy and stuffed the wrapper in his pocket. A quick cheers with Bronwyn before popping the whole thing into his mouth.

Charles: That face! He turned to kiss it, briefly. "Oh, yes. A trip to the moon is definitely in order. Perhaps for Christmas."

He spotted the empty cauldron that told of their arrival and laughed. "Gone, already! I hope at least some of the little kids got candy." Charles had a bag stashed at Mason's, just in case they were around if trick-or-treaters dropped by.

Bronwyn: She cheers-ed Lirim back with her Jolly Rancher and took Aedan's hand, continuing to discuss his candy and how cherry was clearly the superior fruity candy flavor.

The empty cauldron had her grinning from ear to ear. "That didn't take long at all!" she chuckled. "If that James Dean kid took his chance, it'll be the only one he gets. Candy's bein' handed out personally now that we're back. But first, tonic and hot chocolate. Ev'ryone take yer wrappers to the trash."

Lirim/Mason: "Make yourselves at home," Lirim smiled, dropped his hat as soon as they were in the door. Easily made a mess again with a quick swipe of his hand. "Pretty much a mirror image, right?" More colorful than the sharp white and neutral palette next door.

Something paused Mason in the doorway.

"Gonna have'ta get rid of that," he hummed, "'less ya wanna take my head off."

Lirim seemed dumbfounded for a moment before it clicked, eyes widening. "Right. Two sec." The many wards placed by - no matter. He'd assumed they'd faded, and then forgotten them completely.

"Bronnie, ya remember which board it was?"

Charles: His eyebrows vanished behind chestnut fringe for a moment. "No, we can't have that. I do prefer you with your head attached, dearest." And he'd stick by his husband's side until the wards were lifted.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn had forgotten them as well, mostly because she'd placed so many of her own.

"It's the one with the scuff mark from my high heel. Three boards to the right o' the bookshelf."

Lirim: "Got it." He'd almost got up for the kitchen, for a butter knife, before remembering his own damn abilities and pulling up the board with gentle coaxing from his hovering hand.

"There it is," he sighed. An unassuming brown bag no bigger than his palm.

"Is this really a ward, or a charm? I forget the damn lingo."

Charles: Charles gave Mason's hand a gentle squeeze. "Head safe? And the rest of your bits?"

Bronwyn: "It's a hex bag, they can be multipurpose. Let's put it somewhere out o' the way for now. I'll dispose of it properly later."

Lirim/Mason: "I'll put in the backyard." Seemed far enough, since being in the floorboard hadn't taken the demon's head living one wall away.

The children had already taken to the kitchen. Mason could hear gasps. A moment later seeing a fluffy white cat flee upstairs in a panic.

He held his hand out. A lack of static as Lirim excused himself to the back door. Fucking angels.

"Head's safe," he confirmed, stepping inside.

Bronwyn: "Don't scare Pancakes, lovies!" Well, one of them would be receiving a swipe at the ankle at some point this evening. Pancakes would require some soothing.

"Aye, verra much so. Sit, sit. What would ye like, what can I get ye?"

Charles: "Remember how it was with Frankie, in the beginning," he called to his children. "Be patient and don't harass the cat!"

He shook his head, fond, and took the offered seat. "I'm quite all right, darling. Thank you."

Lirim/Mason/Aedan: Lirim was laughing at the sight of Jude. The patient older tabby, accepting his fate in Aedan's arms, carried about with dangling legs.

"Y'all gonna say no t'some wine? What about some," what the hell was this, "pumpkin liqueur? When'd I get this? Was this you?" he asked Bronwyn.

Mason stood beside Charles for a beat, hand firm on the back of his neck, massaging. He separated long enough to find the children.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn looked at the label on the bottle. "Oh! Aye, it was me. I wanted to make an adult pumpkin spice latte. It was bloody good too. I want to try it in pumpkin pie."

Charles: "I'll never say no to wine." A statement that was perhaps a little too true. "Or pie."

Lirim/Aedan: "I do have a chocolate... mud... pie... thing. S'got some cake crumbled on top like dirt and -"

"GUMMIES!" Aedan shouted. "Mama! Can I - Can we have some?"

Bronwyn: "Let me make yer tonic first, then ye can have some. It won't take long, promise." She didn't want an upset stomach ruining his Halloween.

Luckily, she kept all the ingredients on hand and was able to get it going fairly quickly. "Do ye want me to mix it in water or in juice?"

Charles: "Sounds interesting. I can't say I've ever tried that before." But chocolate was chocolate. He reached out for the minds of his family. Where had they gotten off to?

Mason/Aedan: "Apple juice, please." Better manners around company, Lirim noted to self. That was usually the case.

The children had surrounded the cat tower and released Jude, who took to cleaning himself just out of reach at the top. The children were bored within moments.

"Put y'all's candy on the table. We'll go through em," said Mason, casting a quick glance to Lirim. Chocolate pie and red wine. This was turning into an absolute gem of an evening, Lirim thought.

Bronwyn: "Okay, I'll mix it with apple." She kissed the top of his head and got a jar. Time was she would've gotten a bowl and whisked everything together but shaking it until it was mixed was easier. And faster.

Speed was of the essence today.

A few herbs, a few mysterious liquids, and a little magic later, Bronwyn was pouring her concoction into a cup of juice and handing it to Aedan. The tonic made it take on a curiously orange color but the taste wouldn't be altered too much. It would be as if some strong, unsweetened tea had been added to it.

Charles: Charles smirked, but left them to their piles of sweets. Lectures about cavities and thorough tooth-brushing could wait until bedtime. "Can I help with anything?" he asked their host.

Lirim: "If ya wanna help me cut up some pie?" offered between grunts of effort as he argued with a corkscrew and a rather large bottle of zinfandel. Last time he tried to pull a cork via telekinesis had resulted in both a broken cork and bottle. His patience was not made for such delicate work.

Charles: "I think I may be better suited to opening wine," he offered, laughing, and stood to lend a hand.

Lirim/Mason: "He has a gift," said Mason. "If there's alcohol, he can open it. No safe too secure, no lock too strong."

"In the case," Lirim offered the bottle. Corkscrew far too deeply embedded.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn left them to the wine while she got the hot chocolate going, keeping one eye on Aedan to make sure he drank all the juice.

"If that is indeed the case, then Charles, there's a bottle o' scotch in my pantry that seems to have been welded shut. Yer help would be appreciated."

Charles: "Hilarious." He fixed his husband with a very dry expression before turning his attention to the lodged corkscrew. "Goodness." It took a bit of coaxing, but Charles really was a magician of bottle-opening. With a triumphant grin, he set bottle and cork on the table a minute later. "I'd be happy to help, Bronwyn darling."

Lirim/Mason/Aedan: "Lucien been gone that long ya gettin' your whiskey stuck?" Lirim laughed. There were only two Fera in existence which didn't frighten him to his core. Lucien was family, as much as he had fought tooth and nail.

Aedan handed his cup to his father, ready for his hot chocolate.

Mason settled between his children at the glass table, stealing another PayDay for Charles, and a swirly lollipop to bite like a heathen for himself.

Bronwyn: "It hasn't been stuck as long as that," Bronwyn chuckled, putting all her tonic ingredients away. "I was makin' somethin' with it and I'm pretty sure some caramel got stuck in the threads o' the bottle that I forgot to wipe off." That was her theory anyway.

Charles: He had to wince. Could a demon chip a tooth? He didn't know, but it just wasn't right. 'Heinous.' He smirked at his husband before plucking the candy from his hand. "Thank you." He fiddled with the wrapper.

"Bit of warm water should do the trick, then," he said to Bronwyn. "At least, that's how I get syrup bottles open." He thought idly of how perfect a stack of pancakes would be.

Lirim/Mason: Lirim glanced Charles' way, wondering what it was he was borderline yearning for. Maybe he didn't want to know. Sexual desire seemed to just exude from the two of them. Inspiring, but he was grateful to not be telepathic.

Mason watched his husband with challenging eyes, taking another slow performative bite.

'Should see me with jawbreakers.'

"Ffffriggin' hungry," Lirim sighed, catching that particular word split second. "Who wanted pie?" A few small plates had been filled. Ones for the children half size.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn grinned at Lirim. Nice save, she mouthed to him.

"I'm pretty sure we all wanted pie. I definitely do, and that hot chocolate. Is there such a thing as too much chocolate in one sittin'?" Probably, but it was Halloween! It was a day for treats.

Speaking of.

"I need to go refill the cauldron for any more kids we get."

Charles: 'You're a madman.' He shuddered at the very thought, but the lightning flash of a grin gave away his amusement. He popped the little candy into his mouth and bent to give his husband the briefest of kisses. They were guests, after all. Manners make the man.

"Not in my opinion, but I'm hardly an authority. I can fill it, if you'd like. Or start on the hot chocolate?"

Lirim/Mason: "You'll have chocolate every day, but hell hath no fury if it's spicy."

Lirim looked up at the couple, impatiently chewing and swallowing before speaking. "For serious? What about a chocolate martini? Or a mudslide?"

Bronwyn: "No no, it's fine. I'll get the candy."

She went to get the bag, only to poke her head back in a few seconds later. "Are chocolate martinis bein' made? If so I want one!"

Charles: His nose wrinkled in undisguised distaste. "Of course not. Spicy chocolate is an abomination." Charles lifted a shoulder. "I don't mind a splash of bourbon in my hot chocolate."

Bronwyn: "What's this spicy chocolate ye keep mentionin'?" Bronwyn asked the room at large. "Spicy like chilies or spiced like mulled wine?"

Lirim/Mason/Rory: "I mean I want chile-chocolate melted n'put in my mouth," said Mason. "With cinnamon."

Rory's eyes lit up. That was exactly what he wanted.

"I got a habanero in the fridge?"

Charles: Ugh. Corrupting the children. "I'll settle for whipped cream, if you have it."

Bronwyn: "There's a sweet shop near my store that has all kinds of chocolate. I'll bet they have chile chocolate."

Lirim/Mason: "Still open?" Another PayDay was swiped from the pile, now divided into three among the children. Cynthia had traded most chocolate for bubble gum.

"That pastry shop?" Lirim asked. "Oh! I got uh, Cool Whip?"

Charles: "That'll do," he nodded. All this talk of peppers had him needing a balm.

Bronwyn: "No, no' that one, although I have been meanin' to go into that pastry shop. The sweets shop is in the opposite direction, next to that maternity store I shopped at when I was pregnant with Aedan."

Lirim/Mason: Oh fuck, the memories. Both Lirim and Mason were staring, and both looked away almost simultaneously.

"Hot chocolate with cinnamon, then. Chocolate dipped peppers when home." To the delight of their son.

Plates were each given forks, and a cabinet opened of its own accord, so it seemed. A pot floating to the stove.

Charles: Charles lifted an eyebrow at that little exchange but said nothing. He finally claimed a seat and a plate to go along with it.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn noticed it as well, and though she had a clue as to the cause, she filed it away to ask later.

And there was the doorbell.

"Candy time!" Off she went to hand out treats.

Lirim/Aedan: Aedan ran off to help his mama, and Lirim only glanced over his shoulder before looking back at the cocoa powder, milk, and small jar of cinnamon. As though he'd never made this before in his life.

"Thinkin' hot chocolate and a chocolate martini."

Charles: "Do--" He chewed and swallowed a mouthful of pie before making another attempt. "Do you need a hand?"

Lirim/Mason: Lirim slowly looked back with apologetic eyes. "Aedan drinks Ghirardelli with peppermint because God only knows why. I dunno how to do it up fancy."

Bronwyn: "He knows it's the superior combination," Bronwyn said as she returned with Aedan in tow. "Don't ye, lovely? Chocolate and peppermint all the way."

Charles: Charles stood, pushing his plate closer to his family in case any of them wanted to finish his barely-touched dessert. "It's hot chocolate, my friend. It hardly needs to be fancy." He took a place beside his host at the stove. He was no cook, but warm drinks were a skill he'd mastered. Enough milk for everyone was tipped into the saucepan to heat.

Lirim/Mason: Peppermint? Rory was making a face. One Aedan had made at the idea of spicy chocolate. Mason was smiling at Bronwyn.

"I don't do fancy, but I didn't figure y'all'd want the Aedan special," Lirim chuckled.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn just chuckled, returning Mason's smile as she bent to kiss his head.

"One of us wants the Aedan special," she said, taking a seat at the table. She'd probably end up standing to get the door many many times before the night was out but in between she wanted all the time she could get with everyone.

Charles: "Oh, well, no peppermint for me, thanks. I'm a cocoa purist." He leaned against the counter while he waited for the milk to heat.

Lirim: "Purists go first, then." He looked around the room. At this blend of two families. He never would have imagined something like this years ago. Couldn't even imagine his son. Sometimes he still couldn't get over it.

"Happy Halloween, y'all."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn caught Lirim looking around and smiled. She wondered what was going through his head but judging from his expression, it was only lovely things. As it should be at moments like this one.

"Happy Halloween indeed!" she said brightly as the doorbell summoned her once more.

Charles: "Fair enough." He lifted his head in the following silence. Charles, too, was curious, but not enough to go digging. His mouth curled into a smile and he nodded. "Hear, hear!"

#Trick or Treat chapter #lirimvivaldi #aedanvivaldilynott #masonatlas #askprofessorx

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theswiftarmy · 4 years ago

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#32 – THE QUADRAPHONIC FOUR (And The Lish Lish Wishlist)

No artist lives in a vacuum. Every artist is influenced by every possible work of art they have ever encountered. If the art you take, is equal to the art you make, one must be careful which art they consume, every book you've ever read, movie you've ever watched, song you've ever heard, painting you've stared at, every Broadway play you’ve ever sat through, that art could be the art of war, or perhaps, nothing more than art for art's sake. But that’s the thing, you just never know what’s at stake.

If we’re all under the influence of influencers, who’s influencing the influencers?

The best way to describe what happened after Lizzo’s flute song collided with that sweet Swiftie sound is that moment on a dance floor when one song ends and another begins. The shuffle of a playlist controlling the dancefloor, two songs adjacent to one another, but the changeover wasn’t smooth, it didn’t flow, it didn’t sync with the tempo. Ask anyone who was there, they’ll agree. Someone hit the skip button mid-song on a shuffled playlist. It completely interrupted the entire dancefloor right in the middle of the groove. And… well, here we are…

The interior of the Westin Bonaventure stood brightly lit. Day time. Business as usual, so it seemed. Guests coming and going. According to several very vague signs some sort of big important conference was on the verge of taking place. A bag guy bellhop walked by Billie Eilish pushing some bags on a cart. ‘I’m the baaaaaaaaag guy.’ He sang out.

“Uh.” Billie Eilish wasn’t sure what else to say. “What just happened?”

The group stood facing one lone standing Swifite. The large group of Swifites were nowhere to be seen. Just one, single Swiftie remained from the gaggle of Swifties that had just chased them down the street and cornered them on the walkway above South Figueroa Street.

“Not so tough without your friends, are you?” Kymmie smiled at the one remaining cardigan. He wore it as though it were a size or two too big, a hand-me-down of some sort.

The Swiftie backed up slightly. He lifted his hands to form a heart shape.

The group looked to one another then back to the lone Swifite, a heart shaped Flavor Flav Bluetooth speaker locket hanging on his neck. The Swiftie lowered his hands. His eyes narrowed. Ready for attack. A couple walked by, touristy looking, they gawked for a moment then continued on their way.

The lone Swiftie stepped back again now just inches from being completely backed against a wall. “Looks like the tables have turned!” Stan stepped forward. The Swiftie touched a few buttons and knobs on his Bluetooth locket and the sweet sounds of Taylor Swift blared back. He lifted his hands again in a heart shape.

Stan wobbled slightly and fell back a few steps.

The Swiftie stepped forward holding his hands out again in the shape of Lover hands. The fingers forming the top of a heart and then thumbs forming the bottom. He directed it directly at Stan’s heart. Stan’s eyes grew soft, complacent, relaxed… ‘Prepare to be Swifted!’ The lone Swiftie thought with glee. ‘PREPARE TO BE SWIFTED!!!’ He grinned.

Oak Felder reached for his headphones holstered on his belt. He hovered his hand just over the headphones and wiggled his fingers in the air inches away from the holster… ready for action. He narrowed his eyes and focused on the Swiftie—the Swiftie narrowed his eyes and focused his attention back to Oak. Oak pulled the headphones out like a gunslinger in an old western movie and powered them up. The others nodded at him and reached for their over ear noise canceling headphones unfastening them from their holsters and powering them up—that is, everyone but Stan, since he didn’t have a pair of Oak Felder’s special headphones, modified with a Swiftie sound silencer. The bag guy from before whistled The Good, the Bad and the Ugly theme song off in the distance. They should have been wearing Swiftie silencers earlier but sometimes you get caught up in the moment. Maybe they would regret it later on, and maybe nothing would come of it. One never knows with these types of things.

Just then a sound like batteries dying, or an old school tape deck winding down could be heard from the High-Fi Swiftified Flavor Flav fashion accessory.

Stan shook his head with closed eyes then opened them again. Shake it off, shake it off. “Whoa. Weird. I felt like something was just trying to take over my thoughts!” He stopped speaking for a moment, “Cool. Do it again! I want more! DO THAT AGAIN!!!” Stan reached out for the Bluetooth heart shaped locket, ravenous, like he was mad for it. Like he couldn’t stop himself. “I WANT MORE!” The Swiftie guarded the locket as Stan clawed at the air around it.

“No. Don’t do that again.” Carl Lyle Lawyer, Kymmie’s dad and legal advisor advised against it as he stepped in front of Stan and the rest of the group. They pulled Stan back, holding on to him, keeping him from nearly ripping the Flavor Flav locket off of the Swiftie’s neck.

“Stan!” Kanye yelled over to him, Stan turned around to face Kanye West. Kanye snapped his fingers three times and Stan snapped out of a spell. The scene was like a hypnotist waking someone up after hypnosis.

“Whoa. Ye… thanks.” Stan moved like he had just been reunited with his body again after having some sort of out of body experience.

Kanye nodded at his stan. “I got ya man. Stay woke… Stay woke.”

The Swiftie began banging on the Bluetooth heart shaped speaker locket in a panic to get it operational again. The device was dead. ‘THEY MUST BE SWIFTED!’ He repeated in his head. He pulled out his phone and fumbled with the device encased in a cool new Taylor Swift phone case. Bluetooth connection lost. The phone was also dead, or at least not allowing him to do whatever he was trying to do with it. Presumably resume Taylor Swift playback though the internal built-in phone speaker. The Swiftie looked up eyes full of panic, his heart pounding, hands trembling, as he realized he had been disarmed somehow, he stepped a few feet back until he was completely back against the wall. “Where are all my Swiftie friends! They were right here with me and then there was a flash of light and now they’re all gone! What’s going on!? WHO ARE YOU!?!?” The Swiftie demanded to know of Lizzo and the rest of the group, just moments ago, the veloci-swiftie-raptors had been ready to Swiftify.

No one replied. They had no answer for the Swiftie. How else do you explain time skipping, a scene transition without any link between the two. The DJ suddenly spinning down one tune mid song and spinning up another. Switching from one DJ deck to another without any sort of transition that made sense. It was the equivalent to a party guest going over to the playlist, picking up the Bluetooth connected phone or tablet or laptop and deciding to pick a new song, and everyone at the party turns to that person and screams, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!! DON’T CHANGE THE SONG!!!” And the person screams back, “THIS NEW SONG IS WAY BETTER!” Party Playlist ADHD. Too many hands skipping and shuffling and controlling the music at the party. That’s exactly what it had been like.

Will had his secret keys in hand and ready to let them into The Westin Bonaventure to escape the Swiftie chaos in the streets when Lizzo began to play her pied piper flute tune. It had been night, and it was now inexplicably the middle of the day. How do you go from Swifties in the streets to hotel check-in’s and complimentary eats? Carl looked over at a large buffet setup in the lobby, it seemed quite lavish. A large table full of fancy eats and treats. And bottled water with a sign that read “Drink water.”

“We don’t entirely know.” Carl responded to him matter-of-factly.

The Lonestar Swiftie tossed a loose lock of his relatively neatly kept jet black hair to one side. “Yeah well, you’d all be Swifties if it weren’t for HER!” The Swiftie pointed to Lizzo. Who was in the process of trying to tuck the flute back into her tiny purse.

“Go IN the purse!” She mumbled to herself trying to figure out a way to jam the flute back inside the purse.

“I don’t think you’re going to get it back in there…” Kymmie pointed at the flute, “That flute is like ten times the size of that purse. I don’t understand how it even fit in there in the first place.”

“Oh I’ll make it fit, I just need to move some things around.” She peered into purse and then shook it up and down, then reach a finger in appearing to nudge things aside. The sound of the contents rattling around was obnoxiously loud for such a teeny tiny itsy-bitsy handbag. Like the sound of pots and pans banging loudly after being dropped to a ceramic kitchen floor. Everyone covered their ears with their hands. “Sorry.” Lizzo apologized. Finally, she slid the flute in with ease and it disappeared from sight. “There it goes.”

The group clapped like a magician performing the final act of a show. Lizzo took a bow.

“Oh no! NO!!! NO NO NO!!!!” The lone Swiftie suddenly screamed out.

A few people in the lobby standing around the lavishly long table filled with food turned their heads, then went back to business as usual.

“What?” Kymmie asked the Swiftie peering around her dad.

“My cardigan ripped!” He replied inspecting a tear in his cardigan.

“That’s the worst. Well, you can always get a new one. Right?”

“No. I mean, it’s just not the same. Taylor gave me this one herself. My sister is one of her backup singers… well, she was one of her backup singers. This was supposed to be for my older sister. She was going to wear it on tour. But Taylor gave it to me instead.”

“What happened? Did they have like a falling out?” Kymmie inquired.

“She died.”

“Oh.” Kymmie said after a moment of silence, then she stepped closer. “I’m soooo sorry.”

“I’ll never stop being a Swiftie! I love Taylor SO MUCH! Taylor was EVERYTHING to my sister. My sister loved Taylor and her music more than anything in this world. She was her backup singer on tour and she was supposed to be on tour with her for the Lover tour. They were best of friends. Taylor gave her the opportunity to live out her dream… at least… before she got sick….” The Swiftie trailed off and looked away. He poked a finger through the tear in the cardigan.

He inspected the tear, his sister wouldn’t be upset, she’d tell him it was just ‘personalized’ now. He missed her so much. So. Damn. Much. She was everything to him. His older sister had been there for him his whole life, her dream was his dream. He remembered her singing songs to him when he was younger. He remembered her singing early Taylor, classic Taylor… it’s those songs, those early songs the first six albums that reminded him of his sister. When he heard those songs his sister came back to life. Through Taylor Swift, his sister could live forever. As long as he had her songs, those old songs, the same songs his sister knew, loved, and sang to him, sang to the world… she would live forever. All those years of practicing. When she auditioned to be Taylor’s backup singer. When she got the part. All of it intertwined, time on rewind. As long as he had those old songs… he had her. If anything were to happen to those songs, he’d lose his sister all over again. And it would be for good.

“Cancer sucks.” He wiped a single tear from his eye. He looked up at the others then looked back down to the tear in the cardigan… it seemed like a giant hole. A hole in the cardigan just like the hole in his heart. “And now I can’t even listen to Taylor’s old music.” He wiped another tear away, holding up his broken phone.

Kymmie wanted to give him a hug. She thought of an idea and pulled out her phone. “Well, my phone’s broken too.” She hesitated. “See…” She held up the phone and tapped the screen. “So, we both have something broken…” Kymmie stopped talking. She knew it wasn’t a close comparison in the least.

Stan abruptly stepped forward, pushing everyone out of the way, “What did you do to my friend!” Stan pointed a finger at the lone Swiftie.

“Stan!” Kymmie rebuked

“Oh, so you’re taking his side.” Stan moved his gaze to Kymmie but keeping his finger pointed at the Swiftie.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side.” She looked at the Swiftie then to Stan, “ I’m looking at the facts and making decisions based on what I see. It’s called empathy.” She replied back in a lawyerly voice. Her father smiled and nodded, that’s my girl he thought. “Oh my gosh, I’m turning into my dad.” She blurted out.

“Empathy. Then what about my friend! Dan was my best friend! I want to know what happened to him. Where is he now? So, you don’t care about my feelings or care what happened to my friend?” Stan looked Kymmie square in the eyes.

“Awwwww, they’re having their first fight.”

“Billie! We’re not fighting, we’re just—” Kymmie and Stan continued to glare at one another for a long moment. “—we’re just having a disagreement.” Kymmie turned to the Swiftie. “Where’s his friend? Where’s Stan’s friend?”

The Lonestar Han Solo Swiftie shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know where his friend is. He’s probably with the rest of my friends, with the rest of the Swifties. But… I don’t know.” Stan sized up the Swiftie, like he was ready to start a fight. Kymmie stepped forward in front of Stan. The Swiftie would have been stylishly dressed if he didn’t look like he’d been dragged through the fabric of time and space unwillingly. His shoes were hip, pants not square and a cardigan with a tiny tear in the cloth. He kind of looked like Elvis—A teenage Elvis—At least the few photos she’d seen of Elvis, anyway. And, yes, she did actually know who Elvis was. “You look like Elvis.” She said to him. “But you’ve got slightly longer hair in the front, I like it though.” She was trying to make conversation, defuse the situation between the Swiftie and Stan.

“I’ve been told that.”

“I think he looks a little more like Draco Malfoy but with an Elvis haircut.” Stan added, contemptuously, still angry that he had no answers about what happened to his friend.

“That would make sense, Swiftie is Slytherin.” Justin said and looked at Kanye. Kanye nodded. Kanye looked at his stan Stan. Stan nodded back.

“Swiftie is not Slytherin!” The Lonestar Swiftie shouted back.

“I mean, it is a little. Right Scotty?” Justin looked at Scotty too hottie B Borchetta and he too nodded back.

“But, would that make you Lord Voldemort?” Carl Lyle Lawyer, legal advisor to Scotty B asked Scott. “Because you discovered Taylor.”

“In this example? Well, one might say that if he’s Draco Malfoy, then wouldn’t that make Taylor Lord Voldemort?”

“TAYLOR IS NOT VOLDEMORT!!!! YOU ARE!” The Swiftie screamed back. “TAYLOR IS THE MAN! TAYLOR IS MY HERO! TAYOR IS THE HERO! TAYLOR IS ALWAYS THE HERO! TAYLOR IS EVERYONE’S HEROINE. SHE IS WONDER WOMAN!”

“Okay, okay. Everyone just chill. Soo… ummm… how old are you?” Kymmie asked changing the conversation trying again to diffuse things.

“Well, since I don’t really know you, I’m not going to say my actual age. But, I’m a teenager.”

“Me too!” Kymmie said with a smile. “And Stan here is too.” Stan waved back, deciding that impressing Kymmie was more important than the whereabouts of his friend Dan. “I do that all the time, especially if I want someone to think I’m cooler than I really am and need to be younger or older than I really am. I just say I’m between the ages of 13 and 17.” Kymmie looked at her dad, “Why did I just say that in front of my dad.”

“We’ll discuss what you just said later.” He said in a very serious lawyery voice. “I didn’t raise my daughter to be untruthful.”

“It’s not that I’m being untruthful, I’m just not disclosing the full truth.”

Her dad didn’t reply. He simply crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Ooooooooooooooooo…” Everyone murmured. “Someone’s in trouble.” Billie Eilish whispered to Justin Bieber. He smirked slightly.

An awkward moment of silence ensued.

“So…. what’s your name?” Stan asked breaking the silence. Trying to impress Kymmie by following her earlier lead. The things we do when we start to like someone. Kymmie smiled at him. He kind of looked like a youthful Kanye, a young Kanye when Kanye worked at The Gap in the 90s.

“My name’s Sashy. Well, Sasha, but friends call me Sashy. I can get a little sassy. Sashy the sassy Swiftie.”

“Are you, umm? Do you, uh… like… You know…” Stan narrowed his eyes slightly. “Like, you’re a dude, but your name is sassy Sashy. It just seems a little…”

“Are you trying to ask if I’m gay? Is that what you’re trying to ask?” The Swiftie replied sassily.

“Stan!” Kymmie yelled.

“Well…” Stan shifted his stance his tall teen frame bobbling around. “Kinda, yeah.” Impressing Kymmie was turning out to be more difficult than expected. It’s okay, just keep your head in the game don’t let a small setback get in the way, he thought to himself.

“I’m pansexual, actually, I don’t love by gender.” The Swiftie replied confidently.

“See, I like that. That’s really cool. That’s just really beautiful.” Kymmie tilted her head slightly and stepped one foot towards Sashy.

Stan moved his eyes between Kymmie and Sashy. He could feel a hint of jealousy hitting him. “Yeah, that’s cool. I… uh… I think that’s cool too!” He said in a tone vying for Kymmie’s affection but trying to stay chill. “Sorry Sashy, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, I was just asking.” He looked back at Kymmie for her approval. She seemed peeved. He looked over at Kanye tried to mentally convey his thoughts to him ‘Kymmie is so hard to figure out, like I’m trying really hard but I say the wrong thing’. Kanye mentally thought back at his stan ‘tell me about it, I know exactly what you’re talking about, I’ve got Kim problems of my own’. Stan thought back to his idol, ‘you just get me, ye, this is why I stan you so hardcore.’ Kanye replied again with his mind, ‘of course I get it, Stan, I get it. You’re my favorite fan.’

Billie Eilish leaned over to whisper to Justin Bieber standing beside her “Great, now she’s going to have to choose between two boys, like in Twilight. “

“You read Twilight?”

“Finneas and I watched the movies. You?”

“I audio booked it while I was at the gym.” Justin made a flexing muscle motion.

“Nice.” Billie rocked her head back and forth in agreement as though she were standing in the crowd at a My Chemical Romance concert… no that’d be way too intense… more like watching The Smiths, or some sort of Brit pop indie shoegaze band.

“Okay well, it’s nice to meet you Sashy, my name is Kymmie… Kymmie Lawyer. Kymmie is spelled with an ie at the end and a y after the K. Okay? And this is Stan.”

Sashy The Sassy Swiftie made an unsure half smile that lasted for a brief moment. Stan smiled at the sound of Kymmie mentioning his name. He felt some sort of strange new feeling he’d never felt before. Like, he just wanted to be around her, all the time. He could hear Ye in his thoughts, ‘play it cool, play it cool.’

“I don’t mean to interrupt miss Katniss Everdeen Chatness and her little lover triangle between Peta Mellark and Gale Hawthorne but I’m going to head over to the front desk and see if I can find out what day it is since we seem to be back in some sort of world that resembles normalcy—” She pointed to the hustle and bustle of the interior atrium of the hotel lobby. Life appeared to be as normal as could be at the moment inside the walls of the Westin Bonaventure Hotel. Things were certainly vastly different from what they had just experienced in the previous street like a scene from the Westside Story. “—at least, I think we’re back, something still feels… off—Like the world’s a little blurry.”

“Wait.” Kymmie shouted as Billie started to walk away. “We should introduce everyone to our new friend!”

Billie made an annoyed face. These stans! She thought. “I’m Billie Eilish, okay gotta go!”

“No! You have to wait until everyone has been introduced.”

Billie rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine.”

Kymmie smiled. “So, I’m Kymmie Lawyer, and that’s my dad Carl Lyle Lawyer. He does Lawyery things for that guy, Scott Borchetta, who discovered Taylor Swift—”

“I love Taylor! I stan her so much. I stan Taylor!”

“Yes, Sashy, we know. Of course, you do. You’re a Swiftie. We went over this already. Anyway, my dad also works for like some guy named Scooter I don’t know, and he works for some guy who likes the ocean, or water, his name is The Whale, or Mr. Whale, or something along those lines.”

The Switie looked confused for a moment and then tried to pretend like he was following along.

“I stan Taylor!!!” Sashy repeated, just to make sure it was clear.

“Yes, Sashy, you said that. You said that like a million times already. Taylor reminds you of your big sister, I understand. You miss your sister.” Kymmie smiled compassionately at the nodding Swiftie, then continued her introductions, “Okay, and that’s Lizzo, and Kanye West.” They waved back. “And that’s Oak Felder, he’s Ariana Grandes music producer. Well, Ariana works with a lot of people, but he’s one of her favs. And that’s his sidekick Pop Wansel.”

“Sidekick?” Pop was going to object but decided he was okay with that. “Sidekick, eh? Yeah, alright.”

“And that’s Justin Bieber.” Justin gave a thumbs up.

“And this is Stan, he’s Kanye’s biggest fan. And I’m Ariana Grande’s stan and biggest fan. And then there’s this mystery guy who helped us to escape the Tunnel of Sound.”

“I still think it was The Wall of Sound.” Billie corrected.

“Whatever…” Kymmie waved her away. “Anyway, Will Way has these magic keys…” She looked around trying to find Will. “Wait… where’d Will go? He’s gone!” Kymmie blurted out to the group.

“Yeah! Where’s WILL? That dude was cool.” Stan craned his neck in every direction.

“Wait…” Kymmie pointed to something on the floor by Sashy’s feet. “Aren’t those the keys he had?”

Sashy swiftly scooped up the keys and held them up. They sparkled in the light, every color of the rainbow represented, one color for each key, the translucent material reflecting light in every direction—a rainbow disco ball. He held them out to Kymmie.

“How about you hang on to those until we find Will and then you can give them back to him.”

Sasha smiled and then he hooked them on to his broken Flavor Flav locket speaker. “They’ll be right here.” He was still upset about his torn treasured Taylor cardigan, but felt proud to be responsible for these cool looking keys. Kymmie was going to make it her new mission to befriend this Swiftie. Not only did he lose his older sister, but he lost all his Swiftie friends. And who knows, perhaps in time, she might be able to convince him to join team Ariana Grande. Baby steps.

Just then a young lady darted across the hotel lobby yelling out to them. Her blonde pigtails bobbed. Her roots died green to match Billie’s iconic look.

“LISH LISH!!! CAN I HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH?!?! LISH LISH!!!!! I STAN YOU SO MUCH!!!!! I LOVE YOU LISHY!”

“Incoming.” Scott said to the group.

The excited young one nearly ran right into Billie Eilish. “LISH LISH!!!!” She held out a pen and paper and a sticker covered small notebook. Billie’s face was plastered across the front.

“Are you calling me Lish Lish?” Billie asked. The girl nodded so fast her head looked like it would fall off. The pigtails flailed about. She smiled and blinked. “That’s not my name.” Billie replied.

“LISHY!!!! Listen, I’m your number one fan, I’m your stan!!!!”

“Lishy? Okay… um… That’s not my name either. You can have an autograph, but… just call me Billie. I don’t go by Lish Lish, or Lishy.”

“Thanks Lish!” She held out the autograph journal.

Billie made an Aubrey Plaza look with her eyes, let out a sigh, then took the autograph book from her stan and signed her name on a blank page in the journal.

“Who do I make it out to?”

“Jillie Jean.”

“Your name is Jillie Jean?”

“Jillian Jean. But I go by Jillie Jean, friends call me Mean Jillie Jean because sometimes I can be mean. Or my full nicky is Mean Green Jillie Jean Bean because I get jealous and mean and I like Jellybeans. Also green is my favorite color. Like the color of your hair… and also my hair, I dyed it just like yours! Seeeeeee.” She pointed to the green part of her hair. “We match!”

“Riiiiiiiight.” Billie signed the book and handed it back to her along with the pen.

“So what’s going on? What are we doing? Where are we going?” Jillie asked, excitedly.

“Ummm… we’re not doing anything. Where are your parents? You’re a small child of some sort.”

“Eh, they’re around here somewhere, they said I could go anywhere that didn’t require a drivers license.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m older than I look. I’m a teenager.”

“US TOO!!!” Kymmie, Stan, and Sashy yelled out. “We’re trying to be influencers.” Kymmie said and pointed at Stan and herself.

“ME TOO!” Jillie and Sashy yelled at the same time.

“NO WAY!!!!” All four of the teens yelled at the same time.

“Great. This is exactly what I wanted to do with my day.” Scott Borchetta said in an exasperated voice, a Professor Severus Snape voice, complete contrast to the excited aspiring teen influencer stans with the energy of a million suns.

“Does anyone else suddenly feel really old right now?” Justin said to the non-teens. Kanye, Lizzo, Oak, Pop, Scott, and Carl all nodded back.

Billie shrugged. “Not really.”

“Oh, don’t worry, one day… you’ll get it.” Carl said with a smile. “No one can stay young forever.”

“THIS IS SO AMAZING!!! I get to hang out with other teenagers who are also aspiring to be influencers and of course, my idol, Billie, LISH LISH!”

“Whoa… hang out? No no no… and don’t Lish Lish me. I already said that’s not my name. My name is—”

“LISHY!!!!!”

“I gave you an autograph.”

Jillie stared blankly.

“That means you go back to wherever you were before.”

Jillie stared blankly more. She blinked a few times. “Lishy lish!”

“Wow. You are incredibly annoying. And also very persistent. I’m not getting rid of you am I?”

“We’re a team! Billie and Jillie! Lishy house for life!” She did a little dance.

“ARIANATORS!” Kymmie joined in.

“YE!” Stan also began to dance. Kanye nodded approvingly.

“SWIFTIE HOUSE!!!!” Sashy joined the dance party.

The four teen wanabe influencers began to dance together in an imaginary dance party in the middle of the Westin Bonaventure hotel lobby, like a mini-Coachella were taking place and only the teens could hear the music.

Carl and Scott sighed as they watched the four teen stans dance. “I feel like I’m chaperoning a high school dance at Hogwarts, but instead of houses, they’re stanning pop music icons.” Carl said to Oak Felder and Pop Wansel. They made a face like dads agreeing from the sideline of their kid’s sporting event.

“This is great.” Scott added, sarcastically, implying that it was in fact, anything but great. “It’s like I’m stuck in detention with the brat pack of aspiring social media influencers. We’re gonna have to save the world with a bunch of Tik Toking teens.”

“SAVE THE WORLD!!!! YES! THAT SOUNDS AWESOME!!! Wait, we need like a name for us…” Jillie proclaimed. “If we’re gonna save the world, we need a name.”

“Oohhhhhh… I LOVE THAT!” Kymmie beamed.

“SO COOL! Yes!” Stan also smiled… mostly at Kymmie but also at the others, but mostly at Kymmie. And then he kind of tried to stand cool, like Ye had said in his head, stand cool, superhero cool.

Sashy danced on his own with the group, but also apart from the group. He appeared to be doing some dance no one had ever seen before… it must be some kind of secret Swiftie dance that Taylor made up and posted to Tik Tok and only her Swifties could see and learn the dance. It was probably part of some sort of worldwide Swiftie dance that allowed them to speak to one another in Swiftie dance code lingo.

We can dance if we want to,

We can leave your friends behind

'Cause your friends don't dance

And if they don't dance

Well, they're no friends of mine

It's the Swiftie dance

Well, it's the Swiftie dance

Oh, it's the Swiftie dance

“Well there’s 4 of you, how about the Quadraphonic Four.” Billie suggested. “Although, that’s kind of redundant since Quadra—”

“Ooooo, LISH… that’s delish! I don’t know what a quadraphonic is, but it sounds amaaaaaaaze.”

“Can I trade my stan?” ��Billie asked. “That’s a serious question.”

“TRADE?!?!?! Noooooooo. You’re stuck with me Lishy!”

“She’s sooooo annoying. Why is my stan so annoying?” Billie complained. “How come I got the annoying one? This isn’t fair.”

“They’re all annoying. That’s what stans are. Better than strangies. Just be glad you don’t have strangies following you.” A passerby-er said back to her in a low voice. Billie turned around to see someone walking quickly away. What’s a strangie? She couldn’t quite tell who it was, the silhouette looked a little like Brendon Urie… but, maybe not… the person was already too far away and just his outline was visible. He walked quickly by a peculiar sign that read “THE CINAMATOGRAPHER’S ANOMALY DISCOVERY EMERGENCY MEETING REGISTRATION: RED CAMERA, ARRI, PANAVISION & EQUIVILENT” he then walked by another printed sign “SCREENWRITER’S ANOMALY DISCOVERY EMERGENCY MEETING REGISTRATION: FINAL DRAFT, CELTX, WRITERDUET, TRELBY & EQUIVILENT” Finally the man walked by a third printed sign, “AUDIO ENGINEER’S ANOMALY DISCOVERY EMERGENCY MEETING REGISTRATION: PRO-TOOLS, CUBASE, LOGIC, ABLETON, FL STUDIO & EQUIVILENT” and a fourth one “EDITORS ANOMALY DISCOVERY MEETING REGISTRATION: AVID, PREMIERE, FINAL CUT, DAVINCI RESOLVE & EQUIVILENT”

Anomaly discovery… emergency meeting? She thought, as he walked by a sign at the very far end, “FOLEY ART FINDING”. None of it made any sense. There were other signs designating various meeting signups: COLOR CORRECTION FADE FINDING, DIRECTORS DEBREIFING DISCUSSION GROUP, ACTORS DEBRIEFING DISCUSSION GROUP, CREATIVE CLOUD STORMS, NEGATIVE+ SERVICES INFORMATION SESSION

Negative+? What is all this for? What is all this? There’s something going on, but WHAT? If only Finneas were here… She needed to find Finneas. He’d be able to make since of all of this madness.

She turned her attention back from the labeled conference sign-up tables to the stans, Billie pointed at Justin. “How come you don’t have one? Can you take her? Please?” Billie pleaded in his direction then turned to Jillie, “How do you feel about being Justin’s stan? Justin is REALLY cool, he’s REALLY cool. And his music is AWESOME. Jillie… you don’t want to pass up this opportunity. I mean, it’s JUSTIN BIEBER!”

Justin and Jillie both simultaneously shrugged back and replied, “Nah, I’m good.”

“Jinx!” Jillie shouted out.

“What?” Justin asked.

“I just jinxed you. You said the same thing I said at the same time. That means you can’t talk until I say you can talk.”

Justin leaned in and whispered to Billie, “Billie… a definite pass on this one.”

“I said no talking! You’re Jinxed.”

“Well, fortunately for me, I can only be Jinxed by my Beliebers. So unless you want to become a belieber, you can’t Jinx me.”

“Well, that’s not gonna happen. I’m with Lishy.” She stared down Justin. “Okay fine. But I’m going to double check the rules to make sure that’s true.” Jillie Jean opened her notebook and made a note to check cross stan Jinxing. She wrote it in all caps, CHECK RULES ON CROSS STAN JINXING.

“I’m redirecting your Jinx to Billie.” Justin said to Jillie.

“Can’t do that. Can’t redirect your Jinx to me.” Billie shook her head no at Justin.

“Jillie, check your rulebook on that.” Justin replied trying not to laugh.

“I don’t think you can redirect a Jinx.” Jillie was dead serious and deep in thought.

Billie and Justin made Parks and Rec Aubrey Plaza/April Ludgate eyes at one another.

“Lizzo! Please… Just take her. Do that little magic flute thing you did earlier and lure her over!”

“Oh, I… uh, I lost the flute.” Lizzo pretended to check a watch she didn’t have. “And, I um, have to be somewhere soon.”

“No you didn’t and no you don’t. You PUT THE FLUTE BACK IN YOUR PURSE! We all saw you put it back in your purse. And then we gave you a standing ovation, and you bowed. Although, we were already standing when we started clapping, so I don’t know if it technically counts as a standing ovation.”

“Well… I have a lot of stuff in there, it would take me a while to find it again.”

Billie rolled her eyes.

Jillie began to sing, “I don’t want anybody else, when I think about you I—”

“Okaaaaay! That’s enough of that song. How about if you don’t sing the rest of that song, you can be my stan. Okay Jillie? I feel like the rest of those lyrics to that song aren’t appropriate for someone your age to be singing. I’m trying to be the responsible role model here.”

“LISHY!!!!!!!!! Listen, Lishy. It’s me and you baby! I’ll be the best stan you’ve ever had. I won’t let you down! I promise.”

“Seriously. One last chance… anyone want to trade?” Billie asked.

“Lish, don’t be ridiculish.” Jillie smiled at her idol.

“Okay that was kind of funny, I’ll give you that… You’re still annoying though. I mean you’re funny, but you’re annoying.”

“I’ll take it!” Jillie grinned. She opened her autograph book. “Okay, so now that I got your autograph, I can cross that off my Lish Lish Wishlist.”

“Your what?”

“My Lish Lish Wishlist! It’s all things you! Like, get your autograph, which I just did, interview you on my influencer socials, go on a road trip together—”

“That’ll never happen.”

“We’ll get there, Lishy. Anyway, some of the other things on my list include…”

It was then that Billie noticed The Whale, she tuned out her stan, Jillie, as she yammered on about all the items on her Lish Lish Wishlist. He was standing on the other side of the lobby talking to someone, standing near one of the registration tables for the ‘Anomaly Discovery Emergency Meeting’. He seemed almost like he was selling something to them. He was very animated, his hands waving about in an excited manner, and every so often he would point to the signs. His guest’s eyes would fill with wonder. There’s definitely something going on. The Whale is up to something. He’s behind all of this. Taylor’s warning about The Whale echoed inside Billie’s thoughts. She flashed back to the meeting in his office not far away from where they currently were in downtown LA. She recalled what Taylor and Taylor’s attorney Sara with her Siri like voice had said about The Whale and what his intentions were. She recalled the fabled celebrity suicide notebook/journal currently being held for safekeeping from the world presumably by Emma Watson—hidden within her own journal collection—and how The Whale and his friends had a trick up their sleeve to leverage Emma’s own secrets against her by pulling off a Mean Girls/Regina George movie ending using Emma’s journals to expose her Hogwarts Burn Book, if it existed at all. If it didn’t exist then Emma had nothing to sweat about. But if it did… she’d have no choice but to go along with The Whale, despite what Taylor and Halsey and Taylor’s attorney Sara told her earlier. If she wrote personal things about Tom Felton and her other co-stars, and it were published, who knows what outcome that may lead to, and there’s no way Emma wanted that on her conscious. And if Emma made a Hollywood Burn Book of everyone she’s ever been in a movie with, that would be even more useful to The Whale. It’s possible Emma handed the notebook of celebrity suicide notes to someone else. If she wanted out, if she wanted out of Hollywood for good, could she even get out? Would The Whales of Hollywood let her? Just trade in her fame? Just like that? Emma Watson becomes Emma the person without the Hollywood image. Take off her fame, like a dress she no longer wants to wear—Fame as a fashion accessory that one can simply remove at the end of the day and discard as they please. Would it be as easy as handing the secret celebrity suicides journal off to someone else? Perhaps. But who? Who would she know and trust who also journals? They would have to journal in order to hide the devilish book amongst their own journals. Who else could hide that book, stashed between journals? Who else would be able to hold such a notebook and never be so curious as to peek at it even once? That is, after all, what The Whale is after. The Whale had one agenda and that’s leverage because leverage, leads to control.

You see, The Whale wanted something big… and perhaps, it’s to control this massive fragmentation occurring before our very eye, perhaps not. No one can deny the winds of change are upon us. New Streaming+ services galore popping up almost every day and influencer generated content on every corner. Any kid with a computer and enough knowhow would create the next number one viral music sensation and disrupt the charts. The old-world entertainment aristocracy on the verge of crumbling. Like Steven Spielberg warned, Hollywood was headed for an implosion, and The Whales of Hollywood knew it. Maybe the bankrolling days were numbered. Or, maybe the art itself just didn’t want to be part and parcel in this profiteering game any longer, it wanted to break free, Art For Art’s Sake l'art pour l'art. For all anyone knew these Tik Tok teens really were superheroes saving the art world one video at a time. The Whale and his entertainment business cronies had everything to lose. When you universally control an entire group of music or movies and a new generation threatens to pull that rug out from under you, what else can you do? The biggest threat to a Hollywood whale is an artist that can still make new content and make it on their own terms. Afterall Michael Jackson won’t be rerecording his music catalog any time soon. Billie Jean will live on indefinitely. Art that lives on seemingly forever is the name of the game. Old movies, old TV shows, Just like books and paintings from the past. But new content is a wildcard in this “Classic Art” pawn shop world of wheel and deal. I’ll trade you this “Classic Taylor” music, an old catalog of “Vintage Swift” for this brand-new mystery gift, let’s make a deal, you know it’s a steal! The Whale and his leverage, his fabled suicide note journal, melancholy mixed with infinite sadness, minor key melody, and of course, his trusts. His grip on Hollywood, the man no one knew even existed, ruled it all in plain sight from an unmarked office building in downtown Los Angeles. The man and his associates trying to fight off that inevitable Spielberg implosion of Hollywood, rolling bigger and bigger dice until finally, they pay the final price. But if The Whale can get his way those dice can roll forever, and that implosion will never come. The Whale song will sing on and we all sing along.

“What?” Jillie watched as Billie’s face went pale like a ghost. “What’s wrong?”

“The Whale…” She said in a low whisper to her stan Jillie, not taking her eyes off of The Whale. She glanced quickly over at the others then back to The Whale. Carl wore a poker face while he watched The Whale. The rest of them hadn’t noticed his presence inside the hotel, at least as far as Billie could tell no one else had noticed. There was no telling what Carl was thinking. She didn’t trust him, even though Kymmie was cool, but that’s because Kymmie most likely had no idea what line of work her dad was really in. He’s a Hollywood entertainment lawyer, an intellectual property specialist and he worked directly for The Whale, one of the most dangerous men in the business. But maybe even Carl didn’t know what Taylor knew, maybe he was just doing his job, he did have a daughter to provide for after all, and she seemed to have a habit of breaking her phones, and those things aren’t cheap! But something told Billie he knew way more than he was letting on.

“The Whale?” Jillie Jean craned her neck looking around. “Oh, him? The old guy over there?” Billie slowly shook her head yes. “My parents and I were talking to him earlier. He said if I ever made it big to contact him.” Jillie continued.

Billie leaned in closer to Jillie. “Jillie, listen to me, don’t ever talk to him again, ever again. He’s a VERY dangerous man.”

She furrowed her brow. “I don’t know Lish, he seemed nice. What’s so wrong with him?” She asked innocently.

“Just don’t, okay? Just… trust me. He’s not what he seems.”

“Really?” Jillie looked over at him again then back to Billie. She looked down at her autograph book then back up to Billie. “He said he’s here for the same conference my parents are here for about some new finding… my parents are here specifically for something called Foley Art or something. Some Foley Art ‘finding’, I don’t know, really, that’s what I know from what I overheard between him and my parents. My parents received some notification about it a while back. I looked it up, Foley Art is the art of making sound effects for movies… apparently all the big movie directors are going to show up too, it’s all part of some big conference. Something about a pattern. To quote my dad, ‘it’s happening across all the creative mediums…’”

“A pattern? And the pattern has to do with the finding?”

“Yeah, I don’t know… To be honest, Lish, I wasn’t paying attention. They started to discuss it in the other room and I was just like, I’m gonna put on some Lishy Lish while I do my homesworks”

“Your homesworks?” Billie asked, completely confused.

“That’s what I call homework.”

“Why not just call it homework?”

“Because Lish, no one wants to watch me do homework on livestream. But if I call it homesworks, they tune in! They tune in like a TON!”

Billie put her hands on her hips and looked down at her stan, “Wait a minute, you’re telling me that you livestream yourself doing homework and no one watches it, but you changed the name to homesworks, even though it’s still just homework, and people watch your livestream?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, I listen to your music while I do my homesworks, also I’ve got 8 different camera angles that I switch between too, and I dazzle them with effects. The other night I had over 7500 viewers! I even had the chat box open and everything! They were asking ME questions, I wasn’t asking them, in case you were wondering if I was cheating on my homesworks.”

“I wasn’t. Wait, hold on, you play my music while you livestream?”

“Of course. Always. I was listening to your music for like the 7000th time.”

“Are you paying royalties on my music use—"

“Lish, I don’t know how any of that works, all I know is people like homesworks. And if people like it, I’m gonna keep doing it. And if they think I’m royalty, great.”

“Royalties, not royalty—you know what, never mind. I’m pretty sure they’re just tuning in to listen to MY music.”

“Yeah, okay Lish, I’m sure they are, if it makes you feel better, you keep telling yourself that. Enough about my homesworks, I’ll send you the link next time I’m homesworksing. B-Lish, let’s get back on subject. Anyway, I heard Spielberg is supposed to be here! Which really sucks because I wanted to get a selfie and post it to my socials but now my phone is broken. It just says SMPTE error, I tried to take the SIM card out and put it back in but it’s not that. Anyway, The Whale gave me his business card and everything, it’s got a funny picture of a whale on it, see!” She pulled the card from her pocket and held it out for Billie to see.

Billie looked at the business card in Jillie’s hand. “Can I see that?”

“LISH! For you, anything.”

“Thanks…” She took the card and inspected it. ‘The Whale’ was printed in fancy font and along with it a cute drawing of a cartoonified whale, a Disney looking whale, but vintage looking, like something Disney would have drawn in the olden days before the name Disney was anything to anyone. The card had additional peculiar properties, it contained optical illusions. If you tilted the card one way and back another, the cartoon whale appeared to move back and forth. You could also see bits of text change to form a sentence that could only be read as you tilted the card to reveal each word. The card contained no phone number or identifying information, no street address, simply a QR code. Or rather a series of codes depending on which way you held the card. The QR code changed as you tilted the card, an infinite number of possible QR codes, again, depending on which way you held the card when you scanned it. It seemed like something you’d find in a 1980s cereal box as a prize with a secret message. The sentence read, “You can trust me.”

Jillie pointed to the QR code beside the cartoonified Whale. “I tried to scan the QR code with my phone, Lish, no dice. He gave me his card right after this SMPTE error appeared. Or maybe it happened when he gave me the card. I know I used my phone just before my parents started chatting with him, I was live on all the socials showing off that crazy food table over there, not as many viewers as homesworks, but not bad. My parents told me not to post anything online about this conference, but, whatever, like I’m NOT going to post stuff online. Parents, am I right?”

“Listen, Jillie, that man is not what he seems. He’s a very bad man, okay? Just remember that. He works at a bank his name is Banksy, but not THAT Banksy, not the one that makes art, he’s a money guy… but they don’t talk about money. I know, you’re gonna say what kind of bank doesn’t talk about money?”

“That’s easy, Lishy. A blood bank!”

“Ohhhh, funny. Funny. Hey, Jillie Bean, you’re not so bad.”

“And you wanted to trade me!” Jillie tossed her hands up in the air.

“That was before we… we bonded.” She said not really paying attention to her stan but inspecting the business card more. She turned it over and tilted it slowly back and forth to reveal an animation of a stream that appeared to flow out of the QR box… flowing down the stream were musical notes. She handed the card back to Jillie. And whispered to her. “Don’t tell anyone what I said to you about The Whale. That guy over there works for him.” She pointed at Carl Lyle Lawyer/Kymmie Lawyer’s dad/Legal advisor to those fighting Taylor to keep her old masters from her.

“Lish, listen, I stan you so much right now.” Jillie Jean beamed back at her. Then lowered her voice so that Carl and Scott and Justin and the others couldn’t tell what she was saying, “I won’t say a word. I trust you. If you say The Whale is smelly fish in a pail, I believe you.”

“Jillie…”

“Billie…” She smiled and blinked.

“Listen…”

“Lish… I’m listening.” She smiled wider.

Billie smiled ever so slightly for just a moment, then attempted to conceal it. She shot a quixotic look at her stan, then thought for a moment, “You said that your parents were talking to The Whale about how there’s a bunch of movie directors showing up for a conference and about Foley Art?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he say what it’s about?” Billie motioned to Oak Felder and he walked over to stand near her. “Like, any other details about the ‘Foley Art Finding’ that you mentioned earlier, or… anything else at all?”

“Nope. I just know there’s more, that’s just the part of the conference my parents had an interest in more than anything else. Something about sound effects in movies and old samples. I don’t know. Did you know, that in Harry Potter the sound of Buck Beak is actually some sound from like a million years ago. It’s like that in a ton of movies… old sounds. Like Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Whale said he plans to get a meeting with Spielberg about something, discuss business proposals related to the finding, apparently, they used old bird sounds from Cornell University along with something called Movietone and blah blah blah… I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention.” She returned her voice to normal volume, “They lost me at Cornell, I plan to attend Brown University so what do I care about Cornell.”

Billie looked to Oak. Oak looked back, thinking what Billie was thinking. Australian Crosswalk sound, the sound map. There’s more to it, to the mysterious subsonic frequencies. The adaptive sounds they saw on his computer screen.

“Brown? ME TOO!” Sashy yelled.

“Cooooooool. OMG if we both get in, you wanna be study buddies?” Jillie screamed at Sashy.

“Deal!” Sashy screamed back.

“Brown?” Kymmie stated flatly. “I’ve got my heart set on UCLA. That’s where my dad went.”

“I’m not going to college. I’m gonna be a college dropout.” Stan added.

“You have to go to college to be a dropout.” Sashy said sassily.

“No you are NOT going to be a dropout!” Kanye said to his stan. “You’re going to college and you’re going to graduate.”

“Okay fine. I want to go to UCLA then.”

“You just want to go because she wants to go there.” Justin pointed at Kymmie.

“No, whatever… I was thinking about going there anyway.” Stan said defensively. Kymmie smiled slightly at Stan then looked away.

Why the interest in Spielberg, Billie thought for a moment turning her attention away from the stans bickering about which colleges they wanted to attend. Why would The Whale want a meeting with Spielberg? Then, it suddenly clicked… Sasha, might have the journal. Not Sasha the Swiftie stan… Sasha Spielberg. She went to Brown with Emma Watson… didn’t she? Billie remembered it being mentioned in conversation at some party after a show she played a couple of years ago. And they’re both into journaling. I bet Emma’s backup plan is to hand it off to Sasha. The Whale is trying to get an in, he’s trying to cover his bases. He’s manipulating, calculating, trying to stay one step ahead. It’s all tables turned… one would think most people might want to befriend Sasha Spielberg to get an “in” with her dad… Steven himself… and here The Whale is befriending her dad to try and get an “in” with Sasha. He knows Emma Watson wants out of Hollywood and he’s trying to stay one step ahead of her Hollywood exit strategy, her plan to escape—escape the constant control over her life, the constant worry that The Strangies will come crawling through her bedroom window in the middle of the night. But just like Princess Sheikha Latifa, why does Emma Watson even need an escape plan in the first place? Why does anyone need an exit plan from unhappiness? Maybe The Whale needed Emma to stay in Hollywood, just like Princess Latifa isn’t free to simply go her own way… but why? How exactly did everything piece together? Billie wasn’t sure and what shew knew was mostly based on scrolling through sites and reading random stuff on the internet on her phone when she couldn’t sleep at night, like we all do, or staring at the bedroom window expecting The Strangies to press their face against the glass. The things you read right before you drift off to sleep, and then when you wake you think, maybe I didn’t really read that? Or maybe what I read wasn’t real? Maybe she had it all wrong, and maybe not. Perhaps, Jillie Jean might prove useful in all of this after all. Jillie jean is not just another fan, another stan, Jillie Jean might be a useful one.

Billie waved Kymmie aside and broke back into the conversation between the two potential future roomies, provided they were both accepted at Brown University.

“Who are your parents? Are they in the conference?” She asked her stan really seriously, Billie seriously.

“Eh, they’re in the movie industry. They do, like, important stuff… It’s not important—”

“Listen, Jillie… I need to know as much as you can tell me… ”

Jillie thought for a moment, “I just know they got some invite and got all excited. I’ll be honest, I don’t really know exactly what it is they do, I just know it’s important, like, really important, they meet with a lot of big time behind the scenes industry people—Listen, Lish, I didn’t come over here to talk about my parents, or that creepy old man and the sea, I came here to hang out with you. I’m not trying to be my parents, I’m trying to be me. I’m trying to make my own way in this world, so who cares who my parents are. Yes, they’re kind of a big deal, but I want to do things on my own without their help. Okay Lish?”

Billie looked at The Whale once more. “Okay. You can hang out with me. It’s totally cool, and we can even work on that Lish Lish Wishlist of yours.” Billie didn’t want to think of it as using her stan so much as protecting her stan. She kind of felt obligated to make sure she didn’t end up going down a devilish path, as annoying as she was, she actually liked her—

“LISHY! I knew you’d come around.” Jillie Jean made a high-pitched squealing noise.

—Well… maybe. Maybe Billie liked her number one stan. Billie Eilish smiled at the wannabe mini-me version of her. “Alright, Mini-Lish, just stick with me.” Billie joked.

Jillie stepped back, “Don’t call me Mini-Lish.” Jillie said in a mean green jelly bean voice.

“Whoa. What? Why not?” Billie replied, caught off guard, “Well, that’s kind of a double STAN-dard. Don’t you think? Eh, eh??”

“Ohhhhhh. Lish, you’re funny. I call you Lish, you call me Jillie… But don’t call me Mini-Lish. Don’t ever call me Mini-Lish, ever.”

These stans are out of control, am I right? I take back my thought about liking my stan… maybe.

@taylorswift

#writers #original writing #fanfic #fantasy #taylor swift #taylor swizzle #cardigan #stan #ya #creative writing #sashy #lishlish #billie eilish

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ourkarlanicoleuniverse · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet Nothing (MHA Staff AU Fanfiction

Chapter 6

Warnings: None, swf.

"Maybe you should go back to California for when you're a pro." My eyes met with bright blue ones.

"Why would I do that? I like it here." I stared out at the city skyline in the sunset.

"I don't know. I figured it would be better for you if you go back for a little while and actually have good memories in the U.S." The blue-haired boy wasn't smiling like he usually did, "I just don't want you to stay here because you feel secure here. What happened to you shouldn't make you afraid to go back." He gave out a small chuckle and then wrapped his arm around me, "Plus, it's not like I'm telling you to stay over there forever. We have a plan to have our own agency with Yamada and Aizawa, remember?"

I gave a sad smile, genuinely thinking about the proposal, "I don't know. I have family out in California, but they never really contacted me. Only my cousin. I have a family here now; I can't just leave that."

"We're always going to be there for you. Even if we're a whole ocean away. Our group was incomplete until you came. We're not going to let you go." He went to pinch my cheeks, "You're like my little sister, I refuse to leave you alone."

I refuse to leave you alone.

"Mai?" a voice brought me out of my thoughts. I shouldn't be spaced out in this meeting. I looked over at Hound Dog and Nezu. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, just tired from helping Aizawa settle into his place yesterday." I smiled sheepishly. "Did you need me to go over the plan again or..."

Nezu spoke up, "I do think we need to amp up this program after the USJ attack. So I'll give you, Hound Dog, and Ms. Rowell the green light to start." He gave an excited smile and took a sip out of his tea. "We need to be prepared for more villain infiltrations, so definitely starting with security, and the mental health program are major priorities."

"I'll have a meeting with some of the other teachers to come up with a good way to beef up security." Hound Dog suggested.

"Maybe hire an agency to make rotations? Maybe the Fatgum agency? Taishiro would be more than happy to help out; I'm sure if Ms. Iris and I ask him, he'll say yes." I spoke up.

"I don't see why not. Why not ask Ingenium for help too? Doesn't he have a sector here?" Hound Dog wrote down a few notes on his tablet.

"I wouldn't feel comfortable asking since Tenya Iida is his younger brother. It would feel unprofessional and put a student in potential danger if villains found out." I bit my lip. I didn't want the students to be targeted. We barely found out that the villains were out for All Might, so it's going to be hard to avoid more attacks as long as he stays. "Speaking about the students, are we still going to go through the Sports Festival? I don't feel that it's appropriate."

Hound Dog looked at me like I had just shot a puppy. Nezu, on the other hand, kept a calm composure. "I have no plans to cancel the Sports Festival."

"Why not?" I tried to hold in my disdain.

"I felt that the students should be able to enjoy the normal events that would happen if we weren't attacked. Plus, it's best to show that we were unbothered." I looked over to Hound Dog, and he just gave me a knowing look.

"The Sports Festival is broadcasted all over Japan, and we're in a bad position as a school." I interjected.

"Yes, but the Sports Festival is the best option for students to use their quirks and be potentially scouted by a pro." Nezu continued to be calm, but my patience was growing thin.

"Or potentially a villain." I raised my brow at him.

"I know, given your history, you take the student's safety seriously. I do, as well. But the Sports Festival is an opportunity to give people a place to feel collective and hopeful that it was just a one-time thing, while us staff members and the police investigate." Nezu took another sip, "It would be unfair to the people to take that away from them and let them live in fear."

"I don't think it's a good idea. But then again, I'm not in charge of the school. So I guess my opinion doesn't really matter." I grumbled. I hate acting like a child, but honestly, I was a little annoyed that he didn't want to cancel the festival despite knowing that I am in the right to be concerned.

"Don't you start giving me that attitude of yours? You know I thought about every possible outcome before making a decision." He lightly slammed the desk with his paws. "Now, I will let you and Dog Hound ask your connections about security, and you and the other counselors should meet up with your students as they prepare for the festival. Understood?"

I simply bit my tongue and nodded as the mouse stared me down.... Er... more like up at me. And with that, the meeting was over, and Nezu made his way out to his private office, leaving Ryo and me in the meeting room. "Why didn't you warn me before the meeting to not mention the Sports Festival?"

"Honestly, I thought Nezu already told you." He said, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

"He probably didn't because he wanted to avoid seeing me mad." I sighed and threw my bag over my shoulder this time. "Well, at least everything else he agreed with. Just wish that he wouldn't be exposing the students that much right now." I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.

"Have you had any sessions with your kids since the incident?"

"I had them email me if they had any concerns, and despite how severe they were, I made a call and spoke over the phone with them. But mostly all my kids were focused on Aizawa and Thirteen. If anything, I'll make in-person appointments to meet with them this week in case they left things out in the emails and calls."

"I saw Aizawa is back despite not being fully healed." She gave me a slight judgmental but a not so surprised look.

"We literally argued for a whole week about him coming back to work. So don't get me started with him." I sounded exhausted. But I didn't know why I was so tired and restless. I feel like I haven't done much to elicit this.

"Awe trouble in paradise for Dadzawa and Momtoya?" He smirked and wiggled her brows.

"Damn, is everyone calling us that now?"

"Yep, especially since you guys are temporarily living together because you agreed to take care of him."

"It was for my students. They wanted updates, so we made a group chat. Aizawa doesn't know about it, though."

"Why?"

"Well, I figured it would be the best way to communicate with them. It's through one of these school apps, so it's not breaking any boundaries."

"I meant why not tell Aizawa." He pressed on a little.

"Oh, because we make jokes about him on the chat sometimes. Plus, he would just make fun of me for wanting to be buddy-buddy with the class."

"I think it's endearing." He gave me a little pat on the back.

"That's what I thought! I recommended that all the counselors do it." I let a quiet shriek in excitement. "With the permission of parents, you know? Since despite it being their school email, the parents need to know about staff connections to students." I scratched the back of my neck. I really need to stop with this scratching habit of mine when I get awkward or nervous. "Anyways, I have to get back to my desk and start emailing the whole department about the meeting. And then I'm going to go check on Aizawa and Class 1-A, hoping neither of them is tiring each other out."

I was about to walk away and split from Ryo when I ran into Kayama and stopped me for a quick second. "Do you mind hanging out with me later after work? I have something to get off my chest, and I would like to get your perspective."

I hugged my tablet, "Um... I have to watch Aizawa... But I'm sure once I get him down for a nap, you can come over for tea or something, and we can talk. I'll just give him a heads up."

I gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned. "Okay, cool. I'm glad to hear that. Just keep me updated if anything changes."

"Yeah, no problem, Nemuri." I patted her shoulder and made my way to the lounge as she rushed to go teach Hero Art History to Class 1-A.

I opened the lounge door—literally, no one. Not even Toshinori was here. Well, I guess I can actually get work done before I go to class. "So, I guess you and Montoya are actually getting situated nicely for now." Never mind.

I look up from my desk to see Snipe and Aizawa walking in together while Midnight took her shift to teach Class 1-A. Aizawa socializing? That's good for him. Maybe it's because they're colleagues. "Oh, speak of the woman herself." Snipe waved over at me and walked into my direction. Aizawa just looked annoyed and limped over to his desk that was diagonal to mine. "How are you doing, love?" He leaned down to hug me.

"I'm good. I just had a meeting with our lovely boss. I might've upset him, though." I squeezed her hands tight around me.

"Why do you think that?" It was hard to detect his face because of his mask, but his voice sounded curious, and his head slightly fell to the side.

"I told him that he would be endangering the students if he still held the Sports Festival, and he got defensive. I felt like a child." I grumbled.

"Well, that's just how Nezu is."

"We're you and Aizawa just talking?" I nodded over to the mummy man.

"Oh yeah, we were just making conversation about the students, and we were talking about the new counseling department. And then we were talking about how you two have been adjusting to your current living situation." And in queue, Aizawa looked over at us.

I gave Snipe a little smirk, "Well, I hope nothing bad was said on my part."

"All I said was that you were annoying me with all your pestering." He shook his head. Something was off about him. Normally he didn't feel the need to explain himself. Was he worried about me thinking he talked bad about me? "The kids keep asking about when you're stopping by. Don't tell them that you're in my apartment until Recovery Girl finishes healing me up. I don't want them getting ideas."

"Oh yeah, he mentioned that a couple of times." Snipe chuckled and stared a little too long at Aizawa and me. I wonder what's that about...

"Too bad, Ashido already found out when she saw that I was packing a suitcase during my video session with her. So most likely they already know, they just don't want you to know that." I smirked.

"Yeah, they really like keeping things from me. That's why they told me about the group chat you have with the class." He flatly spoke. "Isn't that a little unprofessional?"

"Everyone that I told thought it was cute. And the parents were more than happy with knowing that their kids' counselor was available to them at all times." I got up from my seat to grab a chair for Snipe and some coffee. I can only guess that he was amused at the banter as he silently watched us.

"Who is everyone?" He said, eyeing up my coffee. So I gave him his own cup and Snipe water.

"Kayama, Lily, Iris... Oh, and Vlad." I smiled brightly. "Actually, Vlad said that it was adorable how close I am with the students and was glad to hear that I was adjusting well to my job here." I took a sip of my coffee while analyzing Aizawa's demeanor. He looked a little tense and uncomfortable. I assumed it was from his injuries and the new bandages I helped Recovery Girl put on. He was so readable yet still a mystery because there was something hidden behind his eyes that I couldn't quite uncover.

"Well, maybe you should add me to the chat since I am their homeroom teacher." He said as he took a sip from his coffee. That's surprising; he wants to be more engaged with the students on a personal level?

I quickly agreed and decided not to question him about it. Then I gave him a quick explanation about Kayama wanting to come over, and he just said sure, not giving it much thought. Afterward, I gave my attention back to Snipe, who was still casually looking at Aizawa. "Snipe?"

"Hm? Did you say something?" Snipe looked towards me; I guess he spaced out.

"No." I went back to my seat. "I have a few things to work on and give to the other counselors, so is there anything you want me to keep in mind when it comes to the students?"

Snipe slowly rose from his seat and made his way over to his desk, "No, not really. I think you and Eraser have everything under control. I'll be over here, don't want to distract you. I could always talk to you later." I just nodded and put my earphones in as Aizawa looked between the two of us awkwardly.

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I was in the middle of finishing up the files I had to finish for my colleagues when there was a knock and a small voice at the door of the lounge, "Excuse me, Mr. Aizawa, Mr. Snipe? Is Ms. Montoya here? I need to speak with her?' It was Izuku Midoriya.

"I'm over here, Midoriya. What do you need to talk to me about?" I swiveled in my chair.

"It's kind of private." He rubbed his hands together nervously. His eyes were bugged out and filled with anxiety. "It involves my quirk. I'm sorry if you are busy, I knew I should've made an appointment. I'm sorry for being an inconvenience. I'll just come back later."

The boy was about the run out when I stopped him, "Woah there, I wasn't that busy; there's no need to be apologetic." I got up and smoothed out my clothes, and walked over to him. "Let's go take a walk and talk, does that sound good?" The green-eyed boy nodded and followed me out of the lounge.

"I love how she's really dedicated to the students." I heard Snipe say to Aizawa as I left.

"Yeah, she's really good at her job." I couldn't help but smile a little at the compliment. "She sucks as a caretaker, though." Damn it, Sho.

I turned my attention back to Midoriya as we quietly walked through the halls. "So, what was concerning you about your quirk?"

"I know, you know about One for All." His voice was shaking, then he looked me in the eyes, "I want you to tell me your connections to All Might. He doesn't tell me anything but you being an intern of his before going to the U.S."

"Well, there isn't much to tell..." I bit my inner cheek. I kind of don't know what exactly I could tell him.

"I just want to know how he was when he was your mentor and if you could help me better understand the quirk One for All." The boy pleaded.

"Oh... well then..." This is going to be a long story.

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My master list 😊

Tag list:

@inumorph @thatgirlwithcamera @mel-sanch

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